General Fiction posted December 27, 2024

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Smelled yer baloney.

A chapter in the book Ben Paul Persons

Ben Paul Persons, Ch. 11

by Wayne Fowler

In the last part Ben Paul and Sylvia preached a preparedness message in Joplin, Missouri, and found Tony Bertelli’s dilapidated St. Louis church. They spoke with Tony and Ellsabeth’s mixed race son, who calls himself Antwan.

Chapter 11

“Honey,” Ben Paul began once inside the church, Ben Paul having climbed in one of the broken windows, “I’ve been a minister for nearly sixty years. This is what I do: pray. Of course, you’re welcome to pray out loud with me, but mostly I’ll pray silently, in my heart and mind. I know that you are joining me, agreeing with me in prayer. I’m going to quote scripture in my praying, I’m going to repeat myself a lot just to keep going. I’ll start out loud so you can get the drift. But you are free to pray your heart whether you agree with me or not.

“Sometimes I pace while I pray. And sometimes even while I’m doing other things, like making coffee. Sometimes, I have to stretch and walk while praying. You should just follow your own instincts. And if you nod off to sleep, that’s perfectly fine. I probably will too at some point.”

“What about Antwan’s threat?” Sylvia asked.

Ben Paul thought a minute. “The door I let you in is locked, but the handle turns from the inside. You have a car key. You should put it in your pocket, or I can make you a string lanyard. If I cannot drive you away, then you should get in the car and go to the police. Just tell them the Union Station old church and Antwan Bertelli.”

“Okay, but just so you know, I’m not leaving you. But shouldn’t we bring in the food and water first?”

Ben Paul smiled and nodded. Once done and back at the altar and front pew area, Ben Paul took Sylvia’s hands in his and began praying, eventually releasing her and kneeling at the altar.

“Sylvie?” Ben Paul asked in a whisper. It was full-on dark and had cooled down considerably.

“Uh, yeah. Ben Paul?” she answered, groggily.

“I’m sorry to wake you, honey, but we have jackets in the car. And I think there’s a blanket in the trunk. I’ll get them but you’ll have to be at the door.”

“Uh, okay. And get the flashlight from the glove box?”

Ben Paul said yes, and held Sylvia’s hand as they made their way to the back door. Once back inside, they made sandwiches.

“What’s that noise?" Sylvia asked after only a single bite of her baloney sandwich.

They both listened. Soon enough, they heard shoes on stairs. The door to the basement creaked open.

“Knew somebody was up here. Smelled yer baloney.”

Even with the flashlight on his face, neither Ben Paul nor Sylvia could tell if the skinny man was forty or sixty. “I’m Ben Paul. This is Sylvia. Do you stay in the basement?”

“Usually only nights. Got here early today on accounta we thought it was gonna rain. You got food?”

“Yes, come over here and sit.” Sylvia motioned, though the man couldn’t see her in the dark.

“Ther’s three of us. I’m Fats.”

“Well, call them up. I’ll make supper for all three of you.”

Ben Paul began to go to him with the light.

“We got candles,” the man said.

Presently all five were eating by the candlelight offered by three candles set on the altar.

“We ain’t got homes,” the one called Fats said, though he was as skinny as Tom, the first of the homeless men to come upstairs. The third had yet to speak.

“Is there a shelter anywhere near here?” Ben Paul asked.

“Naw sir. Only out Forest Park Road. But… nowhere ta, ta scrape by out there.”

Ben Paul understood the man to mean begging was slim pickings and the chance of getting alcohol money unlikely. He wasn’t being judgmental, simply figuring out the reality of the men’s lives.

“And the shelter fills up quick. Most sleep whar’ they can, but we knew ‘bout this place. We got mattresses and blankets downstairs. Oh, an’ we flush. We ain’t trash. Got a bucket we keep full.”

Sylvia looked at Ben Paul, seeing his gears turning.

“Would you like another sandwich?” Sylvia asked all three.

“Oh, no ma’am,” Tom said. “That there was a big sandwich. My stomach’s ‘bout to hurt now, so much in it. More, an’ I’d just lose it all.”

The others agreed with him.

“We could sure use a quarter, or even a dime, the third one said.

“And your name?” Ben Paul asked.

“I’m Tom, too. But I just answer to Hey.”

“Well, Hey, and Tom, and Fats. We were having a prayer meeting. Would you like to join us. We’re praying for Antwan over at Big Ed’s Billiards.”

“Twan? He gives us beer once in a while,” Fats said.

“For cleaning table tops and sweepin’ up,” Tom added.

“Sometimes,” Hey said, not to be left out.

“But we don’t do no prayin’,” Fats declared.

Ben Paul didn’t say anything.

“We’ll leave you one of the candles. We can make do with two.”

+++

“Well,” Sylvia said.

“Well, that’s more like it. I always prefer two problems over one.” Ben Paul clapped his hands together. “Makes me feel needed, increases the need, so to speak.”

Sylvia smiled and began putting away the food.

“And I now know what to pray for,” Ben Paul announced.

Sylvia just looked at him.

“Turn this place into a homeless shelter and have Antwan pay for it.”

Sylvia smiled. “So, what do we do now?”

“Well, I’ll continue in the spirit of prayer, continuously, to quote Paul, but we can go to our motel now.”

Sylvia began packing things up in earnest. After a moment, Sylvia sprang upright, seeking out Ben Paul’s eyes. “Who owns it?” she asked.

“I imagine the denomination. They’ll either sign it over to a proper board or let us rent it for nothing.”

“You’re sure of all that?”

Ben Paul smiled. “As sure of it as I am of God telling us what to do with it.”

Sylvia smiled.

+++

“How do you go about even getting started on a homeless shelter?” Sylvia asked. “I wouldn’t have the first clue.”

“Can’t be too different from California… some, but close enough. First thing would be to discover who the permitting authority is. Understand, though, that their primary job is to say “no”, to deny every request. Their second job is to collect as much money as they possibly can.”

Sylvia gave Ben Paul an exaggerated frown.

“Then, when you get to someone who can rule in your favor, you have to find money. And fortunately for us, we’ve already accomplished that.”

Sylvia awarded Ben Paul another exaggerated frown, expressing her reservations on that front.

“But the after is a concern, too. The ongoing operating funds. For that, we start at the local ministerial alliance…”

“They have one?” Sylvia asked.

Ben Paul smiled. “If they don’t, we’ll start one. But there are government resources, too. The mayor would like very much to rid the streets of homeless sleepers.

“And our friend, pastor Renner will find himself pleased to add us to his monthly missions program.”

“He will?” Sylvia’s cynicism showed.

“Oh yes. And the less genuine his interest, the more he’ll give… to appease his guilt.”

Sylvia nodded.

+++

“I’m sorry, Reverend. Zoning doesn’t allow a shelter at that location.”

“Would your supervisor, by any chance be around?”

“Not until this afternoon. But you’ll need an appointment, and he’s booked the rest of the week.”

Ben Paul thanked the lady for her help. “The mayor’s office,” Ben Paul announced. Might just as well hop over a few steps… winter’s coming and there’s a need.”

“I’m sorry, sir, the mayor is out.” A young man at the mayor’s office nodded back toward the door Ben Paul and Sylvia entered.

“Oh? When can I expect him?”

“See that gentleman at the end of that bench behind you?”

“I saw him when we entered,” Ben Paul said of the plastic skeleton fastened to the bench. “Cute. Then I’ll be next after him.” Ben Paul quickly strode to the bench, not to lose the clerk’s attention. “Sylvia, dear, would you be so kind as to go out and bring me a few sandwiches? I’d hate to suffer this gentleman’s fate while I wait.”

“Sir, you…”

“Oh, but I will. Not only that, but I believe I’ll conduct church prayer services while waiting, no use in wasting the Lord’s time. And after my wife brings me a sandwich she’ll go to the newspaper office.”

“Uh, let me make a phone call.” After a brief call, the clerk returned to Ben Paul. “Uh, it seems the mayor returned and I wasn’t made aware. He has a couple minutes between meetings so he’ll see you now.”

“Thank you, young man. Donald, wasn’t it? I’ll be sure to mention you in my prayers.”

“Uh… thank you, sir. Right this way.”

+++

“Then that’s what we’ll do Mr. Mayor. Both a waiver and a variance. And we appreciate your encouragement.”

“Wow!” was all Sylvia could say as they walked back to their Galaxy, Tank.

“Election year,” was all Ben Paul had to say. “But he’s right. He didn’t say it exactly, but he needs the cover of a legal presentation by a lawyer, and its backing by the alliance, which we’ve yet to discover. “First, though, we need to make a couple phone calls.”

“Hello, Slim. Can you hear me all right,” Ben Paul nearly shouted, the long-distance reception not the best. After catching up with their travel adventures, Ben Paul came to his need. “Do you remember the San Francisco lawyer firm you went to? Where you gave them a gold nugget trying to find my father?”

Slim didn’t, but Mary did. With the name of the firm, as well as the lawyer, Ben Paul called the information operator and got the phone number. This time, Sylvia called Mary to do the catching up as well as to ask her to call the lawyer to smooth the way.

“Hello, Mr. Appleton? … Oh, sorry, I’ve had bad reception all morning… Yes, I can hear you fine. “I’m, Ben… Yes, Ben Paul Persons… Yes sir, Slim Goldman’s friend… Glad to hear it, Mr. Appleton. But really all we need is a referral. We’re here in St. Louis… Yes sir, Missouri.” Finally, after much explanation of what it was Ben Paul and Sylvia were wanting to do, Appleton asked them to call back the next morning, which would be nearly lunchtime in St. Louis, and to ask for his secretary who would have all the contact information they would need.

“We’re going to have to go back to the bank again,” Sylvia said. “Maybe rob it this time to pay for all those long-distance phone calls.”

Ben Paul chuckled.

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Ben Persons: young man called of God (1861-1890)
Ben Paul Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons (1891-)
Sylvia Adams Persons: grand-daughter of Livvy (1904-)
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Goldman/Diddleknopper: wife of Slim
Tony Bertelli: protege' of Ben persons (Sr)
Angelo, La Lama, Caruso: Chicago friend of Ben Sr., Police lieutenant
Al Fresco: St. Louis man who raped and impregnated Ellsabeth, wife of Tony

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Smelled yer baloney.

A chapter in the book Ben Paul Persons

Ben Paul Persons, Ch. 11

by Wayne Fowler

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