January 17, 1931 – Antioch, Illinois
Georgie Schmidt and his brother Ray sat on crates in the cold basement of their parents’ house. Ray closed his eyes and lit a cigarette. Georgie watched the gray smoke curl away from one of the Chesterfields he just gave his brother.
“Do you like those Chesterpains smokes I got you?” Georgie asked.
“Oh yeah,” said Ray, coughing.
Georgie watched the smoke fade into the brown, lumpy walls of the basement. Stealing cigarettes was one of the benefits of being an errand boy for Mr. Einer S. Sometimes Einer’d get so drunk he’d buy a pack of smokes and lose it five minutes later. It never took Georgie Schmidt long to recognize a good situation, and then do something about it.
The thought of smoking the cigarettes himself never occurred to Georgie. They smelled terrible. Ray told him that even though he smoked “forever” he didn’t like the taste of cigarettes until he was at least fifteen. Fifteen was almost year away for Georgie and he didn’t see how a year could change the smell, let alone the taste of those things.
And, Georgie reminded himself from time to time ‘If I start smoking them, that’s more coughing and less money for me.’ The smoke looked fine enough coming off the lit end and disappearing into the shirt of the smoker or the wall of the room or going up and nowhere into the sky. Georgie enjoyed watching the smoke and taking the money. The smokers could keep the smell, the taste, and their coughs.
“You got another pack for me to sell. I’m keeping this one but the kids fishing off Channel Lake are always looking for…” Ray was interrupted by the sound of metal rattling in a dark corner of the basement.
“Damn coon,” said Georgie, “probably chewin’ on what’s left of its hind leg.”
“Well, why don’t you pull its cage into the light once in awhile? Maybe the raccoon wouldn’t fuss so much if he could see.”
“Good idea Ray.” Georgie pulled the cage out the shadows, dragging it under a kerosene lamp hanging in the middle of the basement.
The boys stared at a bloody stump of a bone, hanging where the raccoon’s left hind leg should have been. The thing tried to get out of one of Ray’s traps, one of the homemade traps, one of the good ones. It wasn’t getting out. The animal managed to rip and tear its leg more and that’s about it. Ray was going to drown it as the raccoon seemed determined to chew its leg off completely. It was Georgie who suggested they keep it. Maybe they could figure out a use for a three-legged raccoon.
The boys looked on as the raccoon chewed whatever flesh remained on its left hindquarters.
“Does Eddie S. still want that mangy coon?” Ray asked.
“Yeah,” Georgie laughed.
“What’s he want with a three-legged raccoon?”
“I think,” said Georgie, “he wants to keep it in his garage and charge folks a penny each to see it.”
“And why ain’t you doing that Georgie?”
“Well I am going to try to make a sure dollar, or at least 50 cents selling the coon to Eddie. I figure he won’t find 50 kids that’ll pay a penny to see a three-legged raccoon.”
“Ok, but tell me this. What’s the difference between showing the raccoon yourself for a penny a kid and the other tricks you do for pennies? You know, the stupid stuff like putting the lit matches in your mouth, or the garter snake in the underwear trick…”
“What do you mean Ray?” But Georgie sort of knew what Ray meant. His older brother always got on him about his tricks, especially putting lit matches in his mouth for pennies. Ray would say ‘a boy who won’t smoke cigarettes will put a lit match in his mouth for a penny just doesn’t make sense.’ And it never would to Ray.
“Well,” Ray continued, “why don’t you show the raccoon yourself when you do all those other things for pennies? I mean, don’t you worry that people will get tired of seeing the that junk you do, same as they might not want to see a freak raccoon?”
“Sure Ray, but with the raccoon you have an overhead. I don’t have any overhead for myself, mom and dad take care of that.”
“Huh?” Ray asked.
“Overhead, the overhead for animal acts…you know, pony rides and such. I learned about overhead at Future Farmers with Mr. Garver. You know Mr. Garver Ray.”
“The science teacher,” Ray replied.
“Yeah. Well he tried to get me interested in Future Farmers one of those odd days I was actually in school.”
The boys laughed. Georgie continued, “Anyway Mr. Garver gave me some book on James A. Bailey. So I read the book and Bailey said something to somebody about how much it costs to keep an animal act in business. You got to feed the animal, cage it, make sure it don’t get sick, make sure it don’t hurt the customers…”
“But Georgie, how’s a three-legged raccoon gonna hurt anyone?”
“He might not hurt anyone, but that’s not the point. All that other stuff, it’s too much for me to take care of. Too much of that overhead. There might not be enough coming back to me in such a risky business. That’s why I’m selling it to Eddie.”
“What’s Eddie offering?” Ray asked.
“A nickel.”
“A nickel?” Ray cried.
“Yeah, I told him to go jump in the lake. I told him that a three-legged raccoon is worth at least a dollar,” said Georgie.
“What did he say?”
“Well, you know Eddie. He’s got a short fuse,” Georgie told his brother, “He thinks he’s like Einer and he can bully people into doing what he wants. But Eddie’s just not that scary.”
“For being Einer’s only son, Eddie’s pretty much of a pipsqueak,” Ray said as he nodded and blew smoke straight down. Georgie watched the smoke fan out across his brother’s red-checked shirt.
Georgie continued, “So Eddie says, ‘If you won’t sell the raccoon for a fair price I’ll have to take matters in my own hands’ and I says, ‘What does that mean?’ and he says ‘You’ll see’. So now I’m waiting for him to come back and either offer 50 cents for the coon which is a fair price, or start a fight with me.”
“And if he starts a fight with you…”
“If he starts a fight with me,” Georgie interrupted, “I’ll lick ‘em good. Eddie’s been down to the lake too often, messing with our traps and being generally stupid. I’ll be happy to teach him a lesson.”
“You think he’ll try to steal the raccoon?” Ray asked.
The raccoon stopped gnawing at its bloody stump. It stared through the thin cage wires, black eyes glazed over with pain. It hissed and spit at the boys…
Georgie laughed.
The raccoon began chewing its bloody stump again.
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