John Grisham - The Activist

Theo had asked his mother to stop calling him Teddy, partly out of fear that someone else might hear it. She always just smiled, as if it was their private little matter. She had brought him into this world, and loved him like no other, and if Teddy was the first name she called him, then she would probably use it forever. But, she would keep it between them. Theo certainly hoped so.

Theo waved and smiled at Mr. Nunnery, a nice old man who was able to sit on his porch for hours without moving. The air was clear and cool and the weather forecast for the weekend was perfect; no rain in sight. Last month the troop camped near some Indian burial mounds in a state park and it rained for three straight days. Fun, still, but when the campsite is nothing but mud and the campfires are too soaked to burn and the food is soggy and ruined and no one has a dry stitch of clothing, well, it’s time to go home.

The bus had once been painted the standard yellow and had hauled kids to and from school. It was now painted a dark green, with white trim, with BOY SCOUT TROOP 1440—OLD BLUFF COUNCIL—STRATTENBURG in bold letters and numbers down both sides. On board were thirty-eight Scouts, all in perfect uniforms, all terribly excited to be leaving home and leaving town. Behind the wheel was Major Ludwig, the unquestioned leader of this gang, and when he called the roll and closed the door, a loud cheer echoed through the bus. It was almost 4:30 p.m. on Friday, and Lake Marlo was two hours away. The back benches were stuffed with a small mountain of camping gear, all neatly arranged under the Major’s supervision. Seated behind him were three adults, fathers of various Scouts drafted as volunteers for the weekend. They would be known as the Old Goats Patrol. They sipped coffee from paper cups and laughed among themselves. It was obvious they were as excited as the boys. The bus weaved through the back streets of Strattenburg, then headed west out of town. As the traffic thinned and the miles clicked along, the excitement waned and several Scouts nodded off. Others played video games. One or two read a book. Theo was gazing out a window, a cool breeze in his face, when Hardie Quinn swapped seats and fell in beside him.

In a low voice, Hardie said, “We met at the farm last night, the whole family. Everyone’s really upset by this, Theo.”

Also in a low voice, Theo replied, “Has anyone talked to a lawyer?”

“Yes. My dad met with one yesterday for a long time, and the guy said the same thing. If the state wants to take our land, then it can do so. Of course, it has to pay us, but with eminent domain the state can do whatever it wants.”

Theo shook his head. Hardie went on, “My poor grandparents are so upset by this. They’ve been married for fifty years and they’ve lived in only one place—the farm. If they have to leave, it’ll just kill them. Both of them were crying last night. It was just awful. They don’t care about the money, and they don’t want the state to write them a check. They want to keep their property. It’s more than just land, Theo, you know?”

Theo was listening as if he knew precisely. Hardie said, “We gotta figure out a way to fight this thing, Theo.”

Theo wasn’t sure how he had been drafted so quickly into the fight. “What do you mean?”

“According to my dad, it’s a simple matter of politics. There are five members on the County Commission, and they have to approve the bypass. Those of us who are opposed to it have to get organized and convince the commissioners it’s a bad idea. My dad and my uncles are trying to organize things as quickly as possible. They think it might be a good idea for our Scout troop to get involved.”

“Why?”

“Because, Theo, this bypass could do some real damage to the environment. All of the city’s drinking water comes from the Red Creek, and no one knows how much the bypass will affect it. Plus there will be all this truck traffic zooming by Jackson Elementary School. Think of the noise and exhaust fumes. It could be terrible. What if we talk to the Major about making this a project for the whole troop?”

“I’m not sure the Major will want to get involved in local politics.”

Hardie thought about this for a moment, and said, “I think we should talk to him this weekend. Find a quiet moment, and just run it by him. It can’t hurt anything.”

“Let me think about it,” Theo said. He was a little irritated Hardie would bring up such an unpleasant issue at a time of great excitement, but he gave him a break. Theo tried to imagine how he would feel if the government wanted to bulldoze the Boone home and the rest of the neighborhood to build a parkway. Of course he would be upset.

Chapter 7

The first view of Lake Marlo was always exciting, and everyone on the bus was anticipating it. The highway peeked over a steep hill, and suddenly, spread below it, were the beautiful blue waters that stretched a mile wide and seemed to run forever to their source. The lake was surrounded by rolling hills, and a long earthen dam ran half a mile to the east and kept the water contained. Because it was a state park, there had been no development along the shores—no houses, condos, marinas, no clutter. The lake was lined with narrow beaches, rocky points, and secluded bays. It was the perfect place for a bunch of Boy Scouts to get lost in the great outdoors over a long weekend.

There were dozens of campsites around the lake, and of all varieties. The choices ran from the fancier places with slabs and sewers and electrical hookups for recreational vehicles all the way down to the primitive sites tucked away on far sides of the lake. With Major Ludwig at the wheel, the Troop 1440 bus always headed to the same spot, a site known as Enid Point, far away from the dam and the more civilized areas.

Theo had earned his Camping merit badge months earlier. A requirement was to keep a camping diary, which he had checked the night before. In his two years as a Boy Scout, he had spent twenty-one nights at Lake Marlo, either under the stars in perfect weather or in a pup tent when things were damp and cold. The previous summer, the troop had camped at Enid Point for seven consecutive nights. Various fathers, including Mr. Boone, had hauled in food and supplies. It had been a magical week, and Theo had been terribly saddened when the adventure was over.

He still dreamed of it often. During a dreary day at school, he would gaze through the windows, see the hills in the distance, and remember those wonderful carefree hours when he and the other Scouts roamed around the lake hiking, backpacking, and studying nature. They spent hours on the water, working on merit badges for Swimming, Rowing, and Lifeguarding. The Major held classes on first aid, cooking, and at night, astronomy. The days were lazy, but the Major was always pushing the boys to learn and achieve more. The First Class Scouts were pushed to achieve the rank of Star, then Life, then Eagle. There were currently 120 merit badges in the book. “You shouldn’t stop until you have at least half of them,” the Major was fond of saying. Sixty merit badges? It seemed impossible. Truman, a fifteen-year-old Eagle who had led the Warthog Patrol for three years and was the finest Scout in the troop, had earned forty-seven merit badges. His sash was heavily decorated and the envy of every kid in the troop. But the Major gently challenged him to do more.

Theo had already decided that in addition to being either a lawyer or a judge, he would definitely be a scoutmaster. He knew the job paid nothing, but if the Major could do it and do it so well, then he could certainly try.

The bus bounced along a gravel road and worked its way slowly up and down hills covered in thick trees and undergrowth. As they retreated from civilization, it usually took thirty minutes from the first sighting of the lake to their arrival at Enid Point. The gravel turned into dirt, and Theo could not help but remember a camping adventure here when heavy rains washed out the road and the troop was stranded for an extra day. That was the same trip when most of the pup tents began sliding downhill in the mud, and the boys had to scurry to the bus before they nearly froze. At the time it was a nightmare, but now the story seemed funny and was retold often.