Russell Banks - Trailerpark

“The man’s obviously incapable of behaving responsibly toward money,” Captain Knox explained to Leon LaRoche. “Money demands to be taken care of in a responsible manner. You can’t treat it like some sort of waif, you have to take care of it,” he said.

Leon agreed. Wholeheartedly. They were sitting in the living room of the Captain’s trailer, Leon on the sofa, the Captain slumped back into his red leather easychair. Behind him on the wall hung a map of the world. In the center of each of a large number of countries, mostly central European and southeast Asian countries, the Captain had pinned a small Russian flag. Earlier in the evening, having delivered to Leon a fairly lengthy oration on the subject of the insidious workings of what he called Castroism in the very corridors of the United States State Department, he had ceremoniously pinned a red flag to Panama. That had led him to a discussion of the responsibilities that go with power, which in turn had led him naturally to a discussion of the responsibilities that go with wealth, and that was how they had come around to talking about Merle again.

And now that people were taking positions on what should be done — with Merle, with the money, or, in certain cases, with Merle and the money — they had begun quarreling with one another. For while the Captain and Leon, for example, both believed that one had a moral obligation to take care of money in a responsible manner, they were not in anything like clear agreement as to what, in the case of Merle’s lottery winnings, constituted a responsible manner. Nor did either of them agree with what Carol or Marcelle or Claudel or anyone else thought ought to be done with Merle and the $50,000 that, through no particular effort or even intent of his own, he had so recently come to possess. And since everyone had a stake in what was done with the money, the feelings ran pretty high, and it didn’t take long for the residents of the trailerpark to think that everyone else in the trailerpark was stupid, greedy, or both stupid and greedy, while he himself, or she herself, was neither. Here, then, are the ways the people in the park thought the situation should be handled.

DOREEN TIEDE:There are some of us here who have children to support, who work for a living, who don’t get any help from ex-husbands or dead husbands or big government pensions. I think we know who we’re talking about. There are some of us here who won’t take welfare, who don’t have fancy jobs in fancy doctors’ offices, who don’t stay home and collect other people’s rent while other people are out working their asses off at the tannery. There are some of us who would like a normal American life. And who deserve it, too. I think we know who we are.

TERRY CONSTANT:We could form a corporation and buy out the trailerpark, develop the beach, fill in the swamp and put up a restaurant and bar. We have to think for ourselves and take over control of our destinies. Enough of this business of making somebody else rich while we get poorer for it. Make a summer resort out of this place. Swimming, fishing, water-skiing. Or maybe a summer camp for city kids. Nature walks, arts and crafts, sports. Put up cabins for the kids, while the rest of us live in the trailers. I’d get number 9, where that guy who shot himself lived with his kid. We could run the place in winter as a lodge for snowmobilers. Maybe, if you promoted it right, ice-fishing would catch on. The point is, we all work together for the common good. You don’t just spend the money, you use the money, because it doesn’t matter how hard you work, it takes money to make money. Not work. Not time. Money. Leon could be Treasurer, old Captain Knox could be Chairman of the Board. I could be the Executive Director. We’d make Merle President of the Corporation or something honorary like that. I’d get a good salary. Marcelle could run the restaurant, Carol the infirmary.

BRUCE SEVERANCE:When you got money, unless you’re stupid, the first thing you do is eliminate the middle man. That way you control the entire operation, like Henry Ford did. What do you think pissed off the Arabs? All those American oil companies, man, they controlled the entire operation. I got connections in Jamaica like Shell had in Saudi Arabia, man. You could bring a plane in here in winter and land it on the lake. Simple. Easy Street. How the hell do you think the Kennedy family got started? Running booze from Canada during Prohibition, man. It’s not like we’re the Mafia or something. I mean, everybody smokes grass!

NONI HUBNER:It’s important to be fair. That’s what I believe in. Fairness. Right?

LEON LAROCHE:In a savings account at the Catamount Trust, Merle’s money will earn enough for him to live without financial anxiety for the rest of his natural life. The stock market goes up and down, government and municipal bonds, though they offer a distinct tax advantage, are a young man’s game, and there’s no need to speculate on the risky commodities market. After all, Merle only wants to live in a modest way, free of worry or risk, that’s obvious and natural, and with his social security plus interest on his lottery winnings, he certainly ought to be able to do so. What kind of selfishness would prompt a person to deny him that opportunity? The bank would be happy to take care of Merle’s funds for him. He’d be the single largest depositor, and I myself would handle his account for him. I’d probably become an officer of the bank, maybe eventually a vice president. It’s not every teller can bring in a fifty-thousand-dollar savings account. The publicity would be good for the bank, too. We could have a picture-taking session, Merle signing the deposit slip, me taking the cigar box out of his hands. We’d need an extra guard. I don’t care what the Captain says, I know money.

CAROL CONSTANT:With that much money he could do something useful for a change. He could help others. The whole thing makes me sick. He sits out there on top of fifty thousand dollars, while back here people are struggling to survive. If he doesn’t want the damn money, let him give it to the town so it can help the poor, for Christ’s sake. I see people from this town every day so poor and sick they die before they’re supposed to, people whose houses burn down, people who’ve been out of work for years. I see kids with nutritional diseases, birth defects, kids who need glasses to read but can’t afford them so they do lousy at school. While that old man, that senile jerk, sits out there fishing through a hole in the ice. It makes me sick. I’m sure he’s senile. Those are always the ones who end up with money to burn, the ones who are too feeble-minded to know what to do with it. He doesn’t even know how to use it for himself. I wouldn’t mind so much if he just took off for Florida and spent it on some old lady and a condominium on the Gulf. I hope someone steals it off him. I just hope it’s not Terry. Though, God knows, Terry could make better use of it than that old man is. Terry might at least pay me back a little of what I’ve spent taking care of him these last few years.

CLAUDEL BING:You hear all the time about an old geezer dying and then they find a million bucks or something stashed under his mattress. All those years the sonofabitch has been cashing welfare checks and living like a fucking rat in a hole, and meanwhile he’s sitting on top of a fucking million bucks or something. Then the government goes and takes it all for taxes or something. I think we oughta just go on out there, get the bastard drunk, and take that goddamn cigar box off his hands. He’d never know the difference anyway. Sonofabitch. If I do it, no one’s gonna know about it. I’ll be long gone from here. California. No reason why his dumb luck can’t be my good luck. Nothing wrong with that. I earned it, for Christ’s sake.