Cauliflower Corners-Part 1

From Hamlet To Village

In 1911, Cauliflower Corners was on the verge of greatness. It had recently fully molted from hamlet to village. Two hundred and fifty six citizens in total, with two more expected in the spring. Like all small settlements, it had its eccentrics, geniuses, harmless lay-abouts, scads of decent folk and a budding sociopath, destined to destroy more than one august local institution with his ruthless ambition, vile arrogance and a brain three sizes too small for his already small cranium.

We mention the verge of greatness not without justification. With the County capital 32 miles away in the larger settlement of Hanover (population: 645), Cauliflower Corners had recently been appointed the auxiliary county seat, an honour it had been seeking for over a decade. Being the auxiliary meant that a circuit court judge would come by for Assizes four times a year. More importantly, the village would get its very own schoolteacher, the first of which was to be Miss Gracie Birdsong, all of seventeen years old.

It was a mystery why Miss Birdsong was not yet married. Not that suitors had not been plentiful. On at least five occasions, she had to summon all her tact to let down softly her ardent swains without bruising their fragile egos. Miss Birdsong had always known what she wanted and would not settle for less. Better single and little wishful rather than married and a lot regretful was her philosophy. This outlook had saved her from certain disappointment on several occasions.

Of course, Miss Birdsong’s arrival in Cauliflower Corners was anticipated with more than just a passing interest. The village fathers were pleased with the prestige a full time educator would bring them. Parents would no longer have to spend their exhausted day’s end, struggling to give their children what modest book learning they could. The eligible bachelors, sensing the opportunity of a lifetime, began bathing more frequently, cussing less and spitting their tobacco juice with much more ceremony and renewed accuracy.

Within days of the announcement of the new schoolteacher’s appointment, the whole village turned out to transform the underused church basement into a passable classroom. Desks were built, a blackboard imported from Hanover and the pot bellied stove replaced with one that actually functioned. Walls were scrubbed spotless.

With great solemnity, the children were taught the brand new official welcoming song crafted by Mrs. Gustavia Squeers, church organist, choir leader, and neglected wife of the presiding minister of the Glorious Church of Golgotha, The Most Reverend Cornelius Augustus Ramses Squeers, Doctor of Divinity. The Most Reverend Squeers had, hitherto, been doubling his meager clerical stipend with an annual salary from the County for acting as the local judge, jury and executioner. This annual salary was, of course, augmented by the fifty percent of all fines he greedily meted out and collected, one way or another: usually another.

Cornelius Augustus Ramses Squeers: it was a rather long and imposing name for a man who stood no more than five feet tall in best Sunday shoes. The Reverend believed himself to be a just man, a merciful man even. Under his munificent legal rule, no one was ever flogged more than once a month unless he deserved it. And there was always the option to substitute any flogging or incarceration with the immediate payment, in cash or in kind, of a monetary penalty commensurate with the seriousness of the offence. Reverend Squeers was the richest man in Cauliflower Corners in 1911.

The Reverend and Mrs. Squeers (nee Burden) had met as quietly desperate Hanoverians. He was 38 at the time and Gustavia was in the last month of her twenty third year. The courtship was short and their marriage was propelled more out of resignation than love. Cornelius’s mother had passed away the year previous and he needed someone to starch his collars and prepare his meals. Gustavia had been flirting with spinsterhood and was willing to bargain away her limited autonomy for what she considered “respectability”. She thought of her husband as a somewhat less than adequate catch, despite Cornelius’s recent inexpensive acquisition of a Doctor of Divinity degree from an obscure diploma mill somewhere in Michigan; or maybe it was Utah or Central Africa. Gustavia summoned all her will and decided she would make do with a less than optimal situation.

Within the year, they were blessed with a son. He was christened in a converted wash basin near the altar of the Glorious Church of Golgotha, an institution hastily established by The Most Reverend Squeers only months before his betrothal to Gustavia. Difficult negotiations had preceded the christening and the newborn child was finally labeled, after much compromising and tears. Gorgis Cornelius Gustavius Burden Squeers was adored by his mother and grudgingly tolerated by his father, who, given his druthers, would have been content with a barren yet quieter childlessness. Crying babies interfered with his digestion and customary afternoon naps. Plus, there would have been more money for his secret habits.

Fortunately for Gorgis, his mother loved him to the point of spoliation. The sun rose and set upon Lil Gorgeous (or just plain “Gorgeous”, as she often called him).  It would be her life’s mission to mould him into something special. And special he turned out, as we shall soon see.