something that’s not gospel, I’d like to hear you again.”
The solution came quickly.
When they next gathered at the house on Nakomis, John pulled out a piece of paper with the “Hey, Porter” poem written on it.
“What do you think of this?”
II
It was a good thing Cash’s country music dream was driving him on, because it kept him from brooding about his problems at Home Equipment. Actually, it was just one problem: he couldn’t sell anything door-to-door. Maybe it would have been different if his route had covered the wealthiest families, but he was the new guy, so he had to spend his days in the poorest neighborhoods.
John had seen people struggle too many years in Dyess to ever forget what it was like. He knew that many of the people who answered his knock had barely enough money to feed and clothe their families. Some depended on the charity of their church, family members, and neighbors. So in most stops on his route, John just made a half-hearted pitch.
John’s low-key selling style worked in his favor one day at the store. Vivian was suffering from severe morning sickness, and John wanted to find an apartment closer to Home Equipment than the one on Eastmoreland, which was a good fifteen minutes away, so he could rush home if she needed him. He also wanted to get a first-floor place so his wife wouldn’t have to climb stairs and risk the chance of falling. But he couldn’t find anything he could afford.
Just before closing time one evening, a woman came into the store to look at used refrigerators. When John walked over to her, she asked him the price of a nondescript unit. Before looking at the tag, John guessed, “About thirty dollars.” After seeing the tag, he shrugged. “They want sixty-five dollars for that, and it only has a thirty-day guarantee.”
The woman was Pat Isom, and she was understandably surprised. Was this nice young salesman trying to talk her out of buying the refrigerator? She asked if he enjoyed working at the store and John said yes, except that he was having trouble finding an apartment nearby for $55. He then explained Vivian’s pregnancy and the run-down apartment on Eastmoreland.
Isom and her husband owned a duplex just three blocks away, and they were trying to rent one of the units. Cash followed her over to 2553 Tutwiler Avenue and thought the place was perfect, but he didn’t think he could afford it. When Isom said he could have it for $55, John wanted to hug her. As the months went by, he could rarely pay the Isoms even that much, but he paid as much as he could, and the couple was nice enough to let this “real quiet and bashful boy” run a tab.
Vivian was overjoyed by the new, cleaner apartment, but she was also worried about finances and the upcoming baby. Gently she brought up the possibility of moving back to San Antonio so they could be close to her family. Unknown to Johnny, her father was sending her a small check periodically to help them get by.
The Isoms weren’t the only ones whose generosity greatly benefited John and Vivian. George Bates was proving to be an even bigger help to his new employee. Cash did sell an occasional washing machine or some ornamental fencing, but it wasn’t adding up. All he was making from commissions was about $12 to $15 a week, which simply was not enough to live on, especially with a baby on the way.
He went to Bates to talk about his future. He thanked his boss again for believing in him. But he said he just couldn’t make it on his commission. Bates told Cash that if he’d keep trying to sell, he would receive a weekly advance—as long as the young man agreed to pay it back eventually. John thanked Bates profusely, but he couldn’t help feeling he was some kind of guinea pig—“like a pet project to see how far I would go on taking draws and not producing anything.”
But the support meant a lot to Cash. He was glad to see that the world outside Dyess had some kindness in it, too.
The
The solution came quickly.
When they next gathered at the house on Nakomis, John pulled out a piece of paper with the “Hey, Porter” poem written on it.
“What do you think of this?”
II
It was a good thing Cash’s country music dream was driving him on, because it kept him from brooding about his problems at Home Equipment. Actually, it was just one problem: he couldn’t sell anything door-to-door. Maybe it would have been different if his route had covered the wealthiest families, but he was the new guy, so he had to spend his days in the poorest neighborhoods.
John had seen people struggle too many years in Dyess to ever forget what it was like. He knew that many of the people who answered his knock had barely enough money to feed and clothe their families. Some depended on the charity of their church, family members, and neighbors. So in most stops on his route, John just made a half-hearted pitch.
John’s low-key selling style worked in his favor one day at the store. Vivian was suffering from severe morning sickness, and John wanted to find an apartment closer to Home Equipment than the one on Eastmoreland, which was a good fifteen minutes away, so he could rush home if she needed him. He also wanted to get a first-floor place so his wife wouldn’t have to climb stairs and risk the chance of falling. But he couldn’t find anything he could afford.
Just before closing time one evening, a woman came into the store to look at used refrigerators. When John walked over to her, she asked him the price of a nondescript unit. Before looking at the tag, John guessed, “About thirty dollars.” After seeing the tag, he shrugged. “They want sixty-five dollars for that, and it only has a thirty-day guarantee.”
The woman was Pat Isom, and she was understandably surprised. Was this nice young salesman trying to talk her out of buying the refrigerator? She asked if he enjoyed working at the store and John said yes, except that he was having trouble finding an apartment nearby for $55. He then explained Vivian’s pregnancy and the run-down apartment on Eastmoreland.
Isom and her husband owned a duplex just three blocks away, and they were trying to rent one of the units. Cash followed her over to 2553 Tutwiler Avenue and thought the place was perfect, but he didn’t think he could afford it. When Isom said he could have it for $55, John wanted to hug her. As the months went by, he could rarely pay the Isoms even that much, but he paid as much as he could, and the couple was nice enough to let this “real quiet and bashful boy” run a tab.
Vivian was overjoyed by the new, cleaner apartment, but she was also worried about finances and the upcoming baby. Gently she brought up the possibility of moving back to San Antonio so they could be close to her family. Unknown to Johnny, her father was sending her a small check periodically to help them get by.
The Isoms weren’t the only ones whose generosity greatly benefited John and Vivian. George Bates was proving to be an even bigger help to his new employee. Cash did sell an occasional washing machine or some ornamental fencing, but it wasn’t adding up. All he was making from commissions was about $12 to $15 a week, which simply was not enough to live on, especially with a baby on the way.
He went to Bates to talk about his future. He thanked his boss again for believing in him. But he said he just couldn’t make it on his commission. Bates told Cash that if he’d keep trying to sell, he would receive a weekly advance—as long as the young man agreed to pay it back eventually. John thanked Bates profusely, but he couldn’t help feeling he was some kind of guinea pig—“like a pet project to see how far I would go on taking draws and not producing anything.”
But the support meant a lot to Cash. He was glad to see that the world outside Dyess had some kindness in it, too.
The
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