Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #186
…Don’t be givin’ me credit, James, I’m just going to be a simple country doctor…
At the reception following the commencement, thankfully in a tent cooled by large fans, the rest of Tallahassee gang gets the chance to congratulate the recognized star of said proceedings. A.O. Campbell is by no means totally comfortable with his celebrity. He has been merely singled out, by a President no less, but it took every fiber of his brain to make it to this point. Brain surgery is not in his future, though many men, women and children will come to him for what ails them and he will do his best not to fail them.
People like John and Martha Ferrell are just plain overjoyed, especially John, having seen his metamorphosis first hand.
James Ferrell has witnessed the severe prejudice that Negroes must endure, knowing that a Negroes lot may be one small step from imprisonment or death. Whether it be North or South, he is rightly impressed with the new professional and tells him so. “Put it there, buddy,” he extends his hand. “Not your ordinary commencement. Mine was so boring that half of the entire gymnasium fell asleep. Some guy named Robert Wynne, the then Postmaster General with a sedative speaking voice and speech to match. But you, my friend, have a flair for the dramatic and Teddy Roosevelt.”
“Don’t be givin’ me credit, James, I’m just going to be a simple country doctor.”
“Well, that makes me a country lawyer and if that country doctor ever needs my services, please do not hesitate to knock on my door; like if you amputate the wrong leg, or try to deliver a baby out a woman who’s not with child?”
“Pay no mind to him, Alpha, the world of law warps the mind, like a day old pine board on a hot day like today,” chides Abbey, uncomfortable when he is so flippant about such things.
Harv Pearson is not far away, catching the tail end of the conversation concerning his P-E J attorney. “You best take him up on his offer, Alpha. It’s better to have him with you, than against you. Anyone who can stare down a man like Hank Blount is all right in my book.”
“Not to mention keeping you from sailing on the Titanic,” James adds, taking any color from the involved faces, paled by the eeriness of a near miss. Harv and Judith were supposed to be aboard the fated ocean liner, but…
(…“I believe you neglected to get us a press-pass from the White Star Line. ‘I’ll get you an exclusive’, is what you told us, ‘One of the Beacon Hill partners is the brother-in-law of Guggenheim’s sister’ or some such thing.”) At the time Harv and Judith were put out, stuck in dirty old London without a story they had counted on to boost sagging subscriptions. But in four days all is forgiven; a night in frigid Atlantic waters is transformed into a holiday in Scotland.