Flunkerton: The Old Whisky Trail

By Tommy Haney

The Old Whiskey Trail is the feature book that lays the foundation for the series. When a man from Boston attempts to restore his standing with the mob, he flees to the South. It is a sink-or-swim situation in which his very life is at stake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514423141

Tommy Haney

Tommy is a simple Southern boy raised in a small town in the USA, in the backwoods of Cherokee County, Alabama. He embraced his deep Southern roots and used inspiration from early child influences to complete a fictional book series that will bring the reader from the mid-1800s up through the new millennium.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Tommy Haney.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015918316

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5144-2316-5

                Softcover         978-1-5144-2315-8

                eBook              978-1-5144-2314-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 11/10/2015

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Contents

Preface

Chapter 1 The Foundation

Chapter 2 Change

Chapter 3 The First Haul

Chapter 4 Two Steps Forward and Three Steps Back

Chapter 5 The Take-Off

Chapter 6 Good Ole Bill

Chapter 7 The Pickup

Chapter 8 Change

I dedicate Flunkerton: The Whiskey Trail to Granny Haney.

I dedicate this book to you. Your continuous love revealed to me the love of Christ. Without love and Christ, life is a pointless and meaningless existence.

PREFACE

I T SEEMS EVERYONE has their own conclusion about what makes criminals do what they do. Even criminals within their individual tiers and types have their own opinion of why they do what they do. Of course, what do criminals know?

Aside from the circumstantial, many people who have committed crimes have psychological disorders that allow them to be influenced by other people to do things deemed criminal. In a few cases, there are those with psychological disorders who just do not know any better. But for the most part, I think many criminals are indeed products of our society. Actually they are an indication of our society’s lack of productivity. Take for instance underprivileged children who do not fit in with the majority crowd. They are made fun of by their peers or simply just left out. If you couple that with poverty abuse, neglect, and lack of positive influence in their life, what does a child in this situation have to lose? All of these environmental factors often group children of similar circumstances together. Take an individual who was raised below poverty and put them in middle- to upper-class school system and middle- to upper-class socioeconomic world. Now, add into the factor that all of the things that they do not and cannot possess are flaunted in front of them by their peers and media. The whole assumption is that you are what you possess, so if you possess nothing, what are you?

It is my conclusion crimes, or rather criminals, are created from circumstances combined with learned behaviors that create personalities. Many of their traits are directly absorbed into their lives by media and other people around them. In addition, any attention given to seemingly rebellious children, teens, young adults, and—shamefully—adults reinforce the behaviors. Of course any monetary gain obtained in a crime that exceeds what an honest man can earn making minimum wage is tangible. I never want to go to jail, but given the option of revisiting some of the horrible parts of my early childhood or serving an equal stretch in the pin, I would take the jail time. Is it possible that that one year a drug dealer has living on top of the world is worth that seven he has to spend in jail? I am not an advocate of opening all of the prison doors and setting all of the inmates free. But just maybe we can all start being a little more humanistic and realize that we are all of the same flesh. Treat people with respect and take the time to look for the best qualities in each person you meet. You might find yourself growing a little more understanding, patient, loving, and forgiving. Take the time to talk to people and be nice. A few words can make someone’s day or crush their world.

Jacob Riis wrote a century ago, The most pitiful victim of city life is not the slum child who dies, but the slum child who lives. Every time a child dies, the nation loses a prospective citizen; but in every slum child who lives, the nation has a probable consumptive and possible criminal."

Now for the rest of this story I choose not to focus on behaviors or circumstances. Nor will I even be telling a true story. I will merely be drawing a picture devised from several isolated events and bring all of the associated circumstances together. Then I throw in my own childhood fantasyland assumptions in an attempt to devise a literary work that will hold your attention here and after.

CHAPTER 1

The Foundation

B ACK SOMETIME IN the early forties, he had inherited some properties up in Brooklyn. Either by lease or sale of these properties, he was trying to make his way through very difficult times. As times grew tougher Flanigin was rarely sober enough to conduct business. His last tenant was a small private paper whose future was not a very promising one. The bookie to whom Flanigin was in debt was waiting for full repayment or for Flanigin to simply turn all of his properties over in lieu of his debts. At the young age of twenty Flanigin was in quite a bind.

On March of 1943, as he walked