Louisiana Voice

I have to be honest with you and let you know—finally—that the inspiration for many of my stories comes not from my own diligent research but from my best friend who only now, after more than six years of my writing LouisianaVoice, has begrudgingly consented to my publicly acknowledging his sage observational talents.

That acknowledgement is long overdue and I am happy to tell you about my good friend and mentor, Harley Purvis, the resident political guru of John Wayne Culpepper’s Lip-Smackin’ Bar-B-Que House and Used Lightbulb Emporium in Watson, Louisiana. (John Wayne proudly boasts that he has the largest selection of used light bulbs in the state.)

If Watson was incorporated, which it is not, Harley would most surely be the mayor—if, that is, he could be talked into offering himself as a candidate, which he most probably would not. In his own words, he much prefers shaking a few bushes and jerking a half-hitch in the egos of various political officer-holders. “I’d rather be outside the tent peeing in than inside peeing out,” he says in his usual matter-of-fact tone.

The highest office he ever aspired to was his current position as President of the Greater Livingston Parish All-American Redneck Male Chauvinist Spittin’, Belchin’, and Cussin’ Society and Literary Club (LPAARMCSBCSLC). He was elected president by acclamation since he was the only member to ever read a book—several, to be accurate.

Nobody runs for office in Livingston Parish without dropping by John Wayne’s to pay homage to Harley as he occupies the booth in the back in the corner in the dark, (a phrase he readily admits he stole from the late Flip Wilson). “I liked it when he said that and I especially like it since that’s where I sit at John Wayne’s,” he says as he takes another sip from his special dark roast coffee blend (Community Coffee, of course) found only at the Bar-B-Que House and Used Lightbulb Emporium.

Coffee is a tad gamier at John Wayne’s than at those hoity-toity places like Starbucks. That’s partly because John Wayne doesn’t throw out the previous day’s coffee grounds from Monday to Saturday night. He simply adds a half measure to the previous day’s grounds and runs the water (and any leftover coffee) through again for peak financial efficiency. You almost have to scrape the stuff out of your cup but Nobody’s complained yet. That’s probably because it will take your breath away.

John Wayne’s is a natural habitat for political groupies of all stripes and nobody disrespects anybody else’s political views at John Wayne’s. Hillary supporters and Trump backers rub shoulders without incident though, admittedly, Trump supporters far outnumber those who voted for Hillary here in Livingston Parish in general and at John Wayne’s in particular. Civility is a tradition that enhances the popularity of the place.

Crowds are a lot bigger on Saturday mornings because during the week, the gravel truck drivers are busy running up and down LA. 16 picking up loads of gravel at the pit north of Watson and hauling them to their destinations. They don’t have time to dawdle over raunchy coffee and day-old Krispy Kreme Do-nuts.

Except for Harley Purvis, that is. Harley’s there every single day, rain or shine, hot or cold, from 6 a.m. to 10 a.m. He’s retired with nothing but time on his hands. In his early seventies, he has hearing aids for both ears but doesn’t wear them because he’s married—coincidentally, the same reason he occupies his regular booth at John Wayne’s on a daily basis except for Sunday. That’s church and that’s the one thing his wife Wanda Bob insists on.

He watches both CNN and Fox News. He reads the Baton Rouge and New Orleans papers as well as the New York Times and Washington Post online. There’s a sadness in his eyes these days. He’s happy to download news from the Internet but Harley’s old school and he’s disgusted with the state of the newspaper industry. But mostly, he’s frustrated that newspapers couldn’t see the Internet threat to print journalism when it first appeared on the horizon several years ago. Or if they did, they didn’t adjust, which is why the Times-Picayune only prints three days a week in New Orleans now.

Today, he sat at his booth with a Baton Rouge Advocate lying on the table in front of him. As I slid into the booth opposite him, he shook his head as he looked at the headline in the paper. “Everybody talks about a do-nothing Congress, but this Louisiana Legislature sure gave ‘em a run for their money this year,” he said. “This is just about the sorriest bunch we ever had in Baton Rouge.”

“Why do you think that is?” I asked as I took out my notebook and pen.

“I call it the Jindal Syndrome hangover,” he said. “Before we got that little twerp in the governor’s office, the legislature occasionally screwed up and did something progressive. The Stelly Tax Plan was a good example of that. So, what was the first thing Jindal did? He gutted the state’s ethics laws and let a couple of his friends off the hook when they already had ‘em on ethics violations.

“That’s the way it’s been since 2008. We thought we’d made a little progress when John Bel got elected but nothing’s changed. The Republicans aren’t going to pass any of his programs. That might be okay if they had an alternative plan. But what’s their plan? They don’t have one and we just keep kicking that can down the road. They’re Grover Norquist’s lap dogs.”

Harley got up and walked to the coffee urn and refreshed his day-old coffee. Returning, he took a sip and said, “They filed almost a thousand bills at the beginning of this year’s session. Know how many the governor’s signed into law? About a dozen,” he said, answering his own question before I could say a word.

“They spent way too much time caught up over those Confederate statues in New Orleans. That’s a can of worms in itself. You removed the statues but it could be just a start. What’s next, changing the names of Jefferson Davis Parish? Leesville? Jackson Parish? Beauregard Parish? Jefferson Parish? I dunno, Maybe the Daughters of the Confederacy have a valid complaint over the names of Lincoln, Union and Grant parishes.”

While Harley will readily offer his critique of Louisiana politicians, he, as one of the few admitted 70-year-old liberal Bernie Sanders supporters in Livingston Parish, is no less willing to offer his view of Washington.

“Whether you like Trump or hate him,” he said, leaning over the table towards me as if preparing to share some deep dark secret, “the thing that I just can’t wrap my brain around is why the Republicans in Congress can’t grow a set and think for themselves instead of obediently serving as Trump apologists every time he says or does some incredibly stupid—and that’s every day. There’re just some things you can’t defend, but they do anyway.

“They’re putting so-called party unity far ahead of the country’s interests. There are people in this country who because of circumstances over which they have no control, cannot afford health care. Yet the Republicans blindly follow Trump’s lead in taking health care away from these people. If Obamacare is broken, fix it. Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water. You have people who are on Social Security disability who are legitimately disabled. You don’t pull the rug out from under these people.

“And you want to know who’s front and center in his blind loyalty to Trump? Our very own Sen. John Neely Kennedy. The guy is an embarrassment to the entire state. And you notice that when members of Congress were holding town hall meetings during the recess, you couldn’t find Kennedy with a sheriff’s posse.

“Those guys up there in Washington are bought and sold by the lobbyists. Look what Billy Tauzin did before he left Congress. He steered a bill through Congress that prohibited Medicaid and Medicare from negotiating the price of pharmaceuticals. That was a huge win for the pharmaceutical industry. Then he quit and became head of the Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers (PhRMA).

“With all that special-interest influence in Washington, the only way to get a congressman’s attention is to drag a dollar bill on a string down the hall of the House or Senate. And it ain’t much different over at the State Capitol. The oil, banking, and business interests own the Legislature and the Koch brothers and Wall Street own Washington.”

I wanted to hear more but the regular monthly meeting of the LPAARMCSBCSLC was getting ready to convene in emergency session to consider the expulsion of a member who had gotten too big for his britches. As Secretary, I had to keep the minutes.