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Title: The Specialist
Author: Sale, Charles (1885-1936)
Date of first publication: 1929
Edition used as base for this ebook:
   London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, June 1932
   [fifth impression]
Date first posted: 13 November 2010
Date last updated: 13 November 2010
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #654

This ebook was produced by: Al Haines




The Specialist


By

Charles Sale




London

G. P. Putnam's Sons

24 Bedford Street




Printed in England by

Unwin Brothers Limited

  _First Printed February 1930_
  _Second Impression May 1930_
  _Third Impression January 1931_
  _Fourth Impression November 1931_
  _Fifth Impression June 1932_




LEM PUTT--that wasn't his real name--really lived.  He was just as
sincere in his work as a great painter whose heart is in his canvas;
and in this little sketch I have simply tried to bring to you
recollections of a man I once knew, who was so rich in odd and likeable
traits of character as to make a most lasting impression on my memory.

C.S.




THE SPECIALIST

You've heerd a lot of pratin' and prattlin' about this bein' the age of
specialization.  I'm a carpenter by trade.  At one time I could of
built a house, barn, church or chicken coop.  But I seen the need of a
specialist in my line, so I studied her.  I got her; she's mine.
Gentlemen, you are face to face with the champion privy builder of
Sangamon County.

Luke Harkins was my first customer.  He heerd about me specializin' and
decided to take a chance.  I built fer him just the average eight
family three holer.  With that job my reputation was made, and since
then I have devoted all my time and thought to that special line.  Of
course, when business is slack, I do do a little paper-hangin' on the
side.  But my heart is just in privy buildin'.  And when I finish a
job, I ain't through.  I give all my customers six months' privy
service free gratis.  I explained this to Luke, and one day he calls me
up and sez: 'Lem, I wish you'd come out here; I'm havin' privy trouble'.

So I gits in the car and drives out to Luke's place, and hid behind
them Baldwins, where I could get a good view of the situation.

It was right in the middle of hayin' time, and them hired hands was
goin' in there and stayin' anywheres from forty minutes to an hour.
Think of that!

I sez: 'Luke, you sure have got privy trouble'.  So I takes out my kit
of tools and goes in to examine the structure.

First I looks at the catalogue hangin' there, thinkin' it might be
that; but it wasn't even from a reckonized house.  Then I looks at the
seats proper, and I see what the trouble was.  I had made them holes
too durn comfortable.  So I gets out a scroll saw and cuts 'em square
with hard edges.  Then I go back and takes up my position as before--me
here, the Baldwins here, and the privy there.  And I watched them hired
hands goin' in and out for nearly two hours; and not one of them was
stayin' more than four minutes.

'Luke,' I sez, 'I've solved her.'  That's what comes of bein' a
specialist, gentlemen.

'Twarn't long after I built that twin job for the school house, and
then after that the biggest plant up to date--a eight holer.  Elmer
Ridgway was down and looked it over.  And he come to me one day and
sez: 'Lem, I seen that eight hole job you done down there at the
Corners, and it sure is a dandy; and figgerin' as how I'm goin' to
build on the old Robinson property, I thought I'd ask you to kind of
estimate on a job for me'.

'You come to the right man, Elmer,' I sez.  'I'll be out as soon as I
get the roof on the two-seater I'm puttin' up for the Sheriff.'

Couple of days later I drives out to Elmer's place, gettin' there about
dinner time.  I knocks a couple of times on the door and I see they got
a lot of folks to dinner, so not wishin' to disturb 'em, I just sneaks
around to the side door and yells, 'Hey, Elmer, here I am; where do you
want that privy put?'

Elmer comes out and we get to talkin' about a good location.  He was
all fer puttin' her right alongside a jagged path runnin' by a big
Northern Spy.

'I wouldn't do it, Elmer,' I sez; 'and I'll tell you why.  In the first
place, her bein' near a tree is bad.  There ain't no sound in nature so
disconcertin' as the sound of apples droppin' on th' roof.  Then
another thing, there's a crooked path runnin' by that tree and the soil
there ain't adapted to absorbin' moisture.  Durin' the rainy season
she's likely to be slippery.  Take your grandpappy--goin' out there is
about the only recreation he gets.  He'll go out some rainy night with
his nighties flappin' around his legs, and like as not when you come
out in the mornin' you'll find him prone in the mud, or maybe skidded
off one of them curves and wound up in the corn crib.  No, sir,' I sez,
'put her in a straight line with the house and if it's all the same to
you have her go past the woodpile.  I'll tell you why.

'Take a woman, fer instance--out she goes.  On the way back she'll
gather five sticks of wood, and the average woman will make four or
five trips a day.  There's twenty sticks in the wood box without any
trouble.  On the other hand, take a timid woman, if she sees any men
folks around, she's too bashful to go direct out, so she'll go to the
wood-pile, pick up the wood, go back to the house and watch her chance.
The average timid woman--especially a new hired girl--I've knowed to
make as many as ten trips to the wood-pile before she goes in,
regardless.  On a good day you'll have your wood box filled by noon,
and right there is a savin' of time.

'Now, about the diggin' of her.  You can't be too careful about that,'
I sez; 'dig her deep and dig her wide.  It's a mighty sight better to
have a little privy over a big hole than a big privy over a little
hole.  Another thing; when you dig her deep you've got 'er dug; and you
ain't got that disconcertin' thought stealin' over you that sooner or
later you'll have to dig again.

'And when it comes to construction,' I sez, 'I can give you joists or
beams.  Joists make a good job.  Beams cost a bit more, but they're
worth it.  Beams, you might say, will last forever.  'Course, I could
give you joists, but take your Aunt Emmy, she ain't gettin' a mite
lighter.  Some day she might be out there when them joists give way and
there she'd be--catched.  Another thing you've got to figger on,
Elmer,' I sez, 'is that Odd Fellows picnic in the fall.  Them boys is
goin' to get in there in fours and sixes, singin' and drinkin', and the
like, and I want to tell you there's nothin' breaks up an Odd Fellows
picnic quicker than a diggin' party.  Beams, I say, every time, and
rest secure.

'And about her roof,' I sez.  'I can give you a lean-to type or a pitch
roof.  Pitch roofs cost a little more, but some of our best people has
lean-tos.  If it was fer myself, I'd have a lean-to, and I'll tell you
why.

'A lean-to has two less corners fer the wasps to build their nests in;
and on a hot August afternoon there ain't nothin' so disconcertin' as a
lot of wasps buzzin' 'round while you're settin' there doin' a little
readin', figgerin', or thinkin'.  Another thing,' I sez, 'a lean-to
gives you a high door.  Take that son of yours, shootin' up like a
weed; don't any of him seem to be turnin' under.  If he was tryin' to
get under a pitch roof door he'd crack his head every time.  Take a
lean-to, Elmer; they ain't stylish, but they're practical.

'Now, about her furnishin's.  I can give you a nail or hook for the
catalogue, and besides, a box for cobs.  You take your pa, for
instance; he's of the old school and naturally he'd prefer the box; so
put 'em both in, Elmer.  Won't cost you a bit more for the box and
keeps peace in the family.  You can't teach an old dog new tricks,' I
sez.

'And as long as we're on furnishin's, I'll tell you about a technical
point that was put to me the other day.  The question was this: "What
is the life, or how long will the average mail order catalogue last, in
just the plain, ordinary eight family three holer?"  It stumped me for
a spell; but this bein' a reasonable question I checked up, and found
that by placin' the catalogue in there, say in January--when you get
your new one--you should be into the harness section by June; but, of
course, that ain't through apple time, and not countin' on too many
city visitors, either.

'An' another thing--they've been puttin' so many of those
stiff-coloured sheets in the catalogue here lately that it makes it
hard to figger.  Somethin' really ought to be done about this, and I've
thought about takin' it up with Mr. Sears Roebuck hisself.

'As to the latch fer her, I can give you a spool and string, or a hook
and eye.  The cost of a spool and string is practically nothin', but
they ain't positive in action.  If somebody comes out and starts
rattlin' the door, either the spool or the string is apt to give way,
and there you are.  But, with a hook and eye she's yours, you might
say, for the whole afternoon, if you're so minded.  Put on the hook and
eye of the best quality 'cause there ain't nothin' that'll rack a man's
nerves more than to be sittin' there ponderin', without a good, strong,
substantial latch on the door.'  And he agreed with me.

'Now,' I sez, 'what about windows; some want 'em, some don't.  They
ain't so popular as they used to be.  If it was me, Elmer, I'd say no
windows; and I'll tell you why.  Take, fer instance, somebody comin'
out--maybe they're just in a hurry or maybe they waited too long.  If
the door don't open right away and you won't answer 'em, nine times out
of ten they'll go 'round and 'round and look in the window, and you
don't get the privacy you ought to.

'Now, about ventilators, or the designs I cut in the doors.  I can give
you stars, diamonds, or crescents--there ain't much choice--all give
good service.  A lot of people like stars, because they throw a ragged
shadder.  Others like crescents 'cause they're graceful and simple.
Last year we was cuttin' a lot of stars; but this year people are kinda
quietin' down and runnin' more to crescents.  I do cut twinin' hearts
now and then for young married couples; and bunches of grapes for the
newly rich.  These last two designs come under the head of novelties
and I don't very often suggest 'em, because it takes time and runs into
money.

"I wouldn't take any snap judgment on her ventilators, Elmer,' I sez,
'because they've got a lot to do with the beauty of the structure.  And
don't over-do it, like Doc Turner did.  He wanted stars and crescents
both, against my better judgment, and now he's sorry.  But it's too
late; 'cause when I cut 'em, they're cut.'  And, gentlemen, you can get
mighty tired, sittin' day after day lookin' at a ventilator that ain't
to your likin'.

I never use knotty timber.  All clean white pine--and I'll tell you
why: You take a knot hole; if it doesn't fall out it will get pushed
out; and if it comes in the door, nine times out of ten it will be too
high to sit there and look out, and just the right height for some
snooper to sneak around, peak in--and there you are----catched.

'Now,' I sez, 'how do you want that door to swing?  Openin' in or out?'
He said he didn't know.  So I sez it should open in.  This is the way
it works out: 'Place yourself in there.  The door openin' in, say about
forty-five degree.  This gives you air and lets the sun beat in.  Now,
if you hear anybody comin', you can give it a quick shove with your
foot and there you are.  But if she swings out, where are you?  You
can't run the risk of havin' her open for air or sun, because if anyone
comes, you can't get up off that seat, reach way around and grab 'er
without gettin' caught, now can you?'  He could see I was right.

So I built his door like all my doors, swingin' in, and, of course,
facing east, to get the full benefit of th' sun.  And I tell you,
gentlemen, there ain't nothin' more restful than to get out there in
the mornin', comfortably seated, with th' door about three-fourths
open.  The old sun, beatin' in on you, sort of relaxes a body--makes
you feel m-i-g-h-t-y, m-i-g-h-t-y r-e-s-t-f-u-l.

'Now,' I sez, 'about the paintin' of her.  What color do you want 'er,
Elmer?'  He said red.  'Elmer,' I sez, 'I can paint her red, and red
makes a beautiful job; or I can paint her a bright green, or any one of
a half-dozen other colors, and they're all mighty pretty; but it ain't
practical to use a single solid colour, and I'll tell you why.  She's
too durn hard to see at night.  You need contrast--just like they use
on them railroad crossin' bars--so you can see 'em in the dark.

'If I was you, I'd paint her a bright red, with white trimmin's--just
like your barn.  Then she'll match up nice in the daytime, and you can
spot 'er easy at night, when you ain't got much time to go scoutin'
around.

'There's a lot of fine points to puttin' up a first-class privy that
the average man don't think about.  It's no job for an amachoor, take
my word on it.  There's a whole lot more to it than you can see by just
takin' a few squints at your nabor's.  Why, one of the worst tragedies
around heer in years was because old man Clark's boys thought they
knowed somethin' about this kind of work, and they didn't.

'Old man Clark--if he's a day he's ninety-seven--lives over there
across the holler with his boys.  Asked me to come over and estimate on
their job.  My price was too high; so they decided to do it themselves.
And that's where the trouble begun.

'I was doin' a little paper hangin' at the time for that widder that
lives down past the old creamery.  As I'd drive by I could see the boys
a-workin'.  Of course, I didn't want to butt in, so used to just holler
at 'em on the way by and say, naborly like: "Hey, boys, see you're
doin' a little buildin'."  You see, I didn't want to act like I was
buttin' in on their work; but I knowed all the time they was goin' to
have trouble with that privy.  And they did.  From all outside
appearance it was a regulation job, but not being experienced along
this line, they didn't anchor her.

'You see, I put a 4 by 4 that runs from the top right straight on down
five foot into the ground.  That's why you never see any of my jobs
upset Hallowe'en night.  They might _pull_ 'em out, but they'll never
upset 'em.

'Here's what happened: They didn't anchor theirs, and they painted it
solid red--two bad mistakes.

'Hallowe'en night came along, darker than pitch.  Old man Clark was out
in there.  Some of them devilish nabor boys was out for no good, and
they upset 'er with the old man in it.

'Of course, the old man got to callin' and his boys heard the noise.
One of 'em sez: "What's the racket?  Somebody must be at the chickens."
So they took the lantern, started out to the chicken shed.  They didn't
find anything wrong there, and they started back to the house.  Then
they heerd the dog bark, and one of his boys sez: "Sounds like that
barkin' is over towards the privy."  It bein' painted red, they
couldn't see she was upset, so they started over there.

'In the meantime the old man had gotten so confused that he started to
crawl out through the hole, yellin' for help all the time.  The boys
reckonized his voice and come runnin', but just as they got there he
lost his holt and fell.  After that they just _called_--didn't go near
him.  So you see what a tragedy that was; and they tell me he has been
practically ostercized from society ever since.'

Well, time passed, and I finally got Elmer's job done; and, gentlemen,
everybody says that, next to my eight holer, it's the finest piece of
construction work in the county.

Sometimes, when I get to feelin' blue and thinkin' I hitched my wagon
to the wrong star, and maybe I should have took up chiropracty or
veternary, I just pack the little woman and the kids in the back of my
car and start out, aimin' to fetch up at Elmer's place along about dusk.

When we gets to the top of the hill overlookin' his place, we stops.  I
slips the gear in mutual, and we jest sit there lookin' at that
beautiful sight.  There sits that privy on that knoll near the
woodpile, painted red and white, mornin' glories growin' up over her
and Mr. Sun bathin' her in a burst of yeller color as he drops back of
them hills.  You can hear the dog barkin' in the distance, bringin' the
cows up fer milkin', and the slow squeak of Elmer's windmill pumpin'
away day after day the same as me.

As I look at that beautiful picture of my work, I'm proud.  I heaves a
sigh of satisfaction, my eyes fill up and I sez to myself, 'Folks are
right when they say that next to my eight holer that's the finest piece
of construction work I ever done.  I know I done right in Specializin';
I'm sittin' on top of the world; and I hope that boy of mine who is
growin' up like a weed keeps up the good work when I'm gone.'

With one last look as we pulls away, I slips my arm around the Missus
and I sez: 'Nora, Elmer don't have to worry, he's a boy that's got
hisself a privy, a m-i-g-h-t-y, m-i-g-h-t-y, p-r-e-t-t-y p-r-i-v-y.'




The end




[End of _The Specialist_ by Charles Sale]
