article

BY lARRY l. KING

TH[
Bf~T
llTTl[
\IVH~Rf H~U~[
IN TfXA~
when a true son ef texas discovers they've
closed down "the chicken farm," he
takes his business to the free-lancers.
man's got to do what a man's got to do
IT WAS AS NICE a little whorehouse as you ever saw. It
sat in a green Texas glade, white-shuttered and tidy,
surrounded by leafy oak trees and a few slim renegade
pines and the kind of pure dean air the menthol-
cigarette people advertise.
If you had country values in you, and happened to
stumble upon it, likely you would nod approval and
think, Yes, yes, these folks keep their barn painted and
their fences up and probably they'd do to ride the river
with. There was a small vegetable garden and a water-
melon patch, neither lacking care. A good stand of
corn, mottled now by bruise-colored blotches and dried
to parchment by hot husky-whispering summer winds,
had no one to hear its rustling secrets.
Way back yonder, during the Hoover Depression,
they raised chickens out there. Money was hard to
come by; every jack rabbit had three families chasing it
with the stewpot in mind. Back then, in rural Texas,
people said things like, "You can hear everthang in
these woods but meat afryin' and coins adankin'." No
matter where a boy itched and no matter how high his
fevers, it wasn't easy to come up with three dollars, even
in exchange for a girl's sweetest gift. And so the girls
began accepting poultry in trade. That's how the place
got its name, and if you grew up most anywhere in
Texas, you knew at an early age what the Chicken
Farm sold other than pullets. (Generations since
mine have called it the Chicken Ranch. I won't argue
the point.)
You might have originally thought it a honeymoon
cottage. Except that as you came closer on the winding
dirt road that skittered into the woodS off the Austin-
130 to-Houston highway on the southeastern outskirts of

PAINTING BY BRAD HOLLAND

 La Grange, near the BAD CURVE sign, you Man, listen: The Chicken Farm was keeps scrapbooks. He dresses like a certi-
would have noticed that it was too gooder than grass and better than rain. fied dandy in his 200 tailored suits and
sprawling and too jerry-built: running Registered with the county clerk as has bought himself two nose bobs; he
off on odd tangents, owning more sides Edna's Ranch Boarding House, it paid does not permit his own family to view
and nooks and crannies than the Penta- double its weight in taxes and led the him without one of his silver hairpieces
gon. It had been built piecemeal, a room community in d1aritable gifts. It plowed and he has a house rule that kinsmen
added here and there as needed, as with a goodly percentage of its earnings back must never enter the bathroom without
a sod farmer watching his' family grow. in to lpcal shops to the glee of hairdressers, knocking. Anyhow, they fired Marvin.
Then there were all those casement- car dealers and notions-counter attend- Who landed on his feet as a television
window air conditioners-15 or 20 of ants. It was a good citizen, protected and newsman for Houston's channel 13.
'em, Miss Edna wanting her girls to work appreciated, its indiscretions winked at. Marvin approad1ed news gathering
in comfort. They say that some years ago a young with the same zeal he'd brought to badge
Since the 1890s, at least, the Chicken district attorney, who had made his own toting. Not for him 'Vatergate values:
.Farm had been one of the better pleasure sporting calls to the Chicken Farm, sheep- The law was the law. So Marvin began
palaces in all Texas. You didn't have to ishly .a ppeared at the front door as the telling folks out in TV land how a
worry about clap, as when free-lancing head of a reluctant raiding party mobil- whorehouse was running wide open
on Postoffice Street in Galveston, or risk ized by crusading churchwomen. On down the road at La Grange, which was
your hide in machismo-crazed whore bars spotting the young D.A., Miss Edna is news to Yankee tourists and to all Tex,
on Fort Worth's Jacksboro Highway, supposed to have sung out, "Not now, ans taking their suppers in high d1airs.
where mean-eyed, juiced-up, brillian- George, the law has me surrounded!" Even though people yawned, Marviff
tined, honky-tonk cowboys presumed And during Prohibition, an old sheriff stayed on the case; you might have
themselves a nightly quota of asses to called on Miss Jessie to sternly say, "I thought murdet was involved. Sooii he
whip. Miss Edna, like Miss Jessie before don't like to say nothin', but this drank- repeatedly hinted at "organized-crime"
her, didn't cotton to hard-drinking in', now, has just plain got to stop"; when influences at the Chicken Farm.
rowdies. Sliould you come in bawling Miss Jessie died, her obituary identified One day. in late July, Marvin Zindler
profanities or grabbing tits, Miss Edna her as "a local businesswoman." Yeah, drove to La Grange and accosted Sheriff
would employ the telephone. And before they had 'em a real bird's nest on the Flournoy with cameras, microphones and
you could say double-dip-blankety-blank ground out there. Then along came Mar- embarrassing qi1estions. The old sheriff
obscenity, old Sheriff T. J. Flournoy vin Zindler. made it perfectly clear he was not real
would materialize to suggest a choice be- Marvin Zindler was a deputy sheriff in proud to see Marvin. Later, the sheriff-
tween overnight lodgings in Fayette Houston, enforcing consumer-protection a very lean and mean 70-year-old, in-
County's crossbar hotel and your rapid co- laws, until they fired him. Not for ineffi- deed-would say he hadn't realized the
operative leave-taking. ·The wise or the ciency or malfeasance-Lord, no! Mar- microphone was live when he chewed on
prudent didn't pause to inquire whether vin wore more guns, handcuffs, buckles Marvin for meddling in Fayette County
the latter opportunity included a road and badges than a troop of Texas affairs; perhaps that explains why the
map. You just did a quick Hank Snow. Rangers; he brought more folks to court old man peppered his lecture with so
Yes, neighbors, it was as cozy and com- than did bankruptcy proceedings. Some many hells and goddamns and shits. Mar-
fortable as a family reunion, though folks said Marvin would jug you for vin Zindler drove home and dispiayed
many times more' profitable. Then, one jaywalking; it's of record that he once the cussing sheriff on television.
sad day last summer, the professional nabbed a drugstore merchant for failure Then Marvin called on State Attorney
meddlers and candy-assed politicians to stock the kind and size of candy bar General John Hill and Governor Dolph
closed 'er down. at the price the merchant had advertised. Br.iscoe: "How come yawl have failed to
God and Moses, what a shock to the Marvin got fired for being "controver- dose the La Grange sin shop down?"
3092 residents of La Grange, Texas, to sial"- which meant that he couldn't, or Those good politicians harrumphed and
say nothing of Chicken Farm alumni wouldn't, make those fine distinctions re- declared their official astonishment that
around the world! Imagine corned beef quired of successful politicians. After all, Texas had a whorehouse in it. Marvin
without cabbage, Newcastle without coal, Marvin's boss was dependent on public told them they'd have to do better than.
Nixon without crises. The Chicken Farm favor. Nosir, the law was the law to that. Governor Briscoe issued a solemn
was an old and revered Texas institu- Marvin. Soon Houston merchants were statement saying that organized crime
tion, second only tO the Alamo and screaming of how they received fewer was a terrible thing, against the Ameri-
maybe Darrell Royal. History lurked considerations than did common pick- can grain, and since it might- possibly be
there. Some claimed that .La Grange had pockets or footpads. They howled when sprouting out at the Chicken Farm, he
offered love for sale since 1844, back Marvin tipped off television stations would call on local authorities to shutter
when Texas was a republic; whid1 would where he would next put the collar that sinful place. If they didn't comply,
put the lie to Tlze Dallas Morning News's on a chamber-0£-commerce member ac- the governor said severely, then he per-
claim of being Texas' "oldest business cused of selling fewer soap flakes in a sonally would employ the might and
institution." For sure, the Chicken Farm container than its label claimed, and majesty of the state to close it. Me, too,
traced, by document, back about 60 years. they were outraged when-a time or said Attorney General Hill. Veteran
In a more primitive time, when there two- Marvin lurked around the maga- legislators, many of whom could have
were fewer squirming concerns with god- zine rack while television cameras were driven to the Chicken Farm without
damned imagery, the winning squad of established and then made his collar. A headlights even in a midnight rainstorm,
the Texas-Texas A&:M football game got lot of good people, long goosed and flum- expressed concern that Texans might be
invited by joyous alumni to the Chicken moxed by many avid practitioners of free openly permitted loveless fucks outside
Farm on Thanksgiving night. Business- enterprise, dearly loved and cheered the home.
men and state legislators were comforted Marvin. But fellow deputies judged him Old Sheriff Flournoy was incensed: "If
during their carnal wanderings; the wise insufficiently bashful when it came to the governor wants Miss Edna closed, all
telephoned ahead for reservations. Indig- personal publicity, and his superiors he's gotta do is make one phone call and
enous hill-country Teutonics, Slavics and grew tired of pitching merchants. Per- I'll do it." The sheriff may· be old and
red-necks of many faiths brought their haps, too, the more sensitive wear~ed of country, but his shit detector tells him
sons in celebration of maturities that an daily contact with Marvin's ego, whid1 when grander men are pissing ·on his feet
older culture more gently signified by may be approximately two full sizes and telling him it's rain. The governor
132 bar mitzvahs. larger than Howard Cosell's. Marvin (continued on page 219)
 shit what t11ey say about that being a
(continued from page 132) multimillion-dollar operation out yon-
local people. l\Iakin' 'em look bad." der. Hell. Goddamn. Shit! Them people
didn't have to bother with the telephone
Had the sheriff himself been mis- was just scratchin' out a living like every-
d1arade. Soon after the story hit the na- body else. The mediums, now, you god-
quoted?
tional news wires, Johnny Carson was damn people reported Edna running
"You goddamned right."
cracking simpering jokes about it and sixteen girls. And in all my years, I never
To what extent?
every idle journalis t with a pen was en
"About half of it was goddamn lies." knew more tl1an nine. And it was all lies
route to La <;range. They found the
Well, sheriff, which half? about organized crime."
Chicken Farm locked and shuttered, a
The sheriff put a hard eye on the visi- Had the sheriff . . . uh, you know . . .
big CLOSED sign advertising a new purity.
Miss Edna and her girls had fled to parts tor. Puffing the trembling cigarette, he received any er-ah-gratuities for serv-
unknown, leaving behind a town full of offered a long look at his face. The sight ices to l\Iiss Edna?
riled people. was no comfort. You had time to concen- The sheriff put a hand on his gun
trate on his mountainous great beak, de- butt-Oh, ]esus!-and fired twin bursts
Sheriff Flournoy was extracting his ciding: If he ever gets in a wide-nose of pure ole mad out of his cold blue eyes.
long legs from the patrol car, with maybe contest with Nixon, he'll fair threaten "Listen, boy, that place has been open
nothing more on his mind than a plate the blue ribbon. l\Iore terribly, however, since before I was horned and never hurt
of Cottonwood Inn barbecue, when this the visiting journalist recognized bed- a soul. Them girls are dean, they got
fat bearded journalist shoved a hand in rock character and righteous anger, know- regular ins·pections, and we didn't allow
his face and began singing. his creden- ing, instinctively, that T. J. Flournoy .rough stuff. Now, after all this notoriety,
tials. Startled, tl1e old lawman recoiled as was the type of man described years this little town's gettin' a bad name it
if he'd spotted a pink snake; for a mo- ago by his father: "Son, you got to learn don't deserve. The mediums, the shitass-
ment it seemed he might tuck his legs that some folks won't do to fart with." es, they been printin' all kinds of crap."
back in and drive away. Then tl1e sheriff said, "It's pure horse- Had the sheriff talked to Governor
But after a slight hesitation he came
out, unwinding in full coil to about six
feet, five ind1es. Given the tall-crowned
cowboy hat, he appeared to register near-
er to seven feet, three and some-odd.
Flournoy Is a foriner Texas Ranger who
looks as if he might have posed for
that bronze and granite Ranger statue
guarding the Dallas airport lobby. You
sense that he knows how to use that big
thumb-busting revolver thumping against
his right leg as expertly as legend insists.
The fat bearded journalist also sensed
that the old sheriff may have done plumb
et his fill of outsiders asking picky ques-
tions; he suddenly remembered that tl1e
third wave is the most dangerous one
when beaches are assaulted, the first two
waves having stirred things up and put
the locals on notice. So he was real real
polite and friendly, grinning until his
jawbone ad1ed, and careful to let all the
old native nasal notes ring, in saying he
sure would admire to talk a little bit
about the Chicken Farm situation, and
would the sheriff give him a few minutes?
The old sheriff's face reddened alarm-
ingly. He stared across t11e hot shimmery
Texas landscape, as if searching for men-
aces on the horizon, and he rapidly
puffed a cigarette; tlie hand holding it
trembled as if palsied. Then he said,
"Naw! I'm tard ·a talkin' to you sons a
bitches."
Well. Uh. Ah. Yes. Well, t11e journalist
had come a fur piece; he had a job to
accomplish; he'd hoped the sheriff
might--
"You hard a hearin', boy?"
The journalist cupped one ear and
said, "Beg your pardon?" He didn't want
to leave any doubt.
The old sheriff spat. He said, "My
town's gettin' a black eye. All the TVs
and newspapers-hell, all the mediums-
they've fiat lied. Been misquotin' our "That's the best I can do, Mac. I'm just not a leg man." 219
 Briscoe or to the attorney general? novelist and playwright, who semiheavily wrecked is everybody?" Her husband re-
"Naw. No reason to. The place is dopes. Willowy Kasha, who fucks good sponded by asking whether she'd brought
closed." and often and has no visible means of any cocaine; he was despondent that she
Would it stay closed? support, and who, for all of that, is a fine had not. As the cocktail waitress again
"It's closed now, ain't it?" human. Babs, the visiting schoolmarm appeared, Bubba Pool clinically de-
Yes. Right. And, uh, what was the pre- from Atlanta, with the great bone struc- scribed what all he'd like to do to her
vailing community sentiment about the ture and the $99 smile, who, curse it, ap- witl1 his very own tongue. Intrigued, she
Chicken Farm's future? peared content in the company of a explained how she wouldn't be free for
"I ain't answering no more questions," scraggly bearded advertising man named two nights because her boyfriend was
the old sheriff said, stomping his ciga- Bubba Pool. As events progressed, we flying in from Baton Rouge: Meanwhile,
rette butt with a booted heel. Two or would be joined by Egbert Shrum's tasty how about one of them joints? Bubba
three hot August Texas centuries limped young wife, Darling-Ohl-along with traded one for her name and phone num-
by, while the visiting journalist vainly assorted actresses, musicians, free-lance ber and a free pinch of ass. Lawyer
sought an exit line. writers and dopers, a retired prostitute Haggard laid his head on tl1e tabletop
The sheriff said, "Just you remember and other social marginals. Originally, and gently snored; he failed to respond
we got other things than Miss Edna's however, when they gave us a humorless when Babs and Kasha attempted to re-
place. This is as clean a little ole town as ejection from the Driskill Hotel bar, vive him with wet ear kisses. The fat
you'll find. Hard-workin' people. Good there were just six of us. We were at that bearded journalist suggested that Babs
people. That fuckin' Marvin Zindler, if stage where we felt momentarily uncon- and Kasha accompany him upstairs for a
he'd start deaning up Houston today, querable, to say nothing of how much we nap, volunteering to sleep in the middle.
why, in about two hunnert years he knew: Is anything better or more beguil- Kasha said she preferred making it with
might have liim a town half as dean as ing than the whiskey smarts? Babs alone. Babs said well, she'd never
La Grange. I'm a-gonna go eat my supper vVe repaired, hooting, to a dark motel done tliat little ole thing-and perhaps
now." The old man wheeled, lunging lounge on the banks of the Colorado this wasn't the day-but one day....
away, stiff-gaited and jerky. At the door River. Egbert Shrum, crazed by oven Four innocent strangers entered. Eg-
to the restaurant, he turned and paused temperatures, many young Scotches and bert Shrum loudly inquired whether they
to stare his tormentor out of sight. periodic deep sniffs of his Methedrine in- might be from La Grange. No, Ohio.
haler, flopped out his dingus in request- · Boardman, Ohio. Shrum revealed the
The fat bearded journalist opted to ing that Kasha give him head. As the dosing down of La Grange's public
permit La Grange 24 hours of cooling cocktail waitress was then approaching, shame, asking the tourists to join a vic-
time. In truth, the salty old sheriff had Egbert had much help in storing his din- tory toast to God, Nixon and dean liv-
unnerved him. For years the crazed back gus. vVhen it came his turn to order, Eg- ing. He denounced sin in the aggregate.
part of the journalist's brain had whis- bert said, "Would you mind very mud1 if "Would you tolerate an open whore-
pered that he might one day be riddled I smoked a joint in here?" Well, Jesus, house in Boardman?" he demanded. He
by rural lawmen, as had happened to you haven't heard such general shushings laund1ed a lengthy speech asking who
Bonnie and Clyde: a penalty his mind since John Dean told 'em at the vVhite had promoted Peress and defending
paid, perhaps, for growing up in rural House he had the truth in mind! The Watergate rascality on tlle grounds of
Texas during the violent outiaw days of cool young cocktail maiden said, "It's national security. Very shortly we again
the Thirties. There had been lynd1ings fine witl1 me. But somebody- else might had the lounge to ourselves.
in his home county and backwoods feuds come in." Many hours past dark, the luncheon
and short tempers: His paternal grand- Egbert said, with unimpeachable logic, party moved to the Soap Creek Saloon,
father, in 1900, had died of an old indis- "They might not, too. You ever think of in Austin's rural hills. A folk-rock band
cretion complicated by a shotgun blast. that?" Then he fired three joints of the crashed and banged its damnedest, turn-
They tell a story in La Grange of how, killer weed; everybody puffed mightily ing conversations into face-to-face shout-
years ago, a bad nigger rejected a deputy in hopes of reducing them to harmless ing matd1es; the average customer
who came to arrest him by throwing ashes before the crazy bastard got us ar- appeared little older than prep school-
down on the deputy with a shotgun. rested. Texas courts take doping real se- ers: hairy young hippies and tl1eir braless
When the cowed deputy reported failure, riously; better to steal a cow. ladies. Egbert Shrum passed around his
old Sheriff Flournoy first fired him and Somebody suggested an orgy. Believe Methedrine sniffer. Under the table-
second drove out to face the same shot- me, it was inevitable: Austin's a great dotl1's cover, Babs stroked Bubba's most
gun: Flipped up his pistol, by God, it town for flaky sex; if you ain't doing it in private territory; ·she offered to share
still in the holster, now, and drilled that multiples, you ain't doing your best; La with the fat bearded journalist, who, de- ·
mean nigger smack 'tween the eyes. Well, Grange would not believe what variety dining, got called a gutless d1auvinist
who knows? There were ·no eyewitnesses; is available in Austin. Sweet Babs and sexist. Egbert, spotting a young motlier
maybe it was just another case of Texas Bubba offered their two-bed motel room breast-nursing her child, was reminded of
brags. The journalist was in no position upstairs. Lawyer Brett Haggard said ex- how one Christmastide he'd made his-
to judge the yarn's veracity; one of his cuse hini, please, but being more thirsty self eggnog from a visiting mother's milk.
ambitions was never to be able to. Be- than horny, he preferred to drink: He He claimed that her product shamed
sides, the journalist had an unfortunate wouldn't mind watd1ing, however, should Carnation.
habit of trick driving late in the day: Ob- we guarantee bartender service. The fat Around midnight a dozen hot, crazed
viously, if even slightly demented behind bearded journalist moved toward fuifill- children of lust, drugs and drink milled
the wheel, it would profit him little to ing an old secret fantasy in suggesting about an unpaved parking lot. Egbert
encounter an aroused Sheriff Flournoy that Darling Shrum be invited. Kasha Shrum, having cornered a trio of edgy
on the sheriff's back-roads domain. telephoned her. Darling said, "I'll come youngsters, railed at them that he was
So, safe in Austin's familiar comforting drink and dope, but I won't fuck." Many Governor Dolph Briscoe, by God, de-
precincts, he rang up old associates to boos greeted her message. manding tlley support his dosing of
enjoy what proved to be a 14-hour lunch. Husband Egbert complained, "Never godless whorehouses where red-blooded
There was Brett Haggard, the freewheel- marry a narrow-minded woman. It'll cost daughters of Texas, some of whose great-
ing lawyer, who has often visited jail you too much strange." granddaddies had martyred themselves at
for purposes other than counseling of VVhen Darling arrived, pushing her the Alamo, were being held in white slav-
36-Cs ahead of her, she asked, "How far ery by agents of the Kremlin and Marlon
220 clients. And Egbert Shrum, successful
 Brando. In the back,ground, while Babs thing in him hurt, sizzled or jangled. He
assisted his gadget, Bubba took a big wished much to throw at a Nixon dart
splashy piss into scrub-oak · trees. Salli board on the wall but knew the motions
Ann, the ex-prostitute, professed how would cost excessive pain. He thought
much more fun it was to give it away about Hemingway's final solution, won-
than to sell it: The difference had driven dering enough about whether ole Hem
her into retirement. had had the right answer that he was
The Byrds slammetl out a high-decibel glad no firearms offered themselves.
version of how they liked The Christian Kasha, sleepy and moody and tousled,
Life while the luncheon party moved by materialized to drive him to his motel.
stereophonic Ford camper to a private She did ugly to him for a bit, he permit-
home. A half-dozen revelers gasped and ting her to do the main work, while he
pawed at one another from a mattress drifted toward sleep, at once begging her
laid in the rear, nothing much satis-
pardon and muttering thanks. .
factory happening, though a fair amount
of wine got spilled. Arriving, the party
La Grange, in the morning sun, ap-
found lawyer Brett Haggard slumbering
under a fine old tree and guarded by a peared as pure as rain water; the aching
mean-tempered, spitting and humping journalist closed out its splendors with.
cat. "Brett brought his own pussy," some- dark glasses. At noon, Buddy Zapalac,
body laughed in the moonlight. ordering another beer, recalled the
Inside, the air soon knew Mexican Chicken Farm of his youth. He is a
boo-smoke pollution; pipes and homec gleeful 50ish, of iron-gray hair, a stubby
rolled objects passed around the circle heavyweight's torso and a blue-ribbon
along with Methedrine inhalers, amyl- grin. You see him and you like him.
nitrite caps and doses the fat bearded "In the Thirties," Buddy said, "they
journalist was not yet chemist enough to had a big parlor with a jukebox, see, that
identify. Prone on a soft furry white rug, they used to break the ice. You could ask
he . discovered himself experiencing seri- a girl to dance, or she'd ask you. And
ous time lags. In the midst of Willie Nel- pretty soon, why, yo~- - ~9?1:d git a little
son's singing from twin speakers about business on. Three dollars' worth." He
Los Angeles smog, it would become ap- laughed in memory of those good old
parent that Kinky Friedman and the days when Roosevelt · pussy had been
Texas · J ewboys had somehow thrummed clieaper than Nixon chicken.
halfway through Sold American. Or his "You couldn't get any exotic extras.
brain would stubbornly fight to grasp Miss Jessie-she ran the farm back then-
that which Egbert Shrum was shouting she didn't believe in perversions. They
into his face, and then he would blink had wall mirrors in the parlor, see, where
and open his eyes to find that he was the girls could sit in chairs and Hash
alone or talking to any number of other their wares. ·But if Miss °Jessie caught
people about a like number of things. 'em flashing a _ little JD.ore than she
The room reeled; his brain crackled and thought was ladylike, she'd raise nine
burned; he was aware, dimly, of distant kinds of hell.
desperate merrymaking shouts. "Miss Edna, who was thirty or forty
At an unknown hour he was aroused years younger, was a little more modern.
from a nap he had not been aware of tak- I've heard you could get anyt)ling you'd
ing: Shrum had popped an amyl-nitrite pay for: ten bucks for straight, fifteen for
cap under his nose, causing him to greet half-and-half, twenty-five, I believe, for
consciousness with his ear lobes on fire, pure French. The girls wore smart sports.
his head expanding as if with a winter clothes for day trade and cocktail dresses
cold and his throat full of senseless at night. They tell me eacli customer wa·s
humorless drugged giggles; his heart urged to buy a Coke for himself and one
pounded fit to burst through skin. Can- for the girl, see, at fifty cents each. Miss
dles had burned down. Three or four in- Edna, counting the bottles, knew how
distinct inert figures lay like grain sacks much trade each girl had done. I under-
in the gloom. stand ead1 girl kept half of her earnings
"They're having a small orgy in the and donated the rest to the house. And
back bedroom," Egbert Shrum said; he the house paid room and board."
was on his hands and knees. Well, was it Buddy Zapalac owns the biweekly La
any good? "I don't remember if I joined Grange I ournal. When the Chicken Farm ·,
in," the fractured novelist said. "I m eant got busted, he was widely quoted as
to, I assure you. But I think I forgot. No, saying he intended to lend editorial sup-
wait: I ran into Darling, yeal1, that's it. port to the farm.
And she spoke evil of my participation." Over Cottonwood Inn beer he admits:
He rolled over from all fours, snuggled "I didn't do it. Lost too many of my sup-
into the furry rug and quickly went night- porters. Businessmen, even a couple of
night. Sleep on, faithful husband . . .. preachers, told me in private they'd back
Finding the kitchen, the fat bearded me up. But people in a little town can't
journalist gasped and wheezed in sousing stand much heat. As the publicity built
222 his head under the water spigot. Every- up, see, people started calling up or
slipping around to say they'd decided
against going on record. I didn't even
run a news story."
How about early reports of outraged
La Grange housewives' taking to the
streets with petitions, howling how Gov-
ernor Briscoe must permit the Chicken
Farm's services?
"Ain' t we in a nutty business?" Zapa-
lac chuckled. "Exaggerated. Nothing
much to it. Oh, yeah, some people circu-
lated a petition. At one time, I heard,
they had over four hundred names. Then
people had second thoughts and took
their names off. They ended with about
a hundred a!fd twenty-some names, tops,
so they junked the petition. Too much
heat, see."
From what sources?
The editor spread his hands, shrug-
ged. "Everywhere. Nowhere. An¥Where.
People tend to believe, see, what they
read or hear or see. Or, at least, to be
influenced. So they ran.
"Yeah,. sure, I'm for the Chicken Farm.
I grew up with it, and I never once felt
corrupted. When we were kids--big ole
bunch of rough Czechs and Germans,
natural rockheads-we had a lot of fist-
fights. But never at the Chicken Farm. It
was traditional to be on your. good be-
havior out there. You honored unspoken
rules. See, if a local man got sweet on one ·
of the girls, they'd ship that girl out in a
New York minute. They never hired a
local girl. Most of 'em came from Austin,
Houston. Everybody always took care to
keep the townsfolk and the girls from
mingling off the job.
"Those gals put a hundred thousand
dollars or more into this little town's
economy. Every year. Outside money,
mainly. And I read in a chamber-of-com-
merce bulletin that each tourist dollar .is
rea.Ily worth seven dollars, the way it cir-
culates locally. By that formula, Marvin
Zindler ran off about seven hundred
thousand dollars' worth of business. Not
many of us feel like thanking him.
"People treated those girls good. Went
out of their way to be friendly. Let 'em
come to the beauty shop, or any store,
and they got the red carpet. Having 'em
marry and mingle was one thing; being
plain courteous was another."
Deep in his craw, would Zapalac per-
sonally miss the Chicken Farm?
He laughed. "Hell, I haven't been out
there in years. Except, you know, to take
some visitor who had his curiosity up.
But, yeah, I guess so. I guess I'll miss it.
It's been there since my memory has; it's
a landmark. Some people, you know,
they're talking about getting the Texas
Historical Society to put up a marker out
there. And, yes, I'd be for that."

It was unspeakably hot and stuffy in

the La Grange telephone booth; all the
journalist accomplished was breaking 223
 into a rare honest sweat. No, said a testy silver-haired man in a natty sports coat, journalist couldn't translate the thought
minister, he had ab-so-lutely nothing to who may have sold for Allstate, said, to words.
say about the Chicken Farm and, if "That wasn't necessary, understand? Kolbe was sayirig, "Some people think
quoted; would surely sue. Samey-same, That place paid good taxes, friend. It the Chicken Farm discouraged industry
more or less, when you reacl1ed business- was clean. The girls had good manners. from moving here. I don't think it did.
men, the community's semiofficial histo- The prices didn't hold you up. Friend, And if it did, was that truly bad? We're
ria.n and a suspicious old justice of the they never so much as gave a hot check progressive, and all that, but why should
·peace. Well, screw research: Fall back on out there! I had a buddy, he was ov.erseas we ruin our pure air and clean streams
perceptions. during the Hitler war, and one of the and pretty farms? Industrial rot and
girls out there, she mailed him cookies. blight . . . do we want to trade for
In the cool dark Longhorn Lounge,
Regular." a pay check? People all over America
where Tom T. Hall warbled from the
"Only people around here ever tried are looking for La Granges to raise their
jukebox of old dogs and c11ildren and wa-
to close Edna down," the old nester said, families in.
termelon wine, he discovered four beer- "My own children, I've watched and
"I guess you could call 'em religious fanat-
dri nking middle-aged men in sports listened to see what effect the Chicken
ics, they quit after people stopped talk-
jackets and business suits, and an older in' to 'em and they woke up to find Farm might have on th.em. And I can't
citizen ·in khakis. garbage and suchlike dumped on their see that it's had any. They accept it, as I
"Hail," one said. "La Grange has a lot lawn." did-it's just there, it has nothing to do
to offer besides the Chicken Farm. Well, now, what about that? Didn't it with them or their lives. We talked about
There's Monument Hill State Park, as show some long-range, perhaps less than it one night right after the bust.
purty a place as you'll see. You can see gentle influence of the Chicken Farm on "On the other hand, I can't believe the
the river from there. Go up there! Ac- the community and its standards? town's lost significant revenue. I doubt if
centuate the positive!" "No comment," the khaki-dad one those girls spent anything like a hundred
The old nester in khakis belched and snapped, as if he'd waited a lifetime for thousand dollars a year. An._d, hell, even
said, "That shitass from the Houston the opportunity; his companions nod- if they did, that's no money. You take
TV, he didn't say a · goddamn thang ded agr.e emen t. tluee or four little ole Mom and Pop
about our boys' winnin' the state base- stores, they'll equal that_. The economic
ball championship.". Lloyd Kolbe. Lean. Well barbered. On factor has been greatly exaggerated.
Winking, one of the locals said, "That the rise. Mid-to-late 30s. Quick to smile Probably not over six or eight merchants
place has been shut down before. Back in even when his eyes retain calculations in benefited from the Chicken Farm.
the Sixties, when Will Wilson was attor- judging the moment's worth or risk. The "The thing I hate is that La Grange is
ney general and got it in his craw to be quintessential Young Businessman: no now known nationwide as a whore town.
governor, he closed 'er down." Winks. bullshit, now, what with children to edu- And we're better people than that."
Pauses. Sips beer. "Yeah, for about two cate and two cars to feed and status to After the bust, Kolbe proposed that
weeks." climb. tlnee each pro and anti Chicken Farmers
Over the laughter he said, "They put The owner of radio station KVLG in debate on his radio station: "But it fell
up a big ole 'Closed' sign out front. La Grange, Kolbe is large in civic clubs; flat. People who privately favored it sim-
Newspaper people came and snapped he rarely misses the weekly Lions Club ply refused to g6 public. We settled for
pictures. But if a regular customer went fe.Jlowship luncheon, where, should you two programs where people called in.
out there, he knew what back road to fail to call a fellow member Lion Smith They could identify themselves or not.
park on and the girls slipped him in the or Lion Jones in addressing him, the Most didn't. And those who did, well,
back door." club Tail Twister will fine you two bits yeah, I've erased their names from the
Yeah? Anybody slipping in the back while everyone whoops and heehaws. On tapes. I don't want to take advantage of
door now? Kolbe's desk, yes, is a picture of about 30 people."
"Nawsir. No way. Been too much pub- men in drag: startling, until he explains He flipped a switch. The tape brought
licity. Edna and the girls, soon as the tl1at it depicts local civic leaders in tl1e the quavery voice of an old woman: "I
story got reported on national TV, they Rotary Club's Womanless Wedding, was borned and raised in La Grange, and
shucked on out." staged, like the annual Lions Club I've always been proud. But when we
Where were they? broom sale, purely for purposes of traveled to otl1er states, people would
"Well," one grinned, "I doubt you'd lo- charity. Close. say, 'Oh, that's where that Chicken
cate 'em in a nunnery. Likely they went 'Tm a native," Kolbe said, drumming Farm's at.' And it was embarrassing. You
on the regular red-light circuit. Big fingers on a polished desktop. "I grew up didn't have any answer. Yes, I pray the
towns. Houston. Dallas. San Antone." knowing the Chicken Farm was out thing is shut and stays shut."
The old nester said, "Gal-veston, too. there-no, I don't remember how early, A high school girl: "It's been here for
Yeah, and Corpus. That Dallas, it's got it seems I just always knew. As kids, we about a hundred years! And I doubt the
more thugs and prostatoots than New joked about it, though it didn't preoc- Mafia's been in La Grange .any hundred
Orleans. You recollect Jack Ruby?" cupy us; didn't mark us, didn't make any years, don't you? After Marvin Zindler
What of Miss Edna? grand impression. You noticed as you cleans up Houston ...."
"Rumor is she's got an old man over in grew up that adults didn't joke about it. A housewife: "I'm definitely for the
East Texas. Owns a farm. Some say she's Outsiders, speakers at the chamber-of- Chicken ·Farm. Those girls got regular
hiding there till this blows over. Don't commerce banquet, and so on, they joked exa~inations. You knew, if your hus-
anybody know, for sure, unless maybe about it. Local people, you actually band went out there, why, at least he'd
our sheriff does. But ole T. J., that stub- didn't hear them mention it until the .big likely come home clean."
born cuss, wouldn't tell if you helt his bust." A dissenting housewife: "Talk about
feet to the fahr." Like-and no offense, Lloyd-but like, regular inspections, it was no more than
Well, come on, now, fellers: Whose offi- maybe, those good burghers who didn't weekly. How many times you think they
cial palm did Miss Edna grease for the know what went on at Auschwitz and Da- rnight've been exposed to syphilis and
pleasure of operating? chau'! Knowing it was a grossly unfair gonorrhea between inspections?"
Shouted disclaimers: The journalist comparison, though nagged by the worry Another housewife: "It's been a dis-
224 had overplayed his hand. In some heat a that somehow it might be relevant, the grace. Our kids, when they went off to
 college, were ashamed to name their mundane matters before addressing the woman, if you insist on paying, of any
home town." human condition: color or creed. You've just got to know
The Englishman: "I'm relatively new, the right little ole crummy hotels or
I had been toying with the idea of
from England, and I've observed the motels.
skipping our August · get-together
hazards of street prostitution. It's bad. "Probably the girls who tour the Feg-U-
and planning a longer one for Sep-
Young girls-sixteen, eighteen, twenty- lar Texas circuit are owned by some
tember. But, when I heard from you,
live the most sordid lives. I think the syndicate. Anybody capable of reading
I couldn't see not coming to see you
Chicken Farm was the best thing that knows that organized crime profits down
next weekend.
ever happened, a true community asset. here, but I'll be goddamned if I can see
April, please let me know if there
You've had no rapes, no murders, no any Godfather tracks around La Grange.
is any chance of your coming to New
dope .... " A guy who knows Marvin Zindler tells
York with me for a weekend on my
Old woman: "I'm from over here in me that Marvin really believes that or-
vacation. If it is just wishful think-
Schulenburg. We don't have rapes and ganized-crime horseshit with respect to
ing on my part, please let me know
murders over here, and we don't even the Chicken Farm-but, he says, Mar-
so that I can make plans. Please
have a Chicken Farm! So I don't think vin's idea of organized crime is two
don't leave it hanging in the air, like
you need it." (Lloyd Kolbe, chuckling, nigger pimps hauling four or five gals
seeing you at the beach, until the from town to town between beating on
broke in: "You mean, ma'am, that no-
time is past. ...
body drives the whole fifteen miles from tl1em with coat hangers. And it looks as if
· Schulenburg to visit the Chicken Farm?") I doI_J.'t expect you to write every our fearless governor has the same notion
Local businessman and civic honcho: day. I realize you have problems in of it." (Well, if he does, the governor
"I think Edna ran a real nice clean place. that respect. You asked me to be pa- may pick up a recent issue of The Texas
. . . I've traveled more than anybody in tient with you, and I sure will try . Observer, a liberal crusading biweekly,
La Grange. In places like Chattanooga or But I hope that you can be patient and learn that Carlos Marcello's gang is
Georgia or Illinois, I was proud when with me also: After all, remember moving into Houston, that old buddies
people knew about the Chicken Farm; when I gave up a weekend of girl of Meyer Lansky are disputing the Dallas
they spoke well of it. In my business watching in Wichita Falls to be with spoils witl1 a senior gang having Chicago
place here, a fine-looking lady walked in you? I will be happy to wait for you, roots, that the Syndicate is prospering in
one day with her son to ask directions but you have to let me know from Galveston and Corpus Christi and that in
out there. Her son had been sent by a time to time that you want me to Dallas, one newspaperman-writing on
specialist doctor to the Chicken Farm for wait. local heroin traffic-was shot and a sec-
his health-' cause that's what he needed! There has always been the possi- ond newsman there has received death
I say bless the place. It shoilld receive a bility that your interest in me was threats for his probes into organized
medallion as one of the best-known his- purely professional. I haven't really crime.) Get 'em, Dolph, you fearless
torical spots and recreational facilities in felt that was the case, and if I ever bastard....
the United States." do, I will probably become conspicu- I woke in my Austin motel room to Sec-
Old nester with prime Texas twang: ous by my absence .. . . You are a very ond Coming headlines: Jn Houston, an .
''I'm from a neighborning town, and I wonderful per-son, and I am glad hour's swift drive down the road from
never heard nobody was hurt by the that I met you, April, and I hope to the Chicken Farm, had been discovered
Chicken Farm. If I didn't have no more keep that feeling for a long, long three monsters who routinely forced
faith in my sheriff's department than time.... young boys into homosexual acts, tor-
some of you people, why, I'd just There was a little row of purple Xs tured and abused them until the mind
move on down to Houston with the representing kisses, in the traditional refuses to think anymore of their proba-
gay fellers. . .. " code of lovers, directly below a carefully ble final horrors, and then shot or stran-
Many invoked the Bible. Others drawn solitary heart and a single flower. gled them to death. Twenty-seven bodies
awarded brimstone to Marvin Zindler would be discovered; with each new find,
and Governor Briscoe. The majority I got drunk that night in Austin, people argued in bars over whether the
cited the town's prosperity and cleanli- thinking of the wretched seeking bastard total represented a new national mass-
ness in objecting to publicity "recogniz- who, if he went to La Grange as planned, murder record.
ing us for just one thing." The topper found April gone and his surrogate home The remainder of the newspaper told
was a salty-sounding young woman : 'Tm shuttered. An old friend-a lawyer who of Watergate figures who resent investi:
one hundred percent for the Chicken daily sees the seamy side in trade-shook gations, of illegal Cambodian bombings,
Farm. And I think we ought to have a his head at the Chicken Farm's fate. "I of five Austin kids busted for pot,
studhouse for the women." went over there back in my Jaw school of shortages and inflation and many
Lloyd Kolbe shut off the tape, laugh- days," he said, "and it was so goddamned balloons gone pop. I gazed out the motel
ing: "Boy, we sure 'nuff had some phone proper I felt out of place. It was just too window, toward the capitol dome taking
calls requesting that lady's name." damned ' wholesome for somebody with a the morning's sun, and thought of Charles
hard pecker hunting rauncl1y sin and Whitman, Lee Harvey Oswald, Jack
Journalists are predators and vultures; eager to whip up his old Baptist guilts! Ruby; soon, softly, I began semisinging
they will rut around in anything, includ- And right over here"-he jerked a the. song they taught me in first grade,
ing trash and garbage, seeking firmer un- thumb-"just a few blocks from the capi- back in Putnam, all those eons and other
derstandings or, perhaps, nothing more tol building, there's a place where fags lives ago:
than cheap titillations or a lucky spin of in drag-transvestites, wearing cosmetics "Texas, our Texas! All hail the
the wheel. and false titties-will take you upstairs mighty state!
When the Chicken Farm closed, to and do anything for money that you can Texas, our Texas! So wonderful, so
judge by its trash bin, Miss Edna and her get done in Tangier. And down around great!
functionaries shredded their personal pa- East Sixth and East Seventh, there are Boldest and grandest, withstanding
pers in the manner of diplomats under bars where you can make the same sick ev'ry test;
siege in a disadvantaged embassy. One deal. And even with all the fine amateur 0 empire wide and glorious, you
surviving letter, addressed to April and stuff floating around--0n capitol hill, at stand supremely blest. ..•"
signed by Gene, spoke first of the weather, the university, all the hippie girls, divor-
226 laundry chores, onion planting and other cees and horny wives-you can buy a