A Cash Boy's Fourth of July to remember

Things were simple when I was a kid. And holidays were no exception. A typical 4th. of July included some family, watermelon probably, ice cream maybe, and watching some fireworks. You'll note I said watching. What little money any of us had for fireworks of our own was used up in the week prior to the 4th. By the time the big day rolled around we had always already shot off all of our fireworks. But there was always a big show going on somewhere. Our "somewhere" just happened to be a place called "The Sportsman's Club".

The Sportsman's Club was a country club of sorts, what remained of an era gone by. There was their stately stone club house, complete with a ballroom and a fancy-schmancie restaurant. Almost half of the sixty acres it occupied was a lake for fishing overlooked by a swimming pool, a shooting range for clays, tennis courts and a small three or four hole golf course. It was a grand setting indeed. A grand setting straight out of prohibition.

And to set the story straight; prohibition wasn't repealed in Oklahoma until 1959. Although the rest of America got rid of its Victorian prudence toward distilled spirits in 1933, Oklahoma held on. And the Sportsman Club gave all the staunch church-going folks a fine (and very private) place away from prying eyes in which to carry on with things that weren't quite legal. Drinking and gambling topped that list. Private members could gamble away at the super-secret basement casino and swill mixed drinks without fear of prosecution...it was a private club, on private property.

Another unique facet of the Sportsman's Club was the membership. 100% totally white folks...by design. While this wasn't all that uncommon down here back then, I think the members took it too the extreme. The entire staff of the place was NOT white. All the waiters, waitresses, cooks, groundskeepers and maintenance folks were ALL people of color. It was a 'social statement' of which the members were all probably proud. A different time back then, for sure. Anybody my age from anywhere near the South knows well what I'm talking about. And they partied at their private club with all the antebellum flair that could be afforded. The Fourth of July was just another gala affair.

Every year on the 4th. the club had their cookout. Long steel charcoal cookers were lined up lakeside next to rows and rows of tables covered with white linen tablecloths. What seemed like miles of incandescent light bulb strings were hung to light up the affair. Dozens of cooks dressed in spotless white uniforms complete with chefs' hats would grill tons of steaks, burgers and hot dogs. I'm sure it was a grand party but no one from the Cash family ever attended such a polished get-together. My folks were happy to sit in our yard sipping iced tea and watch the club's fireworks display. And being less than a mile from the house it gave us a ring-side seat for the holiday show. Of course being young and curious, us boys always ventured closer to watch...it actually became tradition for us.

Now the "club" was surrounded by a six foot tall chain-link fence (complete with barbed wire on the top) to keep non-members from enjoying the place. And the Cash boys knew every hole in the fence and every overhanging tree that could be accessed for fishing rights. Our only hurdle was their night watchman. Kind of a cross between security and a watchman, a uniformed old black man we called "Buck" rode herd on the place out of an old pickup. Buck was really a nice guy, and our paths crossed a lot in the summer. Buck knew we fished the lake and knew where our spots were at. We had a truce. As long as we were not physically inside the fence, he left us alone. He always kept his eye on us, but rarely intervened as long as we stayed outside his fence. Fishing wasn't fishing until we knew the location of Buck's old truck.

We had discovered a wooded spot on the north side, where a large creek that fed the lake spilled through a bank of large culvert pipes, where no fence stood. In July it was too shallow to fish, and so close to the clubhouse that one would be easily spotted during the day. But under cover of darkness we could sneak through the briars and watch the fireworks. Fireworks that were being fired by the hired help from behind the big fence at the tennis courts. Out of sight from the party goers, we thought it was neat to watch the "behind the scenes" of the fireworks show. We always knew when the "big ones" were fixing to go off. It was "our" spot.

Now the 4th. cookout was one of the few times the club actually employed staff that weren't black. A chosen few young white men and women, dressed in black slacks or dresses and white shirts, would ferry the food from the grills back to the tables; apparently the tips could be substantial. One of the kids from the hood, Darla, had done that one year. She had gotten the slot by dating a young man that attended something called DeMoley. And DeMoley was where the table servers were drawn from. Darla didn't date the fella anymore, but she kept the dress and blouse. Me, my brothers and whoever else from the 'hood would after dark slip into our wooded outpost with a cooler full of iced Grapette and Orange Crush. At the peak of the feeding frenzy Darla would tippy-toe around the slough, through the parking lot, and line up like a server. She would grab a few burgers and dogs and then wind her way back through the parking lot with some chow for us all. With her black dress uniform, she fit in perfect. We had it made. From a 'hole-in-the-wall' in the woods we could sit and enjoy the fireworks show...with some chow..and nobody was the wiser.

With the clubhouse and grounds lit up like a night-time baseball game we could see everything from our vantage point. This particular time I remember Cole, Holden, myself and at least one other neighborhood kid, along with Darla from down the street, were anxiously awaiting the fireworks. Darla had slipped around and we could see her in the serving line, snatching our chow. The fireworks would be going off any moment. We could see the guys behind the tennis court fence talking and getting ready...then the woods behind us shook and out stepped Buck, the night watchman.

Buck stood up from crouching through the briars. He hiked up his britches and shifted his gunless uniform belt. His stern look was menacing. I thought we were dead. He asked us "what we all thought we were doing"...

My oldest brother Cole never missed a beat. "Fixing to watch the show," he told Buck, "And we haven't climbed over any of your fences!" Buck put his hands on his hips and looked less than convinced. None of us said anything.

It was hot that evening and my brother Cole was always cool. He noticed Buck was taken by our ring-side seats and said, "Look at all those white people stuffing their faces." He flipped open the cooler lid and asked Buck, "Orange Crush?" Buck glanced at all of us sitting there on a log. He made a gesture for a couple of us to scoot over and pulled a cold Crush out of the cooler. As he awkwardly sat down the strings of lights that lit the night sky over the party went dark...we could hear the speaker ask the crowd to stand for our National Anthem. About the same time Darla appeared through the brush with six or seven burgers and hot dogs crushed between two paper plates.

As if connected by some hidden wiring, all of us rose, just like we were in church. Darla turned toward the clubhouse. One spotlight lit the American flag and the loudspeakers blared the Star Spangled Banner, complete with crackles from the record player. We were Americans. We were Americans and we put away the business at hand to honor our flag. Four or five scruffy white kids, a big black dude dressed up in a police uniform and Darla in her waitress dress...standing in a small clearing surrounded by swamp, mosquitos and briars. And we all stood proud next to each other for that one moment.

Just as the Anthem ended, Buck turned and offered his spot on the log to Darla. She graciously smiled and settled on the log as we all sat back down. We were starting to grab at the chow and Darla pulled back the plate. She turned and offered Buck first pick. He grabbed a hot dog and smiled. I looked at Cole and he winked at me. Everything was gonna be OK. And just at the right time, the show started with a bang. We all watched the entire show, mesmerized by the fireworks. Buck was excited to watch the fellas behind the fence setting things off. We were not only enjoying every bit of what all those members were enjoying; we were enjoying it more! None of us said a thing as our eyes were fixed to the sky.

The moment was fleeting, though. As the show drew to a close Buck stood up. Soon he would be at the gate with his flashlight directing the flood of cars leaving the party. He looked at all of us. Cole lifted his pop bottle high and said, "Thanks, Buck. Happy 4th. of July."

Buck smiled. He told us all to be careful. And as he slipped into the woods he turned and sternly said with a smile, "I don't want to catch any of you kids inside the fence, you hear?"

Wouldn't think of it, Buck. No sir.