Neighbor Dorothy never liked to brag, so after they had returned from visiting her friend the new governor of the state, close to the end of the show she simply told her listeners this:
"Over the weekend Mother Smith and I were lucky enough to have had a lovely visit with an old friend of ours and it was so good to see her.
And this morning, before we run out of time and get too busy, I just want to take a moment to tell you how grateful Mother Smith and I are having all of you in our lives. We just don't know what we would have done all these years without all of our precious radio friends out there, who continue year after year to make our days so happy. And speaking of friends… one of our sweet listeners, Mrs. Hattie Smith of Bell Meade, Missouri, sent along this thought: "When you plant seeds of kindness, you are sure to grow a crop of good friends."
"Thank you, Hattie, and we have a winner in the spelling bee. The champion, thirteen-year-old Miss Ronnie Claire Edwards, her word M-I–L-L–I-P-E-D-E. Congratulations! You must be a genius in the making. We will watch your career with interest. I tell you I could no more spell some of those words than I could empty the ocean with a bucket. Oh, thank you, Mother Smith, she's looked it up in the dictionary.
"Millipede, an arthropod having a cylindrical body composed of from twenty to over one hundred segments, each with two pairs of legs." Oh my. Now my question is, what's an arthropod? What? Oh that's right: Mother Smith says whatever it is, she doesn't want it crawling on her. I'm with you down to the rattle on that one, Mother.
"Watermelons, sweet corn, and tomatoes will be among the topics discussed at a Vegetable Field Day this Friday. It will feature the latest results of vegetable research, so be sure and attend. We have all sorts of fun things coming up, but first here's our big news of the day. I need a fanfare for this one, Mother Smith. Ada and Bess Goodnight have gone up to Kansas City and purchased themselves a brand-new Airstream trailer and now that they're both widows and have retired they say they are going to take off into the wild blue yonder and become tin-can tourists. They say they don't know where they are going to, or when they will be back, and they like it that way. Just think, they will have a different backyard every morning. Oh, I don't know what I would do if I looked out and saw my yard was different, but those two are just full of spunk and raring to go. Their first stop will be the Nite-O-Rest Trailer Court outside of Mill Grove… So all of you out there, if you see a tomato-red Dodge that looks like a big tomato aspic pulling a trailer go by, it will be them, headed for the open road. So good luck to our girls, traveling in tin.
"Also in the good-news department this morning, yesterday I got a nice letter from my daughter-in-law, Lois, who tells me that Bobby has just been promoted to the new position of vice president in charge of operations of Fowler Poultry Enterprises, and for a boy who flunked the sixth grade and could not spell monkey, much less millipede, believe me, that is quite a feat!"
In 1966 Betty Raye was relieved to learn that there was another wife running for a governorship. Lurleen Wallace of Alabama had announced her candidacy. Betty Raye did not know anything about her but she prayed she would win so she would not have to be the lone woman governor in the United States anymore. It was not fun.
Early the next year, when Governor Betty Raye Sparks of Missouri received her invitation to the National Governors Convention in Washington, she said, "I'm not going to go up there with all those real governors, Hamm. I'd make a fool of myself."
"No, you won't honey, I'll be right there with you all the time." He patted her arm. "All you have to do is smile and be pleasant. I'll tell you how to vote on things." Cecil, who was looking forward to another week of shopping for the trip, said, batting his big eyes, "If you don't go, darling, it will look bad for the state."
Hamm arrived at the governors conference bright-eyed and bushy tailed. This was his first trip to Washington as the husband of a governor and the press was particularly interested in him. Hamm played it up for all it was worth. Betty Raye, the only woman governor there, thought she would have physically mashed herself into a wall if she could. She was miserably unhappy but he showed up at all the governors' wives events teas ladies' luncheons, fashion show sand charmed every woman there. He even won first prize at one of the many raffles, an original Mr. John picture hat, and delighted the women by wearing it for the rest of the luncheon. Hamm's nature was naturally outgoing and spontaneous and if asked a question he would usually tell you exactly what he thought. To the reporters who had what they viewed as the dull job of covering all the governors' wives, Hamm was a welcome and a refreshing change. Political spouses in general were notorious for not saying anything more than "You'll have to ask my husband about that" or "I don't know, I leave all that up to my husband." Not Hamm.
And he didn't see the danger ahead. In his home state, this candor had been an asset. Here on a national level, it was a potential disaster waiting to happen and reporters began to circle around him, hoping to get a quote for a good story.
Vietnam was on everyone's mind and it was a dangerous and tricky issue for any politician. Hamm had been warned by Wendell to keep his mouth shut, but at a wives cocktail party, a nice-looking woman sidled up to him and, after complimenting him on his tie, asked, "What do you think about all these antiwar protesters that are popping up everywhere?"
Hamm did not have to stop and think. "They're a bunch of idiots. What they ought to be protesting is the government who's sitting on their butts and letting those little bastards get the best of us… We have to either fish or cut bait…"
"What do you mean?" she said.
"Stop playing patty-foot with those Vietcong and get it over with. There's a damn elephant standing in the living room and everybody's tippy-toeing around it."
The woman played dumb, as if she had no idea what he meant. "I'm not sure I follow you. What elephant?"
Hamm said, "The bomb, honey. We've got it; they don't. What's the point of having it if we don't use it? Truman had the right idea." He pointed out the window of the hotel at a group of protesters across the street. "All those little tweety hearts and dove types ought to shut up and let us stop the damn thing before it gets any worse; then we can bring our boys home and sling all those little turncoats out of the country and get on with it."
Afterward, he was sorry he had used curse words in front of the lady but that was how he felt and it was too late to take it back. Too late to realize that the lady was covering the event for the Washington Times. By the time they got back to Missouri the story had been carried all over the country and Newsweek had a drawing of him reaching in a bucket and throwing hippies like bait across the ocean. One editorial cartoon had his picture with a mushroom cloud rising from his head; another depicted him as a mad dog, foaming at the mouth, with Betty Raye trying to hold him back on a leash.
Even though Hamm had said what a lot of veterans thought, he took a lot of heat nationally and got into trouble in his own state for sounding like such a hothead. He lay low for a while.
A few weeks later, Rodney came in his office chuckling. "You made the big time, boy. I just got a call from Berkeley University out in California and they want you to come out and give them a speech."
Hamm looked up. "Really? When?"
Rodney dismissed it. "Don't worry, I told them you were unavailable."
"Why?"
"Why? I'm not going to let you go out there in the middle of that hotbed of loonies."
Wendell agreed. "Naw, you don't want to go there. It's too dangerous. Hell, there ain't nobody more violent than those peaceniks. They'd tear you apart if they could get near you."
Hamm said, "Now wait, let's think about this for a minute. That's a big famous university out there. It could mean more national press, couldn't it? It might make me look good to go and talk to them. Like I'm willing to see the other side of this thing… and if they're willing to listen to my side a little, I might even make a few points."
"No, you won't," said Wendell. "All they want to do is drag you out in front and shout you down. They won't listen to a damn thing you say."
Hamm knew they might be right but even so he was secretly flattered that he had been asked. Anything to do with a university or college intrigued him. Everybody, including Vita, told him it was a bad idea. In the end, he could not resist the challenge.
They flew out to San Francisco the day before his appearance, with Rodney, Wendell, and Seymour grumbling all the way. They checked into a hotel and Hamm did not sleep much that night. He had worked long and hard on his speech and had made an effort to be especially careful about his grammar and his accent. He wanted to be up to the task of speaking in such a distinguished place of higher learning. This was the first time in years he had been nervous before a speech. He asked Rodney four times if his suit was all right and changed his tie twice.
They were picked up at nine and driven over the bridge to the campus, and as expected a lot of the students were out and waiting for him. As they drove past the crowd toward the back entrance of the auditorium, the students and others started yelling and banging on the car. For some reason, this did not phase Hamm. He was now calm and collected.
But the others suddenly started to get jumpy. Seymour, his bodyguard, had insisted that Hamm wear a safety vest that morning and when he got a look at the protesters he was glad he had. "Damn," he said, "I fought Japs that weren't as mad as this bunch."
Seymour reached in his pocket and felt for his blackjack. "If we get out of here alive we'll be lucky."
The messages being waved in front of them varied from sign to sign.
VIETNAM IS A RACIST WAR; HIROSHIMA HAMM; GO BACK TO THE BOONDOCKS, WARMONGER; WHITE TRASH, GO HOME; HEEHAW HAMM; EAT
DIRT, YOU STUPID REDNECK. But Hamm just smiled and waved at the crowd as if they were happy to see him, which infuriated them further. When they finally got inside the hall, the president of the university, a dry, colorless man with dandruff, greeted him coldly and when Hamm put out his hand, the man went out of his way not to shake it, afraid someone might take his picture. Once they got onstage, his charm-free introduction consisted of five words: "Ladies and gentlemen, Hamm Sparks."
From the start things did not look good. The mere mention of his name caused the audience to roar with disapproval. The president went down and sat in the front row with the other professors as Hamm walked to the podium with his speech in hand. "Thank you for that gracious introduction, Mr. President," he said, smiling, trying to make the best of a bad situation. "I am honored and privileged to have been invited to speak at your university today. I want you to know that nobody supports and admires education more than myself. I also bring all of you greetings from the people of the great state of Missouri."
Suddenly, amid a growing chorus of catcalls and boos, six or seven tomatoes were thrown and one splattered by his foot. Hamm glanced down at the front row, fully expecting the president to stand up and put a halt to this, but he did nothing; nor did any of the other professors who sat there, many with a slight smirk on their faces. It was at that moment he realized he was up there on his own.
Hamm stood motionless for a moment while the melee continued and watched as the group of protesters from outside came into the hall and marched around chanting and waving their signs in what was obviously a wellplanned demonstration against him.
They'd never had any intention of hearing his speech. He felt like a fool. Vita and the boys had been right. Rodney was in the wings and motioned him to come off the stage. He could have turned around and walked out but he did not. Instead, he got mad and he dug in his heels. Even though he knew no one could hear him above the chanting and foot stomping, he said: "You may insult me but, by God, you are not going to insult the ex-governor of Missouri and I'll be damned if you're going to shout me down. You people asked me here for a speech and you're going to get one. I read all your little signs and you can call me a country bumpkin, a redneck hillbilly all you want. But at least at home we have manners enough not to invite somebody somewhere and then treat them like a dog. Right now I'm proud to be a redneck but I'm no bigot. When I say I'm for everybody in this country, I mean everybody, even all you hippies out there. I feel sorry for you because you don't know better."
He looked down at the front row. "I'm for everybody except for these pea-headed, lily-livered college professors you got sitting down there who have been brainwashing you against your own country.
Filling you full of subversive ideas… egging you on to burn your draft cards and letting you wear the American flag on your behinds." He pointed at the faculty. "No wonder you teach kids; if you tried to push all that anti-American propaganda on grown men you'd get the living tar kicked out of you. I have a message for you. If you don't like it here, I've got me a whole bunch of boys down at the VFW and over at the American Legion just itching to help you move to Russia.
Those Russkies won't put up with your whining and bellyaching for one second. I believe in freedom and individual rights as well as the next man but nobody has the right to live here and do nothing but run us down."
Then he addressed the protesters, who were still marching and chanting at the top of their voices, "Hell no, we won't go," and "Hey hey, how many boys did you kill today?"
"All you people are just delighting the Communists, and when you spit on one soldier or one policeman, you spit on this nation. You're nothing but a bunch of scared little momma's boys who let the others do the fighting for them. A lot of them poor black boys you are so worried about their mommas and daddies don't have the money to send them off dodging the draft. You're the bigots. And if the Communists ever do get over here, these same little pantywaist professors are going to look around for somebody to protect them and there ain't gonna be nobody here; you'll all be up in Canada.
"So chant all your little chants and wave all your little signs and have all your sit-ins but one day when you grow up you're going to be ashamed of yourselves. If you really want to help this country I suggest all you deadhead beatniks get a haircut, take a bath, and go over and pay a visit at the veterans hospital to those who fought so you could wave your little signs." He stopped for breath. The din was continuous. "When I got here today your president informed me I was not going to be presented the usual plaque of appreciation for coming because your so-called college board doesn't approve of me. Well, that's fine, because I don't approve of them. My staff did a little research and I found out that in the past few years you've had Fidel Castro, Nikita Khrushchev, and a member of the Black Panther Party up here and you couldn't wait to give a plaque to all three of these guys, avowed enemies of our government who would destroy your country if they got half a chance. So if that's who's getting the plaques of appreciation around here, then I appreciate not getting one."
He walked off to boos and jeers and catcalls and was rushed out to the car to find its tires slashed and orange paint poured all over it. When they finally made it off campus, riding on the hubcaps, Rodney turned around and gave the protesters the finger and laughed his head off.
When Wendell asked him, "What's so damned funny?" he said, "They're so pig ignorant they don't even know this car belongs to them."
Hamm didn't laugh. He had given a speech that no one had heard. The audience had screamed and stomped their feet and booed the whole time.