Washington Park
by
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CHAPTER ONE
The bright sunlight reflected off the heavy snow piled high on the front lawn and pierced the windows of the bedroom. It caught the sleepy eyes of the two brothers, forcing them to bury their heads deep into their pillows. The entire neighborhood was just waking up after yesterday’s Christmas 1959 celebrations. The Christmas routine at the Porter home was pretty much the same from year to year. The presents were opened early, followed by the Christmas sermon at church and the customary visit to Grandma Kate’s house for dinner in Ozark, Missouri, just south of Springfield. Grandma always cooked one of her two specialties, fried chicken or chicken with dumplings.
The two boys loved their grandma Kate, who’d had an active part in their upbringing ever since her husband passed away four years before. The family had a very interesting history, handed down from their ancestors in the eleventh century in England. Grandpa Edward’s family records indicated that his distant grandfather on his mother’s side fought for control of England during that period. Following the overthrow of the king, the Cornett family worked in the royal court before returning to farming as their sole source of subsistence. In the year 1871, the family left England and settled in Grayson County, Virginia. Grandpa Ed’s mother was Margaret Elliott Cornett, granddaughter of William Cornett Sr., who brought the family to Virginia from England. Margaret married William Porter, whose family had been landowners and farmers. When Edward was a small boy, William Porter moved his family from their southwestern Virginia farm on November 30, 1881, and arrived in Southwest Missouri on January 4, 1882. No one knows why they decided to make the trip during the winter.
Edward married Kate, a local girl from Ozark, in 1910, and they had six children. They lived on a four-hundred-acre farm just north of town and continued the family tradition of living off the land. It was true that the Porter family’s ancestors had been fighting the English kings seven hundred years before Washington did, and they seemed proud of that fact.
It was always fun to visit Grandma Kate for Sunday dinner, which the boys did every other week. The day was full of laughter, playing in the snow, and great food. But best of all, in addition to the deep snow covering Southwest Missouri, school was out for another week. A whole week filled with snow and no school. What could be better than that!
Stephen Lowell Porter and his brother, Michael David Porter, had waited for this day ever since last winter. Today was the day for the big game. The boys, nicknamed Spud and Spike, had waited all year for the deep cold of winter and the brief season for hockey. The last ten days had seen very cold weather in the Ozarks, and the lakes were frozen in perfect condition. The boys were born in the year of 1945, just ten months apart. Spud was given his name because he was a little heavier than his brother and always wanted a potato at every meal. He sure did love potatoes! No one really knew how Spike got his name. It just had always been so.
They were now fourteen years old and inseparable. They did everything together. They even stayed home from school if the other one was sick. They were in the same class at school and the same Sunday school class at church, and they joined the same sports teams. Everyone thought they were twins. On this day, they would lead their team to victory on the ice. It took no more than two minutes to get dressed and to arrive at the kitchen table for breakfast.
Also, arising from the floor between the boys’ beds was Pat. He was the boys’ ever-present companion. Pat was a large, sixty-pound Boston terrier that accompanied them everywhere. He waited by the back door for them to return from school and, when they were home, never left their side. He was their friend, playmate, protector, and confidant. Once after school, the neighborhood bully was pushing Spud around, trying to pick a fight. Pat jumped on him and pinned him to the ground. He then let Spud beat the tar out of him before letting him go. They didn’t see much of that kid anymore, and, of course, Mom never found out.
Mom and Dad were products of the Depression Era and brought the boys up in a fairly strict, conservative household. They didn’t have a lot of luxuries, but they had what they needed. They also had a lot of love between them. Mom knew the boys had a big day planned, and she was up early cooking breakfast. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of hot syrup and pancakes with chocolate milk and a potato for Spud.
Springfield is a small town in the southwestern part of the state, and not much occurred there of national importance. The town is near the geographical center of the country and is a combination of both city and rural life. Like most midwestern cities, Springfield began as a ranching and farming community. It is the birthplace of Route 66, which connected the Great Lakes to the Pacific Ocean. It is situated on the Ozark Plateau, in the center of the Ozark Mountains. These mountains stretch from Fayetteville, Arkansas, north almost to Jefferson City, Missouri.
Nicknamed the Queen City of the Ozarks, Springfield is proud of its heritage. Missouri developed from the westward expansion following the purchase of the Louisiana Territory from Spain by President Thomas Jefferson in 1803. Missouri became a state in 1821 and was named after the Missouri Indian tribe that lived in the region and was part of the Sioux Indian nation. Springfield was founded by John Polk Campbell in 1829. He donated fifty acres of land on which to begin construction of the town in 1836. Springfield became incorporated as a city in 1838. The Missouri Pacific Railroad was the first railroad to cross the Mississippi River, traveling along the southern portion of the state and running through the city. The St. Louis & San Francisco Railroad established its headquarters there, giving the town a major connection to the western reaches of the country.
The city named many of its streets after famous American heroes, such as General Ulysses S. Grant, General John Fremont, and Presidents Washington and Jefferson. The county was named after General Nathaniel Greene, who was a famous Revolutionary War general. Springfield has its own history of war. The Battle of Wilson’s Creek occurred just west of town in 1861, which was the first major battle of the Civil War west of the Mississippi River. It was won by the Confederates. In 1863, a second Battle of Springfield was fought closer to the center of town. The Union forces took permanent control of the region after the Confederates retreated from their superior forces.
The only famous event that occurred in Springfield was the shootout between Wild Bill Hickok and his friend Davis Tutt. The story handed down was that Hickok lost all his money and his pocket watch to Tutt in a poker game held in the Kelly Kerr Saloon on the town square in July 1865. Tutt bragged that he was going to wear Wild Bill’s watch and tell everyone about how he had beaten Wild Bill in the card game. Hickok warned him not to wear the watch in public or he would have to kill him.
The following day, word was out that Tutt was walking around town waving the watch in the air. He was not one to back down to a threat, and he knew he was the better gunfighter. Tutt waited for Hickok to show up since the town was buzzing about a possible gunfight and he was sure Hickok had heard about it. The two men squared off about seventy-five yards apart, and, drawing first, Tutt fired, missing Hickok’s left ear by inches. The bullet from Wild Bill’s gun hit Tutt in the chest, killing him on the spot. There was a trial, but it didn’t last long because so many people witnessed the fight and testified that Tutt drew first. The legend of Wild Bill Hickok
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About the Book
The Porters were an average American family living in a quiet Southwest Missouri town. They had no idea that their family tragedy would involve them, years later, in the crime of the century in Springfield. In a place where family values are more important than wealth or fame, it was inconceivable that a judge could be involved in the events that stunned the entire city.
On a peaceful September day, a family law judge is missing. The daring attack was carried out by a secret society devoted to protecting the public from injustices committed by the leaders in the community. The investigation by the local authorities was struggling until someone, quite unexpectedly, steps up to assist them in their search. In a most unusual way, this crime is turned into a story of faith and redemption that no one thought was possible.
Washington Park is a story about how we can overcome the challenges we face. With God’s help, great things can be accomplished in our lives when we least expect it.
About the Author
Michael Irvin Hutchinson, MD, was born and raised in Springfield, Missouri, and graduated from Drury College. He received his medical degree from St. Louis University School of Medicine and has practiced medicine for thirty-six years. He lives in Southern Pines, North Carolina, with his wife, Glenda. This is his debut novel.