A Company Town
Puritan Mills, Maine, has always been a company town. Nearly all the adults that live in the small, isolated New England hamlet work for the Company. Their parents and their parents before them had worked for the Company. When their children and grandchildren graduate from Puritan Mills High School, they too will take their place on the Company's payroll. In fact, in the long history of Puritan Mills, there has not been an able-bodied man or woman who has not worked for the Company at one time or another in his or her life.
No one who worked for the Company needed to worry about unemployment, the rising cost of medical care or the stability of individual retirement accounts. The Company took care of its employees' needs. It provided comfortable, low-cost housing and free medical care. And when people were ready to retire or were unable to work due to illness or injury, the Company took care of them.
In short, Puritan Mills was a paradise in the wilds of Maine, and its residents were quite happy to live their lives within its boundaries—that is until young Danny Tuttle reached his senior year at Puritan Mills High.
It was an early September afternoon when the honor student walked into the principal's office and informed her that he wanted to take the SATs. Miss Clementine Walden, the elderly principal, looked up at him, speechless.
"The SATs," Danny repeated. "Where and when are they given?"
"Why would you want to take the SATs?" the principal asked, dumbfounded.
"I need to take them in order to apply to a college."
"College?"
The principal uttered the word as if it had never before been spoken in those hallowed halls of learning.
"Why do you want to go to college? No one from Puritan Mills ever goes to college."
"You did, didn't you, ma'am?" he asked respectfully. "So did the teachers under you."
"Yes, but that was quite different. At the time, the Company needed a teacher to replace Miss Crawford, so they sent me to school in Bangor. I only left here to help the Company. Otherwise, I would have been quite content to work in the mill. The same is true for my fellow educators here. But there's no need for you to go off and leave your home and family. After you graduate in June, you'll have a job waiting for you," she said and dismissed him as if the matter were settled.
A week later, Sebastian Hawkins, Jr., the president of the Company, came to the school to speak to Danny. (Mr. Hawkins' father had been dead for more than fifteen years, but the people in the town still called him Mr. Hawkins, Jr., to distinguish him from the deceased senior.)
"I was talking to Miss Walden the other day," the president remarked casually. "She mentioned that you want to go to college."
"Yes, sir," Danny admitted.
"You're a smart boy. Miss Walden says you get all A's in your classes."
Mr. Hawkins reached into his briefcase and took out a thick manila folder.
"These," he said, sliding the folder across the table toward Danny, "are letters we've received over the past two years from people with four or more years of college, all of them asking if we have any openings in the mill."
Danny cursorily examined the contents of the file folder.
"You've lived in this town all your life, just like your mother and father and their parents did, all the way back to the time the mill was founded. You have no idea how hard things are out there."
Out there was the term everyone from Puritan Mills used to refer to the world beyond its borders.
"No, I don't, sir. That's why I figure I need a college education in order to get a decent job."
"I'll tell you what, Danny," Mr. Hawkins said, adopting a fatherly manner. "The Company can always use a smart young man like you. Miss Walden will arrange for you to take those SAT tests. If you get accepted into college, the Company will pay your tuition, and we'll even provide you with room and board while you're at school. During the summer, you come back here and work in the mill."
"That's very generous of the Company, Mr. Hawkins."
"Well, we believe in taking care of our employees and their families. We always have, and we always will."
Hawkins picked up the folder and put it back in his briefcase.
"But," Danny interrupted as the president stood to leave, "I wasn't planning on staying here in Puritan Mills. I want to see what's out there."
Mr. Hawkins gave him a stern look.
"I'm afraid you'll find it's not a very pleasant place out there. No, you go to college and then come back here and work at the school or in the mill—just like your dad. You work for the Company, and the Company will take care of you."
* * *
Danny's senior year passed quickly. He took the SATs and got a score high enough for him to get accepted into the college of his choice. In September, he said goodbye to his family and promised to be back in June.
When Danny returned the following spring, he had much to tell his parents. After nearly four hours of recounting the highlights of the previous nine months, Danny grew quiet. His parents had listened politely but had shown no great interest in learning about his trips to a major league baseball game, a theme park, a four-story shopping mall or an IMAX 3-D theater.
"Don't you ever wonder what's out there?" Danny asked with all the passion of youth.
"We did when we were your age," his father replied, "but as we got older, we realized that there were more dangers than adventures."
"How do you know that if you've never even been out of Puritan Mills?"
"Mr. Hawkins, Sr., told us all about the world out there. He showed us newspapers from New York, Los Angeles, Chicago—all over the country. There are sick people who can't afford to go to a hospital. Senior citizens who eat cat food because they didn't put any money aside for their old age. There are even people living in the streets, eating out of garbage cans. And crime! Why, I heard it isn't safe to walk down the street at night in most places."
"It's not like that everywhere. There are some nice little towns out there not much different from this one."
"Even if there is a place as nice as this," his mother reasoned, "it wouldn't be the same. We wouldn't have the Company to take care of us."
Danny eventually gave up the argument because he knew he couldn't win. Loyalty to the Company ran deep in Puritan Mills.
* * *
That summer Danny worked at the mill alongside his old schoolmates. Most of them had already married local girls; others were engaged to marry local girls. His friends, like his parents, were only mildly curious about what Danny had experienced during his month out there. Few of them gave thought to the world beyond Puritan Mills. They were content to marry, raise a family, go to work and let the Company take care of them.
Life in Puritan Mills hadn't changed one bit while Danny was away at school. The Company picnic was the same as in years past: barbecued burgers and frankfurters, baked beans, watermelon and fresh-squeezed lemonade, followed by sack races, a water balloon toss and horseshoes. There were band concerts on the town common every weekend, ice cream socials on Friday nights, softball games on Saturday afternoons and, of course, church services on Sundays—all under the benevolent auspices of the Company.
In August, the small town had cause for another celebration: Old Man Ludlow's retirement party. Elwood Ludlow had worked at the mill since he was fifteen years old. Now that he was past seventy, his health was beginning to fail. The Company, in appreciation of more than half a century of faithful service, presented him and his wife with a vacation for two to the British Isles. Mr. Ludlow, speechless, wept with gratitude. His wife tearfully spoke for the both of them.
"We d-don't know how we can ever th-thank you for your great g-generosity, Mr. Hawkins," she stammered, wiping her eyes with a linen handkerchief rather than a disposable tissue.
"Nonsense, Delphine. You and Elwood have worked hard all your life. You deserve a few years of leisure."
Mr. Hawkins then turned and addressed the assembled crowd.
"Ever since my ancestor, Jedediah Hawkins, opened a mill in this town more than a hundred and fifty years ago, the townspeople have worked together to make the mill a success and to make the town of Puritan Mills a paradise on earth, a haven from all the evil that preys on good people out there."
Danny wanted to protest but respectfully held his tongue.
"The mill made the Hawkins family very wealthy, and Old Jedediah wanted to share his wealth with the people who worked so hard for him. He built a school, a church and a hospital—not nearly as grand as those in the big cities, but they served their purpose. Jedediah took care of his workers, as did his son and his grandson. It is an obligation that was handed down from Hawkins to Hawkins throughout the years. My grandfather passed it down to my father, and my father passed it on to me. It is a solemn pledge that we hold to: the people of Puritan Mills work for the Company, and the Company takes care of them."
The people applauded loudly. Danny looked at the faces of his family, his friends and his neighbors. What he saw amazed him. Each face beamed with respect and reverence, for Sebastian Hawkins was more than a generous employer in their eyes; he was a god.
* * *
Danny's sophomore year in college went quite well. He got straight A's and made the Dean's List. He enjoyed further exploring the world out there and found it full of many wondrous things and many interesting people. All too soon, his second year in school came to an end, and it was time for him to return to Puritan Mills.
"This place never changes," he commented when he reported to work with his father on the first Monday back from school.
"No, it doesn't," his father responded with pride. "Isn't it a miracle that this place keeps its charm and innocence despite all the corruption and evil that goes on out there?"
Danny, however, didn't see it that way. To him, Puritan Mills had become an anachronism.
"It's not healthy for anything, even a town, to remain stagnant."
"Stagnant, huh?" Mr. Tuttle laughed. "Excuse me, I didn't go to college."
"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Dad," Danny quickly apologized. "It's just that the Company has everyone in this town brainwashed into believing that change is bad. The Hawkins family just wants to maintain the status quo that has made them rich."
Mr. Tuttle shook his head.
"I think we're just going to have to agree to disagree on this subject, Dan. Besides, you'll feel differently about both this place and the Company when you come back in two years and begin working full-time."
Danny lowered his head and said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes to his father.
"What is it, son? Did you find yourself a girl out there?"
"No. I mean, I've had a few girlfriends, sure, but there's no special one. I just ...."
"You don't want to come back here after you graduate college, do you?"
"No, Dad, I don't. I want to travel. There's a great big, beautiful world out there, and I want to see it all or at least a good part of it."
"That is a problem. The Company is spending a lot of money on your education. They expect you to keep your side of the bargain."
"I know," Danny said with a sigh. "Don't worry. I wouldn't cheat the Company. You know me better than that."
Danny decided it was best to change the subject.
"Hey, what's Mr. Ludlow doing these days? Now that he's retired, is he spending all his time down at the general store playing checkers?"
"I guess you didn't hear about poor Elwood and his wife."
"No. What happened?"
"He and Delphine went to England when he retired, remember?"
"Yeah, I was at the retirement party last summer."
"They were having a wonderful time seeing all the sights in London, but then they were killed in a bus accident."
"Oh, no! How terrible!" Danny said. "A man works hard all his life, and then just as he's ready to reap the rewards of his labor and enjoy himself, he gets killed in a tragic accident."
"Yeah, it's a damned shame," his father agreed, "but isn't that the way it seems to go all the time? So many of us get close to retiring and then—bam! heart attack, cancer or some other act of God robs us of our golden years. Sometimes life doesn't seem fair."
* * *
Danny's junior year was just as exciting and rewarding as the previous two. At the end of May of that year, it was even harder to leave the city and return to Puritan Mills, the place Danny laughingly referred to as "the town that time forgot."
"It can't be all that bad," laughed Brandy Lippman, his Boston-bred girlfriend.
"You wanna bet?" Danny replied. "There's not a DVD player, a computer, a cell phone or a microwave oven in the entire town."
"What?"
"It's the truth. It's almost like living with the Amish," he joked. "Except people in Puritan Mills don't worship God, they worship the Company."
"Sounds charming!" Brandy said facetiously.
"Maybe it wouldn't be so boring this summer if you were to come home with me. How about it? Want to take a step back in time and meet my parents?"
"Thanks, honey, but no thanks. I'm going to sail down to Bermuda this summer with my roommates, remember?"
"Right!" he said moodily. "I forgot about that."
"Oh come on, darling, cheer up! It's your last summer there. Next year this time, we'll be graduating, and then who knows what will happen?" she said with a meaningful look at him.
Danny knew what she wanted; it was the same thing he wanted, for the two of them to get married and settle in Boston. But it was a dream that would never come true, for Danny owed it to the Company and to his family to return to Puritan Mills after he was done with college.
That summer he again worked in the mill beside his old friends. All of them were now married, and most of them were parents. Danny felt like an outcast. In three years he and his former schoolmates had grown so far apart that they had few common interests to discuss.
As August drew to a close, he looked forward to going back to school. He even planned on leaving a week early so that he and Brandy could spend some time together before classes began. On the Friday before Labor Day weekend, however, Mr. Hawkins, Jr., went to the mill to see him.
"Danny," he asked solemnly, "will you come with me, please?"
Danny feared that Mr. Hawkins had learned of his reluctance to return after graduation and wanted to remind him of his financial obligation, but when the two men left the mill, the owner confided in him, "There was an accident. Your father's been hurt."
"Is he all right?" Danny asked, forgetting all about college, Brandy and his future plans.
"I'm not sure. Let's go over to the hospital and talk to the doctor. Your mother's been notified. She'll meet us there."
When Danny walked into the waiting room of the small private hospital—built and maintained by the Company—his mother fell into his arms, weeping.
"Oh, Danny," she cried. "I'm so glad you're here."
The doctor came out momentarily.
"Mr. Tuttle has sustained a serious injury to his back," he announced gravely. "It's doubtful he'll ever walk again." "But, he'll live, won't he, Doctor?" Danny asked.
"Yes. His injury is not life-threatening. Of course, he can't go back to work in the mill."
Mr. Hawkins stepped forward.
"Don't worry, Danny. The Company will see to it that your father is well taken care of."
Only after Danny was sure that his father's condition had stabilized, did he return to Boston, more torn than before. He hated the idea of going back to Puritan Mills at the end of the school year. It would mean losing Brandy forever. But now his parents needed him, too.
Shortly before Christmas, Danny received word that his father had suffered a massive heart attack and died. The young man was devastated.
"I just don't get it!" he said, crying on Brandy's shoulder. "Before I left, my father's doctor assured me that he was out of danger."
"It was his heart, not the accident, that killed him," she said, trying to soothe her boyfriend's guilty conscience.
* * *
At the end of May, Danny Tuttle graduated from college. The town of Puritan Mills and, in particular, the Company expected him back shortly thereafter. Instead, Mr. Harlan Quinn, Esq., a Boston attorney, showed up at Mr. Hawkins' office.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Quinn?" the mill's president asked.
"I have a contract here for you to sign," he said, taking a document out of his briefcase.
"What is it?"
"An agreement. My client, Daniel G. Tuttle, proposes to pay your company back for all his educational costs and living expenses incurred during the past four years—plus interest, of course. He will pay the said amount according to the schedule attached to the contract."
Mr. Hawkins' face was like stone, expressing neither anger nor displeasure.
"If the terms are agreeable to you," Mr. Quinn continued, "please sign on the bottom of the third page."
"And if I don't sign?"
"Then I guess my client will be hearing from your attorney."
"So, Danny has made up his mind that he's not coming back here?"
"Mr. Tuttle has taken a job in Boston. If you want any other information, I suggest you contact him directly."
Sebastian Hawkins, Jr., president of the Company, picked up his pen and signed the contract.
"I feel like I've lost a member of my own family," he said sadly.
* * *
Not long after Danny and Brandy returned from their European honeymoon—a gift from the bride's affluent parents—Danny started working for a prominent Boston investment firm. A month later, he began having difficulty sleeping.
"What's wrong?" Brandy asked when she found her husband sitting in the living room at three in the morning.
"I can't stop thinking about my father. What if I'd remained in Puritan Mills until he was fully recovered?"
"I know how much you loved him," his wife said, hugging him tightly. "But there was nothing you could have done. He had a heart attack."
Danny was suddenly reminded of a conversation he'd had with his father.
Danny had said, "A man works hard all his life, and then just as he's ready to reap the rewards of his labor and enjoy himself, he gets killed in a tragic accident."
"Yeah, it's a damn shame," his father had agreed. "But isn't that the way it seems to go all the time? So many of us get close to retiring and then—bam! heart attack, cancer or some other act of God robs us of our golden years."
That was the way things seemed to work out, at least in Puritan Mills. Few people lived to retirement age, and of those that did, all died soon after.
* * *
Danny called his office the following morning and told his secretary he was taking the day off. Then he got into his car and headed for Puritan Mills. Two hours later he pulled into the Company's parking lot.
Sebastian Hawkins, Jr., met him in the reception area.
"Danny," the president said with feigned surprise, "I didn't think you would ever come back to our little town."
"I'll bet you didn't," Danny said meaningfully.
"What can I do for you?"
"I want to know what happened to my father, not to mention the Ludlows and all the other elderly people of Puritan Mills."
"Why don't we talk in my office," Mr. Hawkins suggested.
Danny had no objection.
"Your father had a heart attack," the president said as he sat down behind his mahogany desk. "He ...."
"I don't believe it," Danny interrupted. "I think something far worse happened to him and to Mr. and Mrs. Ludlow, and I think the Company is involved."
"Miss Walden was right," Hawkins said with a shrewd smile. "You are a smart one. In over a hundred and fifty years, you are the only person to look the gift horse in the mouth and question the decisions of the Company."
"So the Company is involved. You admit it!"
"Why bother to deny it? You're a resourceful young man. You could no doubt learn that the Ludlows didn't die in a bus accident, that they never left this country."
"What happened to them?"
"We had to put them to sleep," Hawkins said, sounding like a kindly veterinarian speaking of a pair of old, ailing dogs.
"What?" Danny cried, fighting the urge to put his fist into the older man's face. "They were people; not animals. You killed my father, too. Didn't you?"
"We don't think of it as killing. We look at it as a humane solution to the problems associated with old age. Our people here at the mill don't have to linger in nursing homes or become burdens on their children. They don't have to face the pain and anguish of diseases that will leave them without hope or dignity. We provide a gentle, loving transition from this world to the next."
"What a line of bullshit! I'll bet you're more concerned with the cost involved with feeding and caring for these people than their wellbeing."
"Of course, we're concerned about cost. We couldn't possibly afford to support the sick and elderly of Puritan Mills. Why, the expense would ruin us. But it's more than that. Did you really want to see your father spend the rest of his days in a wheelchair?"
Danny didn't deign to give an answer. He didn't think the question worthy of one.
"How long has this barbaric practice been going on?"
"Long before the mill was built. You see, old Jedediah Hawkins owned a cotton plantation in Georgia. When he started to hear talk about secession, he listened. Unlike his fellow planters, he knew the South had no hope of winning an armed conflict. Even before Lincoln was elected and the first shots were fired on Fort Sumter, Jedediah sold his land and his grand house and moved to the outer reaches of New England, where he started this mill. Of course, slavery didn't exist in the North, so he had to pay men to do the work. Over the years he found he could mold loyal, hard-working employees by giving them more than just a paycheck. He offered them housing, medical care and education. In return, they worked hard until they were too old or too sick to continue."
"And then he took care of them, just like you took care of my father, the Ludlows and God knows how many other poor souls."
"It was a common practice among some of the slave owners. When the slaves were too old to work the fields, they were given poison in their food—Oh, don't worry. We use an injection now. Absolutely painless, I assure you."
"How comforting," Danny said derisively.
"You may not believe this, but your father died with a smile on his face."
"I don't think that will matter to the police."
Hawkins laughed.
"I guess you think you're going to walk out that door, get into your car and drive to the nearest police station."
"Do you intend to stop me?"
Danny looked at Hawkins. He was a small man, much smaller than Danny, and at least thirty-five years older. Danny didn't imagine he would have any difficulty overpowering him.
"And if I were to reach into my drawer and take out a gun and shoot you?"
"There will be a lot of people in Boston asking questions when I don't return home tonight."
"That's true," Hawkins said with tired resignation. "I guess I can't get you to change your mind, can I? Ask you to return to your wife and your job and let Puritan Mills go on about its business?"
"Not a chance! You killed my father. I want to see you rot in jail."
Hawkins suddenly stood up and, to Danny's surprise, extended his hand.
"Goodbye, Danny. I really wish things had gone differently, that you had taken the job here at the mill."
Danny refused to shake the hand of the man who was responsible for the loss of so many innocent lives. He turned without a further word and left the office. The angry young man got into his car and drove to the house where he had been born and raised. His mother had just gotten home from work and was making herself a light dinner.
"Danny! What are you doing here?" she asked with surprise, hugging him tightly.
"Mom, I've got some terrible news for you."
"Wait!" she said. "Sit down and have a cup of coffee with me first. If you have bad news, I want a few minutes to prepare myself."
Mrs. Tuttle poured two cups of coffee, sat down at the kitchen table and quietly listened to Danny's tale about the former slave owner who had built a mill on the blood of his employees.
At last, he concluded with, "Mr. Hawkins admitted to me that the Company killed Dad."
Danny was waiting for her tears or her refusal to acknowledge the truth, but his mother only said, "Finish your coffee like a good boy."
Emotionally exhausted, Danny picked up the cup and swallowed the last dregs.
"Don't you understand what I've said? This place is dangerous. I want you to pack a bag and come with me. Once you're safe in Boston, I'm going to go to the police."
"You can't do that, son. It would mean the end of the Company and of Puritan Mills. People from out there could never understand the way things are done here."
Danny stared at his mother in bafflement. Had she gone mad?
"Why do you care what happens to the Company after what they've done?"
"Because the Company takes care of us. Without the Company, we would have nothing—no jobs, no homes, no future, nothing!"
"The Company takes care of its employees by murdering them."
Clara Tuttle shook her head.
"We don't look at it as murder."
An icy blast of fear struck Danny.
"We?"
"The people that work at the mill and live in this town. There's an understanding among us: we work for the Company, and the Company will take care of us. When your father was crippled by that accident, we both knew the Company would take care of him. When Mr. Ludlow became old and sick, he knew the Company would take care of him. And Mrs. Ludlow—well, she just didn't want to be left a lonely widow with no family."
"Are you telling me that Dad and the Ludlows knew the Company was going to kill them?"
Clara nodded.
Danny heard the front door open. Into the house walked Sebastian Hawkins.
"Everything okay, Clara?" the owner asked with concern.
She nodded again, and tears finally welled up in her eyes. Danny stood up, and a sudden dizziness descended upon him.
"I'm not feeling ...."
He swooned and grabbed onto the table for support. The coffee cup fell to the floor and smashed.
The coffee!
"Mother?" he cried in anguish. "Why?"
"It was what she had to do," Hawkins said, putting a comforting arm around Clara's shoulder.
"You betrayed your own son for the sake of the Company?"
"Oh, Danny! This is a company town. The Company doesn't operate just for the benefit of Mr. Hawkins, Jr., but for all the people in Puritan Mills. Don't you understand? We're not just employees, we are the Company!"
Sorry, Salem. I don't believe Kitty Chow has its own town.
