Modern Screen (Jan-Dec 1960)

Introducing Crash Craddock page the Burlington Mills, tired after working and coming home from work and making supper and doing the dishes and some washing or sewing, was probably asleep now. He didn't want to wake her. Much as he needed her. now. to talk to. he would not wake her. "Tomorrow mornin". Til call first thing and tell her," he thought as he turned and walked over to the bed and flopped down on it. "That Fm comin' home. back, where I belong." He reached and turned off the lamp. But sleep would not come. "May." he whispered to the silent hotel room, the loneliness inside him growing by the moment. "Why'd I leave you in the first place . . . Why'd I even think I wanted to try for any kind of a success without you near me?" He remembered the night two weeks earlier when he'd told her that he was going away. "Columbia Records, honey." he'd said, happily, triumphantly. "One of the biggest outfits in the world. They've signed me up and now they want me to go out on tour. They want to build me into something big." He remembered the look on May's face as he explained what the word "tour meant, what it involved. "Boston. New York. New Haven. Detroit. Chicago and lots of other places,'' he'd said. "That's where they want me to go . . . to sing in cities like those. "Now." he'd gone on. "of course Til have to go alone May. I mean, tours like this cost them companies plenty of money and they sure can't pay for the two of us. "But even though we'll miss each other, just think, what this could mean. That maybe IH be on my way to makin' the big-time. That maybe fll start makin' some money, real money, for a change. That maybe in a couple of years, even less, we can buy ourselves a house instead of this tiny li'l apartment we live in and I can buy you all kinds of pretty clothes and we can even go on that honeymoon we always wanted." That dreams might come true He'd watched his wife as she'd tried to smile and as she d cried, both at the same time. "Well."' he'd said, "maybe now. this way. all those dreams of ours can come true." He'd continued watching her as the tears in her eyes seemed to become bigger. "Come on. May," he'd said, taking her in his arms and holding her close to him. "'You knoic that this is what Tve wanted all my life. Don't you know that. May? Don't you?" He'd felt her head against his chest nodding. He'd heard her say. "Yes. of course, darlin'. I know. It's wonderful. It's just that . . . after two years with you ... all the time ... m miss you. So much." And now. this night, he missed her. So much. After only a week. He turned and tossed in the bed. Again, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. But still the sleep would not come. And then, opening his eyes again, he saw the outline of his guitar case, sitting on the big overstuffed chair in the far corner of the darkened room. And he thought of the dreams he used to have, as a boy — the dreams that had been so beautiful then and that he resented so much now. . . . And, in the dark, out of his loneliness and need for her, he began to speak to May of those dreams. . . . ''Other boys I knew back home, they had other ambitions.'' he whispered. "They were goin' to be cops and flyers and things like that. But me, ever since I can remember. I was goin' to be a record star, playin' on my guitar and singin' and makin' records, just like Hank Williams and all my other favorites. "That guitar we had at home. It really belonged to brother Clarence. But I was the one who used to play it most of the time. I used to go out behind the barn with it, in the big tobacco field there, and give my •performances." I'd start by shouting: The famous Grand Ole Opry now pre-sents its most famous and most favorite enter-tainer . . . Billy Craddock.' Then, liftin' my guitar. I'd strum out an introduction and I'd begin to sing. I'd sing all the songs I knew. And then when I was finished Fd bow and listen to the applause — which never got much louder than the tobacco leaves clappin' against each other if there happened to be a wind blowin', or maybe a couple of cows mooin' away if they still happened to be out to pasture. "But to me, this was all applause. And I'd bow. And while I'd be bowin' sometimes I'd say a prayer and say: "When I'm big. please make it all come true . . . with real people listenin'. I mean." "There came a time. I don't mind tellin' you. when I thought this career of mine was goin' to be over before it even started. "That was the day — I was about twelve. I guess — when Clarence came over to me while I was settin' on the porch of our house, stxummin' away, and said he had to have his guitar back. I asked him why. He said 'cause he had to take it to a hock shop. I asked him why that. 'Cause he needed the money, he said: he had a big date this comin' Saturday night, he said, and he didn't have any funds with which to accomplish this date otherwise ... I played dumb. "Gee. Clarence." I said, "Why don't you ask Daddy or Ma for the money?" — Dretendin' to forget that our daddy and ma had ten children to raise and that they couldn't spare the money, good as they were, for anybody's dates. Clarence didn't even bother answerin' me on this one. Instead he just picked up the guitar from out my lap and high-tailed it for the hock shop. "I high-tailed it there the very next day. There was a real grouchy-lookin' man behind the counter. I pointed up to Clarence's guitar, settin' high up on a shelf now. and asked the man how much it would cost for me to get it back. Twenty bucks.' he said, and he turned away. "Well, four mouths later, almost to the day. I was back in that hock shop. I handed the man behind the counter a heavy bag I was carryin". There's twenty dollars in there, Mistuh.' I said. I pointed to the guitar. "Now can I have it. please?' "The man. grouchy-lookin' as ever, mumbled something, opened the bag and counted the money — nickels, dimes, quarters, a few dollar bills. " "How'd you get all this?' he asked me. after he was through countin'. " "Mowed lawns all summer, all over town.' I told him. 'And didn't go to a movie Saturdays, not a once. And I even worked at the A&P helpf-' Oliver for a couple of weeks . . . The — sman there told me I was the youngest employee in the history of the A&P. ever." I added, braggin'. UNDER -ALL Don't make a move without your "guardian angel"— the dress shield that keeps you confident in comfort! Elasticized to stay put: S2.75.