`Drawing by Judith Wolfe`

Boyd Widger

A CRAZY BUM

It would be palpable that a town with a name such as Peaceville Pennsylvania would be just that, and it was just that, that is, until of late, for the peace there was being disturbed by one such man known as Markum P. Towers, better known as "A Crazy Bum" in quaint little Peaceville.

The truth be known, he had been an itinerant bum for some twenty years now. Where he came from no one knew, nor could anyone care less. He just happened to show up in that town about a year ago and most everyday since. His appearance alone, in Peaceville, was enough to provoke loathing, for it was a known fact that he hadn't changed attire since he first appeared there...a shabby, dirty, red, plaid shirt; filthy, faded overalls, ponderous work shoes, and an old, disheveled blue striped, railroad cap; plus that, he sported a shaggy gray food and drink stained beard.

Old, dirty, crazy Markum was quite incongruous in a setting such as that of Peaceville: clean crisp streets, old, but well kept buildings, fresh white houses, pretty flowers and churches, smooth shaven faces, clean mouths, pure minds, white hearts, nice shiny cars, green grass, quiet days, tranquil nights, and trustworthy ways.

A mystery of mysteries---no one ever seen Markum with a bottle of alcohol on his person. Either he was crazy or he was drunk all the time, but as it was, no one ever seen or smelled alcohol on him, so they settled for him being just plain crazy.

Markum did have on his person, now, as he stalked clumsily and heavily, heading back home, along the Pennsylvania Railroad's tracks, a banana, three tomatoes, a half loaf of stale bread, a dime, a small jar of instant coffee, and five cigar butts of various lengths and tastes. All of which, were peace disturbingly, found or confiscated from the peaceful stores, or streets, or gardens, or garbage cans from in and around Peaceville.

In the last twenty years Markum changed residences many times; right now he inhabited an old gargantuan mansion-like house in the wilderness which was, long ago, originally, some kind of hotel or boarding house, secondly and esoterically, a speakeasy and house of prostitution, thirdly, a boy scout camp, and fourthly, a vacuous, so called, haunted house, until Markum, some months ago, made it his home.

"Damn kids, poor kids, damn kids, dumb kids, poor kids" he muttered, kicking the gravel up alongside the tracks, as he walked. Now and then he would stop and peer queerly up and down the Allegheny river which ran parallel the railroad tracks. The smell of warm tar, creosote, the sulfurous smell of coal smoke, and the dank, cold blooded smell of the murky river made him feel at home. He missed those smells everytime he went into Peaceville, for everyday, when there, he longed to be back home in his big mansion playing with his little boy Joey, who really wasn't there, or caressing and talking with his wife, though she too was not really there, or just walking around puttering about, weeding flowers, cutting grass, planing the future, chastising JoeyЕ.yet, the only things really there were just the old dilapidated structure itself, abandoned in the wilderness, and crazy Markum.

He thought he worked hard in Peaceville to bring home food and money for his family; it was an everyday spectacle to see him sauntering sloppily about the little town bedraggled and mumbling incoherently. And the kids and townsfolk made it quite difficult for him, especially the kids. Everyday they badgered him: "Yah, yah, yah, hello Crazy BumЕ" "Hey Bummy!Еyuh getting any food today?" "Hey Bumhead!ЕЕ a penny for your thoughts?" "Hey Crappy!Е.you stink! Crazy Bum!ЕDirty Bum!"And the grown ups: "No loitering here, trash!" "Get out of here and stay out!" "Leave or I will call the police!" And some of the store owners even put signs in their stores: MARKUM P. TOWERS PERSONA NON-GRATA.

When Markum first saw one of those signs, he knew exactly what it meant; he didn't have to ask anyone so that they could have the pleasure of telling him right to his face that, "It means get the hell out, you're not welcome here!"

So, as it was, the times were hard. His reputation had grown out of proportion there in Peaceville. Anymore, tempers reached a peak just to look at him. Some people said theyЕ."Wouldn't put anything past himЕ.." "Never know what an old crazy bum might do." Anyone who dressed as he did and stole from stores and gardens and garbage cans had to be crazy, and worse, evil, so they thought. Besides, he upset the balance and dignity of Peaceville. Soon there would be nothing but hate and scorn for him there, and he would have to goЕ move on to, subsist off, some other town. And Markum knew that; he thought about it constantly. But anyways, now, he was glad to be nearly home.

He took a cigar butt from his pocket and lighted it as he turned off the tracks and headed up the serpentine path, through the woods, that led up to his mansion there in the wilderness. Smiling he felt the dime in his pocket and blew out a big gray cloud of smoke. A bit later he stopped, turned around, and looked back down through the spaces between the green foliage and trees at the river. The river was lonely, the woods were lonely; Markum too, he was the meaning of the word personified, and the sun was turning red and lonely far over in the western sky. Then he took his striped railroad cap off and felt the banana, he stole, atop his head, put the cap back on, blew out another gray cloud, turned and started walking again up the steep anfractuous path saying, "Little Joey, got a banana for Joey again."

The tormenting voices of the kids in town always hurt him more than the adult's warnings and threats. At night he would wake up screaming and trembling, and each morning he dreaded going back into town knowing that the kids would harass him implacably. If he didn't keep his mind on other things, those voices would reverberate and burn like vitriol in his brain: "Yah, Yah, Yah, Crazy Bum! Crazy Bum! Nothin but a lazy bum!" "Hey Graybeard! You're weird graybeard!" "Good grief! There's the thief! Good grief! There's the thief!" "Hello General!" "Hello Captain!" "Hi Chief!" "Good morning Mayor!" "Hey Graybeard! You're weird Graybeard!"

At last Markum was within view of his home. He could see it up ahead, like a big dirty white box with shuttered windows, high up, jutting out of the wilderness, across the dusty dirt road that ran past it. From up there, one could see parts of the tracks and river and the tops of the trees that made the wood through which he was walking. His heart quickened. Mrs. Towers and Joey would be there waiting for him like always. He stopped for another rest, blinked his strained eyes, and wiped the sweat from his ruddy forrowed face. It was getting close to dusk; the crickets were singing, and when he started walking again he began to hum. He hummed the rest of the way right into the kitchen of the old mansion.

"Good evening dear," he said. Yet, there was no one there, but there was to Markum, she was right there with him. In fact, she was wearing his favorite, loose fitting, light green, summer, coquettish dress.

"Well, its about time you got here, Markum dear," she said, as she continued to prepare supper. And he went to her, by the sink, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Sorry mama, but I put in a long hard day," he said, pecking her on the cheek. Then, "Where's my boy?" he demanded, setting the tomatoes, stale bread, instant coffee, and the dime on the sink counter.

"Right in there somewhere dear," she said, continuing her work.

Markum's footsteps echoed harshly as he walked in to the vast, ballroom-like, dining room. "Joey! Joey! Joey boy! Where are yuh?" he shouted as he looked up at the balcony that surrounded the room. "Joey! you up there? Come down here boy!"

And if one were Markum, one could hear the light patter of footsteps on the stairs, and one could hear and see blond haired Joey saying, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" as he ran across the huge room.

Markum stooped down to catch him. "Joey baby, Joey boy," he said, hugging and kissing him; "Here's your banana little fella, daddy got it for you."

Of course there was no hand to grasp it, and he let it go, never noticing that it fell on the floor.

"Now you stay down here, mama's got supper about ready, boy," he said. Then he went back into the kitchen and returned to the hugh room with the foodЕthe fruits of his labor in and around Peaceville, and set it down on an old, obnoxious, rectangular wooden table that sprawlled out in the center of the room; then he sat down.

"Come on Joey," said mother. Markum heard it loud and clear; she was sitting right across from him.

"Mighty hard day I put in today, young lady," he said, breaking the stale bread. And Joey scampered up on a chair. "How'd my boy behave today?"

"Oh, he was just the devil," she said, "just the devil."

Markum laughed and bit into a soft warm tomato, the juice dripping down his gray beard onto his dirty plaid shirt. "Well, that's OK, if he's my boy, that's OK," he said briskly and smiling at mama. Then he reached across the table and cupped mama's hand in his.

"Mother," he said, demure and hesitating, "Mama, I think we'll have to move again."

"WellЕ" she said, and Markum shook his head and patted her hand saying, "No no, don't you worry, don't you worry a bit."

"Well, if we have to move on, we just have to," she said, drawing her hands back from his softly.

"That's my girl," Markum said, "no arguments, that's what I like, Joey, eat!, come on boy, eat!"

Old Markum ate all his tomatoes and bread and talked to moma and Joey, who weren't there, and made himself some cold coffee and smoked another cigar butt. Then he played frivolously with Joey, riding him on his back and wrestling with him on the floor while mama did the dishes in the kitchen. By then the sun had nearly vanished over the red horizon; the kitchen had grown dim; Markum heard mama say: "Markum it's getting late, time for Joey to go to bed, it's getting late."

"OK," said Markum, getting up on his feet, "Come on Joey, lets go boy, time for bed." And he and Joey walked hand in hand across the darkening dining room and up the tortuous flight of stairs that led to the many bedrooms. "Up we go, up we go, up to bed with little Joe," said Markum, and Joey giggled. "Carry me daddy, please carry me, please?" And he picked him up and carried him, hugging him the rest of the way and put him to bed, and came back down to the kitchen, which was by then nearly dark.

"Mother," he said, taking his cap off and shaking his head, "I hate to leave this placeЕ..we've done so much here, the flowers, the garden, painting, remodeling, landscaping, plumbingЕ..just too much of us in this place."

"Well, Markum dear, if we have to go, we just have to go dear."

"No, no, no!" Don't tell me we have to go, damn it woman, don't argue with me now," he said angrily, and pointing his finger at her. Then, "I told you a good woman doesn't argue with her husband, why do you argue with me?" he said, pounding the sink counter; "I'm an educated man!"

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, I'm sorry," she said contritely.

"Yes Е.well Е.well, I'm sorry too dear," said Markum, then, running his hand through his gray hair and shaking his head in compunction, "I'm sorry too, forgive me dear mama, forgive me."

And then he leaned on some old wooden cubboards there in the kitchen, and watched her in the dimming light, who wasn't there, finish sweeping the floor and said: "I'm sorry dear, but you must listen to me, listen to me, I've got too many things on my mind to have to argue, I hate to move, just hate it mama."

"Well, maybe things will change dear," she said, and Markum saw her putting the broom away.

"I don't know," he said shaking his head again, "I just don't know, I just don't want to move again."

"Well," said mother patting him on the back tenderly, "lets go to bed dear, I can tell when you are tired, and I'm tired too. Come, lets retire, we'll talk tomorrow about it."

Markum put his arm around her shoulders, and they walked together slowly, talking softly, across the ballroom-like dining room and up the winding stairs to bed.

If one would have been walking, that night, on that old dirt road in front of that gargantuan delapidated structure there in the wilderness with its window shutters banging and creaking in the wind, one would have been scared out of his skin, for Markum's sporadic frightening screams echoed out that lonely, desolate, dark abode into the quiet solitude of the night, intermittently, all night long.

"Get away from me!Е.Help!Е.Get those kids away! ЕJoey! Е.Mother! Е.Keep them away! Е.Keep them away from me!" And always after a spasm of terrifing screams, he would sob hideously in futility.

Early next morning Markum was up and off. He took his dime with him to buy breakfast and along the way, even though he was terribly sick of eating vegetables, he snatched a green pepper from a garden and ate it.

Walking along the street that led into the heart of the little town he could hear doors slamming and dishes rattling, mothers, kids, cars; he could smell eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. He could feel the radiant sun, which shone golden and drenched the town with bright yellow warmth and vigor, shimmering on his back, and taste the sweet redolence of the morning air.

The townsfolk were up and alive and moving about, and it made him feel good, in his head, to know that mama was up and about back home probably fixing Joey's breakfast or cleaning their big house. But the bad feelings would soon be upon him; just like always, when he came into town, the kids would taunt him and the grown ups would threaten, and warn, and push him around. And the eyes that stared at him, now that his reputation had grown out of proportion, would have even more odium and loathing in them. There would be no "Feu de joie" for Markum when he entered the town.

The first place of business that Markum came upon was the "Peaceville Feedmill" which stood on the very edge of downtown.

He stopped to rest on the steps of it, and he wasn't there a minute when a man came storming out the door, "Get out of here!" he said angrily, "Go on, get the hell off them steps before I call the police!" When the man started to come down the steps Markum started to get to his feet. "Get up and get going!" the man said, and he kicked old Markum in the behind. "Filthy! Out!"

Markum said nothing, he just walked away.

From then on, through the day, he was scorned and belittled, threatened and taunted, and spat at. He couldn't even get into a store to steal a bit, or near a garbage can, nor could he spend his dime. It seemed that the whole town of Peaceville, Pa. had, this day, joined in a conspiracy against him, and the kids, when they seen him coming, would put cigar butts on the sidewalk, or food, and, when Markum came by, they would pick it up before he got to it and run away with it, or step on it, or kick it, or pick it up and throw it at him. "No cigars today, Mr Bum, no food today!" Yah, Yah, Yah, Bumface! Bumface! Bumass! No cigars, No food today! Mr Bumididdle!"

On his way home that evening Markum felt certain that he would have to move. It was no use to try there in Peaceville, and there would be no gardens to steal from in the coming winter.

But he never went home without a banana for Joey. He must get a bananna, that's Joey's favorite, he loves, always loved, banannas. There was a market on the way back home. Markum planned to get one there even if it meant being extremely bold and daring. Before he would enter the market he would make sure it was crowded. But he knew that he would stand out like a black devil in a white heaven, so he planned to just walk right in there quickly and grab a banana and walk right out again.

Thus came it: Markum and the market.

At the appropriate time he walked right in, directly to the banana stand, reached, grabbed a banana, and pulled --- it didn't work: the banana wouldn't break from the bunch, and Markum ended up snatching the whole conspicuous bunch from the stand. The manager spotted him easily, ran up to him, swooped down, grabbed the bunch, and broke it away from the single banana which Markum still held tightly in his hand. "You filthy crazy thief!" he shouted, "Jonathan! Call the police!"

The small crowd of people backed away intimidated; Markum stood there, solitary, with the banana clutched in his gnarled clench fist, looking very grotesque and bewildered. Suddenly he turned, pushing people out of his way, and fled to the street, and headed toward home.
His big work shoes clomped loud and heavy and rapidly on the pavement. After a ways, when he felt safe, he slowed down to a brisk walk. The path that led down to the railroad tracks was just ahead.

There were two young men following him furtively; he didn't see them. They were not policeman or men from the market place, they were just two cocky teenage young men from the town who knew all about Markum and decided to follow crazy old Markum just for kicks and the sake of curiosity.

They saw Markum take his hat off and put the banana on his head and put his hat back on as he turned off the road and headed down the path to the tracks. While Markum walked along the tracks, they sneaked through the woods that ran beside them. They watched him go up an embankment, away from the tracks, and steal some peppers and tomatoes and onions from someone's garden and come back down to the tracks. They watched him light up his cigar butt. They watched him stop and look up and down the river. They watched him muttering and kicking up the gravel along the tracks as he walked. They watched him turn off and head up the path that led up to the mansion.

All the way they watched him fascinated; their curiosity growing more and more.

When Markum reached his mansion, he turned around gingerly, as though he sensed someone, and gave the whole area a good perusal before he went up the steps to the veranda and went inside.

The two young men had veered off away from that path and circled up through the woods. They came out in a field behind the mansion; then went back into the woods and walked back down a ways so to come out in the field beside it. Then they ran slyly through the knee high flaxen field over to the side of the mansion and sneaked around the front, crawled up over the lattice work to the balustrade that stretched all the way across the enormous veranda, then over the balustrade, and up to a big glassless window with its shutters wide openЕ. through which old Markum's voice came, through which they could plainly see him in the hugh ballroom-like room.

Markum was talking to his wife at the table, calling Joey, spreading out the peppers and onions and tomatoes on the table. On the floor the two young men could see bananas everywhere; some were whole, some were crushed and rotten, others dried up, and there were flies over all.

"Amazing! Amazing!" Whispered George Craig to Zeke Dobbs, "Amazing! Amazing!" They were shocked out of their wits.

"Mother," Markum said, "we are going to have to sell this place, I'm afraid there is no more work for me anywhere around here anymore. I'm sorry, we're just going to have to honey."

They watched Markum put his arm around her, as though she were really there, and walk her out to the kitchen.

"Damn, he crazier then hell," said Zeke, whispering to George.

"Yeah, he's really mad, Zeke," Georged whispered, "he's really off his rocker."

"No! No! No! "Markum said, "don't worry, everything will be all right." And," Joey! Joey! Joey! Where is my Joey boy?" he yelled, walking back into the dining room.

When Markum looked up to the balcony, the two young men, wide eyed, looked up too.

"There you are, come down here Joey, come on down see what daddy's got, thats a boy."

"Man, is he out of his head," whispered George, smiling. And when he and Zeke saw Markum hand out the banana and then seen it fall to the floor, they almost went silly.

"How you been today, my little one?" said Markum; "Now you stick around boy, mama's nearly got supper ready."

The two young men watched, spellbound, while Markum ate supper; heard explicitly every word he said to his wife and little boy Joey. They watched him climb the stairs talking to Joey. They heard him talking to Joey as he put him to bed and listened to him talk to mama over and over again after he came back down. And, as the room dimmed to shadowy darkness, they watched him talking softly to mama still as he climbed the stairs with her to retire.

Then, everything became quiet and darker, and George said to Zeke, "See that old suitcase setting on the far end of the table?"

Zeke said, "Yeah, man, he's sure crazy, let get it."

"OK," George said, "Lets go see what's in it."

So they crawled through the window and went, stealthily, to the big long table and grabbed the old, scuffed up, leather suitcase and sneaked it back outside and sat down on the veranda and opened it.

"He's really crazy," said George. "Yeah he is," said Zeke, holding back from laughing.

The first thing they pulled out was an old newspaper, yellowed with age. Zeke lit his lighter. On the front page were two pictures: one of a beautiful young woman, the other of a beautiful little boy---Mrs. Markum P. Towers and Joey. The paper was dated August 10, 1928.

"They were murdered!" screamed Zeke, under his breathЕЕ "Murdered!"

George grabbed the paper. "Be quiet, be quiet, here, let me see, hold your lighter here!"

ЕЕ"They went for a walk one evening and they were found murderedЕ. stabbed to death," said George, reading itЕЕand, "Their killer was caught immediately and when asked why he did it, he said," "I had an urge, I just wanted to kill, they were there, I couldn't help my self, I'm crazy, I know, I wanted just to kill someone, so I did, I did, I did it, but I'm glad I did, yuh hear? I'm glad I did it!"

"And look here, look Here, Zeke!" said GeorgeЕ. "It says," "When told of the horrible news, Doctor Markum P. Towers, the husband and father, just wandered off and no one has heard from him, nor seen him since. Anyone knowing his whereaboutsЕЕЕ.
"You mean he was a Doctor?" said Zeke, in profound shock.
"Yessir, it says right hereЕЕ"Doctor Markum P. Towers," said George.

"Man O Man!" said Zeke.

"Yeah, Man O Man!" said George, getting up.

And then they both were up and running down the steps off the veranda saying, "man o man," and down through the woods, "man o man," with the newspaper to the tracks and all the way back into Peaceville saying, "Man O Man, he was a doctor! O Man O Man, that crazy bum is a doctor!"

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