StoryCorps 509: Heat

[MUSIC – “Heroin Love” by The Great Artiste]

Michael Garofalo (MG): It’s August, and it’s hot. And if you’re anything like me, this might make you miserable.

But in this episode, we’re giving up on beating the heat. No more beaches. No more summer escapes. We’re just going to embrace it — with stories of heat waves, hot tempers, and even fiery explosions.

[TAPE – Montage]

CAL: I remember this day, it was like 95 degrees or something it was really hot

DR: We were just dripping sweat. Can’t see nothing, coughing.

AV: I remember just laying there, feeling the hot sun and then feeling the wind from the helicopter coming in. And the doctor said, you’ll be home soon.

MG: This is the StoryCorps podcast from NPR. I’m Michael Garofalo. Let’s find out what happens when the temperature rises — and the stakes do, too. More after this short break.

[PROMO – NPR/Rough Translation]

MG: Welcome back. In this episode — heat. It’s inescapable. So let’s listen to some stories about what can happen when the mercury rises.

We’ll start back in the summer of 1939, in the heart of Harlem. Here’s Cal Jones and his friend, Robert Harris, who were just kids back then.

[TAPE – Cal Jones and Robert Harris]

Cal Jones (CJ): The first day that I moved into the block, and I came out to play, this fella comes up and he says, “Hey, my name is Dickey. What’s yours?” I says, “Well, I’m Cal,” and I put my hand out to shake, and he, BANG, he hits me in the eye. I said all I wanted to do is be friends, he says, “And that’s how we start friends in this block.” [laughs] So that was the kind of reception I got moving into this block.

[MUSIC – “Lionel Hampton” by Hot Mallets]

I remember this day — it was like 95 degrees or something. It was really hot. My brother and some neighbors that lived in the building said let’s play box ball. And it was hot, so we said it’s too hot to play. And we were talking and my brother said, “I guess it would really be something if someone tried to run around this court in this weather and so this fella Gordon said, “Ahh, it wouldn’t bother me.” My brother Joe said, “I’ll bet you can’t run around the court 52 times?” So Gordon says, “Yes I could.” They bet a dime.

Robert Harris (RH): That was big money.

CJ: That was big money. Okay, so Gordon starts running around the court and people are beginning to come out and they see Gordon running around, and it must have been 100 degrees at that time. People are saying, what is that fool running around the court for? Y’all better stop him he’s going to fall out. Well, Joe bet Gordon 10 cents that Gordon can’t run around that court 52 times. They say, “What! How many times has it been now?” He said, “19.” This crowd is building up, meanwhile he’s running around the court  28, 29, times and he’s barely making it around and as he passed, he’d say to Joe, ”You better have my dime.” And I said to Joe, “Joe where you going to get a dime to pay him?” Joe said, “I don’t know.” So when he hits the 50th time my brother Joe says, “I don’t have a dime, I’m not going to pay you, and we can fight right now.” And he’s standing up there telling Joe, “[panting] I’m going to hurt you.” Joe says, “Come on.” Joe was dancing around like Joe Louis. I mean that was the kind of block it was; that was a tough block.

[MUSIC]

MG: That was Cal Jones talking to his old friend, Robert Harris. Cal recorded that story back in 2007 as part of our Griot tour. And at the time, he was the official historian for the Borough of Manhattan.

[MUSIC – “Detours for Creatures” by Laura Ortman]

MG: Most people run from fires. But our next storyteller, Daniel Ross of Wyoming, runs toward them.

Daniel is an inmate firefighter — One of many who fight wildfires across the western U.S. In the summer of 2012, when one of the worst droughts on record hit, inmates in Wyoming were dispatched more than 50 times to battle fires in all four corners of the state.

Daniel is a former crystal meth addict, and he was serving time in prison for aggravated assault against a police officer, when he began working as an inmate firefighter the year before that really hot and dry summer, that I just mentioned. And here he remembers his first fire vividly.

[TAPE – Daniel Ross]

Daniel Ross (DR): That first night we were just dripping sweat. Can’t see nothing. Coughing. Eyes are all watering. And these trees just exploding in front of me. I was horrified. I was scared. I mean, it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life.

But when we go on the fires, people treat you different. Even if they do know you’re an inmate, alls they see is a hard-working person that’s helping them. And it feels great.

Last year, we got called to this town of Saratoga. And we worked for two weeks. And then, at the end of our stay, townspeople wanted to donate us a prime rib dinner. Now, we don’t get prime rib very much here in prison. And I’d noticed that these people that were waiting on us in this really fancy, beautiful restaurant. We’re like in plain-Jane clothes.

Well, right before we got our main course, the owners came up, and they said, “I want to introduce you guys to the people that volunteered to help wait on you tonight.”

And all these townspeople got up and gave their testimonies. And they said that we helped save their lives, you know. And I was just overwhelmed to see it in their eyes and to hear it in their voices.

It was so moving that I had to get up and go compose myself. And that was my proudest moment, hands down.

[MUSIC – “Reprise the Sunrise” by Laura Ortman]

MG: To mix a metaphor — or maybe flip it — this next story takes us out of the fire and into the frying pan.

Kitchen work is notoriously tough — you’re on your feet all day, and it’s not only actually hot from all the burners, griddles, and ovens on full flame, the work is highly competitive, too. Tempers flare easily as prep cooks and sous chefs try to move up the ranks.

Clayton Sherrod knows all about this. He started working in kitchens when he was in the eighth grade, and from day one, he proved that he could stand the heat.

[TAPE – Clayton Sherrod]

Clayton Sherrod (CS): My father had a heart attack. We were like 13 years old and my mother said, “You can’t go back to school, you’re going to have to find a job.”

So, I went to the country club. And I always wanted to go up to the kitchen and wash dishes because it was really fascinating to see those guys cooking. So, I made up my mind that I was going to be a chef. All my friends told me I was crazy, but I saw something that no one else could see, and that is me walking around with that big tall hat on.

So, I counted how many positions it was from washing dishes to the executive chef. And we had like a three-room house. So what I did, I had my chart pinned to the wall in our little outdoor bathroom there and I would mark every time I got a promotion, And then I would turn the light off and I would dance. And I would sing “Johnny B. Goode” and I changed it to “Clayton B. Goode, you’re so good.”

You know,  I didn’t mind all the hard work — actually I loved it. I worked the whole weekend without going home. And I worked myself up to sous chef, and there was this guy named Frank Cahey who was executive chef. He told me one day, he said, “I know what you’re trying to do. You think you’re going to be the chef here.” He said, “But I’m going to be here for life.” He said “You might as well either keep working under me or go somewhere else.”

So what I did, I was sneaky. You know in the back of trade magazines there are articles in there looking for chefs all over the country. I wrote one of the best-looking resumes and signed Frank Cahey’s name on it, and sent it to all of these head hunters all over the country. And he actually thought he was famous. He said everybody knows about him. But he didn’t know it was me that did it. And the general manager got tired of it. He’s like, “Frank, every time you come to me for raises, and people want you here, people want you there.” He said, “Right now, at this very moment, I consider you dead.” Frank, he turned white as a sheet and he said, “Well what are you going to do?” He said, “Well Clayton, can you take care of it until we find another chef?” I said “I’ll be more than happy to.” That’s all I needed. I never even looked back.

[MUSIC – “Johnny B. Goode” by Chuck Berry]

MG: After decades as a successful chef for his own catering company, Clayton earned himself a spot in the American Academy of Chefs — the first ever from Alabama — and he became the author of four cookbooks, dean of a culinary program, and a spokesperson for a regional gas company — He literally became the face of heat.   

[MUSIC]

MG: There’s nothing metaphorical about the heat in this next story. It’s a love story and it’s about love cast in a crucible.

[MUSIC – “The Use of Unacceptable Colors in Nature” by Boom Bip]

MG: The story begins in the punishing temperatures of an Afghan summer, in 2008. When Marine Corporal Anthony Villareal was driving back from a mission, his truck hit a roadside bomb.

Anthony was 22 at the time and newly married. His wife, Jessica, was just 21.

[TAPE – Anthony Villareal and Jessica Villareal]

Anthony Villareal (AV): I remember trying to breathe. And I just felt, like, real hot — like I was on fire. They were dragging me on the sand and there was rocks there. So, when they were dragging me, I felt the rocks against my skin and my legs, and it hurt but I couldn’t scream. And so I just remember just laying there, feeling the hot sun and then feeling the wind from the helicopter coming in. And the doctor said, “You’ll be home soon.”

Jessica Villareal (JV): I remember when I first saw you. The doctors wanted me to identify you, like you had died or something. You were covered in bandages, and I could only see your eyes and your lips. And then they showed me the extent of the burn, how it went straight to the bone. They told me we can’t salvage the tissue so I had to sign papers saying that it was okay for them to amputate.

AV: When I woke up from that three month drug-induced coma, having to learn everything that a baby has to learn, I didn’t even recognize myself. After the first time I saw myself in the mirror, that’s when I just broke down. I literally thought that my life was over. I kept thinking, “What was I going to do? How am I going to get a job?” What did you think about?

JV: I just knew that you needed me, and I was going to be there. Were you ever scared that I’d leave you?

AV: Yeah, I mean it’s kind of hard not to think about that. Because a lot of people, they don’t want to be seen with someone that was ugly. What was it like 70-plus surgeries, skin grafts? I really didn’t want to leave the house. I just thought to myself, “Man, people don’t know how to ask questions. They just want to stare and point.” I’m just glad that you’re there to help me.

JV: The crazy thing is I’m still more self-conscious about what I look like than you are. But I have grown so much over the past five years. I didn’t ever think that I’d be as strong as I am today and most of it is from you. I can’t imagine you not being in my life.

AV: We’ve been through so much in so little time. There shouldn’t be anything that could tear us apart besides death itself.

[MUSIC – “A Girl Only Prettier” by Christopher Bowen]

MG: That was Anthony and Jessica Villareal.

[MUSIC – “Reperto” by Tape]

MG: That’s it for this episode of the StoryCorps Podcast. These stories were produced by Jasmyn Belcher Morris, Von Diaz, Selly Thiam, Jud Esty-Kendall, and Yasmina Guerda.

The podcast was produced by me and Lizzie Jacobs.

Rate or review us on Apple podcasts or wherever you download the show.

And if you want to leave a message for someone you hear on the podcast, use our listener voicemail line. The number to call is 301-744-TALK. That’s 301-744-T-A-L-K.

For the StoryCorps Podcast, I’m Michael Garofalo. Until next time, stay cool and thanks for listening.

[MUSIC OUT]

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