Date: Mon, 30 Dec 2013 02:38:58 -0500
From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Roommate Chapter 12

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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.