Fannie Flagg - Standing in the Rainbow

"Thank you, Hattie, and we have a winner in the spelling bee. The champion, thirteen-year-old Miss Ronnie Claire Edwards, her word M-I–L-L–I-P-E-D-E. Congratulations! You must be a genius in the making. We will watch your career with interest. I tell you I could no more spell some of those words than I could empty the ocean with a bucket. Oh, thank you, Mother Smith, she's looked it up in the dictionary.

"Millipede, an arthropod having a cylindrical body composed of from twenty to over one hundred segments, each with two pairs of legs." Oh my. Now my question is, what's an arthropod? What? Oh that's right: Mother Smith says whatever it is, she doesn't want it crawling on her. I'm with you down to the rattle on that one, Mother.

"Watermelons, sweet corn, and tomatoes will be among the topics discussed at a Vegetable Field Day this Friday. It will feature the latest results of vegetable research, so be sure and attend. We have all sorts of fun things coming up, but first here's our big news of the day. I need a fanfare for this one, Mother Smith. Ada and Bess Goodnight have gone up to Kansas City and purchased themselves a brand-new Airstream trailer and now that they're both widows and have retired they say they are going to take off into the wild blue yonder and become tin-can tourists. They say they don't know where they are going to, or when they will be back, and they like it that way. Just think, they will have a different backyard every morning. Oh, I don't know what I would do if I looked out and saw my yard was different, but those two are just full of spunk and raring to go. Their first stop will be the Nite-O-Rest Trailer Court outside of Mill Grove… So all of you out there, if you see a tomato-red Dodge that looks like a big tomato aspic pulling a trailer go by, it will be them, headed for the open road. So good luck to our girls, traveling in tin.

"Also in the good-news department this morning, yesterday I got a nice letter from my daughter-in-law, Lois, who tells me that Bobby has just been promoted to the new position of vice president in charge of operations of Fowler Poultry Enterprises, and for a boy who flunked the sixth grade and could not spell monkey, much less millipede, believe me, that is quite a feat!"

In 1966 Betty Raye was relieved to learn that there was another wife running for a governorship. Lurleen Wallace of Alabama had announced her candidacy. Betty Raye did not know anything about her but she prayed she would win so she would not have to be the lone woman governor in the United States anymore. It was not fun.

Early the next year, when Governor Betty Raye Sparks of Missouri received her invitation to the National Governors Convention in Washington, she said, "I'm not going to go up there with all those real governors, Hamm. I'd make a fool of myself."

"No, you won't honey, I'll be right there with you all the time." He patted her arm. "All you have to do is smile and be pleasant. I'll tell you how to vote on things." Cecil, who was looking forward to another week of shopping for the trip, said, batting his big eyes, "If you don't go, darling, it will look bad for the state."

Hamm arrived at the governors conference bright-eyed and bushy tailed. This was his first trip to Washington as the husband of a governor and the press was particularly interested in him. Hamm played it up for all it was worth. Betty Raye, the only woman governor there, thought she would have physically mashed herself into a wall if she could. She was miserably unhappy but he showed up at all the governors' wives events teas ladies' luncheons, fashion show sand charmed every woman there. He even won first prize at one of the many raffles, an original Mr. John picture hat, and delighted the women by wearing it for the rest of the luncheon. Hamm's nature was naturally outgoing and spontaneous and if asked a question he would usually tell you exactly what he thought. To the reporters who had what they viewed as the dull job of covering all the governors' wives, Hamm was a welcome and a refreshing change. Political spouses in general were notorious for not saying anything more than "You'll have to ask my husband about that" or "I don't know, I leave all that up to my husband." Not Hamm.

And he didn't see the danger ahead. In his home state, this candor had been an asset. Here on a national level, it was a potential disaster waiting to happen and reporters began to circle around him, hoping to get a quote for a good story.

Vietnam was on everyone's mind and it was a dangerous and tricky issue for any politician. Hamm had been warned by Wendell to keep his mouth shut, but at a wives cocktail party, a nice-looking woman sidled up to him and, after complimenting him on his tie, asked, "What do you think about all these antiwar protesters that are popping up everywhere?"

Hamm did not have to stop and think. "They're a bunch of idiots. What they ought to be protesting is the government who's sitting on their butts and letting those little bastards get the best of us… We have to either fish or cut bait…"

"What do you mean?" she said.

"Stop playing patty-foot with those Vietcong and get it over with. There's a damn elephant standing in the living room and everybody's tippy-toeing around it."

The woman played dumb, as if she had no idea what he meant. "I'm not sure I follow you. What elephant?"

Hamm said, "The bomb, honey. We've got it; they don't. What's the point of having it if we don't use it? Truman had the right idea." He pointed out the window of the hotel at a group of protesters across the street. "All those little tweety hearts and dove types ought to shut up and let us stop the damn thing before it gets any worse; then we can bring our boys home and sling all those little turncoats out of the country and get on with it."

Afterward, he was sorry he had used curse words in front of the lady but that was how he felt and it was too late to take it back. Too late to realize that the lady was covering the event for the Washington Times. By the time they got back to Missouri the story had been carried all over the country and Newsweek had a drawing of him reaching in a bucket and throwing hippies like bait across the ocean. One editorial cartoon had his picture with a mushroom cloud rising from his head; another depicted him as a mad dog, foaming at the mouth, with Betty Raye trying to hold him back on a leash.

Even though Hamm had said what a lot of veterans thought, he took a lot of heat nationally and got into trouble in his own state for sounding like such a hothead. He lay low for a while.

A few weeks later, Rodney came in his office chuckling. "You made the big time, boy. I just got a call from Berkeley University out in California and they want you to come out and give them a speech."

Hamm looked up. "Really? When?"

Rodney dismissed it. "Don't worry, I told them you were unavailable."

"Why?"

"Why? I'm not going to let you go out there in the middle of that hotbed of loonies."

Wendell agreed. "Naw, you don't want to go there. It's too dangerous. Hell, there ain't nobody more violent than those peaceniks. They'd tear you apart if they could get near you."

Hamm said, "Now wait, let's think about this for a minute. That's a big famous university out there. It could mean more national press, couldn't it? It might make me look good to go and talk to them. Like I'm willing to see the other side of this thing… and if they're willing to listen to my side a little, I might even make a few points."

"No, you won't," said Wendell. "All they want to do is drag you out in front and shout you down. They won't listen to a damn thing you say."

Hamm knew they might be right but even so he was secretly flattered that he had been asked. Anything to do with a university or college intrigued him. Everybody, including Vita, told him it was a bad idea. In the end, he could not resist the challenge.