Once Upon an Eclipse

 

We four, Maggie, Andrea, Theresa, and I, arrived at the Jackson County Indiana Fairgrounds at about 1PM on April 8, 2024, in plenty of time to get settled before the moon began its eclipse of the sun.  

The day was perfect for viewing, very few clouds in the sky and the temperature was about 68 degrees Fahrenheit.  We found a good spot and sat in the grass looking up through proper viewing glasses.

The fairground unfolds off IN250, just southeast of Brownstown Indiana, about an hour and fifteen minutes south of Indianapolis.  The place is a sprawling complex complete with a dirt track speedway for auto racing.  There are numerous buildings and shelters, plus a series of paved lanes that provide access to booths during events, the major one being the county fair.  

We opted to park along one of these lanes just off of, and parallel to, the highway.  There were scant few others who had the same idea.  Perhaps four other vehicles all parked apart from each other with a lot of space in between.  We were in the sunshine, the others picked shady spots in groves of trees.

Along with we few spectators were a couple of tractors mowing the grass of the fairground’s areas adjacent to us, but further off the highway.  The drone of these tractors was an undercurrent of noise on an otherwise very quiet afternoon.  Interestingly, they only shut off for a few minutes at totality.  The traffic on the highway was minimal, almost non-existent.  It was as if we were alone.

At a little before 2PM the moon began crossing between us and the sun. The change in light was hardly noticeable.  Then, over the next hour or so, it was as if an entire day was passing, as we were nearing totality.

It was about 2:30 when the first of us, Andrea, noticed the change.  She saw it and without saying anything out loud, made sure we all looked to see it.  

Down in a grove of trees, in which no cars were parked, a fog had begun swirling.  Not tightly gathered like a tornado, more like a lazy fog rolling in from the ocean in San Francisco, and as the daylight dimmed in the eclipse, the area enclosed by fog grew and the fog became denser, until at 3PM, precisely the time of totality, it parted.  

The sun disappeared, seemingly suddenly, and it grew dark, as dark as a late evening sky.  Around the horizon for 360 degrees, it was lighted, as if it was dawn.

The fog didn’t disappear but opened to reveal a group of picnickers seated on blankets on the ground, enjoying each other’s company.  There were horse-drawn wagons standing nearby, the horses still hitched in harness to the wagons, were just standing there, patiently, or stretching their necks down to nibble the grass.

There were, maybe, twelve or so individuals plus a few excited kids who were running around chasing each other.  The adults were casually seated or standing, holding plates of food or containers of drinks.  They were in the middle of a picnic to celebrate the day.  Their actions were animated, they seemed to be enjoying the event. 

Without warning, two of the male picnickers faced off aggressively.  They were obviously confronting each other, and their agitation was growing.  One pulled a pistol out of his pocket and shot the other at point blank range!  

The victim was thrown backwards by the impact of the bullet and lay motionless on the ground.  The others ran to him to attend to him, but it was made obvious by their reactions that the bullet had inflicted a mortal wound.  As they knelt by the victim, or stood in silent sadness, the fog re-enveloped the group, and hid them from view.

It was Theresa's first instinct to run over there and try to help but as she stirred to get up, Maggie gave her a disapproving look that stopped her.  I think Maggie understood that it was shades we were seeing, not real people.

As the moon passed the sun and the day became brighter, the fog slowly dissipated and was gone, along with the picnickers, the victim, and the shooter.  There was no trace of them.  We went over and looked.  Not a napkin, chicken bone, crust of bread, nothing remained.  The grass, however, was matted as if a blanket had been on it.

All the way home we tried to talk about what we saw but none of it made any sense.  We were mostly quiet in the car, each dealing with the apparition as best they could.  The odd thing was it stifled our conversation about the eclipse as well.   In fact, we never really discussed and admitted to each other what we'd seen.  What we think we saw was more profound than the eclipse itself.   

When we got back to Louisville, I researched the news from the date of the last eclipse to occur in that area.  It was in 1900, there was nothing in the Louisville paper about it.  My curiosity, however, was piqued.  A few days later I went to the Indiana State Capital archives in Indianapolis and did some more research.

There was an article in the now defunct Jackson County Dispatch, just a small piece, reporting a killing at a picnic at the Jackson County Fairgrounds during the eclipse of 1900.  The shooting took place, and the victim identified as John Brown of Brownstown, (no relation.) Interestingly, none of the witnesses would identify the shooter.  That was the only reference. 

An old man, who had noticed my rummaging of old news articles, was looking over my shoulder.  Although he was not trying to be impolite, I cleared my throat and stirred impatiently.

He said, “I’m sorry, but I see you're interested in John Brown’s shooting.  I was nowhere near it, never knew the man, nor any of the others at the picnic.  No one was charged with it.  One man went about town, pestering a lot of others with what he said was his side of the story.  He never really confessed but everyone who was at that picnic knew what happened. They say that John Brown’s body may be moldering in the grave, but he brings them all back to the fairgrounds from time to time, to remind them of what happened.  He does it when there’s an unusual event going on, like an eclipse.  And anyone who sees the picnic just may see it again.” I hope not.

 And now, as I think about the old man at the archive, and his strong denial of any involvement, I can’t help but wonder if he was involved in some way.  He certainly wanted to tell me that he had nothing to do with it.  Maybe that was he.

The Revelations of Manhunt (S,IAS)

 

The series, Manhunt, is an excellent telling of what happened to the perpetrators of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.  Previously, I had the opinion that Jefferson Davis was a penitent fugitive but now I see the possibility of a totally different scenario.  One that makes him, and others, defiant and plotting the continuation of the conflict.  He was one of many who did not admit defeat at Appomattox.

“The South” was an incredibly large agricultural complex, which was made even more profitable by using slave labor.  Slaves, as a source of low-cost labor, were embedded into the cost structure of that industry and they were also dominated by whites.  The prevailing attitude was to make sure that slaves remain subjugated and powerless.  

The excesses of profits from agriculture and social dominance over the slaves were deeply embedded in the psychology of those in power.  It would take incredible force to take this structure down, and it did.  The Civil War lasted four years and cost both sides a great deal in terms of casualties, not to mention the cost of war in terms of munitions and supplies.

Ending the war and subsequently abolishing the social structure of the South should have been the path of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of happiness for all.  But the entire enterprise was wasted and diminished by the influence the politicos of the south had over Andrew Johnson.  His refusal to reconstruct the South under the spirit of liberty put the former slaves right back where they were without the formality of slavery.  They were free but violently kept subordinated.

Andrew Johnson’s life experiences made it important for him to maintain his feelings of superiority over the next lower class of society.  In fact, he was only one rung from the bottom of the class ladder.  Because of this, he was influenced by the “aristocracy” of the South and acceded to their plot to continue to subjugate the negro even after slavery was abolished by amendment to the Constitution of the United States.  And it remained that way for another 100 years, until the Civil Rights movement of the 1960’s, which tells us that there were many whites in the South that felt as did Andrew Johnson.  It’s just that his being in office put the official stamp on it all.

We are now more than halfway through the second hundred years and there are still latent fear and hatred of blacks.  Yet those who are going through, living in this era of more equality, are much better off than previous generations.  Slowly we are becoming color-blind.

Tolerance (Haiku)

 

We are what we are

People see us in that way

And tolerate us

Or not

The Doing

 

At some point in life, one reaches a place where they don't know what to do. As in, "I'm sitting here, and I don't have anything to do."

For most of our lives, until now, there has been someone or something that would tell us what to do.  Our parents, other adults, teachers, friends, bosses, the law, have always been there to make sure we had something to do.  But not today, not now.

That was the situation, a long time ago, when I decided to do something, even if it didn't make any sense, just to have something to do.  It led me on a journey of self-determination that has had some good results.

Doing anything requires three things: What? Why? and How?

When there's no one else in charge of telling you what to do, you have to come up with something.  It has to be qualified by judgement which has been shaped by "authority" figures for your entire life.  If it meets the criteria, whatever that is for you, then it is acceptable to proceed.

Then, one should ask, "Why?"  And not let go of the question until satisfied with the answer.

The "how" has to be determined by the case in point.  There are some general guidelines for the "how" and they are rooted in the qualities we deem important in our actions.  These are qualities such as respect, integrity, compassion, and consideration of others who share this world with us.

The Doing (Haiku)

 

In all you say and do

Consider these three factors

The what, why, and how

The Spirit World (Haiku)

 

Religions try it

Yet, it will never be done

It's invisible

Lord give us a sign!

And on the side of the road,

Jesus Saves... 1 mile.

(All in white letters on a red board with "Burma Shave" on the back.)

Character Sketch of Everett Montague (Albert Mooney)

He is the central character in the play, All My Passions, by Vin Moreale, Jr.

Albert Mooney was born into this world on Christmas Eve 1939, in St. Louis Missouri, into a family of hardscrabble Irish.  His father was Patrick Mooney, his mother was Maddie.  She was Patrick's sixth wife and was brought in to take care of Patrick’s already large family of six kids, Albert being the seventh.

Albert grew up in a crowded household and a father who was absent most of the time.  Maddie did not remain with him very long for many reasons, infidelity being one of the most egregious.  That and the sheer work of keeping up with all those kids was too much for her.   Patrick went on to father 6 more children, with several more wives. 

Albert left the house when he was 16, not even finishing William Cullen McBride High School.  He got on with a carnival that was performing in a vacant lot in St. Louis.  He was immediately given the job of a barker, enticing people to throw a baseball and knock down the three milk bottles. 

This may sound simple enough and Albert used it as an opportunity to use his skill of casting a sort of spell on people with his patter.  Furthermore, responding to people, overcoming their reluctance to participate, was a classroom for him in the art of persuasion.

It wasn’t long before he was recognized for his intelligence and ability to learn things quickly.  He was promoted to advance man and scouted the next location for the show.   

Advance work is everything that needs to be done to prepare for the show's arrival in a town.   The Advance man is he who handles details such as licenses and sponsors before a carnival arrives in town, and sometimes handles bribes to local officials for leaving the carnival alone.   All this and he was barely twenty years old.

A producer for a burlesque house spotted him on the job and was impressed with his abilities. Albert was approached by him and persuaded to join an act with a vacancy at the Garrick Theater in St. Louis. 

 Albert had found his milieu, melodrama.  He’d moved on to Los Angeles and found his way into motion pictures, usually B movies of an hour and a few minutes.  Always playing the lothario, he developed a following of young, lonely women.

It wasn’t long before he was asked to audition for a new form of television, the weekly soap opera.  Melodramatic plots using the same characters week after week, grinding out shows.  He was in his place now and caught on as Everett Montague, the star of All My Passions, a sleazy soap sponsored by Abbott Laundry Products, where he shone as the star.

The plots were trite, usually involving a good-looking maid who was chased and seduced by the star.  His character was devoid of morals and ethics but only to a certain level of depravity.  Never stepping over the line of 50’s TV censorship.  The Code of Practices for Television Broadcasters prohibited the use of profanity, the negative portrayal of family life, irreverence for God and religion, illicit sex, drunkenness and biochemical addiction, presentation of cruelty, detailed techniques of crime, the use of horror for its own sake, and the negative portrayal of law enforcement officials, among others.  Suggestion, however, was allowed and All My Passions used it to the fullest.

Along the way Albert Mooney became his character, Everett Montague.  He even changed his name and took on the persona as his off-screen self.  Although he never became super-rich, he did achieve a certain affluence.  His private life resembled that of his character in that he had seven wives and was always “on the make” with starlets.  He was a mile wide and an inch deep.

There was a love in his life a long time ago, nearly 50 years prior.  He made the choice to follow a career instead of settling down with one woman.  It could have been the example set by his father, his ego, or the need to chase his fading youth.  It would be difficult to separate these, and all of them probably factored in to make the colorful character that he is.  At any rate, his star is fading, and the host of his show is wondering just how much longer this will be allowed to go on.