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Chapter 12 Summer in the South
From Chapter 11
After four years, Beau graduated Magna Cum Laude, Phi Beta Kappa, and President of the Student Senate. I was a loyal member of the class, also Magna Cum Laude, and Phi Beta Kappa but, following family tradition, not active in student government. I just basked in my friendship with one of the most illustrious members of my class at Williams. I did tell my Father that as Beau continued telling me that he had visited our prisons, and I had not reciprocated, and my Father agreed that in the summer following graduation I could visit Beau on his family's farm (read plantation) and obtain some first-hand knowledge of what involuntary servitude was like. I even had extracted from my Father... and I suspect mostly because of how much he liked Beau... That I could spend as much time as I wanted with Beau, and I was released from my summer employment and learning obligation to the family.
I was really excited. I am in an airplane and headed to Nashville where Beau has assured me he will be there waiting to drive me down to their family plantation Pleasant Acres, south of Nashville. I smiled as I remembered my Mather's concern that for a whole summer I had packed only one big suitcase. "Are you really sure you have enough clothes for all the types of activities that might occur over a whole summer?" was my Mather's incredulous comment. "You're going to be down there for over three months, and I am still amazed that even Beau was able to get your Father to agree to allow you to be there for the whole summer. I know he has talked many times at how excited he was to have you be able to be with him as soon as graduation was over." I agreed. I was amazed. But Beau was such a special person to my Father, and all my family, that my Father's desire to put me to work had come in second to allowing Beau to have me for the summer. I tried to sleep on the flight, but was too excited, and so I entertained myself with the snack, which was now all anyone received on a flight, and looking at the clouds, or down at the land over which I was flying. Finally I heard all the normal announcements about getting myself and the areas around me ready for the landing. That landing also went effortlessly, and soon I was disembarking. As I walked out of the movable tunnel which took me from the plane to the terminal, I looked out and there was Beau, waving vigorously at me. "Frank, Welcome to Tennessee! I have anticipated being able to entertain you for years. I need to repay you for allowing me to become a part of your wonderful family. We walked down to the carousel to pick up the luggage, and I saw the first sign that I was now in a state that allowed for persons convicted of a crime to be put into involuntary servitude.
Standing by the carousel were at least ten young men probably teens to early twenties, waiting to take the bags from the carousel. I guess I expected them all the be naked and in chains...or perhaps I was hoping they would all be naked and in chains... but instead all the men were in dark blue jumpsuits with "Tennessee Involuntary Servant" on the breast pocket area of the front of the jumpsuit, and on the backs "Luggage Services Corps" and in smaller print under that notation again "Tennessee Involuntary Servant." "Let me have the luggage card you received when you checked in your luggage in Harford." Beau said.
I had forgotten the card as I had no idea what it was all about when I received it, but fortunately I had just slipped it in my pocket. I handed it over to Beau. "In the rest of the country, outside the old fashioned New England states, you don't have to wait around and grab you bags. This card has a small electronic strip on it, and when I give this to a servant, all he has to do is wait for the matching strip on the bag to beep and he will connect the two, and bring it to you. If you wish, he will also take it to the front door. However, if you want it to be taken to your car, you have to have another servant pick it outside and then that servant will take it to your car for you." I was amazed. No one had ever told me about this service. I suspect that I have a whole series of surprises about how much the rest of the country used involuntary servants to perform this type of menial manual tasks for free citizens. However I recovered fast enough to note that there seemed to be a time from inside to outside that I would have to move my own luggage. "So how do I get my luggage from the inside servant to the outside servant?" I felt a bit snug that I had exposed a snag in their system. Of course I should have known better. "Oh I forgot," Beau said, smiling broadly. (I suspect I had just fallen into another of his little snares.) The inside servant puts your luggage on a set of rollers that takes it outside the terminal, and a servant there can match you and your luggage together immediately.
Beau snapped his fingers and immediately the first servant in line, who seemed to be perhaps in his late teens hurried to us. "SIRS, thank you for allowing this servant to obtain your bags and take them to the front doors, SIRS. SIRS may I have the luggage tags SIRS?" "There is only one bag, and here is the ticket." Beau said. I noted he did not thank the servant for offering this service. I guess when you are used to involuntary servants doing all these jobs for you, you just accept them and their service as the normal part of life. I noticed when the servant was standing by the carousel that I could see the steel collar around his neck. It was not like the ones shown in our textbooks in Massachusetts which show involuntary servant slaves with thick steel collars around their necks that looked like they might be a couple of inches wide, and perhaps a quarter to a half inch thick. The servant's collar was round, and seemed to be less than a half-inch in diameter. As he stood at the carousel I could see that similar round cuffs were around his wrists, and I was sure that they were also present around his ankles even though his jump suit was gathered around his thick soled black work shoes. Suddenly the red light above the carousel began flashing, and the rumble of the metal slats began their clanking circular journey from behind a wall and into a rather serpentine trip in the arrival hall where we were standing. Instantly I noted the servant became more alert and held the card out in front of him so that he would be able to clearly be able to find my bag. As bags moved around I saw several servants move forward and take bags, and as I saw what I was sure was my bag move into view, obviously something alerted my servant, and he moved the card over the metal slated loop, and as my bag came in front of him, effortlessly snatched it up. He immediately moved back toward Beau and me. "SIR, your servant has your bag. What is your pleasure for this servant to do to serve you further?" Although said pleasantly, and directed to me...although the servant never made eye contact with me, but looked at my sternum, I again felt that the statement was again something that come out of him as automatically as if it had been a recording. Beau of course took charge. "Follow us to Exit 17." "My pleasure SIR..." the servant said, and I could tell there was more to the standard reply when Beau cut the speech off. "Follow us to the exit." Beau started moving, and so I also began moving with him, and respectfully two steps behind us was the servant carrying my luggage. When we got to the doors from the terminal, Beau and I paused at the door and our terminal servant pushed my one piece of luggage through a portal, and on the other side another servant dressed in the same type of blue jump suit picked it up and looked at us. "Thank you sirs for allowing this servant to serve you SIRS." the first servant said as he gave a little bow and scurried back toward the carousels. Beau just ignored him. I suspect that the servant's response was as automatic to Beau's hearing as it had been for the servant to say. In this case both the speaker and the listener played their roles automatically. I thought that in a sense the servant was to Beau more a fixture to the terminal than a person who had just provided us a service.
Beau nodded, and the new servant followed behind us as we actually walked about twenty feet to Beau's car. "I cannot imagine there was not some servant powered carriage to save us having to walk all this way." I said to see if I could get a rise out of Beau. Instead he took my question seriously. "Well as we are both physically not impaired it would be considered inappropriate to make a servant come with a person carrier to transport us to my car." I was somewhat surprised that Beau had not seen my joke. I made a mental note that to Beau the rules and the handling of involuntary servants was very serious and important business, and probably I should keep my non-involuntary servant mentality humor to myself. What type of automobile would I expect Beau to drive? Exactly what just had had its trunk lid pop open and the servant carefully place my luggage inside. It was a white BMW two seat convertible sports car. I had no doubt that it could outrun most other cars on the road, and it simply made of statement of style, taste, and wealth that all were components of Beauregard Jackson Thomas Masterson. "Thank you sirs for allowing this servant to serve you sirs." came the expected comment from the servant. Beau nodded in response to the servant's expected thanks, and as the servant returned to a line awaiting luggage outside the terminal building, I got into the convertible, and immediately yelped a bit as the leather seats were hot. "Sorry about that." Beau drawled. (I did notice that Beau had more of a southern drawl now than I had ever noticed in Massachusetts. "I should have put the top up, but I was running a bit late because of some construction on the road near home." "No problem," I said as my butt adjusted to the heat. "I'll cool us down on the trip out to Pleasant Acres." And indeed Beau did cool us down. As soon as we were out of the airport and on the interstate, his speed cooled even my butt down as fresh air rushed over every part of me. As we sped through the city Beau pointed out the state capitol building on the top of a hill. "That has been our capitol building since 1859, and as you can see it is in the Greek revival style." Beau smiled over at me. "You'll be interested to know the architect was a Yankee named William Strickland, and he was from Philadelphia. He died before the building was completed and is actually buried in the northeast wall – the closest to Philadelphia I suppose." I nodded and was amazed at Beau's knowledge. I must admit the building was impressive, and definitely was at the highest point of the city. We continued driving south, and as we sped (and I DO mean sped) through numerous stretches of suburban housing divisions and malls, we were finally in the countryside. After being away from the city and its suburbs for a while Beau left the interstate, and drove down a series of roads until we were traveling down a road that had white three rail fences along both sides of the road. The fences looked as if they had just been painted, and the grass around the fences was cut and trimmed. There were no weeds to be seen. "This area certainly is beautiful." I felt compelled to comment. "You are impressed?" Beau responded. "Yes, of course. You have seen the roads in Massachusetts, and they are not as well kept, and certainly the fence rows out in the countryside are not as beautifully trimmed and maintained as I see here." was my gushing reply. "Well I am glad you like it, as what you see on both sides of the road are two parts of Pleasant Acres. My home." Beau replied with obvious pride. "WOW!" was my creative reply... But it seemed to only term equal to the beauty and the care that were evident by the maintenance of just the fences of the plantation. Mentally I could not imagine how much servant power was used just to keep the Pleasant Acres fences and fence rows this immaculate. Several miles more we turned into a paved driveway which also had the beautiful white three rail fences leading down both sides of the lane. About ten feet down the lane was a sign beside the lane which stated that we were entering "Pleasant Acres Plantation, Home of the Wilkinson's." We drove down this drive, and on either sides were agricultural fields. One was corn, and the other was some plant that was not too tall, but rather bushy. "I am sure you recognize the corn field on the left, but perhaps not the cotton field on the right." Beau drawled. "You know like in the song. Like those old cotton fields back home...?" "Well I did recognize the corn, but I do believe this is the first cotton field that I have ever seen." was my reply. As I thought about this interchange later, I realized that Beau was expecting me to have a reaction to the allusion to the song about Dixie, but I was so overwhelmed that I took his remark on face value. As we drove further I saw the sight that I had known I would see eventually, but now there it was, perhaps a half mile from the speeding car in which I was riding. I looked over to my right and saw that there was a rider on a horse, and there also were several gangs of servants in black and white striped clothing weeding the cotton field bent over on their knees. I remembered seeing pictures of convict chain gangs from the south in those stripes suits working beside the roads in my history books. However the black and white striped prisoner suits in the history books were dirty and ill fitting. These black and white striped suits gleamed in the sun, and though they were loose fitting they did seem to be sized to the wearer, and not just a "one size fits all" large loose garment. Each worker had a bag fastened to their backs with a series of straps and the weeds and other debris that they cleared from the plant rows were placed in the bags on their backs. Beau slowed down and stopped. Each of the servant workers had on a shiny steel collar around his neck which shown in the sunlight. These collars were what I had expected earlier. Each was made of steel, but it was a band of steel probably an inch and a half to two inches high, and I would later find were about a half in thick. The ankle and wrist cuffs were similarly sized. The servants' wrists were not chained together but their ankles were. As the horseman came over to where we were now stopped, I could see that the horseman carried a coiled whip on the saddle. As he rode over to us, I noticed that he looked like he had just come from some photo shoot of the well-dressed horseman. His shirt was wrinkle free and sparkling clean. It looked like he could have just put it on after its being laundered. His light tan pants were what I recognized as being rider's pants. They were tight to the skin, (which allowed me to almost trace the powerful taut thigh muscles that stretched his pants tightly and had extra oval patches on the inside of the pant legs where the rider's upper legs and knees help send directions to the horse. He was certainly a powerfully built man. He also wore black rider's boots which came almost up to his knees. These boots shone in the sun. I would say they looked brand new, but that would not do them justice. The leather literally had a mirror like surface to it. "Master Beau, SIR, it is good to see you SIR." was the rider's respectful greeting. "George it is good to see you again. How is that wife and two sons of yours?" Beau responded. "SIR, they are all fine SIR. My wife wanted me to thank you personally for the birthday present you sent over for Jim's third birthday last week. I was certainly appreciated. Jim has spent many hours just swinging in the swing, and is beginning to explore all the other features of that swing set. He loves the slide and is determined to learn to jump up and grab and grab the bar set also." "George (now Beau had graciously let me know his name without being obtrusive) this is my college roommate from Massachusetts." The horseman nodded toward me, and touched his forehead with the coiled whip. "An honor to meet you SIR." George said as he looked at me intensely. I felt the gaze to be very thorough, and thought that after I left George could probably tell someone else my hair color, eye color, probably weight and height, and muscular development. Beau looked over at me. "George here is our chief overseer for new coffles. When we purchase a new set of coffle servants, we have arranged for them not to go to the state run training program which lasts three months and convers a lot of extraneous skills – like domestic household responsibilities – that these servants will not need to know. And I can answer the question about the whip because I know with that Gone With the Wind' mindset you would imagine George riding up and down the rows whipping the servants to motivate them to keep working at their optimum. Just like the phrase I remember reading in a book I read for a history class at Willams, In the South there is a widely agreed upon philosophy that the only way to retract the maximum effort from a slave is liberally to apply the whip to the slave.' The truth is that the whip in the hands of the chief overseer is sort of like a badge of office. It is mostly symbolic, at least here on Pleasant Acres. Assistant overseers do have to use it on the field coffles late in the day – not to beat the servants – as a beaten servant is not productive – but to help the servant get to the reservoir of energy to work the entire twelve hour day." Beau stopped and looked over at George who was nodding agreement. George must have thought that he was supposed to continue my education. "Actually sir, I'd say that every servant that is purchased to serve his indenture at Pleasant Acres is actually thankful and happy to be here, and determined to work hard to be able to stay here the whole time if his indenture." Looking at me he continued. "You see that indentured servants here at Pleasant Acres are not subject to unneeded punishments. We do not tolerate gratuitous whipping by supervisors. Such whipping does not increase the quality nor quantity of the work the servants produce, in our opinion. (Here I noticed Beau nodding in agreement.) At Pleasant Acres servants know to work hard, but they also know that their hard work will not be insulted by gratuitous whipping. Also at the end of the work day, the servants know that the servant pens they return to have smooth concrete floors and are always cleaned during the day. Every third day new straw is placed in each pen for the night and there is a latrine trench with a continuous flow and usually at least two water spigots in each pen." I realized from the proud tone of voice that George used to extoll these qualities of the pens and the work of the servants that he expected some expression of amazement and appreciation for these conditions. However, I had no reference against which to judge these conditions and so just nodded to acknowledge my listening to these facts. Though it crossed his face only momentarily, I did detect his unhappiness that I did not respond both more positively and more vocally. George then added, " Although these conditions may seem less than ideal to someone from Massachusetts, most plantations have reverted to ancient language and call them slave pens,' and these pens are rarely cleaned more than once a week, if that, and new straw might be added only every other cleaning. A concrete latrine trough is also an extra consideration with actual flushing by water in the evening until lights out. The norm is to flush the trough only at lights out." Again, I know that George expected something, and staining my memory of the few conversations I had engaged with Beau about the involuntary servant conditions during out time in the dorm I answered, "Sir, I have never seen an actual involuntary servant until this day, but I do see that these servants are not being beaten, and I know that with Beau's help I will return to New England much better informed about the facts of the involuntary servant life here... at least like it is lived here at Pleasant Acres." This speech seemed to restore some civility to George's demeanor. `Yes SIR, I know that Beau plans to give you a great education about the life of servants while you are here. Sir." "Yes indeed George, I plan to give Frank a tour of the plantation and more opportunities to get the facts of the life of an involuntary servant on his stay here." Beau then added with a nod to George. "Well SIR when you are touring Pleasant Acres, you ARE seeing the best." George again said looking at me again with an appraisal close scrutiny stare. "Thanks George!" Beau finished off our conversation, started the BMW again, and off we roared toward the house, which was not yet in sight. In my rear view mirror I saw George pausing to look at us dashing down the lane, and then turn his horse again to be there with the coffle and to supervise their work. Looking at me Beau said "It takes a while to make sure that the servant knows his place, understands his necessity to hard labor, and be a full contributing member of the coffle. Once they have their orientation and education completed, the members of the coffle settle in, and will actually form a sort of family. In the evening back in their pen, you can see them bond and form a great hard working, but close-knit unit." Beau beamed at this educational tidbit that I had just been given. I replied. "I know that I will be much more informed after the summer." Beau smiled, "I know you will have an educational and beneficial summer." with a glance to me. "Well let's us get on down to the house." Beau replied lightening the mood. As we traveled several more minutes down the long driveway to the house, I could see other servant coffles working in other fields. I decided that I would not make any further comments on George's remarks until I had thought about them myself for a little longer, and when I felt more comfortable as a guest on what was acceptable and not acceptable for a northerner to probe about the involuntary servants who worked this extremely large plantation. We came over a hill, and Beau said. "Well there's home" Home was a red brick Georgian mansion, like I think you would see in England as the house of some nobleman. We pulled around the back of the house to a garage that had eight separate garage doors. Beau pushed a button and one of the doors began its ascent to allow Beau to pull into the garage wing of the home. As soon as Bearau pulled in and turned off the car, out came a servant in a formal suit, except that he wore a round collar, and I could see his rounded steel wrist cuffs also. "MASTER BEAU, welcome home. Welcome Master Frank. We all have been anticipating meeting the great good friend of Master Beau in that cold northern State of Massachusetts." That whole speech was made with such genuine happiness that I could tell that the servant was indeed very personal in his devotion to serving Beau. The servant then opened the door from the garage that led into a large foyer. Normally I would expect this type of room at the front of a home, but this one was there off the garage. I looked over a Beau who was smiling at me with that sort of half laughing smirk on his face. "Bet you were not expecting this inside the garage door to the house were you." "No. I have never seen a sort of formal foyer off a garage. I mean the floor is marble tile!" "You were expecting a furnace and a couple of nails?" Beau replied... and I sensed with a bit of irritation. About that time and man and woman came through the doorway at the other end of this foyer from the door into the garage. Beau looked at me and said rather formally, "Franklin Emerson Wilson Wilkinson, may I present to you my parents, Granvill and Katherine Masterson." They both held out their hands, and I shook first his Mother's and then his Father's hands. They began laughing. "Beau quit trying to shock your friend." his mother said. "Frank, my Husband and I are thrilled to have you visit this summer. We have been anxious to repay you and your family for all those break period Beau has spent at Springfield. "Mrs. Masterson, Thank you very much for allowing me to visit for the summer. Just the drive here and certainly this most elegant back garage entryway I have ever seen tells me I am going to enjoy and remember this summer forever." "Frank, thank you for you gracious compliments. I know that Beau gets great fun sneaking his guests in this way, but Gran and I are thrilled to finally have you visit. Beau has kept us informed at the hospitality you extended to him while he was up in that North. I told me that the weather there was very cold, but the way you and your whole family treated him allowed him to feel warm and comfortable." "Mrs. Masterson, I can assure you that my family regards Beau as a family member. If Beau would not have come there for breaks and especially for Thanksgiving my family would have just been devastated." That is when I revealed my surprise. "Mrs. Wilkinson, my Mother would not allow me to leave without making sure I brought her personal thanks for Beau." This is when I look out from the little traveling bag I had kept with me the whole trip an envelope from my Mother to Beau's Mother. I knew that inside were seeds from my Mother's prize winning flower of some kind. Mrs. Wilkinson took the envelope, opened it, read a bit and then examined the bag of seeds." She seemed truly pleased, and both smiled at me, gave me a hug, and almost seemed to sniffle a bit. My mom would indeed be pleased. "Your Mother is a very gracious lady. The note and the seeds from her prize winning flowers are just extremely thoughtful. I had a gift from my Father for Mr. Masterson, but I thought I would save that until later. "Well you'all come on into the house, and we'll have a bit of light lunch on the veranda." We did have a wonderful lunch on the beautiful veranda, with servants ready to fill glasses, take away a dish, and without being obnoxious, provide you with a totally enjoyable lunch experience. Beau and his parents were talking about some trip his parents were going on, and I must admit, as it did not pertain to me, that I paid little attention. As I was finishing desert which was fruit over some absolutely light sherbet, Beau broke into my dreamlike state. "Well, perhaps you would like the short tour of the rest of the house, and then I will take you upstairs to your rooms, and we'll decided what to do with the rest of the day." I did note he said rooms, but did not comment upon it. He led me to the front of the house to what he called the "formal" part of the house. Beau led me through many rooms on the ground floor. There were several formal rooms at the front of the house that were worthy of an Architectural Digest cover spread, and the less formal rooms behind these elegant front formal ones were equally impressive. As Beau explained "The front of the house is for impressing, but the whole back part of the house is for living. " At the end of the tour, Beau let me up the stairs, again a stairway that would have been right in place with one of those mansions in "Gone With the Wind" and opened the door to what he called "Your digs for the time here." It was not a room but a suite. It had a sort of mini living room right off the hallway, then through double doors a bedroom, and off the bedroom on one side was a walk in closet, and on the other my own bathroom with a spa, jetted tub, a shower with enough shower heads to keep every part of the occupant's body thoroughly engulfed in the hot water. I suppose it could also give you a cold shower, but I envisioned the luxury of having my body messaged by all those shower heads by hot steamy water. I was amazed to find my bags were in the closet and my clothes hung in the closet. There was also a note on the bed. " SIR,Frank, SIR. Some of you clothes were a bit wrinkled from the trip. These are being pressed and will be returned and hung for you." At this time Beau knocked at the door, and came in. "How would you like to ride over Pleasant Acres, and get a feel for the whole place?" Beau asked. "Sounds great. Give me a few minutes to change and I'll be down." I suspect that riding over Beau's family's plantation would be as amazing to me as arriving at his home had been.