The Legend of Luke Steel

By Rell Webber

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Rell Webber
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-2229-5

Chapter One

I was four years of age when my mother, Arbella Steel, moved my two older sisters and me to St. Louis, Missouri. There our family resided in a fifteen-story housing project called Candlestick, which was located on the west side of the Mississippi River. Although it was not the most luxurious place for a kid to grow up, Candlestick was not far from that wonderful old Busch Stadium, where the St. Louis Cardinals baseball team played their home games. From the flat rooftop of our apartment complex, we could see the lights of the ball park and hear the crowd as they cheered for the Cardinals to pull another game out of the hat. We knew Lou Brock was going to steal another base, when the crowd began yelling, "Lou! Lou!" in unison. It was there atop Candlestick that I saw Roberto Clemente hit the longest home run ever in Busch stadium. Several years later, when I heard that the famed Cuban player had been killed in a plane crash somewhere over the Atlantic ocean, I felt as though I had lost a close friend.

Those ballpark experiences in my childhood while growing up in the streets of St. Louis were very special, and the memories will be forever with me. My mother had provided a happy life for my two sisters and me in St. Louis, and I grew up as a well-adjusted city kid. Yet there came a time, as I grew older, when I longed to know more about the place where I was born, about my relatives, and especially about my father, Luke Steel. His name was never mentioned around our household and I never inquired. Still, I wondered about my father and the family that Mother said lived in Mississippi. For the most part, all I knew of Mississippi consisted of what we were taught in school or what I heard from my friends who had been there. And these accounts differed greatly!

Some of my friends would travel down to Mississippi in the summer to visit relatives and would return with exciting adventures to tell. I loved to hear them talk of swimming in a water hole, riding a horse across wide, green pastures, and running through the middle of a corn row as the soft, freshly-plowed dirt tickled them between their toes. Of course I was given a more negative image of what life was like there from my school books: proponents of slavery, rebellions against equal rights for black people, and folks living in extreme poverty. These were the images that characterized the people living in Mississippi, where I had been born.

My first contact with my father's family came about in a most bizarre way. I was fifteen at the time and had just arrived home from school to find my mother sitting at the kitchen table reading a letter. I could tell immediately that something was wrong. Mother looked up at me, trying to hide the tears in her eyes, then laid the letter on the table and walked away. Being quite curious, I put my school books down on the table and slowly moved the letter in front of me. Then I began to read:

January 14, 1970

Dear Luke wife,

I am deaf. Long time I want talk my brother. But I hear nothing. I worry my family long time not hear from. My mama die, Myself not know long time. Later, find out me. My brother other die too. He drink too much. Now Luke very sick, need you come here Una help him to better healthy. Please to come very much. Myself deaf hard talk hearing people. They take him bad place for crazy people. Please God to bring you help my brother name is Luke. Jesus Love you.

Luke sister,

Dorothy Steel

I looked up and saw my mother crying. From this letter bearing broken English sentences, Mother was learning that my father was very sick and appeared to have been taken away to some mental hospital. "Mother," I asked, "Is this Dorothy Steel my aunt?"

Mother explained that my father had an older sister named Dorothy, but the two women had never met. Luke had once told her that he had practically been raised in his infant years by this deaf-mute sister.

"She's talking about my father being in this `place for crazy people', isn't she?" I persisted.

Mother wiped a tear and nodded. "Yes, Derrick. She is talking about your father." She walked back to the kitchen table, sat down beside me and took my hand in hers. For the first time in my young life, I began to learn about my father and his people. As I listened, I noticed an expression on my mother's face that I had never seen before. Now when I think back to that day, I realize that her expression was one of great relief in finally being able to talk about her years living with my father. That day, as she spoke openly and honestly with her young son who was fast growing up and becoming more like his father in so many ways, Mother knew in her heart that I would want to go there, just as I knew that she would never go back.

I could not have possibly understood, before that day, those events that surrounded the lives of my father's family and those troubled times that resulted in my mother's decision to bring her children north to St. Louis. There at the kitchen table, I listened intently as Mother began to tell me of my father, Luke Steel, and his family who lived in a small community in the northeast corner of Mississippi, called Una.

Chapter Two

In a quiet, rural area of north Mississippi, nestled in the red-clay hills of Clay County, lies Una (You-nah) community, the place where Lucius Samuel Steel was born in 1924. His mother, Savanna Steel, had three older children—Nathan, Dorothy, and Popcorn—who helped raise young Luke. Their father, William Dean Steel, had left for Chicago to find work shortly after his youngest son was born, and he never returned.

Luke grew up strong and smart, quickly learning the art of hunting and fishing, which was necessary for the provision of food for black families living in the south during the early 1900's. Luke loved the countryside and spent most of his childhood days in the woods. At age twelve he completed the sixth grade, then went to work with his brother Popcorn over in West Point at Mr. Walter Allen's taxidermy shop. Mr. Walter Allen had employed Popcorn there for as long as young Luke could remember, and on those few occasions that he had accompanied Popcorn to Mr. Walter Allen's shop, Luke had been fascinated by watching his brother remove the hides of the dead animals and prepare the skins for mounting onto reconstructed bones.

With his formal education completed, Luke was now able to devote all of his time to learning how to stuff trophies, although most of his initial duties were to clean the tools and work area. Following the gutting and skinning of the animals, Luke would assist in preparing the salt which was used for drying the skins before they were to be mounted. Mr. Walter Allen had no real use for another helper, since most of his taxidermy business could be easily handled by himself and Popcorn. However, he sensed in young Luke a genuine desire to learn the trade. Luke may have reminded Mr. Walter of his own younger days in the Pheba community when Papa John Calder had taken him in at about that same age, shortly after Mr. Walter's mother died.

Papa John and his wife, Miss Jimmie Calder, were among the first in Mississippi to promote taxidermy as a professional trade. Prior to that, folks would make feeble attempts at stuffing their game without any biological knowledge of the animal's anatomical make-up or bone structure. Papa John, however, had mastered most of the sciences taught at Pheba Agricultural High School and incorporated them into his work. He had even entertained ideas of starting a taxidermy school. Unfortunately, his plans were never realized due to a freak accident. On a cold winter's night, Papa John was a passenger in a speeding model T Ford when it rounded the curve of an icy road and struck the rail of a bridge. Papa John's door opened unexpectedly and he was thrown from the vehicle, striking his head on the iron rail. Unconscious for a full week, Papa John lived but was not much use to the taxidermy profession after that. Miss Jimmie was burdened with caring for her poor husband, while young Walter, still in his teens, took over the taxidermy business there in the Pheba community.

When Papa John passed away, Miss Jimmie deeded some land and the taxidermy business to Walter. But Walter knew that his business would be more productive in the city, so he eventually sold the land and moved his shop from Pheba to the neighboring town of West Point. There Walter Allen built a successful reputation as a taxidermist. It was several years later that a young Negro boy who called himself Popcorn approached Mr. Walter Allen about being hired on as a helper in his shop. Mr. Walter Allen needed a good man, so Popcorn began to learn the art of taxidermy. This turned out to be the only real job Popcorn ever had and the only good thing that he ever accomplished.

Each day, when Luke completed the chores that were assigned to him, he would watch Popcorn work. It was amazing to see those lifeless forms come alive again. On the days Mr. Walter was away from the shop, Luke stayed by his brother's side continually and soon was performing some of the basic techniques as well as Popcorn. There were so many types of animals to stuff and a different mounting procedure for each one. Popcorn was willing to let his younger brother take on more responsibility. He quickly realized that Luke was good with his hands and had a flair for this type of work. Also, Popcorn figured that the more Luke could learn about the trade, the more Popcorn could nap. Popcorn had begun to drink rather heavily now, and on weekends would spend most of his time and money down at Hambo's, the local tavern. Because of his drinking habits Popcorn's hands were not as steady as they once were, so he was content to let Luke work along—side of him to carry out the more delicate steps.

It was during one of Popcorn's naps that Luke Steel's talent for mounting first caught the eye of Mr. Walter Allen. Popcorn had been out drinking the night before and Luke noticed that as Popcorn attempted to prepare a beautiful large mouth bass for mounting, his hands were particularly shaky. Luke had learned enough about mounting fish to know that it would require very delicate hands to set this trophy. One careless turn of the knife and it would be ruined, for there were no bones in a fish to help firm the mount if too much of the inside layer of skin was cut or damaged.

Luke waited a moment, then offered to carve the fish. Popcorn said that would be fine and he would just sit over there on that pile of padding and take a little nap. In a few minutes Popcorn was snoring loudly. Soon Luke was concentrating so intensely on the fish that he didn't notice Mr. Walter Allen, who had been away from the shop, round the corner. Walter Allen saw Luke working on the fish and noticed that Popcorn was sleeping. In years past, when business was booming and time was a precious commodity, Popcorn would have been scolded for sleeping on the job. But times had changed now, and Walter Allen was no longer doing the full-scale taxidermy business that he had done in his younger days.

Quietly, he stood and observed the young boy skillfully cutting the skin. He knew that firing Popcorn for sleeping would only cause him to lose young Luke too. He had even suspected, for some time now, that it was Luke who was doing most of the work. Popcorn had once been a good helper, but his drinking had brought him down. On that day, while Popcorn slept, Mr. Walter Allen noticed the gift that was inside this young boy, Luke Steel. With meticulous hands Luke completed the final step in the mounting process, then laid the cutting knife back on the table. It was then he noticed that he was being observed. Luke walked over and handed the fish mount to Mr. Allen. "I guess you or Popcorn will have to do the eyes, 'cause I don't know how yet."

"Well, it's high time you learned, boy," Mr. Walter Allen replied. Then he took young Luke inside and showed him how to select the tools and the eyeballs for mounting onto the various game. In the weeks that followed, Mr. Allen showed Luke many techniques of the trade that Popcorn had not taught him, such as setting the neck of a large deer, or stretching the hide of a bear that was to be mounted upright.

Popcorn soon became less and less useful, and Luke took his place as Mr. Walter Allen's main helper. Popcorn didn't seem to mind as long as he could work just enough to buy his next bottle. Luke's Mama didn't believe in drinking and she warned Popcorn that if he ever came around her with that whiskey bottle, she would burst his head with it. Popcorn didn't stop drinking, but he did move out of Nin's house.

In the spring of Luke's sixteenth year, Popcorn moved in with a girl friend over at Columbus and stopped coming to Mr. Allen's shop altogether. Luke rarely saw his oldest brother after that. But Popcorn's name kept cropping up from time to time around Una, especially from those who went down to Hambo's on Saturday night. They said he was still fighting and drinking like always, maybe worse now.

The next time Luke saw Popcorn was when he went into Columbus to take a trophy to Doctor Gadson. It was a pheasant, mounted as if in flight, and Luke was driving Mr. Allen's pick up truck when he spotted Popcorn coming down the street. Popcorn said he was doing fine and asked about Nin and the family. Luke said they were all fine too, but Mr. Allen was real sick. He couldn't get out of the house much now, but was still trying to do a little business when he felt like it. Popcorn smiled and went on, saying he would stop in and see Mr. Allen when he was out that way. But when Mr. Walter Allen died two months later of pneumonia, Popcorn still had not been by.

Chapter Three

Luke had just completed his ninth year of employment at the time of Mr. Allen's death. His widow, Martha Allen, closed the shop at West Point, but agreed to sell all of the tools and supplies to young Luke, who moved it to the Una community. There he continued to perform taxidermy for all of Mr. Allen's old customers and many new ones. Having little business experience, Luke never charged his customers very much for his work. As a result, he didn't get rich, but he always stayed busy.

Soon Luke Steel's reputation spread all over Clay County, up through North Mississippi, and even into Alabama. Folks would tell other folks about the young Negro man who could "stuff a bobcat to look like he was still alive!" Luke became known for creating some unique expressions and positions for his mounts that would exhibit the fierceness of a wild boar, the proud stance of a white tail deer, or the fighting spirit of a large mouth bass. As his clientele grew, so did the stories about Luke Steel's unique style of taxidermy.

"Did you know him then?" I asked my mother that day when she paused to fix herself a glass of tea.

"Oh, yes," she replied with a girlish smile. "He was quite a handsome man, too. Of course, we didn't date until Luke was established enough in his business so he could afford the money to court me." Then she laughed and said, "Luke did tell me several stories about some of his first customers. And some of them were very, very strange! Once, when a twelve foot rattlesnake was killed, your father was asked to fix up a mount that would really make that snake seem alive. A week later, the man returned with his wife to pick up his trophy. When they stepped inside the shop, the owner's wife let out a scream and fainted right there on the dirt floor. There, just over her left shoulder, wrapped around the branch of a small limb used to showcase the mount, was a huge coiled rattler with its mouth opened wide and its sharp, protruding fangs ready to spring at its next victim. When the man's wife was revived, she was not amused. Her husband had to take her back home and the man never even came back for his trophy. Your father didn't get one cent for that job, but he sure got him a good laugh out of it."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Legend of Luke Steelby Rell Webber Copyright © 2011 by Rell Webber. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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