The Darling Dahlias and the Eleven O'Clock Lady

At ten o’clock, the parade began. Playing “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” the Academy band marched down Robert E. Lee from the staging area near the sawmill, circled twice around the square, then lined up beside the platform in front of the courthouse to provide music for the rest of the marchers.

The grand marshal came next, riding in Andy Stanton’s blue 1928 Franklin touring car, polished and gleaming and draped with red, white, and blue streamers. This year, the town council had unanimously chosen Sheriff Buddy Norris as grand marshal, in honor of his recent achievement in solving the murder of Miss Rona Jean Hancock, memorialized as the Eleven O’clock Lady in Tuesday’s special edition of the Dispatch. When Buddy’s car stopped briefly in front of the courthouse, the band swung into a splendidly spirited “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.” People shouted “Speech! Speech!”

Buddy only grinned shyly, waved to the crowd, and told Mr. Stanton to drive on. But privately, he couldn’t help feeling that he had indeed proved himself. He had cleared his first difficult hurdle and achieved his first major success in his new job as sheriff. He had proved himself to the town and—perhaps more importantly—to himself. And he had personally captured Rona Jean’s killer, who was still locked up in the Darling jail awaiting indictment on a charge of murder.

Following the grand marshal came the three surviving veterans of the War Between the States, dressed in their best Confederate gray uniforms, which smelled strongly of the camphor chests where they were stored all year. The veterans were riding in Roger Kilgore’s burgundy-colored 1933 Dodge convertible (which you could buy at Kilgore Motors, if you could lay your hands on $645, or $64 down and $35.50 a month for two years). Roger stopped the car in front of the courthouse, the veterans got out and stood a little shakily at attention, while Eva Pearl Hennepin, wearing a plantation ball gown and a big white straw hat with a swag of red and blue feathers (created by Fannie Champaign Dickens), sang a reverent a cappella rendition of “Dixie.”

I wish I was in the land of cotton,

Old times they are not forgotten;

Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

In Dixie Land where I was born in,

Early on one frosty mornin’,

Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

If it had been April and Confederate Day, Mrs. Hennepin would have gone on to sing, to the same melody, all three verses of the Confederate States of America war song, beginning with:

Southern men the thunders mutter!

Northern flags in South winds flutter!

To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!

Send them back your fierce defiance!

Stamp upon the cursed alliance!

To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!

But since today was the Fourth of July, this verse wasn’t appropriate, and as the quavering notes died away, everybody cheered and waved the Stars and Stripes.

Following the veterans in gray came two dozen khaki-clad doughboys who had served in the War to End All Wars. As the band played “Over There,” they marched in four columns behind the American flag. Several of them carried Bonus Army flags, a poignant reminder of their sad defeat two years before by General Douglas MacArthur and Major George S. Patton, acting under President Hoover’s orders.