Charlie Decker and Joe McKennedy (friendship)

Charlie Decker and Joe McKennedy's friendship is the one relationship in the novel that remains unbroken by violence, betrayal, or institutional pressure. Joe is the only person Charlie trusts, the only peer who never fears him, and the only correspondent who writes to him after he is committed to Augusta State Hospital. Their bond, forged in childhood and tested through Charlie's worst moments, stands as the novel's single counterweight to the isolation, paranoia, and family trauma that drive Charlie toward destruction.

Identity and Introduction

Joe McKennedy is introduced as Charlie's friend who attended a town meeting two years before the hostage crisis, where a proposal to build a pavilion in front of Placerville High School was shot down. Charlie says he wishes he had been there, because "the way Joe told it, it sounded like a real good time" . This early mention establishes Joe as a storyteller, a source of warmth and humor in Charlie's otherwise grim narration. Charlie later reflects that Joe was "the only good one I ever had" . Joe never seemed afraid of Charlie or revolted by his "weird mannerisms"—such as walking around with his face screwed up in grimaces when a good idea struck him, a habit that Mr. Grace had "a field day with" . Charlie acknowledges that while he had Joe beat in the brains department, Joe had him beat in the making-friends department: "most kids don't give a hoot in hell for brains; they go a penny a pound, and the kid with the high I.Q. who can't play baseball or at least come in third in the local circle jerk is everybody's fifth wheel. But Joe liked my brains" . Because everyone liked Joe, they had to at least tolerate Charlie. Charlie says, "I won't say I worshiped Joe McKennedy, but it was a close thing. He was my mojo" .

Shared Experiences and the Bangor Weekend

The friendship is most vividly illustrated through their shared trip to Bangor in the summer before Charlie's junior year, to spend a weekend with Joe's older brother, Pete McKennedy, who had a summer job with the Bangor Sanitation Department and was majoring in English at the University of Maine . On Friday night, Charlie got drunk for the first time in his life, along with Pete, Joe, and one or two of Pete's friends, and he wasn't even very hungover the next day . Pete took them to the university campus, which Charlie found very pretty in summer, though on a Saturday in July there weren't many coeds to look at . Pete spotted a friend named Scragg Simpson, a big guy wearing paint-splattered jeans and a blue workshirt, who told them about a party at a camp owned by Dana Collette's parents out near Schoodic Point, where there would be "about forty million unattached ladies" . Scragg advised them to bring dope . Pete asked if Larry Moeller had any grass, and Scragg confirmed he had "a shitload" . They went to see Jerry Mueller, whom Pete called the biggest dope dealer in the Orono-Oldtown-Stillwater triangle. Charlie kept his cool, but privately he was excited and apprehensive, expecting to see Jerry "sitting naked on the john with a piece of rubber flex tied off below his elbow and a hypo dangling from the big forearm vein" . Instead, Jerry turned out to be a small guy with a constant grin, fully clothed, with a large collection of bluegrass music . When Charlie asked if he'd ever heard the Tarr Brothers—Charlie was a country-and-bluegrass nut—they were off, while Pete and Joe sat around looking bored until Jerry produced a joint . Charlie drew slow, as Jerry advised, and the smoke was sweet, heavy, acrid, and dry . Half an hour later, after two more joints, Charlie realized he could actually visualize the banjo chords in his mind: "They were bright, like long steel threads, and shuttling back and forth like looms" . He tried to tell Joe about it, but Joe only looked at him in a puzzled, fuzzy way, and they both laughed . They stayed until almost five o'clock, and when they left, Charlie was "wrecked out of my mind" . Pete bought an ounce of grass from Jerry, and they took off for Schoodic. Jerry stood in his doorway and waved good-bye, yelling for Charlie to come back and bring some of his records . Charlie calls this "the last really happy time I can remember" . The drive down to the coast was long; all three were still very high, and none of them could talk without getting the giggles . Charlie remembers asking Pete what Dana Collette looked like, and Pete just leered, which made Charlie laugh until he thought his stomach would explode, with bluegrass still playing in his head . At the party, Charlie got very high indeed, his head filling with helium . He watched Dana cross and uncross her legs, and when she whispered in his ear to go out the back door, he looked around for Joe but didn't see him anywhere . He thought, "Sorry, Joe" . The weekend ended with Charlie's failed sexual encounter with Dana, after which he felt wrecked, cold, and depthless, and the three drove back to Bangor in silence as dawn broke (E01381-E01382). Charlie fell into the tiny daybed in Pete's living room, the last thing he saw before sleep being bars of sunlight falling through venetian blinds .

Joe's Role During the Hostage Crisis

During the hostage crisis in Room 16, Charlie looks for Joe among the milling students outside but doesn't see him anywhere . Charlie reflects that he didn't really expect Joe to show up: "Circuses have never been our style" . Joe's absence is notable; he is not among the hostages, and Charlie does not try to contact him. Yet Joe's influence persists in Charlie's memory. When Charlie recalls the birthday party at Carol Granger's house, where he was humiliated in his corduroy suit, Joe is the one who stuck by him, telling other kids to lay off, though this embarrassed Charlie because it made him feel "like the village idiot" . After the fight with Dicky Cable, Joe dragged Dicky off, shouting, "That's enough, goddammit! Don't you know that's enough?" . Joe put a hand on Charlie's shoulder and said, "Hey, Charlie. What do you say we go now, huh?" . Charlie tried to shove him away and only made himself fall down, shouting, "Leave me alone!" . Joe's loyalty is unwavering even when Charlie pushes him away.

Post-Crisis Correspondence

After Charlie is committed to Augusta State Hospital, Joe writes him a letter dated December 5, 1976, from Boston, where he is taking sixteen hours at Boston University, which he calls "Bullshit Unlimited" (E01658-E01659). Joe says he is thinking about majoring in English, adding, "Must be your influence. And you were always the brains of the combination" . He reports seeing Charlie's mother just before leaving Placerville, and that she said Charlie was "just about all healed up and the last of the drains were out three weeks ago" . Joe urges Charlie not to clam up: "It would sure be a loss to the world if you clammed up and just scrunched in a corner all day" . Joe passes along news: Sandra Cross decided not to go to college and is "just sort of hanging around, waiting for something to happen" ; Joe dated her a couple of times last summer, but she seemed distant, and she asked him to say hi to Charlie . Joe mentions that Carol Granger's valedictory speech was reprinted by Seventeen magazine, and that Irma Bates is going out with a "hippie" from Lewiston and was even arrested in a demonstration when Robert Dole came to Portland (E01663-E01664). Joe writes, "God, I miss your old cracked ass sometimes" . He closes by saying, "I hope they are treating you right, Ferd, as you've got to be out of there as soon as they'll let you. And if they start letting you have visitors, I want you to know that I will be the first in line" . He adds, "There are a lot of us pulling for you, Charlie. Pulling hard. People haven't forgotten. You know what I mean. You have to believe that" (E01668-E01670). The letter is signed, "With love, your friend, (Joe McK)" .

Thematic Significance

Joe McKennedy represents the possibility of normal human connection that Charlie cannot sustain. He is the only character who sees Charlie as a person rather than a case file, a threat, or a spectacle. Their friendship is built on mutual acceptance: Joe likes Charlie's brains, and Charlie admires Joe's social ease. Joe's letter from Boston, written months after the crisis, is the novel's final evidence that someone still cares for Charlie as a human being. It is a fragile thread of hope in a narrative otherwise dominated by violence, betrayal, and institutional confinement. Charlie's last words in the novel—about having a secret again, about feeling like a human being—are preceded by Joe's letter, which may be the reason he can begin to believe that his hands will one day be clean.