The Palm Beach Post from West Palm Beach, Florida • Page 21

These Stories Have a Punch Line Somewhere Ron Wiggins career." "Well; now, that's nice," said Boles, "We tree worshipers got to stick together. And what with sunset coming on, you're just in time for mass. Perhaps you'll do the honors and tomorrow, it'll be my pleasure to vote for you." Phelps had already noticed the likely spot where the scroll was buried and proceeded straight to it, scooped away the loose dirt and withdrew the parchment and unrolled it so he could read the mass in the fading light. But the inscriptions were so soiled, erased and altered that the bogus tree worshiper could only stammer and blush in confusion. Meanwhile, Boles grew impatient, then irritable and finally irascible.

"That does it!" he screamed. "I'm voting for Swannecamp. I'm not voting for any man who doesn't know his mass from a scroll in the ground." That story, as far as I know, originated with Max Shulman. I reconstructed it as best I could. The next item I either devised myself or, remembering only the punch line, worked backward until it made sense; In Pago Pago, it was long the custom for Samoan chiefs to marry their daughters to the finest young warrior, the lucky bride The following story about small-town politics is neither timely, didactic nor of any consequence, happening as it did several decades ago.

But for all that, I think it worth retelling. It involves a hotly contested mayoral race in the Minnesota town of Good Cheer, population 850, 500 of whom were registered voters. The election was between incumbent Mayor Yussaf Swannecamp, who ran on a progress and development platform, and Denton Phelps, an unemployed drover who sought the office, which paid $18.50 a month, on an opposing platform of retrenchment and mil-lage cuts. Came the Monday before the election and an informal but highly accurate poll undertaken by the Good Cheer Weekly Avalanche showed both candidates at a dead heat with 250 votes apiece. And thus it stood until early afternoon when a Phelps backer who worked in the registrar's office discovered that a tree worshiper by the name of Kilmer Boles, who lived on the outskirts of town, was registered even though he had never voted.

An emergency strategy meeting was held by the Phelps camp at the town's U-Choose-It groom living in pampered luxury so long as the sacred weevils lived. Samoans believed that if a chief's daughter nurtured a pair of boll weevils, kindred insects would eat the loin clouts of enemy tribesmen, causing embarrassment and confusion in battle. It was also decreed that if either of the weevils died, then the chief's son-in-law must be put to death. Therefore, it was a matter of some concern for the chosen warrior that his bride take very good care of the sacred insects. Once upon a time, a Samoan chief had twin daughters, one of whom was very beautiful but who was a lousy insect keeper and had a succession of dead husbands to prove it.

The other was ugly as homemade sin, but had much better luck with her weevils because she preferred leasing them and delegating their care and feeding to experts who knew what they were doing. When it came time to appoint another warrior as husband consort, the chief offered a fine young brave his choice of his daughters. It had to be one or the other. "In that case," said the prospective bridegroom, "I'll take the leaser of two weevils." Nobody's making you read this column, you know. gy conclave been overheard by an agent from the Swannecamp faction seated in the next booth.

Divining what was afoot, Swannecamp himself rushed to Kilmer Boles' home and, without the latter's knowledge, unearthed the parchment and defaced the mass. Moments later, Phelps arrived at Kilmer Boles' door. "What do you want?" said Boles with undisguised hostility. "Not many people know this," said Phelps, "but like you, I'm a tree worshiper, too. I have to keep it quiet because of my political Cafe, where it was agreed that Phelps should visit the recluse post-haste and make a pitch for his vote.

But how? A motorcycle courier raced from the Good Cheer Public Library to the cafe with the answer in the volume of the Encyclopedia Americana. Tree worshipers, it seems, say a mass each evening as the sun sets, reading the cult's rituals from a rolled up parchment buried at the foot of a convenient oak tree. If the political aspirant could claim a bond of common worship with the eccentric Boles, the election would be in the bag. And it might have been had not the strate A Question of Sanity, B8 SECTION THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1981 The Post rnnnriL 3 Hff il i fi lliHttirW.t8iff.iiniiriirrnifT-WifiS'i "il i VI V1 tmrrm KlmA Jr Bm 1 If 'Si' il The king of the tearjerkers and the king of outlaws are scheduled to perform in Davie this weekend as part of the Davie Country Festival. George Jones (above) appears Saturday afternoon.

Also appearing during the weekend is Waylon Jennings (left), who will appear with his wife Jessi Colter. i 0 By Margo Harakas Put Staff Wrlttr Go by the Davie McDonald's about noon on a nonschool day and chances are you'll see a horse or two tied to the hitching post and drinking from the watering trough. Chowing down inside are the sweat-beaded young riders, most of whom have dispensed with saddles. This is Florida East Coast's western town: 30,000 people, 15,000 horses. "The rodeo capital of the Southeast," it is called.

More than $100,000. is spent daily in horse-related businesses here. And though it's not Dodge City or Tombstone Territory, the town does have a wild history. "There was a time when Davie was a rough town, a kind of frontier town," admits John Marinelli, executive director of the Cooper City-Davie Chamber of 'Commerce. "People were afraid to come out here." As recently as 10 or 15 years ago, said Marinelli, "People did go around with guns on their hips and they'd go in bars that way." It's part of the Davie legend, the mystique that seemed at times more redneck than western.

Marinelli wasn't here 15 years ago, neither was Patrolman Robert McCann, but they've heard the outrageous tales. "Oh yeah, they used to go in bars that way, guns and all," McCann said. "They'd very seldom call the police though. They'd settle their own matters, if you know what I mean." But as much as some folks like to tell about the old days (others deny there ever were six-gun days in Davie), they quickly remind you those times are past. Yeah, the Klan still marches once a year through the center of town, eventually rallying on the western outskirts.

But nobody seems to know any Klansmen. "Lived here all my life," said Al Griffin, owner of Grif 's Western Wear. "And honestly, I've only known one person who claimed to be a member of the Klan." Today, claim the residents, Davie is a town as tamed as any surrounding it and probably less pretentious than most. You'll see more Lee, Wranglers and Levis jeans on the streets than you will Jordache, Sasson or Klein. "You have real cowboys out here," said Mitch Rodnesky, vice president of operations and general manager for Grif's.

And that, say the residents, is what sets Davie apart. Covering 35 square miles, Davie is the largest city in sprawling Broward County. Until now, it had no property taxes. (The city recently levied 3 mills.) It's the only city west of 1-95 that has its own downtown section. And if its newest annexation plans go through, it will be one of the few cities of its size to boast two universities: Nova University and Broward Community College.

But what makes this town unusual is the western flavor. It shows even in the conversation. Ask for a good bale of hay, and you'll Turn to DAVIE, B17 'iv: 5 ftnm i i mm Mti MM Tap lis Mmi one paunch pushes the other out of bounds. Also on display will be an assortment of arts and crafts, Indian jewelry and western boutiques. All of the events take place on a site on University Drive between Stirling and Griffin roads.

Traveling from Palm Beach County, go south on Florida's turnpike, exit west on SR 84 and follow the signs. Or, take 1-95 to Griffin Road and west to University Drive. Tickets for the event are $8.50 for Saturday and $9.50 for Sunday. Children under 12 are $4 each day. A $15 adult ticket also is available, good for both days.

Tickets may be purchased at most Burger Kings or at the gate. Although Davie's entire country festival weekend was put together by a private promoter, Top Flight Productions of nearby Fort Lauderdale, a spokesman for the promoter said it is hoped the event can become a regular happening for the little community. If the first festival is a success, Top Flight said, it intends to sponsor two such festivals in Davie each year, one on July 4th and another each Labor Day weekend. si Colter, as well as the Crickets, original members (as was Jennings) of Buddy Holly's band. Jennings and the Crickets perform a number of Holly's songs which they revived including "Maybe Baby" and "Peggy Sue." Besides the headliners, Earl T.

Conley, a promising country singer, and a number of good local western bands, including Rodeo, the B.G. Ramblers, Sourwood and Crossroads, will be performing both Saturday and Sunday. Entertainment begins at noon each day and continues for 11 hours. The festival also will feature some homegrown amusements which may turn out to be the most fun. These include a number of contests ranging from chug-a-lug beer drinking and greased pole climbing, to cow chip tossing and belly bucking.

On Friday night and Saturday morning, there's an all-girl rodeo. For the uninitiated, belly bucking is a type of no-hands combat for the amply endowed. Contestants line up pot to pot and using only their bellies butt and "buck" each other until vaged and he climbed back into the spotlight bigger than ever. In spite of his vows, Jones has had his relapses in the last year, but the career, nevertheless, has taken on legendary status. For his appearance in Davie, he will be accompanied by a young singer, Lori Morgan, who has been touring with him lately and joining him in a number of duets which Jones and his former wife, Tammy Wynette, recorded.

If Jones shows up (and the Davie promoters promise he will; they're sending a plane for him) it promises to be a super way to kick off a country-western weekend. Jennings, who appears Sunday, is every bit as. much a legend in country music as Jones. Though others may rightfully claim the origination of outlaw country music, it is Jennings who made it popular and with whom the music is most closely identified. His concerts are known to be wild and woolly, in keeping with the hard-driving style of music which broke barriers in Nashville.

In Davie, he will be joined by his wife, By Shari Spires Post Staff Writer The Davie Country Festival, this Saturday and Sunday, is advertising itself as one of the largest country and western weekends ever held in South Florida. Pretty strong bragging, but, if anything, Davie is being overly modest. With both Waylon Jennings and George Jones as headline entertainment, they have every right to crow. Jones, the undisputed king of the tearjerkers, retains his highly respected position in country music, in spite of a past checkered with alcoholic bouts, no-shows and behavior most unbecoming an artist. It is Jones' tremendous talent and unique styling that transcends his behavior and endears him to audiences and artists alike.

In many ways, the talent is bigger than the man. Jones himself said he was a victim of his love for music, when he was interviewed last year following a brush with death from the effects of alcoholism. With the help of his many friends (many he didn't know he had), Jones' career was sal-.