Name: The Man Who Walked Backward
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The Man Who Walked Backward

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Sort ByFilter ByLocationsTypeView ResultsFiltersHis professional life in Abilene had begun six years before, in February 1924, at age 29, when he struck a lease deal with C. Hall for the north half of the lower story of the Morgan Jones building, at 127 Chestnut Street, in Abilene’s busiest district. He opened a restaurant, Crescent Cafe, soon after.By 1925, American capitalism churned like a hungry machine. The number of manufacturing facilities in the United States had skyrocketed, and the worth of that output sprang up. In just five years, industrial production had nearly doubled. Men dumped their money into investments and reaped the profits hand over fist. Never before had so many become so stupendously, so painlessly, so expeditiously rich.And there stood Plennie Wingo, a self-made man, at a time when the business of the American people was business, as the president said. It was an age of improvement, and Plennie was riding shotgun, all angular youth and bootstraps. He had a house in the city and a wife who loved him and a young daughter to whom he could one day leave his fortune. He leaned in the doorway of his cafe before the crowds trickled in, one hand in his pocket, a smile on his face, his necktie tight, shirt starched stiff, and his spit-shined wing tips planted firm on the ground.That was then. Now he scoots in reverse. The sun creeps up and the shadows shrink as he wipes sweat from his face and picks up his pace. If he could walk backward through time itself, he would. He should’ve seen the signs. He should’ve known the men were coming for him, because they came for everybody.Vivian was celebrating her fifteenth birthday with a party at their house when Plennie first bumped into his big idea. This was two and a half months after the stock market crashed, and Plennie had already begun to worry about his financial security. They’d had cake and opened gifts, and Vivian and her friends were talking and laughing&nbsp;together in the parlor. Plennie was reading the paper and minding his own business as the kids went on and on about how every physical feat had been accomplished . . . and wasn’t it true?They wanted to see men and women dancing marathons and swimming the English Channel and walking upon the wings of airplanes. They wanted to be the first, the strongest, the best, the fastest—or at least to read about those who were.survey the town,Stubbornly you defy the hours,upon a string,And when the stock market crashes in New York and the cash register falls silent in a cafe in Abilene and the owner begins to wonder how he’ll pay his bills and keep his family fed, thoughts that once seemed crazy don’t seem so crazy anymore.And so at that birthday party the following year, as Vivian’s friends were in the parlor talking about how everything under the sun had been done and how there were no more stunts to pull, how a man had pushed a peanut up Pikes Peak with his nose and how a man had flown from New York to Paris alone and how you couldn’t even find an empty flagpole anymore, Plennie Wingo looked over the top of his newspaper and came right out and said something he could not put back in the bottle.“Is it so bad to appear foolish if you’re well paid for it?” Plennie said. “Suppose it pays off. Look at Lindbergh. Everybody called him crazy too.” He had tried his best to sell Idella on the idea, backing into it gently at first, talking about folks like Benny Fox and Babe White. He’d show her articles in the newspaper and comment on how much money other people were making off stunts. He was so persistent that she cut him off one day.He convinced one of them, a young friend who was about twenty, to join his endeavor and work as an advance publicity man. Basically, Plennie told him, your job will be to drive ahead to the next town of size, where you’ll contact the city officials, newspaper types, businesses that might need the advertising, and get them all interested and ready for Plennie L. Wingo, the Backward Walking Champion of the World. Whatever ventures you line up, Plennie said, we’ll split fifty-fifty. Sounded to the boy like a good deal.It was tucked into the black notebook Plennie had bought from the variety store, along with a cheap fountainpen. He also carried a new Holy Bible, a gift from a street preacher named Paul Clifton, from the Open Bible Mission, whom he’d met the day before. Clifton had recognized Plennie from the newspapers and approached him on the street. “My prayer will be with you all the way,” he had said, and it had made Plennie wonder about things.Now Plennie dragged his suitcase into the Greyhound bus station. He showed Mr. Cotten’s letter to the man behind the counter. The man looked Plennie over, then studied the letter, then agreed to carry Plennie’s luggage free of charge all the way to New York City, in the spirit of goodwill.Plennie walked from the bus station to the Western Union and showed his letter to the clerk, A. C. Farmer, who, upon reading the letter, stamped it in the bottom left-hand corner: 9:03 a.m., April 15th, 1931.ByByByByByByGet our weekly newsletter.ByByByandByByByByByByBy

Sort ByFilter ByLocationsTypeView ResultsFiltersHis professional life in Abilene had begun six years before, in February 1924, at age 29, when he struck a lease deal with C. Hall for the north half of the lower story of the Morgan Jones building, at 127 Chestnut Street, in Abilene’s busiest district. He opened a restaurant, Crescent Cafe, soon after.By 1925, American capitalism churned like a hungry machine. The number of manufacturing facilities in the United States had skyrocketed, and the worth of that output sprang up. In just five years, industrial production had nearly doubled. Men...

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Ben Montgomery

Covering Texas news, politics, food, culture, travel, and more. RTs not endorsements. Tweets by @tayloraprewitt. Subscribe: https://txmnth.ly/3I9Klr1

The Man Who Walked Backward

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