Chapter 1

FRIDAY, AUGUST 26, 8:04 PM                    EPITAPH FOR A LEGEND

Big Bob Samson should have appreciated the last evening of his life: the soft requiem of a dove in a nearby hemlock, the heady incense of honeysuckle and mulberry on the sultry summer breeze, the blood-red sunset flowing along the western horizon. Instead, Samson raised his arms, turned his face to the sky, and thought of himself.

He was the chosen one, the man the Freedom Consolidated School District had depended on to resurrect its football program, and later the man who brought glory to the District as its superintendent. The community took pride in its football and education traditions, and Samson took credit for both. He was the creator; Freedom was his world.

Having emerged from the air-conditioned sepulcher of the District Office for the first time in twelve hours, Samson strode toward the steps, moving with the bearing and confidence of an ex-United States Marine. He was proud to count himself among that elite group, contending that there are no ex-Marines—semper fidelis means always faithful. They break recruits to the core before absorbing them into the Corps. In most, the Marines develop character, but if the core is rotten, it twists into caricature. Sometimes it is difficult to tell the difference.

Samson’s football record spoke for itself. His arbitrary leadership style and questionable knowledge were balanced by supreme self-confidence and, even his most grudging detractors had to admit, strong organizational skills. He also had been blessed with the greatest run of talent the county had ever seen and a coaching staff made up of excellent teachers and willing disciples. Through the years, the details blurred; mirages became reality and eventually mutated into the legend that was Big Bob Samson.

Success as a coach allowed Samson to circumvent the established route to administrative power. As a teacher, Samson lectured colleagues on how things ought to be, and would be if he were superintendent. He was the man with the plan: run a district as you run a military unit or a football team—with discipline, organization, and honor. He bypassed the dues-paying role of assistant principal to become the high school principal. Three years later, he vaulted over better-qualified superiors to be appointed district superintendent, further enhancing his stature in Pennsylvania educational circles.

Thus was his reputation built, and wherever Samson went he was treated with a reverence he had come to expect. Anyone who treated him with less than “proper respect” became a lifelong enemy. Most feared personal and professional retribution, but if it came down to it, Samson was prepared to “kick ass and take names.” He followed a regimen of weightlifting and boxing that carved his frame into lean fighting trim. There were times he had challenged men to fight, but to his regret, those incidents never got past the verbal humiliation of his adversary. Secretly, he wished someone would physically attack him so he could inspire awe through retaliation.

Samson envisioned that someday a movie might be made of his life, and he often imagined his final scene. It would be grand and poignant, an occasion of pride and sorrow for those whose lives had been graced by his presence, all accompanied by a sound track of French horns in melancholic but heroic anthem.

His end, however, came with a tiny jingle of car keys that brought heavenly promise but served instead as his death knell. Bob Samson, “Big Bob” to admirers from afar and friends up close, Doctor Samson, as he insisted to everyone else, faced his last battle almost alone. He would have preferred it that way, because the scythe that cut through pride and flesh came as unappreciated as the sunset and the mourning dove and the scented breeze. In the end, Big Bob Samson knew the reaper and came to realize that death overcomes all myths incarnate. And, as the day faded to black, so did the life of a legend.