It was the 75th anniversary of the founding of San Grila, Illinois. The town had grown from one grain mill, two houses, a brothel, a church, and one narrow dirt road that was a mud pit in the Spring into a thriving town with a paved main drag, rows of businesses – a candy store, a dress maker and a haberdasher and two general stores among them – on each side of the street, five churches (one of them Catholic), and three taverns. The brothel was gone, but San Grila had its own postmaster. The grain mill was still there and very much in use, though some were afraid that it needed to be replaced and there was some talk of building a newer one ten miles away in New Eustacia; but since San Grila was more central to everyone and it was generally agreed upon that New Eustacia was nothing but a dirty river town, these rumors were more or less dismissed except by the most patriotic of townspeople.
And because the town had grown so much from such humble beginnings, and because everyone agreed that there was nothing but a bright future ahead for the bustling community, and because a new century was dawning, the San Grila 75th Anniversary Committee decided to make the celebration one that would always be remembered.
Which was why, three months before the town's anniversary celebration – May 21st, 1899 – Mrs. Ardena Guntersaun, whose husband Shirley was President of the local chapter of the RTPSA – the Right Thinking Patriotic Sons of America – went to one of San Grila's most prominent citizens to ask for his help in what she considered to be a high and holy task.
The citizen in question was Dr. Randolph Gimley. He was an optometrist by training, and the town's only doctor by default. People liked him because he was friendly, liked children, attended the Methodist Church regularly, and was a man of more or less clean habits. He made eye glasses for Old Man Wallace and helped the blacksmith's children through the measles. Doc Gimley was a man generally thought to be one of the smartest men in town, if not in the entire county. His library was full of books, ranging from Jules Verne to The Histories of Herodotus and from Spenser and Shakespeare to O.S. Fowler's Sexual Sciences, Taylor's Medical Jurisprudence, and Eberle's Practice. Doc Gimley was also known as a tinkerer and minor inventor of things; he invented a spring-based contraption that helped the mill wheel turn at a more steady pace and he improved the wagon axles on Lester Morris's milk wagon by making each axle turn able to turn independently. When he wasn't making eye-glasses or pulling teeth (he was also the local dentist) or checking to make sure that the residents washed their hands to avoid the spread of illness, Doc Gimley was tinkering. Rumor had it he was building a horseless carriage in the garage behind his house on Pumpkin Hill.
“What we were wondering, Dr. Gimley,” Mrs. Guntersaun said, taking a seat in his observation room, “is whether you would take on a task to help us make the 75th anniversary special.”
“Anything I can do, Mrs. Guntersaun,” the old man smiled. “Anything at all.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Guntersaun felt herself blush; whenever she saw the doctor's bookshelf, she couldn't help but blush. So many references to … marital acts. But of course, she assured herself, he was a doctor, after all, and had to be knowledgeable of those things. Her eye had stopped on a title about midwifery when Doc Guntersaun interrupted her thoughts.
“So what is this service I can do for San Grila?”
“Oh! Yes.” Returning to her senses, and reminding herself to pray extra hard that night before bed, Ardena Guntersaun focused on the purpose of her visit. She puffed up and decided to be as direct as decorum would allow. “We, of the 75th Anniversary Founding Committee, would like for you to decide on a new name for our fair town.”
“A new NAME?” The good doctor was a bit incredulous. “What's wrong with the one it has?”
Again, Mrs. Guntersaun blushed, but only because most men in town were neither incredulous nor prone to expressing it on the rare occasion they were. She also thought that maybe the doctor was kidding around with her – which he was prone to do. It was generally thought that it was time to give San Grila a real name. An American name.
Although no one spoke about it often, the naming of San Grila was one of the more distasteful secrets in the town's generally respectable history. The original settlement was made by a Spanish fur trader named Miguel Santiago. He traveled with one companion – a Manchurian named Zing. While they were camping there, a group of settlers came upon the two men, saying they intended to settle the region and farm. It was near a spur of the great river, but not too close, and the land was thought to be good for tilling. The settlers were Orthodox Lutherans and, not knowing what to make of the two men and having never seen anyone as odd as the pair either separate or together, asked if the place they were all now standing had a name. Zing said a word that no one understood and Santiago, explaining that Zing's English was lacking, said it as San Grila. The Lutherans, afraid of the Spaniard's hot blood and of the Manchurian's evil magic, named the settlement San Grila and blessed it as such as soon as they constructed the first structure – which was their church. And even though Santiago and Zing soon left, never to return, the name stuck until the modern day.
“It's not that there's anything WRONG with it, of course,” Mrs. Guntersaun explained in a nervous chatter. “It's not wrong, so much as we on the committee recognize that we are living in a new era and that the century to come is going to be the American Century, and we believe – that is, the committee believes – that we need a name that reflects this new sense of optimism and freedom.”
“Ah.” Doc Gimley smiled and said nothing. He turned to look out one of the large windows that faced Main Street. He was silent for several minutes.
Ardena Guntersaun hadn't expected this sort of reaction. People generally agreed to whatever she said almost immediately; and if they didn't... well generally they were unsavory to begin with. But if Doc Gimley didn't think changing the town's name was a good idea … especially since it had been HER idea to begin with... then what would she say to the committee? That evil Sally Forth was just LOOKING for a reason to make her look bad. “If you don't have time...”
“No, no, don't be silly,” the doctor turned back to face her and smiled. She felt relief wash over her. “Tell the committee I'd be happy to help out in any way that I can. And if I can, in anyway, make a small suggestion that is taken seriously... then of course, I'm pleased to.”
“Good, good. Thank you SO MUCH Doctor!” She stood to leave. “I won't take up any more of your valuable time...”
“Not at all, Mrs. Guntersaun,” Doc Gimley smiled. “No need to rush off. Tell me: you seem a bit stressed. Have you been having that old problem again? You know that tension isn't healthy Mrs. Guntersaun.” He nodded over to the examination table. “I don't have any appointments this morning. If you want, I can close the blinds and make sure that you're in good shape. After all, we can't have the chairwoman of the 75th Anniversary Committee falling ill, can we?”
“Oh!” The matron felt herself blush, thinking about Doc Gimley's remedy for her tension. She wasn't sure how she felt about Chinese cures, but the massage – that was what the doctor called it, a massage, from the French – surely did take the tension out of her. She looked at the doctor's strong hands and long fingers... but shook her head. “No, thank you doctor, I am doing quite well... so much to do. But if I start to feel poor, I'll come and see you.” She left quickly and rushed down the stairs and onto the street with a pace she hadn't had since before she married Shirley.
“You be sure and do that Mrs. Guntersaun,” Doc Gimley called after her. He was still smiling.