https://youtu.be/tSAXLPLqzXE

SONG / ARTIST: 1948 Hits Archive: Down Among the Sheltering Palms - Sammy Kaye, (Don Cornell, vocal)

Genre: FLASH FICTION/HISTORICAL

Down Among The Sheltering Palms

The Southern Pacific Coast Express made an unscheduled stop, just outside of Santa Clara, in the early hours of August 21st. A rail crew had found a steel plate driven into a switch near Burbank - a clear attempt to derail the train. The staff had advised passengers to remain on board while U.S. Marshalls took care of the situation. As the hours passed, there were rumors in hushed tones about the Bureau of Investigation possibly stepping in.

At first, Delfin Zamora did as he was told. He busied himself with a dog-eared copy of Lincoln Steffen's The Shame of the Cities. The book was a gift from Mr. Floyd, his mentor at the Rizal Institute in Bacolod. The old Irishman gave it to him when he learned that Delfin was chosen to be a Pensionado scholar at Woodbury's Business College.

Delfin was no fool - he knew that he was picked because of his family's influence. When his time in California was up, he was expected to mediate between the rival sugar barons and feuding caciques of his native Negros Occidental. Likewise, he recognized the significance of the book as a cautionary tale, a weight that rested heavy on his mind in the sweltering cabin.

While checking his pockets, Delfin remembered a novelty he bought at the station in Montalvo - a package of Camel cigarettes, pre-rolled in Turkish paper. He stepped out of the carriage to sample the goods. Right away, he was molested by the notorious Santa Ana winds. The arid breeze kept putting out the lit end.

Eventually, he gave up and just observed the view of the Simi Hills. Little more than a decade ago, when the first batch of Filipino scholars arrived in the country, there were still cougars, and disgruntled Indian tribes, and bands of roving outlaws with names like the Deadeye Gang or the Ventura County Regulators. He considered what might happen if he just wandered off into the parched chaparrals, never to be seen again. His pondering was cut short by a female voice with an unfamiliar accent.

"They say these winds can drive people mad."

He turned around to find a slim woman, not much older than himself. He couldn't place where she was from - Libya, maybe, or the Ottoman Empire?

"Well, they sure like to say a lot of things," said Delfin. He didn't come all this way just to deal with the same kind of provincial superstitions from back home.

"Don't blame me - I'm just reporting what I hear," she said.

With that, she offered a handshake, introducing herself as Flora Bogosian, journalist for the Asbarez newspaper in Fresno. Her editor had sent her to Glendale, where a small farming community of Armenians was beginning to put down roots. She mocked Delfin's "Egyptian style" cigarettes for their lack of authenticity, but she warmed up to him after noticing his choice of reading material. And so began her most unlikely journey from immigrant reporter to Negrense sugar baroness.