The Mailmen of Elmwood

By Michael Resman

Jack’s been here a long time. He knows the ropes, and he’s only too happy to pass along that information to his young apprentice, a new patient in a Minnesota state hospital in the 1950s. Walking the mail route, Billy learns tidbits that could make his life easier in the coming months—and could potentially save it. Encountering patients with a variety of illnesses, Billy is astonished to learn what goes on behind the stately walls of the hospital, away from families’ prying eyes. With only one day to learn before flying solo, Billy must take it all in. Above all, he must stay on his guard.

• Language: English
• Publisher: North Star Press of St. Cloud
• Release date: Jun 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9780878399451

Michael Resman

Michael Resman retired after working in the Rochester State Hospital and public schools as an Occupational Therapist. He is active in the Quaker church and interested in Minnesota history.

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This book is dedicated to those who lived it.

Chapter 1

I hadn’t wound the alarm clock enough. By the time I rolled over and raised my head, the hammer was slowing down. The kid didn’t budge, even though it was ringing only a foot above his head. Darn it! Last evening I went to all the trouble of moving that shelf from an unused bunk and gave him my clock. And he still doesn’t turn a hair!

Reaching under my bed, I grabbed a boot. Crap! Got it by the laces. Now I had to take my other arm out of the covers so I could grab ahold of the top. Who knows where it’d go if I threw it by the laces? Wouldn’t want to hurt the poor bugger.

Look at that! I bounced if off the side of his bed and he didn’t stir. Ok, that’s it. The next boot flew just above his body and bounced off the wall, landing on his back.

All right! There’s life in him. He raised his tosseled head and grunted, Huh?

And the same to you, Billy. Now get up. Up, up up! Got to make breakfast and get on our rounds. Your first day as a mailman. Don’t want to lose your job.

Billy sat up and winced as his feet hit the cold plank floor. Soon as you get your socks on, I told him, bring me my boots, will you?

He looked around in some confusion. Geez! He’d been sleeping so hard he didn’t even know I’d thrown them. Even before he put his socks on, Billy turned his back to me and quickly pulled his shirt on. I knew what he was doing—trying to hide the bandages on both wrists.

He still had on civvy clothes, nice pleated pants and blue-and-white flannel shirt. Wouldn’t take long for the laundry to wreck them. Then he’d have what I did, blue denim overalls and work shirt.

We finally got ourselves sorted out and thundered down the wooden stairs of the barn. Billy stopped at the bottom, his nose wrinkling at the smell. What’d you expect, living above a barn? I laughed, and clapped him on the back. Hank wouldn’t be happy about this city kid’s reaction to a perfectly good dairy barn. But then, Hank wouldn’t be around here much longer. Maybe.

I led him into the bathroom and he frowned. Well, it was kind of crude, more like what you’d see at a county fair. A run-down fair at that. Two bare bulbs threw harsh shadows around the dingy, rough walls and raw concrete floor. But hey, we had all the hot water we wanted and each guy had his own towel.

Billy headed back toward the toilet stalls. I’d finished at the urinal and was lathering up my shaving brush when he showed up at the sink next to me. Got a comb? I asked him. He shook his head. I went on, How about a towel? He shook his head again.

I led him over to a crude corner cupboard we’d slapped together. Jerking open the reluctant door, I showed him where the towels were. Washcloth? he asked.

Nah, we got none of those, I told him. Use a corner of the towel if you want. When you’re done, hang it on an empty peg over there and it’ll dry out. I pulled a cheap comb out of a pile sitting on the bottom shelf and handed it to him.

Got a razor? I asked him on our way back to the sink. Another no. I looked him over in the mirror when he was standing next to me. He’d certainly be okay without shaving for a day or two.

Next weekend. One of the truck drivers will get you one. We’re the only ones on campus got our own razors. Everyone else has to use electric ones they keep on the nurse’s stations.

He raised his eyebrows at me, and I took that as a question so I told him, Can’t have nuts running loose with sharps. Who knows what would happen. I saw him glance at his wrists. He’d been about to raise his arms to comb his hair, but stopped, uncertain of what to do. I made a big show of bending down and soaping up my chin. By the time I stood up again, his hair looked pretty good.

He even had the sense to return the comb without my telling him, and shut the cupboard door. Must have been raised right.

I looked at the two of us while we were finishing up. We were both runts, only a little over five feet, and fairly thin. I hardly ever paid attention to how I looked, but today I noticed that my forehead was starting to get a little taller. That made me frown, and I was surprised at how different the two of us looked. I was only about ten years older than him, but he looked innocent. Me, I had a cold glare in my eyes that didn’t used to be there.

Did I look like a nut? Would people on the outside notice and think I was different? Call the cops? I tried to move my face around so it would look more pleasant. No go. Billy laughed at the goofy face I’d made and that made me smile too. There! Maybe that’s what I had to do. God knows I hadn’t had too much practice smiling in here.

Come on, I told him. Let’s get some breakfast. 

Next door was a guy’s kitchen, with rough plank-and-batten boards for walls, electric lights that looked like kerosene lanterns and red-checked gingham curtains. When Hank brought Sharon over for the first time, she’d been surprised that farm workers could decorate so nice. But this was just a combination of the farm kitchens they’d grown up in, combined with farmer carpentry.

Left to ourselves, we could do just fine.

You set the table, I directed. I’ll start the bacon. The dishes are in that cupboard. Set it for six. Here’s the silverware drawer.

I bustled around while Billy drifted around the long picnic table closest to the sink. The crew had shrunk to only half-size, so we didn’t need the other table.

Billy! He’d been standing still, looking down at his feet.

Huh? he said. I began to wonder if that was going to be his only contribution to our conversations today. Pointing, I told him, Fill that coffee pot to the top of the handle. There’s the basket. Put it in, and make sure the base is standing in the middle. Add six scoops of coffee. There

I glanced over once in a while to see how he’d do. He wasn’t fast, but he could follow through. There was some hope for him. Pretty soon I had bread cut up and bacon and eggs on the platters. Make toast, I told Billy, while I headed around the corner and whistled for the guys.

We could hear them knocking about and laughing in the washroom. Sharon had been surprised at that, too, men washing their hands before eating without someone telling them. But then, she didn’t shovel manure all the time, either.

Hank sat down at the head of the table at the end nearest the stove. In a few months when the weather was warmer, he’d move to the other end of the table, where it was cooler. It was his right as crew boss. Billy was lucky he got such a good bunk. When the place had been full, the new guys always started in the coldest corner.

For a moment, Hank just sat there, massive body slumped. His huge hands, each finger bigger than my thumb, idly played with his fork. This wasn’t like him. Ordinarily, getting between Hank when he had a fork in his hand and food was a dangerous proposition. Eating was his second joy in life.

We were buddies, and I always sat at his right side. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I nodded back, letting him know that we were all set. He shook his head and I couldn’t tell what he meant. Was it acceptance? Resignation? In any case, he curled his whole hand around his fork and began shoveling eggs into his mouth.

This was the crew’s second breakfast. They’d gotten up at 5:00 a.m. to begin milking, grabbing some sandwiches they’d made the night before. Three hours later, they were hungry, eating between six and a dozen eggs apiece. With the crew so small, they were always exhausted. Some of them kept slowly losing weight despite tremendous appetites.

Not Hank, though. He’d always been like a boulder, the solid base we all depended on to make things work in this crazy place. Nothing phased him. Then there were Tony, Jim, Fred. Compared to Hank they were not just spindly, but thin followers. God help them, after we left. My guess was they’d have to close the dairy operation.

Thinking that made me turn again to Billy the Kid, sitting down at the end, off in dreamland somewhere. His civvy haircut and glasses made him look brainy, like a student. Come to think of it, he probably was. Have to find out what makes him tick. Too bad he’d lose this dorm if the barn closed. He’d still have the mail run, though, and if he was smart enough, the extra business that went with it. We’d just have to see.

In addition to being skinny, Jim was always fidgeting and the first one done with everything. He asked, Anybody know if the Braves play today?

Tony lifted his head from his plate long enough to glance at the Massey Furgeson calendar and grunted, Yah. They start a triple header at St. Louis.

Right away, Jim fired at Hank, The Mutual Network’s got that as the game of the day. Can we listen this afternoon?

Hank kept shoveling for a moment, then grunted, Can’t. We got to get the calf barn ready. If we finish that today, then you can goof off on Saturday and hear the whole game.

Jim got a gleam in his eye and said, We could bring in some home brew. Maybe invite a few women over!

Don’t push it, Hank growled. We still got to milk afterwards, so no one can get drunk. It’s one thing to sneak women over here at night. A whole ’nother thing during the day. You’d look silly with your nuts in a vice.

Jim slumped and Hank leaned back, the chair creaking as his bulk shifted. He slid his chair back and swung to stare at me, saying Be careful. Don’t let that bastard get you. I nodded. Looking back at the other guys to make sure they’d finished eating, he said quietly, Jim and Fred, head them out. Tony and I will start washing the milking parlor. The guys scrambled over their benches and headed out the door.

Billy’s attention had been drawn back by all the noise, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw the table full of dirty dishes. Yep, I told him. It’s our job to make breakfast for the crew and clean up afterward. Think of it as our payment for staying here. You didn’t like living on the ward, did you? He shook his head. Then remember, these guys are doing you a favor letting you stay with them. Be a help. Now come on, we’ve got lots to do.

Walking around gathering up the dishes seemed to help Billy. He started to get up to speed and almost looked alert after a few minutes. We whipped through the dishes, me showing him where things went. Good thing the dairy needs hot water. Otherwise, we’d have it kind of tough out here. Even have our own showers. Did you see where they were? I asked him.

Billy nodded and said, Yah.

The phone rang and I jumped. They’d installed a phone for us about a year ago, but we didn’t get many calls. I picked up the ear piece hung on the side of the wall mounted box. This was an old phone that must have come out of the bakery when they got the modern desk models. When it got damp, you could still smell the cinnamon on it.

Ah, yah? I answered into the voice cone. She asked for Hank, so I let the ear piece dangle, went into the barn and yelled for him. He clomped in a minute later wearing his rubber boots. He must have figured it was Mr. Hall, the farm supervisor because he causally leaned against the wall before grabbing the swinging ear piece.

Yah? This is Hank. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but Hank straightened up. He turned toward me, and I could see the ruddy color draining from his face. When? Where? Why? he barked. He couldn’t have gotten much of an answer, for a moment later he slammed the ear piece down. Dropping into a chair he said, She’s gone.

I knew he meant Sharon, his pregnant girlfriend. Who was that on the phone? I asked.

Cindy, he answered.

So, what happened? I asked him.

Don’t know. She heard from one of the patients that Sharon was called off the ward first thing this morning.

I winced when Hank grabbed me by the arm. Geez, he was strong! I could hear the power in his voice when he told me, You gotta find out where they took her. I gotta get her out of here.

I will, I assured him. I’ll find out for sure. When I do, I’ll let you know. He sat for a minute staring down at the