Captain Billy’s Troopers: A Writer’s Life PDF
Preview Captain Billy’s Troopers: A Writer’s Life
Captain Billy’s Troopers Captain Billy with his family at Gulf Shores in August 1946. Captain Billy’s Troopers A Writer’s Life WILLIAM COBB The University of Alabama Press Tuscaloosa The University of Alabama Press Tuscaloosa, Alabama 35487–0380 uapress.ua.edu Copyright © 2015 by William Cobb All rights reserved. Inquiries about reproducing material from this work should be addressed to the University of Alabama Press. Typeface: Janson Manufactured in the United States of America Cover photograph: © Sushi King - Fotolia.com Design: Michele Myatt Quinn ∞ The paper on which this book is printed meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48–1984. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Cobb, William, 1937– Captain Billy’s troopers : a writer’s life / William Cobb. pages cm Includes index. ISBN 978-0-8173-1876-5 (hardback) — ISBN 978-0- 8173-8875-1 (e book) 1. Cobb, William, 1937– 2. Authors, American—20th century—Biography. 3. Alcoholism—Biography. 4. Storytelling—Alabama. 5. Hydrocephalus. I. Title. PS3553.O198Z46 2015 813'.54—dc23 [B] 2015000665 For Sidney Vance On a spring evening in the mid-1950s, on a narrow two-lane thinly paved county road through fields green and bursting with new life, a 1952 Chevy coupe, red top, black chassis, rips by, going very fast. Inside is packed a group of boys and girls, singing loudly and laughing happily with vigorous abandon. They are drunk. Drunk with alcohol and with being young and alive. They are singing, “We’re Captain Billy’s Troopers, we’re riders of the night.” Their voices linger long after the car is gone, disappearing over the hill toward home. One I t was almost midnight on July 21, 1984, as I sat in the admitting office at Brookwood Hospital in Birmingham. I was in a state of suspended consciousness, unable to fully compre- hend that this was really happening to me. I was angry. The ad- mitting officer had just informed me that I could not be admitted without a physician’s referral. I was shaking. My mouth was sticky dry. I was in bad shape. My confused mind was conflicted: Okay, I can go home and get a drink, which I sorely needed. But I was here, I had taken this step. I had steeled myself up like preparing to jump off a cliff and I didn’t want it to be for nothing. My good friend Sid Vance was just outside the door listening. I insisted they admit me. I asked them if they couldn’t see that I was in need of medical care. I was drunk enough to stand up to them. “Goddamit,” I said, “I’m not leaving this chair until you admit me into this hospital.” There was something oddly comforting about being there; it was orderly, quiet, and cool. I didn’t want to go back to that empty house. I was defiant. People came and went, con- ferring in whispers. “We have contacted Dr. White,” they finally
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