You think on Satan taking Christ to the mountain and making his propositions. Back me and I will make you master of a dozen cities Fix us bread to eat from these rocks Jump off the temple roof to show how much man you are These were foolish baits that only a fool would bite. Since Bible times, the Adversary had learned better lines of talk. If the devil tricked my brother, he made it look like Big had the idea first.
As they took their coffee, Big put down the bargain – if he might have a suitably large rock from Lucifer, then he could subdue the tyrant lake and ensure the future prosperity of the two towns of the Cuyahoga.
The devil did not ask what were in it for him, apart from his general appetite for deceit. In fact he sounded like any politician. I back the United States all day long I back progress every time I am for democracy For whatever keeps you all busy and growing
Big were not sure what this meant, but he waited polite.
I only ask that I might have a few prime city lots as a security for my coming old age said Satan.
Big had no lots to give away and did not like to lie more. But is it a sin to lie to the devil?
By the time Big drug his great boulder up, the sun were risen. The lake were still dozing, even as early-to-work wagons clonked through muddy lanes and bacon nickered in pans. The lake were still dozing even as Big tugged the rock up to the Lakewood cliff – still dozing to the very moment the vast hell-hot stone thundered into its guts.
The lake tumbled out of sleep screaming about the tricks of Big Son but couldn’t hardly roar with such a boulder in its belly. Ever since Erie does not misbehave too much – only frowns and dreams of someday drowning us.
Big’s feats gone on in this general way for years – my brother proved himself a foremost spirit of the times. You are familiar with how a spirit of the times done. Tamed bears, rastled the pope of Rome, romanced queens and milkmaids. Half horse and half alligator and another half wolverine set on top. Et c. In truth Big did not meet the pope any and never seen any queens. It is only a manner of talking. Pope or no, my brother were red pepper at Sunday supper.
You know how red pepper tastes. Loud and foolish. My brother has got quieter flavors to him as well. Tenderness cussedness and tragedy as I promised. I will put these down directly.
* * *
But I must do a bit more mumbling before I put down the tales. I do not wish to sell you my brother. To recite him like news paper advertisements. To sweat over him like a tent preacher.
Though I do believe I could make a decent merchant for him as a foremost spirit of the times.
But he is not an article of merchandise.
Although when I grease my mind some, I consider a spirit is alike to an article of merchandise. If you will permit wider talk. Every age and place has got its Big Sons. Folks who hang the sky that we shelter under. Stand up the timbers of a place. Some of the timbers is timbers and others is more like ideas. The spirits of the time make a place more than Connecticut surveyors and maps.
There was Courthouse Shad of Painesville, who put law on the blizzards and bargained them into a treaty. They could snow the town to the waist four months a year so long as they behaved the rest.
In Conneaut it were Finland Pete, who dug a harbor with one belch.
In Newburgh you had Wagonface – a fascination whose face were wider than tall. He had ears round as wheels. I cannot remember what feats Wagonface done but I know he were responsible somehow for the water mill down that way.
In Wooster, Dorothy Fangs – who could outwork a dozen menfolk to dying and bury them without mussing her apron.
The Ohio country had got spirits like the wood has panthers – more heard of than seen. But when you did see them, you recollected it all your life. I do not say these were all true spirits. But neither does that make them false. You never saw Boone or Crockett or Fink or Billy Earthquake Esquire either and they are in news papers and almanacs.
* * *
I have distracted myself. As I begun to tell, the promised tenderness cussedness and tragedy related to whether my brother were a merchant or merchandise or both. You will agree that a candy tastes sweeter when you steal it. There is a different taste for the storekeeper you stole from. Progress requires fetching more than you paid for a thing.
Now consider my brother as a trader. Recollect his first great offering of nine years before – his Sunday promise to clear ground for a city among the western trees. The flea-folks had only laughed at his offer to clear the woods in two days and a night. They went to bed still grinning at the jackassed idea. But they woke to see that Big had done it. Their mouths forgot how they had laughed and spoke poor of my brother, and went to licking their teeth over the good land. Thousands of acres to husband on – build on – live on – buy and sell on.
Big spread his hands out and said to them Go ahead. Not one soul thought about his open and empty palms as they ran to claim lots. Big did not think of his empty palms either. It were enough for him to be wondered at and adored.
In the Gospels you never hear of Christ doing carpenter work for wages. On the question of hard money, he only holds up a coin and says This hasn’t got my name on it any and pitches it into the waters of Jordan. When Christ were borrowing Simon Peter’s fishboat, I wonder if he were scooping up that same coin to do the trick on a fresh crowd of folks. I do not mean to call Christ a swindler. Only that making folks credence takes theatre grease, and it would have been costly to throw coins all day long.
It is pudding minded talking of my brother and Christ in the same breath. It is grabbing after the lowest branch. It is lazy work. I forgive myself. We have just got these ideas scratched into our brains.
You would not trust Christ to run a bank though. He would dump out all your money for the sick and weary-hearted.
* * *
At first Big did not mind his empty palms. Not when he whipped a lake. Nor when he lied to the devil – stalked the deepest woods – hogtied panthers – drained jugs – got stung by one thousand hornets and only smiled – cut roads – moved the mouth of the Cuyahoga – dug a canal – drained twenty swamps – rescued one hundred widows and several married men besides.
He has got more feats than you have got ears to hear, and he never asked a penny for them. Besides, what have you and your ears to pay for such a thing? What is the correct price of such merchandise?
So Big come to live on adoration – by slaps-on-his-back – by refreshment – by the flock of small fry that imitated him – by other folks’ wonder. This arrangement were considered settled in ink by the citizens of Ohio city and Cleveland. The tenderness cussedness and tragedy come when Big decided it were not enough to be wondered at.
* * *
You know the advertisement by now. Big Son has rastled rivers and lakes and rescued women in woe. Met the devil twice and whipped him three times. Ate panther fricassee for breakfast and tiger steaks at supper. Taught wolves how to wail and put a face on the moon with a rusty musket. Big Son has done more feats than you have brains to hold et c.
For his next one he liked something else entirely. No brawling or biting, and no empty palms after. For his next wonder Big wished to grab hold of the land as he had watched men do. To make a place of his own and populate it with shining-haired small fry. To quit being wondered at and start wondering on. To quit being loved up and start loving.