Before her death in 1965, the great Shirley Jackson wrote one of her greatest works, "The Possibility Of Evil." Set in a small town, it concerns Miss Adela Strangeworth, (great name!) a 71-year-old spinster, whom everyone thinks is just that. What they don't know is she has a righteous sense of morality, having lived in the town all her life, and sets out to right things by composing and mailing anonymous letters to citizens she feels are guilty of varied offenses. Gossip and truth intermingled. She wants to stop the evil in the town, thinking she is doing this, not realizing she is causing evil, not stopping it. You have to read this, darlings. In true Jackson fashion, she gets her comeuppance.
David reminded me of this, girls, when we watched a "48 Hours" program on "The Circleville Letters." Between 1977 and 1994, various citizens of the Ohio town received poison pen letters, anonymously, for perceived, or not, offenses. Many thought Paul Freshour, who was imprisoned for attempted murder of Mary Gillespie, the subject of some of the letters, was the writer, but I disagree. I think the writer may still be out there, if not alive. And I believe it was a woman. Men just don't carry a grudge that long--they cannot sustain, as women can!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Not that
men cannot write such things. While I still lived in Highland Park, I discovered that the father of one of my classmates had been arrested for writing a series of lewd letters to two women in the town. Remember, dolls, this was way before the Internet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Even more horrifying was what happened to my family, particularly my mother and myself.
It was the Spring of 1979, and my mother was hospitalized, where we all knew she was dying of lung cancer. A horrible period. I was visiting my mother every day--I was not working--and we waited for my father to arrive. I would go through letters she received, from friends, relations, and well-wishers.
One afternoon, a letter arrived, no return address, written in childish scrawl, addressed simply to--"Mrs. Hearn/St. Peter's Hospital/New Brunswick, New Jersey." I am not even sure there was a zip code. The text was composed in the same childish scrawl, in pencil, but the message was not childish. It read-- "Dear Mrs. Hearn, I am very sorry that you have cancer, and you don't have long to live, but I want you to know we are all praying for you. Now, maybe your son will be a man, and go to work, to help you and your husband. Our best to you. Your neighbors."
My mother and I were devastated. When my father arrived, we showed him the document, he put it in his pocket, and that was the last seen or heard of it. But I started an investigation. I questioned some of the neighbors I suspected on our street, but their shock at the text seemed genuine. By process of elimination--it had to be someone who knew all the details of the letter, and not many did, I am convinced a family member, my Uncle Bill Liddy, was the writer.
He was a grade A rat bastard. My poor Aunt Mary: I have no idea why she married him. They raised seven children, who turned out all right, because, when things got bad a home, they were sent up the street, where lived my grandparents, and maiden aunt, Kathleen. My aunt would also give Mary money, being she worked as an Exec Sec for the Mack Company.
With enough children and a wife to menace, why my mother and I.? This was his way of getting even for what he did in 1978--setting me up for a deliberately false job interview at Johnson and Johnson, where the personnel rep, Lauren Schor, dressed me down in a way suggesting my ineptitude, and, though couched carefully in words, homosexuality. I happened to be in a job counseling program, at that time, and when I got back and told the supervisors there, what transpired, they made a series of phone calls. That evening, we were all upset around the dinner table, when a tearful Lauren Schor called me, trying to apologize but not really convincingly, as she thought she was merely doing a favor for my Uncle Bill!!!!!!!!!!!! Huh????????????????? Really!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The next call that came I wish I had written down the guy's name, because, if he is still alive, I would thank him. The caller identified himself by name, then said he was the President/CEO of Johnson and Johnson. He apologized genuinely on behalf of the company, and I feel both Schor and my uncle got in deep trouble.
Now, my uncle had always resented my father, for having gone to college--when he (uncle) had no brains--and for marrying my mother, who was not Catholic, and whom he thought was above my father's station! Well, we were all above his, I can tell you, which motivated all this animosity, culminating in the letter. Did my aunt know about it? I cannot be sure, though if my father confronted him, as I believe he did, she might have. But she never said an unkind word. As for his children, my cousins, probably not, but we don't speak to each other, anyway--after all, I am a homosexual who they see as going to hell, and I live in New York, so why would they want anything to do with me?
So, you see, darlings, "The Possibility Of Evil," which I reread after watching "48 Hours," is more real than one might think.
God bless Shirley Jackson! She knew what was going on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
