The last weekend of August found the family and I on a quest. A quest for the Best. James Best, that is.
For those of you who don't know, James Best is an actor who has appeared in quite a large number of tv shows and movies. For a long time he was famous for showing up in Westerns (by his count over 200 of them if you count tv shows like Gunsmoke Bonanza), then gained some cult status for starring in a movie called Attack of the Killer Shrews (the shrews being dogs with carpet tied on them). Episodes of the Andy Griffith show and Twilight Zone appear on his resume, as does the movie Hooper with Burt Reynolds and Sally Field. However, despite all of this, he will forever be known as Sherriff Rosco P. Coltrane from the hit series The Dukes of Hazzard.
My boys, but in particular Caleb, love the Dukes of Hazzard. I'm not sure "love" is a strong enough word. For a number of years, they craved episodes of the show and toy cars from the show and when it was time to watch something, Caleb would ask to put on a Dukes. It got old.
Then came a day in mid-August when I was meeting my cousin and her daughter for breakfast when we saw a flyer taped to the door of the restaurant. A car show was being held in Sandwich, NH, featuring not only all sorts of classic cars and hot rods but the General Lee and Rosco himself, Mr. James Best!
Picture the excitement! Rosco and the General Lee, a mere 45 minutes from our home! No matter the price, the boys were determined to meet James Best and see, touch, and hear the General Lee.
The car show was advertised as operating from 9 to 5 on Saturday so we arrived at the show around 3. My Spidey-sense immediately started tingling, partially from the lack of cars parked in the parking lot but also because the people at the gate let us in for free.
The reason for this soon became obvious. Not only had most of the cars for the show left for the day, but so had Mr. Best. Luckily, there was still a General Lee there at the show. In fact, there were three. The boys were amazed to see them for real and when one of them left, the driver of the car blew the famous horn and we all stopped and listened.
Seriously, it was awesome.
The wife and I had all but decided that we were going to miss Rosco this trip but the boys had other ideas. They wanted to come back the next day. I said "We'll see" but I knew I would say yes. It's not like Rosco comes to NH every day.
So Sunday morning dawned and I loaded up the boys, got enough money to get us into the show, and off we went. We arrived at the Sandwich Fairgrounds around 10:30 and paid our money at the gate. We could see him as soon as we walked onto the fairground! James Best! Rosco Purvis Coltrane! He was in his tent, he was signing autographs. This was really it! The boys got into line with their pictures to be signed.
And that's when I saw the lady collecting money. "Excuse me," I asked, "does it cost money to get an autograph if we've brought our own photos with us?"
"Yes," she replied, "it costs 5 dollars."
I didn't have 5 dollars. Which meant I didn't have 10 dollars. Which meant no autographs.
The boys were so disappointed, but we walked around the fairgrounds looking at the cars and trying to find a portable ATM. None were to be found. The boys looked so sad that I couldn't find it in my heart to give up.
"Guys," I stated, "let's go find some money."
We went to the front gate and asked where in Sandwich there was an ATM or bank. Turns out there isn't one.
For those who have never been to Sammich, let me try to explain it. There are towns that are built because they are close to a river and were settled there by people who could fish, and then came the mills who used the river for power, more people arrived, maybe a train went through it, and then suddenly you had a town.
Sandwich is the opposite of this.
I see no reason for its existence. There's no river. There's no mine, there's no logging, there's nothing. It's a long drive from everywhere, in every direction. For the lady at the gate to tell me that there's no ATM, that means another long drive.
"Boys," I ordered, "to the car!" This was personal now. We were getting that damn autograph.
I picked a road and drove down it, arriving 15 minutes later in the town of Center Harbor, a town on the edge of a lake (hence the reason that people settled there! I mean, really!) I knew this place, I knew where there was a bank, and where there's a bank, there's an ATM. I took out the cash, inwardly flinching at the cost of all this on my poor unemployed heart, and then drove the 15 minutes back to Sammich. It was close to noon by now and I silently made an oath to myself that if Rosco had left Sandwich to go have a sandwich, I'd flip out.
We parked the car, leapt out, and ran into the fairgrounds. He was there! Finally, after 3 attempts, two very happy boys and one very exasperated dad were going to meet Rosco.
He sat there in his Hazzard County uniform, his hat on, with a large banner behind him announcing who he was and why he was famous. He looked so old but his eyes had a twinkle in them that showed that he was still sharp and alive. He signed both boys pictures and even a small picture of Caleb when he was younger and dressed up as Rosco for Halloween. "Did you get a lot of candy that year?" he asked them. James Best seemed to be a genuinely warm and friendly man.
We walked away with our pictures and stood admiring them. A man standing by an old car said to us, "Did you just meet Rosco?"
"We sure did" I replied.
He smiled. "Nice guy. Can you believe he's 85?"
I was surprised, but at the same time I wasn't. He looked old, but it's not many 85-year-old men that can sit in a folding chair in a tent on a hot August day in NH and sign autographs one after another. Never mind make the trip up to NH.
I suddenly wanted to go talk to him. Really talk to him. People weren't even calling him by his real name, he was "Rosco". I wanted him to know that at least one person here knew that he was a "real actor". I mean, this guy had worked with Jimmy Stewart, Humphrey Bogart, Henry Fonda, Rock Hudson, and Anthony Quinn! He was a piece of classic Hollywood and he was somehow in small town NH.
Of course, this wasn't the time or place. He was a busy man, I had two boys with me, and frankly, I was tired of Sammich. It was time to go. The boys couldn't wait to get home and show their mother their autographs and tell them about the adventure.
Me? I just couldn't wait to get home.
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