The Civil Servant

Organized crime can have many influences on the average man.  Colon Campbell was not an average man.  Nor was he an above average man.  He was just different, aggressively diverse, with a manipulating mind that he did not use for illegitimate purposes.  Maybe that was what was so different about him.

He disliked crime almost as much as he hated the unpatriotic.  He abhorred the possession and distribution of illegal drugs.  He had an aversion to unfair practices against the innocent.  He passionately attacked these aberrations, sometimes needing his practiced gun and knife skills for protection.

As he adhered to his beliefs, he became an Employee of the State of Wisconsin, hopefully to further his goals, and provide a stable environment for his family.  The physical violence against him, the personal attacks on his credibility, the dissent against his views, the lack of confidence in his abilities, because he was so young, did not dissuade his personal need to achieve.

This book is about such a fictional man, who became believably authentic, as this story progressed

James Oliver Campbell was named after the famous author, James Oliver Curwood, when he visited Louisiana the year he died, 1927.

Nine years later, during the Great Depression, the Campbell family moved to Wisconsin.  It was the beginning of a complicated and unstable lifestyle, including alcohol abuse, poverty and divorce.  A normal childhood was out of the question.  Between the ages of 11 and 13, difficult, inflexible, and time-consuming farm labor with his grandfather, before and after school, became a necessary constituent of survival.  This miserable routine could have discouraged such a young boy.  It did the opposite.  It stiffened James Oliver Campbell’s backbone, enhanced his already stubborn and independent nature, and created his strong will to survive adversity.

He did not make friends easily, because his grandfather had taught him that a man with fewer friends had fewer enemies.  Therefore, he developed a natural tendency to be a loner, although it did not dissuade his affable disposition.  The direction of his life took numerous paths of accountability, responsibility and serious adversity.  Nevertheless, he was always positive, optimistic, and very happy.

The Civil Servant is fiction. Nevertheless, the story does expose the author's true nature, including his arcane and aggressive personality and character.

The two men returned with a woman in a chef’s hat, white shirt and pants and an apron. She seemed somewhat surprised. “You want to see me Mr. Gardino?”

“Sure, Gladys.” He put his feet on the desk again. “Meet Mr. Campbell here. He is going to volunteer to get your husband out of prison.”

Colon nodded at the woman, who, he guessed, was in her middle fifties and said, “Pleased to meet you.”  His gaze toward Gardino was not pleasant. “Okay, sir, you have the floor. Let’s have it straight.”

Gardino waived his cigar at Gladys. “Go back to the kitchen, honey. I will let you know how all this turns out after I straighten this punk out.’ His careful influence on the word “straighten” was too sarcastic for Colon’s nature, but he held his tongue and waited for Gardino’s next move.

Gardino placed both feet on the floor and turned his chair so that he could direct his stern attention to the young man in front of him. His voice was the angry growl of a man who could blow a hole in your head instantly if he so chose. “You came to me to get something from me. After working for Joseph Lorelli you know that we operate under strict beliefs that one favor deserves the return of equal favor. Nod your head if you understand.”

Colon nodded. He did not like it, but he did anyway.

Gardino continued, “Our financial wizard has been sent to Waupun for income tax evasion. We want him out. We cannot even get him a hearing with the parole board, because, they say, he plea bargained and got a money laundering charge dismissed, which would have given him more years than he got.” He paused and winked at Colon. “Now, you get your three thousand bucks and a job in the Waupun prison and get Gordon Wycliff out and I will clean up Janesville.”

Colon rubbed his left hand on the back of his neck and leaned forward, eyes on the floor, then sat back, raising his eyes into those Gardino was consciously deploying to rattle a younger man. “I want the Constantine Furnace Company to leave Janesville permanently. And----,” he paused, raising the index finger of his right hand toward Gardino, thereby halting any response from the man. “I want full restitution made to the people who have registered complaints against the company to the Attorney General’s office.”

******************

“Good old Atlas.”

. “He must be very strong. The guard said that Atlas grabbed the guy from behind and killed him after he got stabbed. He broke the man’s neck.”

“Atlas could do that. How bad was he stabbed?”

“He was stabbed in the arm. A guard and another inmate were also stabbed.”

“I am sorry to hear that. How bad is my back?”

“No ribs are broken, but they had to make 52 stitches.”

“That was nice of them.”

Colon closed his eyes and he was fast asleep again, still holding on to his wife’s hand. The doctor came in, looked at the chart hanging on the foot of the bed, nodded at Chris and left. The nurse came in right after that, checked the intravenous tubes, took blood pressure and answered Chris’ question.

The nurse said,  “He is doing just fine.” She left.

Chris kept looking sadly at a husband who had experienced a lot of bad luck the past week and a half. Of course, she thought, maybe he brings some of it on himself. His left hand quivered for a moment in her grasp and she looked at it lovingly, a tear slowly running down the side of her nose. She whispered, “I would not want you any different.”

It was an hour before he woke up. Chris was sitting in a chair beside the bed. He said, “Go home and take care of the boys. I am going to be just fine.”

“That is what the nurse told me an hour ago.”

“Take her word for it and go home. Thanks for being here. Johnny may understand that something bad is going on. If so, he needs you to be there for him.”

“I want to be here with you.”

“I will probably be getting other visitors. I was supposed to see the Attorney General when he came to get Sheffield before noon. What time is it?”

“Just after four.”

“Damn. I must have been out for a long time.”

“They said you lost a lot of blood.”

“I feel fine. I am going to leave here tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so.”

He released his hand from her grasp and patted her arm. “Please go. You’ve got the Plymouth, right?”