45 Rotations per Minute

1954 Tupelo, Mississippi

A mail truck drives down a dusty road toward an old farmhouse. Hubert sits on his porch writing in a small black leather book, worn from carrying it everywhere he goes. The cover is bowed from the bulging pages that are stuffed with various items – leaves, drawings, newspaper clippings. He hums a tune and writes on a page.

“How’s that sound, No Name?” he asks his dog who is stretched out on the wooden planks. The dog doesn’t move. “Persistence is the key to success,” Hubert exclaims. A big grin crosses his face as he continues humming and writing. A chicken runs by him. “Mornin’ Henrietta.”

“Looks like you may have a winner, Hubert!” shouts his mailman from the dirt road as he waves a stack of mail.

“You see there? Every day is a possibility,” Hubert remarks to the dog who has now mustered enough energy to raise his head in response. Unlike most dogs, No Name actually loves postal carriers, especially this one.

“Hey, boy! Come over here! I have a surprise.” Henry holds out an old piece of rope, knowing the dog’s affinity for chewing things. The brown and black hound dog playfully pulls it from him in a tug-of-war game letting out a teasing growl. Hubert saunters up to the pair holding his book tightly.

“How’s your mother, Henry.”

“Alright, I suppose. Crazy heat we’ve had lately, huh?”

“I reckon.” Hubert thumbs through the stack of mail comprised of overdue bills, city notices, and school bulletins. He sees a white envelope with the name “Pearl Records” in the left-hand corner. His eyes widen as he eagerly rips it open reading it out loud to both of them:

“Dear Mr. Bedell,

Regarding your submission of the 23rd song entitled, “Jug full of Memories,” we’re interested in discussing this with you and…” His eyes dart across the page.

“Well?” Henry asks.

“Hold on. Let me see.” Reading from the letter again. “…and potentially adding you to our label. Come to our office on Watkins Boulevard above the garage as soon as you can. Look forward to meeting you!”

Hubert punches the air. No Name looks at him and walks back to the porch to finish his nap. Henry congratulates him and the two men bid farewell. Hubert returns to his chair opens his book and searches for the page with the aforementioned song placing the letter as its bookmark.

“This is it! This has been what we’ve been working toward. And don’t think I forgot about my promise to you. Gonna get you a proper name as soon as one hits.” He holds the songbook up in the air and kisses it. “Let’s get dressed.”

Hubert studies his reflection in long oval mirror in the corner of his bedroom. He’s wearing his best clothes – a somewhat clean beige shirt and a plaid coat. He no longer owns a tie. The dog has run off with them somewhere on the property. Hubert doesn’t mind. He doesn’t have much need for such fancy attire. But this was different. Wanting to look his best, he opens the medicine cabinet and grabs Pomade to slick back his hair. No Name enters the room, looks up at him taking in the whole picture, then turns to walk toward the front door.

As Hubert clasps the door handle, he realizes he forgot the book. He quickly runs to grab it off the dresser. They jump in the vehicle and Hubert places it on the dashboard. “Don’t know what I’d do if I lost that. It means more to me than anything.” No Name gives him a look. “Next to you, of course!” No Name is giving him the silent treatment. “I know you had your heart set on supper, but this is important! If this works out like I think it will, you’ll have a whole mess of supper morning, noon and night!” The dog’s stomach growls.

Hubert studies the hounds face, noticing the low hanging jowls and the brows obscuring part of his big brown eyes. “How about Brownie?” No Name looks away as if to quickly reject the name. “Napper? Seems to be your favorite activity.” The dog lets out a sigh and places his head down on the bench seat. “Just teasing. You deserve a regal name. After all, you are my best and most loyal friend. We’ll think on it more, once we get good news.”

The rusted light blue truck pulls up to what looks like an abandoned car repair shop. There’s an office on the second floor with a large window overlooking the driveway. A bell chimes twice as Hubert drives over a black cord. “We’ve arrived!” No Name’s head pops up to look out the front cracked windshield. He sees a tire and excitedly stands up.

Having heard the bell, Archie, an obviously balding middle-aged man with a pencil-thin mustache and terrible toupee peers from the window and quickly disappears only to show up at the entrance seconds later.

“Hubert! I see you got my letter. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Glancing down at the dog. “And who do we have here?”

Hubert proudly introduces his confidant. “This is No Name. He’s been my muse for the past twelve years.”

Archie is puzzled. “The dog doesn’t have a name?”

“No, he does.”

Archie furrows his brow and cocks his chin to the side. “For a man who’s long on lyrics, you’re sure short on words.”

The three enter the building and walk up a tight stairwell which creaks at the weight of their steps.

Archie places an unlit cigar in his mouth and walks through the open door. The office is replete with boxes, photos, vinyl records, unopened mail, file folders and overflowing ashtrays. The stench hits Hubert like a punch in the face.

Hubert looks down at the unusual flooring –three quarters linoleum and one quarter blue carpet panels from what he guesses is the floorboard of a 1950’s Chrysler Plymouth.

Hubert notices the signage hanging on the wall.

Pearl Records

Formerly known as Black River Records

Formerly known as Bigbee Trail Records

Above the metal desk is a dusty shelf holding framed pictures of Archie with unknown singers. The record manager looks different in each one. The first shows him wearing a tuxedo, sporting a thicker blond toupee, standing next to a young musician also in a fetching suit holding a trumpet. Both are flashing big smiles for the camera.

Next to that, he’s in a large cowboy hat in between a country duo. Archie smirks. “Black River Records… We went bankrupt there. Turns out Urban Country wasn’t such a big hit after all.”

Hubert smiles slightly as his eyes move to the last photo where he sees Archie wearing a pompadour hair piece in an attempt to look like the artist standing next to him. This is the style Hubert was aiming for with his handful of grease.

Not impressed, No Name looks at Archie and turns to go back to the truck. Hubert moves closer to the window and sees the dog walk to the tire and curl up inside placing his head on the white wall that has faded from the sun.

“Want a cup of coffee? It’s not very good, but it’s hot,” Archie says holding out a cup with yet another record company’s name on the side. Hubert waves it off.

“Candy?” Archie gestures to the multicolored glass candy dish filled with opened wrappers and a few pieces of uneaten candy.

“I don’t have much of a sweet tooth,” Hubert replies.

Archie relents. “Take a seat.”

Hubert debates which seat to take across the desk. There are two. The one on the left looks as if the bottom would fall out if any pressure was applied. The other’s leg is sticking out at an angle. He calculates his risk and chooses the one on the right.

Archie takes out a lighter, failing to ignite it. “I love the song. I mean, we love the song.”

Hubert’s eyes light up.

Archie continues, “There’s just a few things we need to change to, you know, make it a hit.”

Hubert’s face falls as he tightens his grip on the book. “What few things, exactly?”

Trying to appease him, “We like the tune…just not the lyrics. They’re sad. We need it to be more… upbeat.”

“I think you’re missing the point of the song. It’s about lost love and the memories that…”

Archie picks up the phone. “Pearl Records.”

Hubert is perplexed. “The phone didn’t ring.”

Archie holds his index finger out indicating this would only take a moment. He leans back throwing his feet on the desk. “Yes, Mr. Bennett! I did get your telegram. I’m looking forward to working with you as well. Could I call you back? I’m in a very important meeting at the moment,” winking at Hubert. “Perfect. I’ll talk to you later.”

Hubert’s confidence grows having been placed at such high ranking. “So, who have you signed so far?”

Archie purses his lips trying to think of- or rather make up- some names.

“Have you heard of Elmer Higgenblat? Roger Tuffin? Johnny Gains?”

Hubert shakes his head. “Can’t say I have.”

Archie exuberantly retorts, “What do you mean? They were all over the radio last summer. Huge hits. And yours will be next!” His right hand gestures to the wall displaying framed records.

“Is that a gold record?” Pointing to one that looks hand painted. “I can’t make out the name of the song.”

“It’s too risky to have so much gold hanging in an office that could easily be stolen. The originals are locked up.”

Hubert frowns realizing this man might be a swindler.

Archie looks up recognizing that he’s potentially been exposed. He quickly opens his desk drawer and pulls out a check for $20,000 made out to Hubert.

Hubert is stunned and elated. He reaches for it but hesitates, “What is this for?”

“Let’s call it a signing bonus. I want to take that song book of yours and create a country-wide tour. Small venues at first, of course.” He motions for Hubert to hand over the black book. “Mind if I take a little peek?”

Hubert reluctantly hands it to him. Archie opens to a page with illegible scribbles. “Now that’s the definition of chicken scratch!”

“Yep, that’s where I learned it. That way no one can steal my songs. May I have my notebook back, please? Can learn a lot from a chicken, you know.”

Archie realizes he is getting nowhere and pleads with Hubert. “Okay, look, I’m going to be straight with you. I had to sell the building you’re in right now. The $20,000 I gave you is what the bank gave me. I’m desperate. I heard you playing one of your songs the other night at Tazzy’s Tavern and I really think it could be my ticket, I mean, our ticket to the big time.”

Hubert is flattered but cautious.

“Did you see the bus out there when you drove up? That will be your tour bus.”

Hubert recalls seeing the broken-down bus but gets excited at the thought of traveling. “Me and No Name have never been out of this state. It’ll be such an exciting adventure!”

Archie shakes his head. “I’m afraid No Name can’t join us.”

Hubert stands up. “But…I can’t just leave him.”

“Life is all about making choices, Mr. Bedell. The successful man is the one who makes more right choices than not. Do we have a deal?”

Suddenly, the bell chimes repeatedly. Hubert runs to the window looking at No Name who is now chewing on the cord in the drive.

He looks back at Archie holding the check. “You told me yourself he’s long in the tooth. You can find another muse.”

Hubert stares out the window as the bell continues to chime. He smiles and starts to hum.