The
Enforcer
By Jim Smith
“Potato Man” came to La Conner hoping to tap
into the emerging tourist market, selling baked potatoes
from a push cart. His prepared presentation to the Historic
Preservation/Planning Commission (HP/PC) made the commissioners
salivate. He described extraordinary baked Skagit Valley
potatoes topped with sour cream, chopped onions, lettuce,
sprouts, bacon bits, salsa, grated cheese, beef, turkey,
smoked salmon, pickled herring and Samish Bay oysters.
The
commissioners and tourists would not be able to resist the
gourmet potatoes that would rival ice cream cones and popcorn
in popularity, portability and profit margin on La Conner’s
recently gentrified First Street.
As Potato Man presented
his plans to the HP/PC, the commissioners envisioned a small
cart sheltered by a colorful umbrella that would be rolled
on and off historic First Street each day. However, soon
after receiving the mandated “certificate
of authorization,” Potato Man towed a garish carnival
wagon into town (“Ringa-ding-ding-naughty-naughty”).
When the commissioners saw it, they were stunned by Potato
Man’s audacity.
Radically out of compliance with the
Historic District’s
guidelines, the trailer was parked in front of Fred Martin’s
First Street Drugstore. At this point, there was not much
the HP/PC could do about the flagrant violation. People in
town were already saying, “You can’t even paint
your house in La Conner without getting a permit from the
planning commission, and look. Potato Man comes into town
and parks a trailer on the sidewalk. What’s next? Snow
cones and cotton candy?”
The fact was, Potato Man had
manipulated the HP/PC proving that you can’t trust
a “carny” who knows
there is a sucker born every minute. After Potato Man opened
for business, he stood in his trailer looking out the window
as potatoes baked in the oven. When a customer stopped at
his potato wagon, he took their order and served them a potato
heaped with delicious gloppings through the serving window.
Business
was slow in the beginning and so Potato Man was happy when
dread-locked “Avocado Richard” a familiar
Fishtown artist, set his avocado pit carving tools on the
counter, studied the menu and ordered “the works”.
When Richard was served his potato, he paid Potato Man with
a masterfully-carved potato, picked up his tools, foil-wrapped
potato, napkin and plastic fork, and walked across the street.
Avocado
Richard stood on the sidewalk holding his potato and glaring
at Potato Man. Soon, he put down his tool bag and unwrapped
the potato, all the while studying the brightly-painted “out
of compliance” trailer where Potato Man leaned on the
counter looking up and down the street for another customer.
Avocado
Richard stood for an uncomfortably long time, glaring at
Potato Man and then looking at the potato oozing sour cream,
chopped onions, bacon bits, salsa and shredded cheese onto
his worn, Fishtown sandals. Finally, with the accuracy of
a major league baseball pitcher, he hurled the loaded spud
across the street at the potato trailer. It passed over Potato
Man’s shoulder and splattered the brightly painted
menu board behind him.
Avocado Richard picked up his tool
bag, turned, and walked slowly down the street licking
his fingers. |
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