A Conversation
April 26, 2006
or:
A Real Life Conversation I Have Had That, If Written Word For Word, Sounds Like It’s Straight Out Of Hemingway
“So where abouts in the States are you from?” I asked the quiet guest at our table.
“Missouri,” he said politely, happy to make conversation, since he was only there as a mutual friend.
“There are only two things I know about Missouri. One is that it is home to William Least Heat-Moon.”
He smiles, “That’s right, I’ve met him a few times. He teaches at the University.”
“Does he still?” I ask. He nods and I say, “I loved Blue Highways. Hacklebarney is a great phrase.” It’s a place that Missourians know that symbolises a place that is always around the corner, where things are slightly better than where you are.
He smiles back and asks, “What’s the other?”
I collect my thoughts, still impressed that he knows the obscure authors of one of my favourite books. “The other is that Fats Waller died there.”
“And my father pronounced him dead.”
“Abord the Santa Fe Chief,” I say, half asking, half stating, with a smile of wonder. “I want to hear this.”
He took a gulp of wine.
“Well,” he said, “my father was a doctor and was waiting for a different train. When the Chief pulled into Kansas City, someone came out and asked if there was a physician anywere in the station. My dad had his bag with him and duly stepped on board, checked him over once and said: ‘This man’s dead.’ ”
“Is that right.” None of my questions sounded like statements.
“How he told it.”
8 comments
Have you told that story before, or am I suffering from severe deja vu?
Either way, it’s a good story.
Hi Clair – I don’t think I have written about this before, not in the last year at least, but it’s possible.
I have written about jazz musicians quite a bit and they tend too die, so that’s where your train of thought could come from.
You meet such interesting people. I have never hear d of William Least Heat-Moon, and I’m surprised that not only has your friend from Missouri but that he was also connected to Fats Waller’s death somehow.
Amazing.
Oh, and it does sound like it came from Hemingway. OR Salter.
Did I tell you I’ve known James Salter my entire life?
I don’t know James Salter. Check out Least Heat-Moon and I’ll reciprocate.
I can guarantee, nothing that strange or interesting will ever happen to me in a bar/restaurant. Although when I have had drink, I seem to have wierd and wonderful conversations all the time…
I will check out the professor;)
I overheard that conversation. That doctor’s son became an eminent dermatologist and to this day talks about how wide-ranging is the English person’s worldly knowledge. After all, it’s not every day you meet someone who reads Heat-moon and knows that Fats Waller died on the Superchief.
Leave a comment. Play nice. I will turn this blog around.