The Incredible Journey of Thomas Johnson

 

Copyright© 2017 – Nicholas Hall

 

Chapter One

"Now is not the end. It is not even the beginning of

the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

(Winston Churchill)

 

Fear Becomes Reality

 

Beginning of Fall semester- 2007

Letter signed, sealed, and addressed to the Dean of the College, I walked out to the mail box, opened its door, deposited the letter, closed the door, and lifted the little red flag signaling the rural carrier there was mail to be posted. I did this with finality and determination; this upcoming semester was to be my last as Professor of Economics and Finance at the college. My fall semester was scheduled to be relatively decent as far as class assignments and after these past few years of teaching, it was time to cease my career and seek a way to bring my troubled soul to rest!

No, it wasn't my professional life troubling me or causing me grief but my personal life! If it were but the public persona, there'd be no problem! I was a gay male, in a very liberal environment; I did and would slip my coins into a warm, velvety smooth front purse when offered, but my preference (and I really mean my preference) is for the male of the species, seeking out those younger (may haps at the cusp of puberty) than me but, aware of current laws, forsook any opportunity to satisfy my desire, instead offering and taking those older, usually college age or older, on an occasion or as I desired. I preferred topping but enjoyed bottoming as well, taking it up the butt when the desire hit me!

Although I hadn't taken a partner, as most would consider a "partner" in these past years, I was not adverse to an occasional tryst, if you know what I mean, even at the age of fifty. Just because the wine becomes vintage doesn't mean it loses it vigor, flavor, or strength, does it? I think not! In my circle of acquaintances and colleagues, being gay was not a stigma, but readily accepted as being true to one's self. I wasn't the only gay professor or student, for that matter, wandering about campus, nor would I be the last!

My mind and soul were troubled by that hidden part of me; a secret I had, which if discovered, could incarcerate me for the rest of my natural life – if I had such a thing, and if people believed me! At the very least I'd be committed to the nearest psychiatric ward and eventually state hospital for the mentally insane. I couldn't risk any of this what-so-ever; instead I resolved to return to the place of my discomfitures and correct, maybe, my transgressions or the very least make some sort of amends or retribution to those I thought I'd harmed!

The loved one's I'd left behind in my hasty and advised departure occupied my thoughts time and time again through the ensuing years. What happened to them in the interval; where had they gone; gone to dust and forever lost? My heart saddened to think so, but my common sense told me the fate of all creatures born on earth returns to from whence it came- but in reality, I knew otherwise!

Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it as I returned to my home, I wiped my eyes upon entering, gathered up my overcoat to shelter me from the midwinter cold, picked up my briefcase, and, after locking the house, drove the few miles to campus and my office in the Humanities Building. Walking up the stairs to my second floor office, I paused before unlocking and entering it; "Thomas Johnson, PhD," the name plate was inscribed, "Professor of Economics and Finance." I'd earned my Bachelor's Degree in Accounting (also earning my Certified Public Accountant's certificate and license), my Master's Degree in Economics and Finance, and my PhD in Economics. All were earned at the same university (I could ill afford to travel elsewhere) and, after what I termed a "hiatus" during interviews and when questioned why I hadn't sought a position soon after receiving my PhD, landed the present position here at this particular branch of the state university system in a neighboring state.

After hanging up my coat, I sat at my desk with every intention of reviewing my lecture notes for my first class, but my mind wandered over my past and what judgments people might pass on me. Would I be remembered as a good and decent professor, a thief, a violator of small boys, a pedophile, or murderer, since I was all of these or a Wiccan, a warlock, a male witch or conjure man? I had no intention of remaining around to find out, that was for certain!

How many times, over the past ten years had I been tempted to return to that place, the place of not only my joy but my sorrow, in the state of my birth (I think) and my childhood, in an attempt to expiate my feelings of guilt and abandonment? Could I find it again if I returned? Would there be records of my misdeeds, my loves, my failures, or my triumphs recorded in some ledger or journal? Can a person ever return to that exact place in time and have a "do over" in order to correct past transgressions, if they were indeed transgressions? Now that I was leaving, perhaps I'd have the time to do what I planned to do; find the place where my loves now rested and let my own soul and past rest in peace.

Shaking my head in despair, doubt, and confusion trying to meld what science taught me, with the reality I'd experienced, I chose, rather to ponder the complexities of all of this, to gather up my lecture notes for my first class of the day; Section 1 of "Money and Banking" and leave for the classroom. I had two sections this fall semester, of "Money and Banking," a class ordinarily reserved for students of junior standing and above and one section of "Advanced Wealth Management and Public Finance," reserved for graduate students. I enjoyed teaching all of them, especially the "Advanced Wealth Management and Public Finance" class. The prerequisite for this particular class was "Finance 101" taken as an undergraduate. "Finance 101" was a gateway course to many others, but especially important for those students seeking to be certified public accountants.

I settled myself behind the lectern, arranged my notes, and perused my class list as I waited for the first students to arrive. In doing so, I also let my thoughts wander to my own financial situation. My investments were good, what pension I had wasn't much, my home paid for, and I had no great outstanding bills, so leaving wouldn't be a financial hardship for me. But, would I have need for wealth if I did what I contemplated in the back of my mind? Just in case, I did have an alternative plan in place to do what I needed to do, if I needed the financial where-withal.

My affairs were in order; my will signed, witnessed and on file with my attorney, just in case! There was no next of kin to squabble over the scraps of my life and estate since I was an orphan and knew not of my heritage other than my name. I was raised in an orphanage and spent a great amount of my early years in foster homes after the orphanage closed. My estate would endow a chair in the Economics department at the college, provide some funding for the cemetery and historical site at what used to be the Annie Wittenmyer Home in Davenport (where I spent my early years), and provide an endowed fund to provide scholarships for orphaned and abandoned children at the college. Perhaps these bequests would assist in putting my troubled past to rest!

There were three of us in the department teaching in the College of Economics and Finance and all three of us taught "Economics" at some level so it wasn't unusual to have a mixture of students in our graduate sections with whom we were familiar and those not familiar. However, the "Money and Banking" course was strictly an undergraduate course and it too would have that mixture of familiar and unfamiliar students since Economics I and II were prerequisites.

Perusing the class list for "Money and Banking" I was delighted to see a few names of students I'd had previously and equally delighted to remember the depths of their studies and intelligence. The others names on the class list were unfamiliar to me, but I was certain it wouldn't take long to know them. All in all, there were thirty-one students in Section 1 and once seated, role taken, syllabus handed out, and my lecture beginning, I was thrilled they were so eager to learn and participate in class; of course, it was early in the semester and a great deal could change over the next eighteen weeks!

After class, since it was close to noon, I walked over to the Commons, walked through the cafeteria line, and choosing a salad, paid my bill and sat at one of the distant tables to eat my lunch. It was a good salad; fresh, crispy, and loaded with egg, cheese, and bits of ham. About half way through my meal, I had the very uncomfortable feeling I was being watched. Looking casually, but carefully, around the large room, I saw no one in particular focused in on me – yet, I knew I was in someone's sights!

The "Advanced Wealth Management and Public Finance" class met at two in the afternoon and consisted of twenty-two graduate students. I enjoyed graduate students; generally they were focused, interested in learning, possessed excellent study skills, and had a better depth of insight than undergraduates. Of the twenty-two, there were only three I'd had previously as undergraduate students. I was a demanding instructor, but fair, and students soon came to realize that.

One particular student, new to me, sat toward the back of the class, watching and listening carefully to my opening lecture and my class expectations. His gaze was almost penetrating, as if peering into my very soul. After class, I checked my roster again, noting his name was Tony Beliveau. The next class session, I observed where he sat (same seat in the back of the room) hoping to get a better look at him and try to discern his interests in the class. There are students who take a particular class because it's required for either a degree or some certification and therefore just do the minimum to pass the course. The class required a "C" or above else the student had to take it over. Tony Beliveau didn't seem to be the type that would do that.

Tony was five nine or ten, weighed about one hundred fifty or so, lithe in frame (definitely not a football player), light brown or darkly tanned, dark hair cropped short, but grey eyes. Perhaps, I thought, Native American, African-American, or like me with Mediterranean heritage. Although I tended to tan quite well in the summer, Tony was just a shade darker, but not much, and this was winter! He was a handsome young man and when he did smile, it was bright and welcoming.

By the second week of the class, he was asking questions (good ones), responding extremely well to my probing and leading questions, and would often stop at the lectern after class, seeking clarification of a subject or answer to a question. I must say, I was beginning to enjoy this young man. My first test came during the third week and not a "C" among the grades given. Tony stopped by my office after receiving his test score (B+) and inquired why he hadn't received an "A."

I looked at his test paper, when he proffered it, allowing me to peruse it seeking my reasons for the lower grade. The answer in doubt concerned one of four essay questions dealing with the Panic of 1873. I was seeking at least four consequences or strategies investors during that period experienced, utilized, or suffered. I expected my students to respond to four of the incidences I emphasized in my lectures; (1) capitalists or investors could invest in international currencies; (2) gold and silver backing of currencies; (3) money, not labor or goods, remained a critical factor in growth and; (4) Germany, in 1871 ended the use of silver as a support to currency and started the panic.

Tony Beliveau certainly did adequate justice and provided a studied and intellectual description of three of my lecture items, but chose a fourth, one I'd not emphasized, but was certainly a result of the Panic and had a direct effect on investments and the economics of the country. Race, gender, and geographic location determined a person's success (especially the middle class). In our hour and a half discussion, he contended, in a very persuasive argument, economic disparity during that time period was exacerbated by any one of those factors. This economic inequality had a far more reaching effect, even into the twentieth century and the Great Depression. He then moved to defend his verbal thesis the Panic of 1873 was comparable, if not then at least similar to, the immediate current economic downturn.

I raised his grade!

Clearly insightful, curious, and insatiable in his quest for knowledge, Tony Beliveau seemed to have a special interest in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century economic and social history. I found this quite agreeable since it was a time period I was also familiar with in my studies. He wasn't any more responsive in class, but continued to focus his attention on my lectures, reading assignments, and research. Tony's eyes seemed to follow me continually as I lectured, moving about the classroom as I did so.

Mid-term, while eating my salad lunch in the Commons cafeteria, I again felt a niggling sensation of another "presence" about me; someone or something watching me; stalking, seeking entry into my very inner being! The feeling was uncomfortable but certainly not distressing, for it wasn't an unusual experience for me given my life experiences! I was just plain flummoxed who or what it might be. I glanced up casually, determined this time to locate and identify the source of my discomfiture and suddenly found myself focused, off in a dark corner, Tony Beliveau!

Rather than ignore him, I smiled and waved him to join me at my table. He did so, rather reluctantly I might add, but after a few perfunctory introductory remarks, I put him at ease and enjoyed his conversation. After lunch, we departed, he to prepare for my class and me to prepare for my class. I discovered nothing in our discussion or those subsequent ones at our frequent lunches together which might reveal his interest in me, but I was acutely aware there definitely was and that made me more than uncomfortable!

By semester's end, he was my top student. I've had many excellent students over the years, but Tony Beliveau was one of the best of the best. I cleaned out my desk at the University and was officially retired after the semester ended! I endured, gratefully, the retirement parties and acknowledged, with appropriate humility, the kind words offered on my behalf, but I was ready to relax a bit and prepare for the next stage of my life- such as it might be!

Within the same week as my retirement, as I relaxed one evening with a brandy, my doorbell rang. I answered it, finding my "A" student, Tony Beliveau on my doorstep.

"Tony," I asked, "what brings you to my door?"

He smiled confidently and politely responded, "Dr. Johnson, sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you about Thomas Jeansonne and his relationship to Benjamin Chapman and Henri Doucet!"

My heart flipped, my mouth dried, and the ice tinkled in the brandy glass! How in hell did he or anyone know? My fears became reality!

To be continued.

***

Thank you for reading "The Incredible Journey of Thomas Johnson – Chapter One

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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