Mr. Scrabanek�s Phone. (original) (raw)

Emil Skrabanek, aka Junior, had inherited the business from his father after Emil Sr. was pinned under a livestock trailer while changing a flat. Had it been on a highway, he may have survived, but the loaded trailer was behind a barn on private (leased) property and it was days before he was found. The cows lost some weight, but survived � only to be driven to slaughter after being fattened at a feed lot.

Both Skrabaneks had played football for their county seat team, but Emil Sr. taught his son that business came first. �Treat everyone equally, he said, �but don�t take any checks from those #*&% panthers.�

Junior�s had the ideal crossroad location. It was also (more or less) equidistant between two county seats. The two towns provided most of Emil�s business. Both towns had been high school football rivals dating back to the days when they wore leather helmets.

The pool-playing, beer drinking clientele would abruptly change from time to time. It would be a hangout for one team for 18 months or so and then abruptly switch to another. No one could point to a reason. It just happened. The old timers that played dominos in the back room didn�t care who used the pool tables � and neither did Junior. As long as everyone paid in U.S. currency, everything was jake.

Junior kept a phone under the bar. It was a beige �Princess� model that he had picked up at a garage sale. It had an exceptionally long extension cord that reached all the way back to the domino tables � a convenience for Mr. Broussard, the area�s token Louisianan. �Buddy� Broussard was crippled while changing a tire on a livestock trailer and never made it back home to Beaux Bridge. It was just as well since it was rumored he was heavily in debt for a failed crawfish farm. His wife had him declared legal dead � which in Louisiana takes about ten days. The arrangement suited Buddy fine.

Junior had tried to get a pay phone installed, but the phone company said it wouldn�t make enough to justify sending a man from Houston to collect the money. So Junior had to settle on his business phone. But he didn�t advertise the fact that it was there.

Still, the regulars knew it was there. Sometimes the phone�s presence would be forgotten, but every few weeks (or whenever someone got himself pinned under a livestock trailer) it was remembered. Perhaps it was the phases of the moon, but sometimes it seemed everybody and his nephew had to make a call. Junior hinted that he should be paid for the phone�s use, but nobody took him seriously. The pool players would use the phone to call their girlfriends or their bail bondsmen - or both. Kermit Zapalac, who happened to be dating a bail bondswoman from Brenham, could make both calls at once.

When they gave the phone back to Junior, the patrons mumbled their thanks. Junior mumbled back � but it wasn�t �you�re welcome.� They were aware of Junior�s dirty look, but they kept their quarters in their pockets � to use in the juke box or the pool table. It was when the girlfriends and bail bondsmen started calling Juniors for their lovers or clients - that Emil really got steamed.

Junior never was considered talkative. He spent words like they cost money and he saw no reason to speak when a nod, a shrug or raised eyebrows could do the talking for him. Therefore, it was a surprise when he struck up a conversation with Joe Fraga one evening. Joe was another guy who didn�t talk much. Their conversation drew even more attention when Emil opened the cash register and slid a $10 bill toward Joe.

Two nights later, there was a new piece of �furniture� in Junior�s Place. It sat next to the juke box in the corner. It was (as Groucho used to say) �A common item � something you see everyday.� What it was was a newspaper rack � a used one purchased from Joe Fraga. It was the wire cage type � the one where the front opens down. It was painted red � just like the ones in Houston.

The paper rack had been dented when it was struck in a livestock trailer accident, but the mechanism that accepted quarters still worked. Instead of newspapers � the rack held Junior�s beige Princess phone � with its extension cord coiled like a fireman�s hose. For the first time ever, Junior was asking patrons if they needed to make a call.

©

John Troesser
November 9, 2014 Column
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