Smugglin Sam

Smugglin' Sam and the Madam by Mackie 2006 ©

Did you ever hear the story about Sam the smuggler?

It seems that Sam was a southerner, some even called him a southern gentleman. He was the pillar of his church, a deacon no less, a prosperous businessman in the community and a good family man. But he was also a successful smuggler.

He lived in a nice little gulf-port community, the picture of respectability. But as I have told you he was a smuggler. No, he didn't tote the bales of that leafy contraband, or peddle the stuff in the community, but that didn't change anything, it was still his operation.

Sam didn't look at his clandestine business as much of a problem, he had the smugglin pretty well covered, the fishermen did that, didn't even have to go near the operation. Sales, that was no problem either, it was covered, and he didn't have to touch the stuff. Fact is, he had never gotten close to it. Never so much as smoked a joint, or even caught a whiff of the stuff when someone did, for that matter. The law was no problem either, he had connections. You just had to remember to spread the proceeds around a little, don't get too greedy!

The only one cloud at Sam's picnic was money! Most of us have the problem of never having enough, but that wasn't Sam's problem, no siree.

You see, his problem was the three million dollars under his bed, everythin' from well worn dollar bills, to hundred dollar bills. That is a lot of paper to stash away under a man's bed, but what else could he do with it? He dribbled a bit of cash into his construction business, now and again, or put a handful of small bills on the collection plate at church, but you could only do so much of that before somebody started to ask questions.

It was hard to spend too much of it, without attractin' some unwelcome attention. Sam did the best he could, spending cash freely when he was on pleasure trips, and buying little do-dads for the family whenever he thought he could get away with it. But no matter what he did, the money always seemed to be a pilin' up!

The little port was not lily-white, but the coloreds knew their place, and there never was a problem as long as they stayed in it. None of those rabble rousing civil rights things, and there never was any reason for cross burnins at night either. No siree, this was a nice little town, prosperous and quiet.

Like all good things, that had to come to an end some time. Turned out the time was when somebody bought the old Mullins place. In its day, it was the social center of the town, lawn parties, dances and all of that. Now the gardens had grown up into a tangle of weeds, and the house looked shabby with its paint peeling and the odd broken window.

The place was right in the center of town, and there were people who wanted the eyesore out of there complainin' that it ruined property values nearby.

Folks were mad when somebody from the city bought the place, and started fixin' it up. You'd a thought local trades people would have got some of the work, but no siree, all of the workers came from the city.

Somebody came and tore the big garden out, and made it into a parking lot. Then the outside of the place was fixed up and a bunch of painters came along and painted it all up in bright colors.

In the meantime, they were doin' a lot of work on the interior of the house. The local people were just dying to get a look at what was goin' on, but nobody would say anything.

When the place was near done, we found out that a high class black madam had decided that this fair little town was ripe for the pickin', and moved in, lock, stock and whatever else they needed for that business.

She bought the big old house, near a mansion, mind you, in a very dignified part of our fair town. She was a pretty stylish lady alright, still pretty good looking, if a little on the plump side. The way she dressed and carried herself left little doubt about what her occupation might be. You might say that she was a walking billboard for the establishment.

Soon there was a bevy of beautiful girls, some dark and some not so dark, that were all obviously of negotiable virtue! I mean to tell you, there was some fine lookin women in that bunch.

Despite the fact that this apparently was a very high class operation aimed at city folks, and the vulgar side of that business never intruded into the neighborhood, there were comins and goins at all hours. All of which were watched by many of the local ladies from behind drawn window shades, and the parkin' lot was always full of fancy lookin, expensive cars from the city.

To add insult to injury, more than one of the towns matrons, discovered their husbands covertly eyeing the merchandise, a lascivious look on their face.

The girls, for their part, always had a smile for any man that just "happened" to look their way, all duly noted by the ladies of the community. And as one local wag put it, "Jest look at them, and it always seemed as they motor started a runnin'!"

It was time for a white knight, so to speak, to come chargin' into the fray. Sam was in high dungeon, and quite likely a candidate for that knight's job, at least in his own opinion. His first stop was to see Stan, the Sheriff. "Now see here, Stan, we can't have bunch of ho's, a plyin their trade, right in my neighborhood. It just ain't right, Stan!"

"Couldn't agree more, Sam," he replied, "but my hands are tied, unless we can catch 'em doing something illegal."

"How we gonna do that?" Sam asked.

"See, that's the problem," Stan replied.

"What if you just sorta' leaned on them a little bit. Make it hot for them, make 'em wanta move?"

"I'd get a civil rights suit in a heartbeat, Sam. Like I tell you, my hands are pretty much tied."

Every time Sam left his home, he would have to pass this sordid establishment. Every time he would drive home, ditto. When he did, he would grit his teeth, and reckon as how something oughta be done about that place! But what?

A month of this, and plans for terminating the tenure of this flesh market were being rapidly hatched and discarded in Sam's fertile mind. As a matter of fact, jest about every time he went by the place, he would concoct some sort of a plan. That is until he hatched a plan that he looked at from every angle. It looked like a winner, every which way he looked at it.

It took him a coupla' weeks, the odd conversation here, a little investigatin' there, and some negotiatin' elsewhere. Bright and early Monday mornin', at least for that business, anyway, Sam pulls up in front of the offending place of business, after a particularly busy week end, with the aforementioned comin's and goin's, even into the wee hours of the mornin'.

He got out of his car, straightened his elegant clothin', and strode purposefully to the front door, a good-sized cardboard box under his arm, and a bunch papers in his other hand.

Sam rang the doorbell, looking every inch the southern gentleman he aspired to be. He leaned on the doorbell, not an easy job with both hands full, and he waited patiently for someone to answer the door.

It took a couple of minutes for someone to come to the door, and when it opened, that someone was the madam herself.

"What can I do for you honey?" she started, and then caught a quick glimpse of the line up in front of the house. There was Sam's white Caddie of course, but besides that there were three taxis, a couple of other cars, three six-wheeler dump trucks and a couple of men unloading a huge Cat D-6 bulldozer from a float.

The movements of the big Cat, made the ground shake under their feet, shaking everything, and Sam noted a tremble come into the woman's face, and the look of fear in her eyes.

"Good mornin' ma'am!" Sam began, tipping his hat to her. "Now ma'am, I don't mean you no harm, but ma'am, the good citizens of our fair community just cain't have no ho' house in our midst, an ahm a goin to bulldoze it down this mawnin, ma'am."

"Now ma'am, we don't want you lose nuthin' so I took the liberty of goin to the Court House, lookin' the deed up, and findin' out how much you paid. Now maam, I know Charley sometimes, fudges the sellin' price a bit, to save some money on taxes, so he can put a bit extry in his pocket. Can't say I blame him, and I don't want to be tight fingered, so I brought a little extry cash, just to take care of that!" Sam whipped the lid off of the box and showed the startled woman the bundles of cash that it held.

"Now ma'am, we've kinda guessed at what the furnishins might be worth, an we have added some to the pot for that."

"Now ma'am, you've got just fifteen minutes for yo' an yo' ho's to skedaddle. Take anything yo can carry. An my lawyer is right here," Sam said, waving the handful of papers in the general direction of the cars parked at the side of the street, "to sign the papers."

"Lookkee here, ma'am, deed's all drawn up n'everythin'!" Sam told her, showing her the sheaf of papers in his hand, "fifteen minutes, y'all hear?" turned on his heel, walked to his car, and stood there leanin' against the car, lookin' at his watch.

The woman clearly understood the implied threat, and hurried into the house, where you could see little furtive movements of the draperies as curious eyes looked out! By this time the men had finished unloading the bulldozer and it is now sitting on the lawn, the idling engine making everything tremble.

At precisely the appointed hour, Sam waved at the bulldozer operator. When he hit the throttle of that monster, everything shook as it charged toward the house, and it couldn't have been more than five to ten seconds later that front door exploded open and out came the ladies of the evening, with the madam the last to leave.

Gone were the flouncing ways, the come hither smiles. These girls looked like they were intent on getting somewhere else, and quickly too, judging from the stray bits of gaudy finery protruding from the bags they carried. The madam carried only two small cases, but whatever they contained appeared to be more important to her than all of her finery, judging from the way she clutched them to her ample bosom.

Sam, always the gentleman, called, "Right this way ladies," and loads the girls into two of the waiting taxis, helping with their bags. The taxis quickly left the moment their doors were closed, the girls looking straight ahead, without even a backward glance.

"Right this way ma'am," Sam ushered the madam into the back seat of the lawyers car, where they count out the money, and sign the papers, under the watchful eye of the lawyer.

When the business was transacted, Sam escorted the madam to the waiting taxi, and tipping his hat to her again, said, "It's been real nice doin' business with you ma'am. But hark, if you ever get the idea to move back here, we might not warn you first, next time!" In the meantime, the dozer is ripping into the house, exposing the gaudy furnishings, and shredding everything to rubble. By the time she was in the taxi and ready to leave, clutching her box of cash, and the precious cases she apparently prized so highly, the house was levelled and the workmen were loading the debris into the waiting dump trucks. This time the taxi driver didn't seem to be any hurry to leave, and in fact, didn't move until the last of the rubble was loaded into the dump trucks. His fare didn't complain either, sitting there, her eyes rivetted to the scene.

As her taxi pulled away, Sam's lawyer walked over to where Sam was standing, "You were lucky she didn't call the cops on you Sam. She had every right!"

"I know," Sam smiled ruefully, "she probably did call 'em, but most likely the Sheriff was busy on the other side of town some where, with something more important. That Stan is a mighty busy man, you hear! Besides, what would he be interested in here, this was just an ordinary real estate transaction, and a mighty profitable one for the seller, I might add," both men laughing uproariously at their joke.

By noon, all vestiges of the carnal palace were gone, and so was everybody. Respectability had returned to the neighborhood, and with the return of that respectability, it was learned that the madam had deeded the property to the municipality for a new park, to be named after Sam!

Sam, for his part, felt good about everything, his stash of cash had shrunk some, and he had finally found something useful he could do with the stuff.

The end