A Mountain Man`s Lesson in Ethics
by Hal Haralson
Hal Haralson practices law in Austin, Texas and is a frequent contributor to Christian Ethics Today.
The knot Marshall McNeil and his wife had tied twenty-five years before had come unraveled.
He was embarrassed to tell me they were getting a divorce and looked down at his feet as he talked.
I guessed him to be about 55 years of age with no education beyond high school. His gnarled hands looked like those of a carpenter.
I was right on all counts. "We ain`t got much. She can have the kids and I`ll pay her child support."
"We`ll sell the house and divide what`s left over after we pay closing."
I made notes as he outlined the settlement agreement.
"That`s about it. Oh, one other thing. Be sure you get this in there."
"We owe my father $1,500.00 That comes out of the sale of the house before anything else. His name is Tilden McNeil.
After some small talk, we signed an attorney/client agreement and Marshall McNeil was on his way.
I filed the petition the following day and we began the 60-day waiting period required in Texas before a divorce is granted.
Two days later my secretary buzzed me and said Mr. McNeil was on the line. I picked up the phone and identified myself.
"This is Tilden McNeil from Waverly, Tennessee. You Mr. Wholesun? (He never got to where he could say Haralson).
"Yes….I replied, what can I do for you?"
"You represent my boy?"
"He`s getting a divorce and they owe me $1,500.00. I want to hire you to get it for me."
The accent was definitely southern. But there was more. I had visions of coon dogs and mountain streams.
"I can`t do that Mr. McNeil," I said.
"It would be a conflict of interest since I already represent your son."
There was a long period of silence. I wasn`t sure Tilden McNeil understood.
I continued, "Marshall told me they were going to pay you when the house is sold. I don`t think you need to be concerned about getting your money."
"That don`t help much." Tilden had a note of irritation in his voice.
"`Preciate it" he said, and hung up.
Two days passed. Cornelia buzzed me and said, "Tilden McNeil says he wants to talk to you."
I picked up the phone. Same greeting. "Mr. Wholesun…you gonna be in your office a while?"
"Yes, where are you?"
"At the bus station….I`ll be right out."
About ten minutes later a cab pulled up to the curb outside my office window. An old man got out. I guessed him to be nearly eighty. He wore Red Hawk overalls, an old straw hat and shoes we called "Brogans" where I grew up in West Texas.
He was tall and slender. He reminded me of the scare crow we associate with pumpkin patches.
As he came up the sidewalk, his steps were almost twice what I considered normal. Like he was walking behind a mule plowing corn.
I could hear him clear back at my office as he spoke to Cornelia. "I`m Tilden McNeil from Waverly, Tennessee. I`m here to see Mr. Wholesun."
When she buzzed, I told Cornelia to send him on back.
Same ritual. He stuck out his hand, "I`m Tilden McNeil from Waverly, Tennessee. You Mr. Wholsun?"
"Yes, please have a seat Mr. McNeil."
He looked slowly around the office. It`s an 1875 country lawyer`s office furnished with antiques. Above the roll-top desk is a white tail deer shoulder mount. A six pound bass is mounted and placed among the law books.
The callused hands gripped the brim of the straw hat. Tilden McNeil was nervous. I figured he hadn`t spent a lot of time in a lawyer`s office.
He broke the silence. "Ya`ll do any fishing `round here?"
"Yes, I replied. My boys and I fish regularly. We have several creeks and lakes that are good for bass fishing."
Tilden was quiet again. "You oughta come to Tennessee. We got bass, catfish, crappie. Some of the best fishing in the world in Tennessee."
He went on about the joys of Tennessee fishing for about ten minutes, then he changed the subject.
"Ya`ll do any huntin` `round here?"
"We sure do," I replied. "Texas has some of the best white tail deer hunting in the country."
"Ya`ll oughta come to Tennessee. We got bear, turkey, deer, and coon. You ain`t hunted `til you`ve followed coon dogs all night in the moonlight."
After a lengthy discourse on the superior hunting in Tennessee, Tilden McNeil reached for the chain that hung out of his overalls pocket.
There was an old railroad watch on the end of the chain.
"Wal… `bout time to get back to the bus station. Got a bus going back to Tennessee in `bout an hour."
"Mr. McNeil, how long did it take you to get here?"
"Pert near 24 hours," the old man said as he got to his feet.
"`Preciate it," he said, extended his hand, and headed for the door.
"Just a minute, Mr. McNeil. We haven`t talked about your money."
"Nope. That`s not what I come for. If I`m gonna do business with a man, I want to shake his hand and look him in the eyes.
"I wanna see if he`s honest. I got what I came for. I`ll be goin` now."
Tilden McNeil stepped out of another time.
My father, a farmer and horse trader, said many times, "A man`s word is his bond."
"A man`s good name is his most valuable possession."
I learned a valuable lesson from Tilden McNeil about the importance of honesty and integrity.
Two years later in a suit to give Tilden McNeil and his wife custody of his grandchildren, the judge asked me to get him some pictures of the place where the children would be living.
I hired a photographer in Waverly, Tennessee to take some pictures to present as evidence.
There were two.
One was of an unpainted, small house with a porch all the way across the front. It was about 3 feet off the ground and rested on cedar posts. There were two rocking chairs on the porch and several coon dogs lying under it.
The other picture was of Tilden McNeil plowing….There were those long steps again….He was walking behind his mule.
They got the children.
