Crazy Oed and the Sacred Band of Thebes

CRAZY OEDIPUS

AND

THE SACRED BAND OF THEBES

         I done been asked by Miss Iva Penn, Owner, Publisher and Editor of the Thebes Shining Sword and Weekly Tattler to write down a few remembrances of the most illustrious and benevolent citizen in the history of Thebes--Oedipus Parnassus. That's Thebes in East Texas now, I wouldn't want you to mistake that.
         I s'pose the reason Miss Penn asked me is because Crazy OEd (most ever'body round here calls him Crazy OEd) is my third cousin once removed. Being family and all, we practically growed up together, although I guess you could say that about might near ever'body from Thebes, it being so small.  To be truthful, and I allus am, there's certain famblies (I ain't saying who, now), whose fambly tree don't branch much.  We grow up together and know each other-- from the first smack on the butt that says "Welcome to Thebes"-- to the sound of dust droppin' to dust on the casket out to the cemetary behind the First Baptist Church of the Lamb Rampant.
         Like I say, ol' OEd and me been close friends for years, so I got picked to write this in preparation for the big shindig in his honor for his fiftieth birthday.  I'll be kind of short about his early years, 'cause he wasn't no prize then anyway, if the truth be told.  Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, and I ought to tell you about his folks first.
         His granddad, Homer, founded the city of Thebes here in the Big Thicket of East Texas in 1922.  Homer had come over from the real Greece and decided that Athens, Texas sounded like a good place to settle.  He got into the first oil boom in Athens, but soon was ruined by the first "slump" in the oil bidness in East Texas.  Supporters of Crazy OEd today say that Ol' Homer left Athens at the head of a delegation of citizens who warmly wished him on his way.  There's others say the warmth was from tar liberally daubed on by investors in his oil ventures. Whatever the truth of it, it's certain that Homer harbored a hatred towards Athens to his dying day and passed it on to his son and grandson. Without gossipin' like a grass widder, I guess you could say the town of Thebes owes everything it is today to the Parnassus family. There's some say they're a mite "strange", but there's always talk in a small town by the elders sitting around the courthouse square with nothin' better to do than whittle and spit, I allus say.
         Homer settled on top of the only hill in the cheap scrub oak and loblolly pine area of Peloponnesus County.  He called his place the Acropolis, built himself a house he called the Lion Court and laid out and platted the town of Thebes.  For the rest of his life he fulminated against Athens and plotted ways for Thebes to surpass the elegance, wealth and prestige of that metropolis.  If'n you'd ever been to Athens, Tex. (Pop.35,703-Water Supply Approved), you'd sure as heck know what I mean.  He and Aunt Helen named their son, Alexander, after some famous greek, but he wasn't no world beater, I'll tell ya.
         Alexander couldn't never seem to conquer his drinking problem. He thought his problems was solved when he run off and married a poor white trash moonshiner's daughter named Roxie from down on Blackwater Slough, but her father wasn't no 'count either and wouldn't give him no credit.  Homer disowned him, and Alex and Roxie wound up living in a mobile home down at the Wailing Winds Trailer Park on Route 83.

            Sometime later they wuz both killed because a tornado missed their mobile home. They wuz driving up to Dallas to appear on a KRLD Radio show--"Can You Believe This?"--(they was gonna be billed as the "miracle couple")--when their car run off the road into a gravel pit full of water.  Alex loved his liquor and had been celebrating their strange escape.  There's some say you could have made a pretty damn good drink of 'shine and water out of the contents of that gravel pit after Alex's car went into it, but it ain't polite to talk down the dead.  Sic Semper Alex.
         OEdipus was their only child.  He was raised by Aunt Helen and Old Homer.  Homer got blind and crotchety in his old age. The Rev. M.T. Pocquettes preached a sermon down to the Fourteenth Baptist Church about how God sends blindness and plagues to prominent sinners who don't go to church and tithe reg'lar. There was some talk down to the feed store that the sermon was aimed at Blind Homer, but the  Rev. Pocquettes denied it later when they struck oil on the Parnassus' place.  But I'm gettin' ahead of myself. Like I said, Homer was a tough old bird, hard-barked you might say, but he loved his grandchild, young OEddie, as though he was his own.  Wasn't nuthin' too good for little OEddie.  He was raised by Aunt Helen and Homer like a crown prince.
          After Aunt Helen went to her Heavenly Reward, Rev. Pocquettes preached the service, and said it was a mercy she had gone to Jesus, since she had to put up with so much sinnin' in her Vale of Tears.  Why it even moved 'Ol Blind Homer so much he got up to embrace the preacher at the end of the service.  Ever'body agreed it was a shame that the preacher got himself tangled up in Homer's cane and fell into the grave.  Sort of spoiled the service somehow, you know, but them that say it wasn't no accident, prob'ly wasn't even there and have some ax to grind against Old Homer.
         Well sir, after Aunt Helen passed on, the old man couldn't seem to take hold of things like he used to.  Young OEddie was pretty much raised from age eight or so by the colored girls that come and went--depending on how long they could stand 'Ol Homer-- and how much love or pity they had in their hearts for little OEddie.  They was some said it was a scandal that the boy spent so much time down in colored town with the maids and their families, but I can't see that it did OEddie no harm.
         That wasn't the reason that ever'body started callin him Crazy OEd. That come later when he was in school, and Cleon Piggott, the school bully  (now the Honorable Mayor of Thebes), used to rag him all the time.  Course OEddie was a little different, I got to admit that. He was real bookish, wore glasses, a quiet kid.  You know the kind--why he'd volunteer to clean the blackboards at school--and it wasn't 'cause he needed no help in his grades neither. He sorta kept to hissself--and outa the way of Cleon and his buddies, Harlon Horne and "Soapy" Waters--when they'd let him.
         I was there when he got the nickname "Crazy OEd" though, so I know for a pure dee fact how it happened.  Cleon and his bunch was down at the edge of the school yard, chunkin' rocks at the school buses takin' the coloreds to their school, when for no reason at all, OEddie come up behind Cleon and hit him in the back of the head with a two by four.  When he finally come to and found out it was OEddie that done laid the wood to him, Cleon said that OEddie must have gone crazy to pick on somebody as big as him. He must have really thought OEddie was crazy too, 'cause I noticed he didn't never go after him or nothin' after that.  Matter of fact, Cleon walked around on his tippytoes whenever OEddie was around, but from then on, Cleon and his crowd always called OEddie by his nickname.            After the incident with Cleon,  Mr. Primme, the school principal, called 'Ol Homer in for a meetin'.  No one ever knew what was said, but at the start of the next scool term, OEd was sent away to one of them fancy boardin' schools back East somewhere.  OEddie hardly ever come back to Thebes for a long time. We heard he went to school at soome place called the Columbia School of Mines to become a geologist, just to please the old man who still wanted someone in the family to make it big in the oil bidness.  Blind Homer had decreed there wasn't going to be no more illiterate wildcatters in the family no more.
         Well sir, OEd come back to East Texas with a new diploma and a passel of ideas that was new to Thebes.  It was along about that time that ever'body in town started callin' him Crazy OEd. I ain't tellin' tales out of school when I say that Cleon was the first, and it wasn't a friendly nickname if you know what I mean.
         What turned things around, I s'pose, was the Acropolis oil strike.  Seems that Blind homer had been sittin' in that big old white house on top of an oil dome.  OEd was the one who figured it out, but he sure had to take some ribbin' from folks hereabouts when he started drillin' with a borrowed little 'ol jackknife rig in Homer's backyard.  Earl Lee Welles, the tool pusher, said the drill bit hadn't hardly been spudded in when the damn thing blew out a gusher.  When they finally got 'er capped, she was blowin' near a thousand barrels a day up the pipe.  To relieve the pressure, OEd just kept stickin' more wells in the side of that dome 'til it looked like one of them cute little centerpieces like my wife makes for Christmas-- made out of grapefruits with toothpicks stuck all over with little sausages and goodies on em. Danged if it didn't look just like that.
         After that strike, OEd got richer than six feet up a bull's ass. It wasn't long before the attitude of the town seemed to change too.  Lots of folks said they always knew that Oed was a deep one--quiet but deep.  The town got more friendly towards OEd and that's a fact.  Oh, people still called him Crazy OEd if he done something strange, but you could hear the toleration and affection in their voices.  Like as not, they'd just say, "Oh, that's just Crazy OEd's way," or, "Ain't that Crazy OEd a caution?", or "Crazy OEd don't mean nothin' by it."
         Like the time OEd bought all his oil field workers new uniforms.  Crazy OEd had become the largest employer in Thebes by that time and hired most all his oil field workers from the town. There was some that thought it was unusual to have roughnecks wearin' puce and pink uniforms, but he made sure that the Thebans who worked for him got all the newest and brightest uniforms, so the grumblers was shushed real fast.
         I s'pose OEd's fate was sealed when he became the protector and benefactor of Thebes.  He announced one day at the City Council meetin' that he had endowed a foundation, the "Society for the Laudatory Appreciation, Protection, and Preservation of East Texas-(SLAPPE-Tex) with fifty million dollars to perform good works in Thebes.  I'll never forget the headline of the Thebes Shining Sword and Weekly Tattler--"Greek Bearing Gifts" in 20 point type.  Crazy OEd was quoted as saying, "I want to make sure that Thebes gets everything that's coming to it."   It made me proud to be related to the man--even third cousin once removed.

***
THE SACRED BAND

         It wasn't long before OED was up to his ass in good works, I can tell you. As usual, the first Theban to find his way clear to asking for charitable assistance was the Rev. M. T. Pocquettes of the Fourteenth Babtist Church of Thebes.  Rev. Pocquettes was some surprised when OEd smiled and said he'd been expecting him. Rev. Pocquettes later told his wife Darneeda he was sure that the Lord must have sent a vision to Mr. Parnasssus to prepare the way. I'd guess that's about right.
         Rev. Pocquettes had several projects to present to Slappe-Tex, but none of 'em seemed to grab OEd until he got to the Wednesday Nite Youth Fellowship. OEd thought for a moment and then, in a hushed voice, said, "The Sacred Band of Thebes".
         The preacher was taken aback some, but he didn't want to let on as to how he didn't understand, so he brightened up and said, "To be sure, Mr. Parnassus, but just exactly what did you have in mind."
         It was then that OEd gave birth to one of his most famous civic projects for the town of Thebes--a marching band of Theban youth that would play only religious music.  Before the Reverend could thank him, OEd was showing him the door and telling him that he would underwrite the entire shootin' match and see to all the details.  He left the Rev. Pocquettes sputtering breathlessly on the front stoop of The Parthenon, after effusively thanking him for his divine inspiration.  You got to hand it to OEd. He never was afraid to spread credit around where it was due. Why, he told ever'body in town from that day forward that the Reverend was the true inspiration of the Sacred Band, and OEd was simply his admiring accolyte.  What a guy!!
          OEd was as good as his word.  By Wednesday of the following week he had put flyers and leaflets all over town and the schools.  He put on a tea party for the ladies of the community to get their support.  He knew he'd need every momma in town on his side to get their kids interested.  Sure enough, all the ladies showed up, anxious to see OEd close up, since he didn't mix with the townspeople much since he come home. The ladies also wanted to see the Parthenon since he'd spent all the money redecorating.  There was a lot of gigglin' and blushin' by the ladies in their best floral print dresses, but OEd can be a charmer.  The ladies all decided to help and vowed they owed it to their kids, (long as there wasn't any couples dancin) to Thebes and to their various gods (Besides all the Babtists, there was some Methodists, a few Disciples of Christ, a Presbyterian, and a couple of Catholics that went to Mass over to Athens.) to see to it that all their kids joined the Sacred Band of Thebes.
         Wednesday night you would have been surprised to see how many kids was there.  Curiosity I guess, but you could see 'em perk up when they saw OEd was going full out.  He had hired the band director away from the TEXAS A&M FIGHTING AGGIE BAND, so ever'body knowed this was serious business.  There was representatives from a uniform company and dressmakers and tailors to make measurements for the uniforms.  It just made a body glad to see all them bright shiny faces dedicated now to one goal--the inaugural appearance of the Sacred Band of Thebes at the Battle of the Bands-the big statewide competition for marching bands at the San Antonio Fiesta, only three months off.
         OEd insisted, and most folks agreed he was right, that everything about the band should be secret to "keep the pressure off the kids" as he put it.  After all, April was only three months away, and most of the kids had never played an instrument before.  When the bandmaster found out most of the kids weren't musicians, he wanted to quit in disgust, but Crazy OEd applied some more of that old green poultice, and he come back on board real fast. The bandmaster quickly decided that with so much to learn--music and marching routines--the Sacred Band would have to be a drum and bugle corps.
         Someone come up with an idea (Rev. Pocquettes' wife Darneeda says it was OEd, but he refused to claim the honor) there should be a girl's drill team like the Trinity Valley School of Dental Hygeine Flossettes.  OEd did name the drill team--the Maenads--however.  Some folks wondered what kind of name that was.  OEd cut short any criticism by explainin' that "Maenads"  in ancient Thebes was the same thing as sayin' "drill team".  And when OEd found out  Ruby Lippes, the Captain of the Maenads was havin' a hard time gettin' home from practice to the run down place that her no-account family sharecropped down by Greasy Woman Creek, he gallantly offered to drive her home ever evenin' so she wouldn't miss practice.  Ever'body agreed OEd had turned out to be a fine Christian gentleman.
          I'm tellin' ya, the whole town was as excited and enthusiatic as a bunch of women at a tupperware party. As the big day got closer, it was the onliest thing you'd get anybody to talk about down to the Courthouse or the Confederate Veterans' Memorial Hall. When OEd said he'd pay the expenses for ever'one who wanted to go to the Battle of the Bands, things got to a fever pitch.  What a guy!!
         Finally the great day arrived.  I wish you could've seen all the Thebans in their polished-up pick-ups as they rolled into San Antone for the great unveiling.  Would've  made any man's heart swell to be part of a country where private enterprise wanted to put something back into the community.  Like most of the other clustered families and supporters of the other bands, the Thebans were mostly decked out in the high school colors of white, black and gold. (White for purity and Black-Gold, get it?).
          Most of the judges was nobodies you'd know or care about. They was mostly professors from the music deparments of the Southwest Conference Schools out scoutin' for a piccolo player or two, but there was a few deservin' and prominent people includin' Mr. Flint Churchison, owner of the Dallas Bulls his ownself, and he'd prob'ly seen as many marchin' bands and drill teams as he'd ever cared to. So we were in professional hands.  Besides OEd had told me that Flint was a personal friend and had agreed to come because OEd told him there'd be some real surprises in store.  Several of the bands from West Texas were damn good and the Thebans were a little restless. They got blamed nervous after an all black band from Houston, the Ghetto Blasters, finished their routine whose finale had the members of the band break dancin', spinnin' on their heads, while playin' their instruments. They got a hell of a round of applause from the crowd, and there was some talk of "reverse discrimination" from some of the Thebans (like Mayor Cleon and his crowd) who is known to have eyeholes in every pillowcase in the house.  Saved him time when there was an important cross burnin', he allus said.
         But all that was shushed by the rest of us 'cause the next band on the program was "The Sacred Band of Thebes".
         The lights in the stadium went out. Out of the darkness come a blare of massed horns and then the announcer's voice over the loudspeakers shouted, "And now ladies and gentlemen, I direct your kind attention to the North and Sourth entrances of the stadium and
...THE SACRED BAND OF THEBES...THEbes...THebes...thebes... and the MAENADS...MAENads...MAEnads...MAenads..." There was some kind of echoes in that Stadium but we all thought it just give us some more OOMPH  Spotlights come on and moved up and down the field, finally stopping and focusing on the Sacred Band at one goal line and the Maenads at the other, posed like statues in the blue -white lights.  It was a grand and glorious sight.  
         The Sacred Band was dressed in short black and gold togas with leopard skin aprons or suchlike hanging down in front and back. On their head was real bronze helmets with horsehair plumes stickin' up and flowing down their backs. Some of the smaller kids was makin' a real good effort to keep their heads up straight, what with the weight of that bronze an all. Sandals and bronze greaves on the legs and forearms completed the ensemble.  The Maenads outfits was made of white silky stuff with real cute short pleated miniskirts. The top was a little daring for our Theban's taste  'cause it just barely covered them youngun's you know whats as it went over the shoulder on one side, leavin' one shoulder and considerable amount of chest bare. (I found out later they got to pick their best side).  On their heads, they had these cute little golden circlets (called garlands I later heard on good authority) which from up in the stands in the glare of them spotlights looked just like twinklin' little halos on all them angelic heads. It was quite a sight that brought a tear to the eye of many a Theban matron--and one of the better memories of that night for most folks.
    "...with the Rev. M.T. Pocquettes as Honorary Bandmaster"   Scarcely had them dramatic echoes of the announcement faded into the night when the thunder of fourteen bass drums and thirty kettle drums racketed back and forth from one side of that stone stadium to another. Why, the vibrations alone was enough to make your stomach queasy. You could barely hear the announcer over the drums when he continued, "...the Sacred Band of Thebes will entertain you with a medley of familiar hymns in 4/4 time, while marching in the geometric patterns set forth in the KABALA."
         On cue, there come the Sacred Band, stepping smartly out onto the field, one hundred and fifty members strong. Then came the brazen clarion calls of the horns of every description ringin' out, the clash of cymbals, the sweet clear tinklin' of the triangles (home of the musically disinclined), and over all, the deep throbbing booms of the bass drums in counterpoint to the ratapan of the kettledrums and snares. High steppin' from the other end of the stadium came the Maenads, each darlin' girl with a fixed rictus of a smile on her lips as she realized that this might be the zenith of her entire life.
         Naturally, the Thebans in the stands went wild. Right before their very eyes was the Sacred Band of Thebes, just as Crazy OEd had promised, showing the world what Thebes was made of.  As the Sacred Band and the Maenads wheeled and pivoted through them strange cabalistic patterns, the band was playin' the hell out of "Amazin' Grace", "Nearer My God to Thee", and "The Old Rugged Cross".  The tunes were sorta recognizable, though I don't guess you could sing along too easy, since the beat was so different from what you was used to at church. But it was good all the same, and there was a bunch of the Thebans that tried to sing along and clap. 'Course there's always some that won't go along with ever'body else and want their own way. I got to admit that there was some older Thebans in the stands that was mutterin' a chorus of things like "Blasphemy", "Shame", and "Get a rope!", but ever'body soon shushed them up by sayin' that after all OEd had done for the town and the kids, bringin' 'em to the Battle of the Bands and all, it wasn't polite to carp. Besides, the grand finale was comin' up, featurin' the Maenads and ever'body wanted to watch.
         I was on the field that night, takin' pictures for the Shining Sword and Weekly Tattler, so I guess I'm the onliest man alive who knows the true story of the tragic incident--and has the pictures to prove it.  You can't count the Rev. Pocquettes since he went into an unexplained fit about the same time and really didn't see the whole thing.
         Well Sir, what happened was this.  The Maenads come over to the sideline nearest the judges' stands near the fifty yard line to do their big finale.  Rev. Pocquettes, the Honorary Bandmaster, was on the band master's platform swingin' his baton for all he was worth.  As the girls lined up, I kept my telescopic lens on Ruby since she was the Captain, and I wanted to get a good shot. Lord, she was a pretty thing.  Anyways, just before they started, I seen her look up at OEd who was standin' by Mr. Churchison up in the judges' area. Crazy OEd gave her a big wave, pointed her out to Mr. Churchison, and clasped both hands over his head in a victory sign.  Mr. Churchison took up his binoculars and took a close look at the Maenads, just to check their precision I imagine.
         Ruby smiled back, winked, and took a great big breath. (God damn, that girl could breathe.) The announcer come back on and said, "Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, the Maenads will perform their soon to be famous "Theban Maenad High Kick."  Ruby blew her whistle.
         The Sacred Band started playin' "C'um By Yar" for all it was worth, and the Maenads went into their routine. By accident I had my camera trained on the heart of the "incident" and noticed right away that Ruby had done forgot to wear any drawers underneath the miniskirt of the Maenad costume.  
         The answer to a thousand locker room, huntin' camp, and bar room arguments was revealed right there for ever'body and Sweet Jesus to see. I was real careful to do my best for the Shining Sword and Weekly Tattler, but I managed to look around long enough to see Rev. Pocquettes.  He had fallen off the platform almost at the feet of the Maenads. He was later to tell anyone who cared to listen that he was took with a strange fit sent by the Lord to protect him and to deny that he seen anything.  
         I can't tell if he did or not. He was frothin' at the mouth some, rollin' around and kind makin' sounds like "URK...URK...URK".  His eyes was all bugged out and starin' wide open.  I took a quick peek up at the crowd in the stands. you could see the applause and the cheerin' in the crowd die out. It kinda looked like a film of one of them "wave" cheers in reverse.  The faces of the crowd of Thebans was a mite sickly lookin' as the Maenads high-kicked their way into history in 4/4 time.  Not a pretty sight.
         Just to show you the sun don't shine on the same dog's ass all the time, the first and last performance of the Sacred Band of Thebes turned out fine. The Sacred Band and the Maenads won first prize for showmanship and the Maenads won first place for Congeniality. Oh there was some said Crazy OEd had bribed the judges, but the president of the Thebes Chamber of Commerce, Ernest N. Devor reminded ever'one of the priceless publicity that Thebes got from bein' number one in the state and how that would surely translate into cash money in ever'body's pockets, so they shut up pretty quick.
         And Ruby?  She never went back to Thebes.  After the contest, Mr. Churchison asked her to go to Dallas to become one of the Cow Belles. The Cow Belles worked as "hostesses" in the VIP boxes at Texas Stadium at the Bull games, keepin' the VIPs happy. She wrote Willmay, her ma, and said she was makin' a lot of new friends and a lot more money than workin' at the soda fountain of the Walgreens, so I guess she come out all right too.  I know for a fact that Crazy OEd would go see her in Dallas from time to time "just to make sure she's doin' O.K."  
         They sure don't make 'em like Crazy OEd no more. What a guy!