The Activist

Chapter 11

Late Monday afternoon, Theo rode his bike four blocks from his office in the rear of Boone & Boone to the office of another Boone—his uncle Ike’s. This second Boone office was not busy or thriving or well decorated. Instead, it was on the second floor of a shabby old building that housed a Greek deli on the ground floor. Theo’s father and Ike were brothers, and at one time had been lawyers together. Those days were long gone. For reasons Theo would probably never understand, Ike was no longer a lawyer and he seldom spoke to Theo’s father. However, Ike was still a part of the family, and for this reason Theo was expected to stop by every Monday afternoon and chat with Ike. Often, the meetings were not too pleasant, and Theo did not always look forward to them. Other times, though, Ike could be funny and when in a good mood could tell hilarious stories. Theo never knew which Ike he would encounter on Monday afternoons. Among the family secrets was the rumor that Ike drank too much, and Theo suspected that influenced whether he felt fine or miserable.

Judge was usually confined to either the home or the office, but occasionally Theo hooked a leash to his collar and allowed him to run alongside his bike as he zipped through town. For Judge, there was no greater thrill than flying down the street trying to outrun Theo and the bike. On this Monday, Judge really wanted to go, so Theo grabbed the leash.

The two of them bounded up the stairs and, with a quick and meaningless knock, burst through the door to Ike’s long and cluttered office.

“Well, well,” Ike said with a smile. “How is my favorite nephew?”

“Great, Ike, and you?” Theo said as he fell into a creaky wooden chair, one with papers and files stacked under it. Every piece of furniture in the room was either covered with files or trying to hide them. Theo was Ike’s only nephew, and, as far as Theo could tell, about the only family member who kept in contact with him. Ike’s wife had divorced him years earlier when he got into trouble, and his kids had moved far away. Ike was a lonely old man, but at the same time it was hard to feel sorry for him. He seemed to want a quiet, unusual life.

“Just another fine day,” Ike said, waving an arm at the pile of papers on his desk. “Sorting out the money problems of people with no money. How are things over at Boone and Boone?”

“The same, nothing new.”

“How are your grades? Straight A’s?”

“Close.” This always irritated Theo, this intrusion into his privacy. He did not understand why Ike thought he had the right to nose around in Theo’s schoolwork. But, as Mrs. Boone always said, “He’s family.”

“What do you mean ‘close’?” Ike asked.

“B plus in Chemistry, but I’ll pull it up.”

“You better pull it up,” he said sternly, but Theo could tell it was all an act. Ike looked to his left, at his desktop monitor. “This just came across. Saw it ten minutes ago,” he said as he peered over his reading glasses, then clicked his mouse. “According to our fearless daily newspaper, online edition, no less, a kid from your Scout troop had a rather nasty encounter with a copperhead over the weekend. Know anything about it?”

“And why is that news?” Theo said in disgust.

“Because everything is news these days, Theo. Nothing is private. There are no secrets and there is no shame. Everybody is a celebrity. Percy Dixon?”

“That’s him, and evidently his mother is trying to get all the publicity she can. I’m sure she called the newspaper. How else would a reporter hear of something so unimportant?”

“Were you there?”

“Oh yes.”

“What happened?”

So Theo told the story again.

When he finished, Ike said, “What a jerk! You don’t deserve a suspension for that.”

“It’s okay, Ike. I’m over it, and I’m tired of talking about it. Let’s change the subject.”

“Sure. Yankees and Twins?”

“No.” Ike was a rabid Yankees fan who loved the team and its history. Theo pulled for the Twins because no one else in Strattenburg did. In all fairness to the Twins, though, Minnesota was a thousand miles away.

“I can’t blame you,” Ike said. He shoved his chair back and reached for a small refrigerator he kept almost hidden behind a stack of files. He pulled out a bottle of beer for himself and a can of Sprite, which he slid across the desk, knocking off a few papers along its route. “Here,” he said, just in time for Theo to catch the Sprite. Ike unscrewed the top of the beer, slowly, almost painfully, lifted his feet into position and plunked them down on his desk. When he was properly kicked back and reclined, he took a sip.

Theo knew from experience that a long story was coming.

Another sip, and Ike began, “Get a load of this.” This was Ike’s usual opening line for a story. “The Greek family downstairs, Jimmy and Amelda Tykos, lovely people, I’ve known them for years and see them every day. They came to this country when they were children and have worked twenty-four/seven their entire lives to give something to their kids. Great folks. Their oldest son, Russell, owns a construction company, builds small houses and does remodeling jobs, stuff like that. Russell’s about forty, married with three kids, and his first child was born with a bunch of medical problems. They spent a fortune saving the kid and now the poor child needs all sorts of special treatment. It almost broke Russell along with his parents, but they dug in, worked harder, saved even harder, and they survived.”

Theo must have glanced away, because Ike snapped, “Am I boring you here, Theo?”

“I’m listening.” Theo suspected he was probably the only person in town who would tolerate Ike’s long, rambling stories, but they usually led to an interesting point.

Ike took a sip of beer, looked at the ceiling, and continued: “About ten years ago, Russell and his wife bought some land outside of town, cut it up, and began selling two-acre lots. Beautiful country, hills and creeks and ponds and such. The idea was to sell large lots to people who wanted to preserve the land and trees and protect the environment. Russell and his wife designed their dream home and started building it themselves. After hours, weekends, vacations—they spent every spare moment out there, with their kids, including the little boy in a wheelchair, slowly building their home. For the big stuff, Russell used his construction crews, but if anything could be done by two people, then it was Russell and his wife. Obviously, it was a labor of love, and it took forever. Almost five years from start to finish, and they paid cash along the way. Didn’t owe a dime to anyone once they finished. They had a big move-in party and invited me. I was there. It was wonderful, all their family, and friends and neighbors, all the construction guys who’d worked on the house, everybody who’d lent a helping hand. I’ve never seen Jimmy and Amelda so happy and proud. Beautiful home, beautiful countryside. One big happy family, celebrating the best our country has to offer. Everything was just great.”

Ike’s voice trailed off, and Theo knew the first chapter of the story was finished and it was time for him, Theo, to push things along. “So what happened?” he asked.

“Well, now the house is about to be bulldozed so the state and a bunch of politicians can build a two-hundred-million-dollar bypass around Strattenburg. The bypass is totally unnecessary, but that’s not important in the game of politics. Have you heard of this bypass, Theo?”

Theo was stunned. He had almost forgotten about it. The past forty-eight hours of his life had revolved around scouting, Percy, a rather large copperhead, and a lot of garbage on Facebook.

He nodded and said, “Yes, I’ve heard about it.”

Ike yanked his feet down. He leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes glowing with anger.

“Do you understand the legal concept of eminent domain, Theo?”

“I do.”

Ike nodded and smiled. “Good for you. In theory, eminent domain is to be used as a last resort. Taking away property against the wishes of the property owner is almost a criminal act, something the government is supposed to do when absolutely necessary. In this case, there is no necessity whatsoever. It’s just a bunch of politicians trying to get votes by building a road to make their big donors happy.”

It rarely took much for Ike to start preaching, but on this issue he was steamed up more than usual. Theo decided to prod him along. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said.

He barely got the words out before Ike was talking again. “It’s like this, Theo. In Carlsburg and places north of here, there are some big trucking companies and lots of factories and the same south of here in Lowensburg. Studies have shown that a bypass might save the truckers all of a few minutes around town, but they don’t care. They want a bypass at all costs! So they get in thick with their politicians, give them a bunch of money, tell them how badly they need a bypass, not for themselves, of course, but for the sacred goal of ‘economic development.’ That’s what every politician says whenever he wants to approve something or build something or waste some more taxpayer money. More jobs, more tax revenues, more everything, all in the name of economic development. There’s also more pollution, more congestion, more crowded schools, and more developers getting rich, but the politicians never mention this because they’re taking money from the developers, and, in this case, the trucking companies.”

Ike took a deep breath, followed by a long drink of beer. Typical Ike, never wishy-washy, never straddling the fence, never at a loss of an opinion. Theo was actually enjoying the story because Ike was so fired up.

Theo decided to throw a little gas on the fire. “Isn’t the governor pushing it?”

“What an idiot! He’ll support anything if the price is right. Front-page news last week showed where the trucking companies and developers have donated tons of money to the governor’s campaign, so guess what? If they want a bypass, he wants a bypass. The guy is nothing but a politician who’s looking to run for a higher office. Don’t ever get involved in politics, Theo. It’s a dirty game.”

“Don’t worry.”

Ike relaxed and rocked back in his chair. “Fifteen years ago, Theo, if my politics had been right, I would not have been prosecuted.”

And for the first time ever, Uncle Ike mentioned his past troubles. Theo wanted to pounce with a dozen questions, but he bit his tongue. One day Ike would tell him the whole story, but he would do so when he wished. Not now.

Theo thought about telling the Hardie Quinn story, but decided to let it pass. In his opinion, his story was far more interesting than Ike’s, but Ike preferred talking over listening. “Are you going to help the Tykos family?” Theo asked.

“Help? In what way?”

“I don’t know, Ike. There seems to be a lot of opposition. If enough people get involved, then maybe the county commissioners will not approve the bypass.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Theo. Money talks, and the side with the money always wins, especially in politics.”

Theo found this depressing and didn’t know what to say. Ike reached for a sheet of paper, found it, and leaned forward again. “Take a look at this, Theo,” he said, and Theo leaned in. It was a copy of a map with the proposed bypass highlighted in red. Using a pen, Ike tapped a spot in the center of the page and said, “There is where the bypass will cross Sweeney Road. Right now all of this is rural land, but that will change overnight when they build it.”

Theo could smell the beer on Ike’s breath and it wasn’t pleasant. He pulled back a few inches. Ike went on, “Now, I have a source who says that a certain local developer, guy by the name of Joe Ford, a real slick operator who’s also known as Fast Ford, has put down some money to buy two hundred acres right here at the intersection of Sweeney and the bypass. It was supposed to be a secret deal, but my source knows one of the former partners of the lawyer who represents the landowner. It’s hush-hush.” Ike left the map on the desk and reared back in his chair. “So, Theo, the buzzards are already circling, waiting for the kill. If the county approves the bypass, you’ll see these thugs scoop up every inch of land alongside it, and in ten years it’ll be lined with strip malls and fast-food joints and car washes. The whole western part of the county will be covered in sprawl and look like the rest of America. The developers will get richer and they’ll be happy to pass along enough cash to keep the politicians happy. It’s a rotten system, Theo.”

Theo was even more depressed, but then he tried to convince himself that Ike was a gloomy person by nature. Ike seldom smiled and was often bitter. His family had abandoned him and he’d been disgraced when he lost his license to practice law.

Ike and his sources. He was always claiming to know something that was supposed to be a secret, and, in fact, he often did. Ike moved in the shadows around certain parts of town, places many upstanding citizens avoided. He played poker with at least two groups, and some of those guys were ex-lawyers, ex-cops, and a few ex-cons. He gambled on football and basketball games and hung around with bookies and other gamblers. Theo’s father had once let it slip that Ike made more money from betting then he did from his real work.

“Well, on that happy note, I need to go,” Theo said, suddenly anxious to hit the road.

“Say hi to your folks,” Ike said as he locked his fingers behind his head and returned his feet to the top of his desk.

“See ya, Ike,” Theo said as he and Judge headed for the door.

“And I want an A in Chemistry.”

“Sure. You and everybody else.”