Talking at the Woodpile (19 page)

Brian let the longest time pass before speaking again. “Siddhartha was looking for enlightenment, so he sat by a river, and through contemplation, discovered the meaning of life.”

Winch looked at Brian and gave him his very best I-really-don't-care look.

More silence followed.

Brian left it at that. I guess we both knew that a person has to want to be spiritually enlightened. It's not something you can force on someone.

A lanky, tan puppy ambled over, threw its wagging body onto Winch's lap and at the same time—with that over-the-shoulder move—tried to lick his face. The puppy finally settled down and leaned against Brian, who had put his arm around it, and joined in looking at the river.

I got up and said, “Goodbye.”

The two men and the dog sat together, each in his own world: one wanting to know, one not caring to know and a third that could never know. At that moment Howard Bungle drove by, and I said under my breath, “And one who would never think to know.”

I was just enjoying my last pancake, and my mother was folding tea towels to go in the drawer, when she asked, “Tobias, what are your plans for this Saturday morning? I have errands for you.”

I said, “‘I'm going down to Yasgur's farm, I'm going to join in a rock and roll band, I'm going to camp out on the land, I'm going to get my soul free.'”

She laughed and said, “Don't quote ‘Woodstock' to me. I know my music. You're not getting out of helping around here. Besides, you shouldn't be going down to anyone's farm, you should be enrolled in university to study journalism.”

I was a bit surprised that she knew about Joni Mitchell and Woodstock but I was learning mothers knew everything. I finished my milk and headed out the door before she could assign the errands.

“The chores will be waiting for you,” she yelled after me.

If I told her I was meeting Brian and Winch for an interview about Brian's plans for a convention to discuss aliens, she would grill me for half an hour and say, “I told you I didn't want you getting involved with aliens.” I was beginning to think Mom believed in aliens, she worried about them so much.

Winch and Brian sat on the damp gravel levee between the beached riverboat
Keno
and Robert Service's old Bank of Commerce, where a teller had told me some ledgers and receipts still carried the poet's signature.

Neither man spoke as they sat watching the Yukon River. Both were troubled, but their dilemma was of their own making. They had gone too far with this alien thing. They had overstepped boundaries, and the women were united against them and calling them fools. They both hated it.

“I had a sign,” Brian said.

“What do you mean by a sign?” Winch demanded irritably. He was angry with Brian for getting them so far into this embarrassing situation.

“A sign from heaven,” Brian answered, fidgeting with some pebbles and not looking at Winch.

I could see Winch was wondering whether to ask the obvious question. After a pause he rolled his eyes, sighed and said, “Okay, Brian. What is this sign you saw?”

Brian looked into Winch's eyes and said quietly, “At the corner of Princess and Third streets I saw a three-legged dog chasing a one-legged raven.”

Winch's face contorted into a look of pity, then disdain and finally disbelief all in one second. His eyes briefly crossed. He dropped his head onto his knees and covered his ears with his hands.

“I don't want to hear it,” he said.

Brian protested, “You have to.”

Winch covered his ears with his palms and started to sing “Rock of Ages.”

Brian grabbed Winch's forearm and pulled his hand off his ear.

“Don't be such a damn fool! Listen! This is important—it could change our lives. Do you want to get out of this or not?” Brian asked.

Winch stopped singing.

“This is evidence. Alien involvement is written all over it like fingerprints at a crime scene. One-legged or three-legged animals would be of great interest to aliens. They love anomalies. They collect and study them. These animals have been picked up and studied, then released. There is no way on this earth that a three-legged dog and a one-legged raven would end up together in the middle of an intersection. It had to be more than coincidence.”

Winch looked at me, “What do you think, Tobias?”

“I'm here only to record the facts,” I said without looking up, scribbling every word like mad into my steno pad. I knew it was going to be either a blockbuster story or a complete bust.

It took most of the afternoon for Brian to convince Winch of the significance of what he had seen. By the end of the day Winch didn't believe that a sign had been given but did agree they should continue their alien program to clear their names.

“We need support,” Brian said. “We have to invite other alien-believers and have an alien convention. We are going to prove once and for all to everyone in this unbelieving town that aliens live amongst us. We'll rent Gertie's Dance Hall, have a fabulous banquet with speakers, publicity, films, pictures and displays, and Tobias here will record it all, and we'll publish books and movies.”

“I'm on board,” Winch said.

“How about you, Tobias? Are you with us?”

“I'll be there,” I said, trying to sound as committed as I possibly could without joining in completely.

Over the next three months the two men met after work, toiling late into the night and running up postage and phone bills. I joined them as often as I could and helped out with the typing and mailing of invitations.

Maude complained frequently to Brian, “I'm not putting up with any more of this foolishness.”

“Just be patient, honey. It's all coming together,” Brian said.

Winch had bigger problems with Lulu. One evening I was licking stamps and Winch and Brian were having a tête-à-tête when she barged in, apologized to Maude for doing so and dragged Winch outside for a private talk. She needn't have bothered. The whole neighbourhood could hear.

“Winch, I've had just about as much of this crap as I can take. You're going to have to make a choice. It's me and the kids or the aliens. I'm going home to mother and taking the kids if you don't give us some of your time.”

She stood on the lawn, arms crossed, with one foot tapping like Buford's lone tooth on a cold day. Initially Winch was lost for words and stuttered at the onslaught. He was terrified of losing her and the kids. Then he found his voice.

“Lulu, we are almost there. We have this thing in the bag and almost wrapped up. Just a little while longer and bingo, done deal, and I'll never do this again.”

Lulu didn't really want to go through the trouble of leaving with the kids; she was having a bad day and wanted Winch to know it. She pursed her lips some more, tapped the other foot and said, “Okay, Winch, but let this be a warning.”

She left as quickly as she arrived, and Winch went back to work.

CBC radio got wind of the project and phoned early one morning to interview Brian. Maude was annoyed at being wakened, and thinking the call was collect, shouted threats at Brian to get off the phone. The caller stopped the interview twice, hearing her in the background, and asked, “Is everything all right there?”

The planning continued. Speakers were booked, exhibits built, programs printed and the date set for the weekend of the summer solstice.

Scientists from universities in London, Moscow and Riga in Latvia were invited but politely declined. An excited professor of astrophysics from Moldova responded with an offer to lecture on the subject of Greek mythology and the alien influence. The Russian keepers of the Romanians were such believers in aliens that his passport and visa were issued in two days rather than the usual two years.

Winch's uncle Zak offered to share his World War II experiences. “I'm sure aliens were there and on our side. I took a glancing bullet off the head that put me out for two days, but when I woke, I'm sure I saw spaceships, and they were shooting at those Jerries. Damn good shots they were.”

Brian told Zak he was looking forward to hearing the full story at the convention.

As the list of speakers grew, Brian was confident that world-shaking history would be made in Dawson City that summer. The thought of making a contribution to mankind and lifting any notion of weirdness from their shoulders raised Winch and Brian's spirits enormously.

There were doubters in town. Howard Bungle, the most outspoken, yelled at Brian and Winch from across the street as they loaded a sound system into Gertie's.

“You bunch of crazies! What kind of people are you bringing into this town anyway, more idiots just like yourselves? I'm going to the cops and stop this.” His face went deep red, and by the time he jumped in his truck and ground gears in a jerky takeoff, he was beet purple.

“That guy might just explode if he's not careful,” Winch said, picking up an amplifier.

Howard did go to the cops, who diligently filled out a report but ripped it up and tossed it in the wastebasket before Howard even went out the door.

“That guy has severe cabin fever—365 days a year,” said the sergeant to the constable. He put Howard on his mental list of people not to turn his back on.

On the morning of the registration, more than four hundred people crowded into Diamond Tooth Gertie's. Brian and Winch were beside themselves with happiness. Hotels and restaurants threw their complete support behind them, now that their rooms and restaurants were packed full. The Occidental and Downtown hotels offered sponsorships, which Brian collected and added to the growing coffers.

Professor Alexandru Anca had brought his daughter from Romania, and she was a real looker. With flaming red hair and emerald green eyes, she was a classic beauty. I made a point of introducing myself.

“Welcome to the Yukon,” I said.

The professor bowed slightly at the waist and in the heaviest accent introduced his daughter.

“I am Professor Anca and this is my eldest daughter, Camelia,” he said.

Camelia took my hand and gently shook it.

“Are you a communist?” she asked in the most cultured English with a British accent.

I was attracted by her charm but at the same time taken aback by her directness.

“No, but my father is a socialist,” I said.

“All my boyfriends are communist,” she said and walked away.

“I could convert,” I yelled after her.

Maude and Lulu got word of the success and proudly showed up, decked out in the finest Halloo women's fashions with matching dresses and hats. Maude was now a full-patch member of the family.

The din subsided as Brian and Winch, dressed in tuxedos, stood nervously side by side at the microphone. Brian wore a black top hat; Winch wore a brown derby that clashed with his suit but matched his rubber boots. Brian took off his hat, collapsed it and tucked it inside his jacket. There was a smattering of polite applause before they spoke. Holding his papers at arm's length because of nearsightedness, Brian spoke loud and clear. “Welcome! Welcome, everyone, to the first annual Dawson City Alien Research Convention.”

A murmur swept through the room, and then everyone stood up. Thunderous applause gave way to cheers, yells and more applause. Brian and Winch looked at each other and shook hands. Then, with beaming faces, they waved to the crowd.

I was surprised to see Richard Cooper, front row and centre, having a great time. I asked him how he was doing. He grabbed my arm and told me, “
Star Trek
convinced me that Spock is real. No amount of makeup could make pointy ears that perfect. I seen him at a convention in Las Vegas and took a real close look. They're real, all right! Nope, there are aliens out there, or maybe I should say in here.” He laughed heartily, still holding on to my arm.

Sitting next to Richard was Chief Daniel with a large contingent of his family, which took up two rows of chairs. Chief Daniel got up onstage next, and after a prayer he said, “God bless you all and safe journey to you all.” Then, with a rhythmic beating of his drum, he chanted in his own language a greeting to all the visitors. He then climbed down and took his seat.

I had been asked to read a prepared message, but I turned it down and suggested that Uncle Zak, as an elder and a war veteran, be given the honour. He enthusiastically took the assignment.

Zak wore his army uniform, decorated with three rows of medals and still fitting after thirty years. He took the mike. “Dear travellers, who have gathered here today from all points of the globe and universe, we welcome you with open arms and minds. It is a rarity that such a gathering as ours is taking place when so many naysayers abound—”

Then Zak left the text and started to interject his own thoughts. “—especially that damn no-good Howard Bungle, who should be tarred and feathered and driven out of town on a rail.”

There was a scuffle at the back of the room, and Howard rushed up the aisle shouting the foulest language. Zak stepped back from the mike, pulling his sleeves up his bony arms to welcome Howard in whatever encounter he wished.

“Come on, come on, you dirty rat. I'll Popeye ya,” he shouted over the microphone.

He didn't have to worry, because Lulu deftly stepped into the aisle and hardly had to throw her fist, as Howard ran directly into it. His head snapped back, and he fell dazed onto the floor. Lulu stood defiantly over him, smiling and brushing her hands together, while Howard was grabbed and ushered quickly outside by a group of Brian's volunteers and an RCMP officer.

“Come on, Howard, you're spoiling the party,” the constable said. He locked up Howard for the weekend.

I snapped the perfect picture of Howard flying back with no part of his body touching the floor and Lulu standing with her fist out like Mrs. Rocky Marciano.

Maude was delighted and hugged Lulu. “Thanks, Lulu, you don't know how much that punch means to me.”