THE DIXIE BAR-B-QUE

    The year 1959 was exceptional.  Uncle Sam admitted Alaska and Hawaii to the Union, bringing the total number of United States to fifty.  Vice President Richard Nixon and the USSR's Nikita Khrushchev got into it in what became known as the "Kitchen Debate."  Fidel Castro's revolution prevailed, and the United States officially recognized Castro's Cuba.  The Dalai Lama and his compatriot Tibetans fled Tibet - never to return; and, Harrison Albert Winslow graduated in the middle-bottom of his class from River City Academy.

Throughout his high school years, Harrison rarely paid attention to his studies.  He got by.  He frustrated his teachers.  They could see that Harrison grasped the material quickly, but he didn’t appear to care about grades.  Harrison’s parents weren’t much help.  More than once, they heard, “He does not apply himself.”  But, again, it didn’t make any difference. The young man approached his athletic endeavors, whether football, basketball, or baseball, with the same casual indifference.  He accepted the recognition with a bashful “Thanks.”  The sturdy young athlete seemed oblivious to the numerous girls who vied for his attention.

Harrison’s high school graduation ceremony took place in the early evening of Friday, 26 June 1959, in the high school auditorium.  His parents did not attend.  He received no gifts, no accolades.  There was no grand celebration.  Harrison's folks were working people; they expected him to graduate.  Not everyone, at that time, went on to college, and Harrison’s father expected his boy to get a job and earn his keep.  The average annual wage was five thousand dollars, and a loaf of bread cost twenty cents.

The graduate took it all in stride.  He had a couple of bucks in his pocket.  Harrison was happy that his father allowed him to use the family sedan, an old Pontiac Chieftain with very little body rust.  He had nothing else to do after graduation. With access to wheels, Harrison ditched his cap and gown in the trunk and cruised across town to the Dixie Bar-B-Q, a local teen hangout.

There among the gaggle of teens, Samantha Carter, and her friends, sat in a booth talking and people watching.  Samantha was the prettiest girl in the Junior Class at River City Academy.  Harrison thought she was the most attractive girl in the entire school.  As usual, every boy in the place knew Samantha Carter was there.  And as usual, teenage testosterone trumped good judgment.  Two of the teens decided to settle their differences outside. Word spread, and soon half the patrons at the Dixie Bar-B-Q crowded through the door to take in the action, Harrison Winslow among them.

The dust-up featured a few solid blows, but then settled down to dancing and feinting by both combatants.  The crowd was impatient for more.  Harrison Winslow tired of it and returned to his seat at the counter.  There he espied Samantha Carter exiting the ladies' room, intent upon returning to her girlfriends.

A tall, lanky older man appeared to have been waiting for Samantha by the restroom door.  He grabbed her arm and forced her to face him.  He spoke harshly, insistently; he seemed to want Samantha to leave with him.  She knew the man and was resolute in her desire to return to her friends.

Harrison decided to act.  "Leave her alone," he spoke in an even tone as he worked his way toward the scene.

The man ignored Harrison.

He pulled the man's free arm and forced the man to turn to him.  If the assailant had not been six inches taller than the graduate, they would have been face to face.  "Leave her alone," Harrison repeated.  "Whatever you want, she doesn't want any part of it."

The man squeezed Samantha's arm and stared down at Harrison.  "Mind your own business."

"I will, as soon as you let her go."

Samantha stood there, stunned by the exchange.  She didn't think to move away from a potential altercation.

The man threatened; "You want to take this outside?"

The place fell silent. All conversation stopped.  Harrison and the tall stranger had everyone’s attention.  The waitress moved toward the wall phone.

Harrison said, "What I want is for you to let this girl alone.  I want you to go outside, get in your car, and get the hell out of here."

The strange, tall man sized up his opponent.  In a classic man versus teen conflict, the edge goes to the adult male.  The stalwart young man before the stranger was stocky, obviously strong, and in good shape.  More than anything, however, the look in Harrison's eyes and the evenness of his tone unnerved the man.  Samantha’s assailant stepped back and said with a sneer, "I'd watch my back if I was you.  You'll be seeing me again; count on it."

With that, the man turned on his heel and pushed his way through the tables at the Dixie Bar-B-Q.

The squeal of tires on the hot pavement confirmed that the man, indeed, had departed the premises.  Samantha, in a bit of a daze and without a word, retreated to her girlfriends in the booth.  Harrison returned to his seat at the counter, where he lollygagged as he allowed his adrenalin to subside.  Suddenly hungry, he ordered a burger and a milkshake.  The background conversation gradually returned to normal.

Many of the other teens, including Samantha, had departed before Harrison decided to leave.  Unsure if he had enough money, he plopped his two bucks on the counter and asked for the check.

The waitress approached.  "You know, I almost called the cops on you."

Harrison, who hadn't noticed the waitress during the altercation, and had not given it a thought, mumbled an apology.

The waitress smiled; "It's on the house.  I like your style, Kid."

"Ah, thanks."  The grin on his face said more than words.

✽✽✽

"Thanks."  A female voice behind Harrison startled him as he was about to unlock the old Pontiac.

Harrison turned to face the girl as she spoke.  "Where'd you come from?  The parking lot is nearly empty."

"I parked on the other side," Samantha replied.

"Who is that guy, anyhow?"

"Nobody.  Just somebody I met.  It's not important.  Anyway, I wanted to make sure to thank you."

Harrison was ready to be home and in bed; however, the thank you rejuvenated him enough to offer a sincere smile.  "Welcome."

He continued, "You waited out here all this time?"

"Yes."

"By yourself?"

"Yes."

Harrison did not know what to say.

Samantha said, "I thought you two were going to fight right then and there."

"Me, too."  He acknowledged.

"What you did took guts."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Why’d you do it?  You hardly know me."

Harrison thought about the question.  Finally, he said, "I guess I don't like to see people pushed around.  It looked like you wanted to get away from him."  He thought for a few more moments and then said, "Truth is I don't know why I did it.  I just reacted."

"Isn't tonight your graduation?”  Samantha asked.   “Don’t tell me you didn't go."

"Yeah, I went.  I am officially a high school graduate.”

"No parties.  No celebrations?"

"I don't know what to say, Samantha."  Harrison shrugged.  "I guess I'm not a party kind of guy."

Samantha observed the young man carefully.  She admired his ruggedly handsome face as he stood before her in the dark, next to his father's old car.  She sensed an innate modesty.  Although diffident, masculinity exuded from every pore in Harrison's body.  Samantha took the initiative.  She stepped up to him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

Startled and dizzy, Harrison stood there.  He didn’t try to kiss her back, and then, he did.

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Follow Samantha's and Harrison' love affair to its conclusion in "Her Second Husband."

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