The Rise and Fall of Edward 'Owen' Dickie Or,

How to Become a Public Spectacle Without Tryin’

Now I reckon it ain’t often that a man can sink himself with both feet in the Walker River mud of his mouth, but Edward “Owen” Dickie done managed it with the flair of a vessel goin’ full steam into a sandbar. Mesquite, that warm little Nevada town better known for golf carts and retirees than scandal, found itself the unwilling host of a barnstormin’ sideshow when Mr. Dickie stood up to speak and fell to infamy.

The whole affair came to light when a passel of townsfolk gathered at a regular city council meeting—not irregular–though the tone soon was. They didn’t come with torches or pitchforks–those are for other times and places–but they brought a fine stew of indignation, and rightly so.

One resident, boiling over with plain talk, said, “We went from the safest city to the racist city.” That’s the kind of sentence that’ll get stitched on a protest banner quickly.

Mr. Dickie, whose tongue has been out on parole without supervision, had previously confided to the now-former Police Chief Maquade Chesley that he might just head on down to Louisiana and hire himself a “6’5” Black woman chief”—whom he called an “Aunt Jemima”—to “whip” the department into shape.

His words, spoken in a “private conversation,” were about as private as hollerin’ across the river with a megaphone, got recorded and spilled to the press quicker than a pot of second-rate gumbo.

To his credit, or perhaps his confusion, Dickie admitted his folly. “I am sorry, those words were not right,” he said, which is what most folks say after hoisting themselves up the flagpole of public opinion and are fixin’ to get lowered without ceremony.

When a goodly portion of the townspeople called for his resignation, Dickie replied, “I am good with that,” which is the kind of resignation that sounds more like someone orderin’ pie than quittin’ public office. But a motion was made, votes were cast–including a delayed vote by Mayor Jesse “Blink and You Missed It” Whipple–and Dickie got booted with a firm 5-1 majority.

Let us not forget–Dickie is a man who said, “The gist of what I was trying to say was that maybe the department needs some diversity.”

But, before you get to waggin’ your finger too hard, remember–they’re still tryin’ to cancel Mark Twain for using a word that was common coin in his day—used not to glorify, but to expose a sickness in society.

So Mr. Dickie, in his fumblin’, foot-shootin’ way, finds himself in good company though a poor Huck Finn.

So take this as a lesson, young and old–if you find it tempting to make remarks that might curdle milk or ruin your career, keep your mouth closed. You can always fix your opinions later, but you can’t recant once it’s out, recorded, leaked, and dressed up for Sunday news.

And as for Mr. Dickie—well, I reckon he’s free to head on down to those Louisiana parishes, though he’d best go quiet and leave the metaphors at home.