Files for the People

"What the hell do you mean I have a file? I collect and read the
files. Why do we have a file on me?"

"Mr. Johnson, you know why. Your son. He teaches history. He just
doesn't teach history. He teaches the kids ideas. Good ideas," said
Officer Davenport.

"That's crazy! That's ludicrous! Why do we have files on good,
innocent people?"

"Because of your memo sir. You said keep a file on anyone who speaks
out and any one that person is associated with. That means you sir. To
get rid of your file would compromise the whole operation. It would
take a rewriting of the rules for the File Gathering Group. Your file
doesn't say anything to affiliate you with some one dangerous. Neither
does your son's. Only that you two are, of course, affiliated."

David Johnson ran his hand through his salt and paper hair. He created
a watchdog to protect the community of Bieneville. The dog now turned
against the people it was supposed to protect. "Put them on my desk and
take an early afternoon off with pay. Thanks for talking to me the way
you did. With respect, I mean."

"Don't mention it, sir. And neither will I."

David smiled at that last statement. This mean only two people knew
about the file. Davenport created and was the sole viewer of it until
now. Ben Johnson knew about the File Gathering Group, as did anyone who
cared to ask. Anyone could see their files.

The files had started in the sixties under unpleasant circumstances.
David, a conservative but not a racist, told the alderman and mayor
that it was needed to keep track "of those ACLU, Freedom Rider trash
that are coming destroy our way of life." The moment he said it he
regretted it. He said it for political reasons. He started the file for
the opposite reason. He wanted to monitor the city council. They had
been in power too long. They did things their way. Over the years, the
File Gathering Group came to monitor anyone who could disturb the
peace. These groups were not only the hate groups but groups like
Greenpeace, PETA, and both sides of the abortion issue. David did not
care about the politics of the group. He cared about he peace of the
town; he wanted to be prepared for any violence.

David opened his file first. It was composed of two sentences. The
first just said that he was Benjamin Johnson's father and listed the
file number of Ben's file in parenthesis after his name. The second was
that the File Gathering Group knew about his original lie to create the
group and the real reason why the group was created. David smiled at
that sentence.

He opened Ben's file. It was four pages long.

After reading it, David smiled again. Actually, he chuckled. Ben was
not a threat. Ben was teaching history not from the textbook but as how
he observed it. Ben, like his dad, never pulls for the number one seed.
Ben taught history from the bottom man's point of view. He taught
history of the people and for the people. Ben taught about civil
disobedience, protests, and outrage. He taught about the struggles that
women, blacks, and Indians had to go through to gain their equality.
Nothing he taught could cause violence. It was just history from a
different point of view.

Nevertheless, he understood the need for a file. It wasn't the subject
matter. Mr. Davis, David's U.S. History teacher back in 1961 could
never have a file created. Even if Mr. Davis would say everything Ben
said word for word, there would be no file. It would have just been
boring history. Ben was anything but boring. When Ben lectured, he did
not do it from notes, books, or even his memory. His lectures sprung
from his heart. He believed his own words. David knew that if you
believed in what you were saying, there would be at least one person
who would be listening. The possibility of this person was the need for
a file. Ben had too much influence. He would never directly cause
trouble preferring to protest with the pen. However, maybe his students
would not be so peaceful.

David had enough. His head hurt and he wanted to go home. However, he
decided to call Ben first.

"Hello?"

"Hey Ben. It's dad. Just checking in."

"Oh, ok," Ben said. He paused for a second. "Everything's fine here.
How's it over there?"

"Keeping the aldermen and mayor in line. Making sure the streets of
Bieneville are safe for the good people."

"Make the streets safe from you and me uh Dad?"

David did not respond or laugh. He was caught off guard. After a couple
of seconds, he asked how is history going.

"Fine," Ben responded. "Most kids don't care. History is what happened
to old boring people is still the number one complaint. What they don't
get is that history doesn't happen to people. We happen upon
history.

"However, I have this one kid who is making history fun for me this
year. He asks questions all the time. And not the "can you repeat
questions" but true questions. The kind that makes me stop and think
about what I know. Do you realize how exciting that is for a teacher,
Dad?"

"It must be exciting," commented David.

"Yes, it is. You know what, dad. He is doing more than listening and
participating in class. He is listening and participating outside of
class, too. He attends the town meetings. He writes his representatives
in Washington."

David asked, "Who is he? Sounds like a fine young man."

"Yeah right, dad. Think I'll tell you his name? Why don't you just
check your files?"

"Ok. You got me on that one. Well, I have to go keep you mom happy by
coming come alive. If stay too much longer, I'll be killed by your mom.
Take it easy and kiss my grandkids for me."

"Ok, Dad. Kiss mom for me too. Goodnight."

A couple of days after this, David was sitting in his office reading
the daily paper. He read it for the small off beat stories since he
knew before the paper any of the big stories involving the town. He
enjoyed the living section the most mainly because the old ladies that
couldn't cook worth a damn were the ones submitting recopies to the
paper. His theory was the bad cooks in small towns always submit their
recopies, which were copied off some store bought box with a little
"extras" thrown in, to the local papers. This in turn would create a
new set of bad cooks in the town. These people needed to be stopped.
They needed a file.

Davenport walked in and asked David why he was smiling.

"Just certain conspiracy theories of mine. What can I do for you Mr.
Davenport?"

"Well, we are going to have some trouble."

Dave sat up straight. "Trouble, what kind?"

"Well, the knuckleheads at city hall have allowed a Klan meeting. It
was quietly passed at the last meeting. The one you didn't attend. Look
on page four."

"Those dumb bastards. Which ones voted?"

"All of them. It read a parade to celebrate the patriots of the 2nd war
for American Independence. The idiots thought it was for the War of
1812. They remember the help the townspeople gave before and after the
Battle of New Orleans."

David couldn't help but laugh. "Do you know that 7 of our 9 alderman
are Catholic? And that the Mayor's mother was born Jewish but converted
to Catholicism?"

Davenport chuckled and shook his head. "Well know they are going to let
a parade come. They tried to stop it by having a special meeting. But
the Klan folk were smart this time. They had someone from the ACLU say
it's their First Amendment rights."

"Who is organizing this 'parade'? Do we have a file?"

"A man by the name of John Smith. You do not have to give me that
look. I know it is a common name. No, we do not have a file. He just
moved to house out on Highway 353 from a small town south of here
called Lockport. The PD there said Mr. Smith was a model citizen there
except for one thing. After his wife died of cancer, Mr. Smith became
very moody and withdrawn. He was on various community projects and
such, but after that he quit them all. The Chief there said the word
was that hhe came from Alabama but that is all they know about her. The
last time the chief saw John he was walking out of the public library
carrying The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. I didn't ask about that
part. The chief there just mentioned it."

"When's the fiasco taking place?"

"Saturday."

"What did the DA say?"

"Jeff said we are stuck. We are open for lawsuits if we stop it. They
have already told his office they will sue if they don't get to march.
The Mayor is stuck. He doesn't want the parade and the city can't
afford a lawsuit. His solution is to have everyone come out and express
their true patriotism. He wants an anti-rally to the parade. He wrote a
letter that will appear in the Daily Word today."

" That idiot. He made refereeing a peewee football game into calling
the Super Bowl. We have more than the Daily Word to worry about if we
are not on our toes. We have to contain this fire."

"I know. I called the NOPD. They will lend us some support. So, will
the Sheriff's office. Maybe you should call that son of yours. Maybe he
could make the protest peaceful. Make it a school project."

David's face became one of concentration. He scratched his left cheek
with his right hand and said "Maybe. Good work Dan. Keep it up."

The younger, taller officer left the room. David sat back and loosened
his Tabasco tie. A peaceful protest as a school project kept going
through David's mind. David got up, walked toward the door, and told
the secretary to take his messages.

The student worker behind the administrative desk at Bieneville High
School gave David a visitor pass. Ben's classroom had a door in the
front and in the back, so David slipped in and listened to the rest of
the lecture. Ben's lecture was about some brave young men and women
whose act of bravery was ordering lunch at Woolworth's. David for the
first time noticed how much of a man Ben was. They looked alike. Both
men stood about six feet and in good shape. The only real differences
was Ben's tan and jet black hair.
"Mr. Johnson, how could they stand? How could they stand being called
those names? How could they not lash out? Why didn't they?"

"Excellent question, Mr. Smith," said Ben. Ben always treated his
students with the utmost respect. He only referred to his students with
a "Mister" or "Miss." Ben went on to explain civil disobedience.

"That would take a lot to do. It would require turning the other cheek.
But, these men and women, they got hit on that cheek too," stated a
young black girl in the black of the class.

"If you believe in something enough, you will be able to do it."

The bell rang. The students disappeared to their own drama filled
lives.

"Dad, you never came to my classroom before."

"I should come every day. Hearing you speak in here, in this setting,
made me realize what a great job your mom did with you. You get that
passion I saw here today from her. From me, you just got stubbornness.
But let me ask you, could you train people to practice civil
disobedience - for Saturday?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Could you teach your students to do what you were
teaching about today?"

"I guess."

"Dad, this could be something great. It could also be ugly. The only
thing I know for sure is that the social studies department will be
giving out plenty of extra points."

"All we both hear in our job is how bad kids are. There are as many
bad kids now as there were when I grew up."

The parade started. The students, their parents, and other concerned
members turned their collective cheeks through song. They drowned out
the spectacle of the parade. The Klan members left.

"Thank God you have those files, dad."

"What? I was thinking of getting rid of them."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't have anything on this god damn Smith."

"But you had a file on me."

"Again, I had files on people that are good citizens. Not the bad
ones."

"Exactly."