The day Manfred Coates was elected alderman I liked to have spit nails and stomped on Sweet Sally’s grave.  Y’all that live in Sabineland know what I’m talking about.  See, Manfred Coates was a special ed. student in school and quite the behavior problem.  Mr. Porter had to paddle Manfred every day during P.E. usually for jumping over people’s heads with his platform shoes on.  These shoes were hand-me-downs from his uncle Salty Coates and out-of-style.  If Manfred jumped over your head while you were sitting on the gym floor waiting for roll call, you better duck or suffer a platform shoe to the head.  I kind of lost track of Manfred in  high school.  I don’t know if he got a degree or a certificate or something.  All I know is he suddenly resurfaced, ran for alderman, and won.

Now, I’m all for helping the mentally disabled.  I believe folks ought to cut them some slack and be kind and understanding.  But at the time, I didn’t think they should be in charge of Sabineland government.  Little did I know that this was just the beginning.

Once Manfred won alderman, his uncle Salty announced his intention of running for alderman too.  Salty, like most of the Coates clan, was slow at the starting gate and was relegated to special education status.  I can say, though, that Salty was sweet natured, contrary to his name, and soon wound up out of special ed. and in regular classes, although he struggled and eventually dropped out of school altogether, but not before becoming sophomore class president and being voted Most Congenial.  I could live with Salty as alderman.  But I was a little worried about both Manfred and Salty in prominent local political positions.

Now, some of you might be wondering what’s wrong with the populace of Sabineland, voting for people who don’t know what algebra is or how to balance a checkbook, even.  I started asking around and soon learned that Salty and Manfred were the pawns of Mayor Ronald “Beau” Cryer.  Seems Beau was trying to stack the council with folks who’d do what he wanted and jump when he called.  He’d been doing this for years with non-special ed. types and was always backstabbed, most recently by Sheriff Eddie “Hoss” Cartwright, who Beau had taken under his wing and given his start.  Now Hoss was fixing to run for mayor himself, so Beau decided to make things difficult with a couple of alderman he was sure would vote to deny the sheriff funding for a new police car and even a new booklet of traffic tickets, utterly making Hoss look like a goon.

Not long after Salty was elected, long-time Sabineland alderman Elbert Corbitt died under mysterious circumstances and so did Alderwoman Hazel McFadden.  And you know what happened?  Special elections were called and two more former special education students were elected, namely the Wiggins twins, Roy Wayne and Boy Wayne.  (Mr. and Mrs. Wiggins couldn’t think of a name that rhymed with Roy and were mighty glad to see that the hospital had thought of one for them.)  As it turns out, Roy Wayne Wiggins and his brother Boy Wayne were aligned with Sheriff Cartwright and were there to neutralize Salty and Manfred Coates. I used to attend the council meetings and marvel at what went on in the sight of God and everyone.  There would be Roy Wayne and Boy Wayne with Hoss behind them whispering in their ears and on the other end of the table were Manfred and Salty with Beau behind them, nudging and hissing.  Stuck in the middle were the other aldermen, looking sad and forlorn, left out of all the fun.

After the meetings, I’d always see Beau with his charges and Hoss with his, holding court at the Sabineland Catfish Depot.  Roy Wayne and Boy Wayne would be gobbling up fried catfish and hush puppies and grinning big as you please, while at Beau’s table, all the Coates boys got were cokes – Beau is a little stingy, I’m afraid. 

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Manfred Coates got fed up with the situation.  Watching Roy Wayne and Boy Wayne feasting after every meeting got to be too much, and it wasn’t long before Manfred defected to the other side, taking his seat at the table next to the Wiggins twins and nodding his head somberly as Hoss whispered instructions in his ear.

Naturally, this made poor Beau the laughing stock of Sabineland and Hoss won the mayoral election by a landslide.  But there’s something Hoss and Beau didn’t count on.  The funny thing about people is that, if given the chance, they’ll often live up to their office in life, whatever it may be.  If everyone treats them like they’re retarded, well, that’s how they’ll act.  But if people treat them like they’re aldermen and start calling them Alderman Coates, well, that’s what they’ll become, more than likely.  And that’s what Manfred became.  Pretty soon the council meetings were a one-man show with Manfred Coates presiding and telling everyone else what to do.  Naturally, the Wiggins brothers, who had been Manfred’s former running buddies in special ed. class, and Uncle Salty (blood is thicker than water) sided with him.  His powers of persuasion grew so strong that the other aldermen eventually gravitated to his side and pretty soon, folks were talking about Manfred Coates running for mayor some day. 

So, last Saturday, I drove out to the polls to vote in the mayoral election and pulled the lever for Manfred Coates.  I was even a campaign volunteer and came up with our campaign slogan: Every Manfred Deserves a Chance.  I’m pretty proud of that one.