Honeydripper, a film by John Sayles

Sheriff Pugh has been the big man in Butler County for twelve years now, and he’s got ambitions. He’s doing pretty well for somebody whose daddy ran moonshine during Prohibition, somebody who grew up hearing teachers say he’d be real smart if he ever applied himself to it, somebody who could just as easily be locked up in the jail as be the one carrying the keys. His daddy mostly worked as a mechanic at the cotton gin on the old Moultrie plantation, could fix any kind of machine, build a still and keep it running. The Pughs never had any of their own land, just a line of sawmill hands and redneck lumbermen, piney woods people, and if it hadn’t been for Hiram being so good with his fists he’d have ended up another one. His knockout combination was a lightning fast right jab followed by the left, a combination hook and uppercut, that got him the ring name of Hiram “One-Two” Pugh in the country fair bouts and smoky arenas of Birmingham and Montgomery. He was middleweight state champion when he decided to hang the gloves up after a twelve-round decision in Pascagoula that left his teeth loose, his ears ringing and his opponent blind in one eye. He fibbed a bit to the doctor to pass the physical and joined the state troopers. He liked police work, especially the manhunts when somebody would skip from prison or a work gang, liked the camaraderie and packing a pistol and the uniform. He even learned to ride a horse for parades. When old Clell Hopgood announced his retirement, Hiram got the Moultries and a few other important families back home to support him an he won the sheriff job without much trouble.

It’s a pretty quiet county and he puts a lot of time in keeping it that way. You got to keep your ears open, don’t let things out of control. The letter of the law is a lot less important to people than control, or at least the appearance of it. People want their vice and their virtue, their black and their white, kept separate and right where they know how to find them. Somebody gets a little too big for their britches and you give them a polite warning before you take them down. More than once Hiram has had a heart-to-heart with that skinny drunk Hank Williams who’s all over the radio these days- the boy was always a mess and it’s a wonder he’s lasted this long. Sure can sing, though. Hiram married Maxine Cantrell during his first term and they’ve got a couple little featherweights running around the yard, always trying to step into their daddy’s boots when he comes home. Maxine has it good but doesn’t know it- can’t cook, won’t clean, too ornery to keep help in the house, got a husband who doesn’t gamble or drink up his paycheck and she’s nothing but one big complaint. “Big Jim Folsom is the Governor,” he likes to tell her, “till he leaves the mansion we’ll have to make do right here.”

Not that he wouldn’t like to aim for something bigger. That Wallace boy from over in Clayton is moving up, building himself a team that could lead to something if you jumped on it at the right moment. The biggest problem on the horizon is the Army base opened up again, this time with colored in there marching around with rifles like anybody else. Not only do they come off on leave with all their attitude but they stir the local bucks up, give them big ideas. Tyrone Purvis, well he’s always been a high-stepper, but smart enough not to push in the wrong places. Keeps his business where it belongs, never had a murder out there. But it’s the ones that think they can go it alone, a law unto themselves you might say, who you’ve got to watch. His wife is a pretty looking little thing, though, and they put out the best ribs and chicken in the county. The ones like Tyrone you got to play like a fish on your bait, while others of them only understand the fat end of a club. Any of these Army boys think they can act out of their station in Harmony and get away with it have a rude awakening in store for them. No shortage of cotton that needs picking, ditches need digging, roads need grading. No brag to it, but Hiram Pugh runs the best damn work gangs in the state of Alabama.