Below is a short scene I deleted from the published version of American Craftsmen. If you haven’t read the book yet, don’t read any further unless you don’t mind spoilers.
My reasons for deleting the scene were sound. It takes place right after Dale and Scherie check into their motel room. Dale then proceeds to given a lengthy explanation of the Witch of Endor story. A little thought showed me the problem with this: Dale was exhausted and wounded and could not give a lengthy explanation of anything . So I shortened his thoughts on the story to about one sentence. But I lost Dale’s cynical “lessons” on the history of craftspeople serving hostile rulers, even as his own government was giving him such a hard time. I may try to use some of this material in book 3 in a different context, but for now, here it is as it appeared in an early draft of American Craftsmen (with the introduction and ending that did appear in the final version):
“Oh. I thought you just didn’t like the Bible because it’s against wi–” Scherie blushed. “It’s against magic.”
I chuckled, though it hurt to laugh. “You don’t have to worry about the ‘w’ word, though I prefer ‘craftsperson.’ I enjoy the Bible; it has plenty of interesting things to teach about the craft. The Koran too. It’s always there in the old sacred texts, hiding in the corners.”
Scherie said, “I don’t remember any…”
“How about the witch of Endor?” I asked.
“She doesn’t count,” she said. “She wasn’t a real witch.”
“That’s not clear in the original,” I said. “But you’re right in one sense. Everything in the Bible is supposed to be instructive. The story’s a parable of the relationship of the craft to power.”
“Will it put me to sleep?” she asked.
I considered. “Hmmm. Can’t use a Gideon Bible, so I’ll do it from memory. OK, we’re in Israel about three thousand years ago, after the death of the prophet Samuel. The times are good. So King Saul tries to drive all the craftspeople out of the land. That’s lesson one: when the times are good, the witches, wizards, and necromancers are hunted down and exiled or killed, because the state doesn’t like other sources of power and authority besides the sanctioned religion.”
“But then the times go bad,” she said.
“Then the times go real bad,” I said. “The Philistines are coming, and I don’t mean middle-class art critics. None of the orthodox prophets or priests will assist Saul in talking to God. That’s lesson two: when the chips are down, the orthodox religion may desert the state, even go over to the enemies of the state. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s what happens. Maybe it’s the covenant theology–when things are going badly, you must have offended God.”
“So Saul tries something else?” she asked.
“He goes incognito and finds a witch in Endor,” he said, “and has her summon the ghost of Samuel. The witch does it, and the first thing she finds out is that Saul has lied about who he is. That’s a bad joke that every craftsperson knows–even when they believe in our power, governments try to lie to us, to manipulate us into doing what they want.”
“And Saul got what he wanted?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” I said. “Samuel tells him that he and his family are doomed. And that’s where the two last, more subtle lessons come in. The witch has to beg Saul to remember his promise not to hurt her now that he’s gotten the bad news. So the lesson is, don’t trust the rulers to keep their promises even when you’ve kept yours. Then the witch prepares a nice meal for Saul, since he’ll be needing his strength. That’s the hardest lesson of all: we have to be decent to individuals even when they’re part of a system that tries to kill us. I’m not sure I’ve fully learned that lesson yet.”
“And you believe this story?” she asked.
“Maybe not the details,” I said, “but yes, I believe it. It’s one of the few stories in the Bible that every craftsperson believes.”
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“Because,” I said, “it’s a story where craft works.”