Peripatetic C. Larimer aka The Word Merchant, currently ensconced in the wilds of Bowman, North Dakota, reports that his missus, sweet Betsy, slipped on some ice, broke her hip and was transported to a hospital In Dickenson 80 miles away equipped to surgically repair her fracture. Days later he was summoned to retrieve his darling and whisk her back to a Bowman hospital for further treatment and therapy.  This he did while braving a major storm…major storms apparently being the norm in that neck of the woods, which took 4 hours of hair rising driving nonstop. Both husband and wife are resting somewhat comfortably and must be wondering why Bowman was preferable to groveling at his old Red Bluff Daily News haunt. 

            To offer some solace, I informed him that my missus broke her hip several years ago at approximately the same age as the Larimer lass, and made a remarkable recovery resulting in her playing tennis once again. This should cheer up both parties in Bowman. We live in an age when surgery like this has become somewhat routine and the breakers of hips are no longer consigned to a permanent wheel chair existence. I guess we should keep that in mind when we see another outrageous billing for same. After all, it is only money.

* * * * *

            We once counted Red Bluff Service Stations on Main Street in the 20’s and 30’s and early 40’s. There were a lot of them. But how many grocery stores and meat markets can you recall downtown at that time? If we include Walnut Street and Washington, I tally ten or more!

            On Main, Better Buy, Minch Market and Bob Upton’s Red and White Store. On Walnut, Vestal’s Market, Kilpatric’s, Safeway, The Poore House (previously Croshaw’s), Wentz…and Sam Ehorn opened up a little whole in the wall store on Walnut and Jackson. The Purity Store was on Washington and Hickory… and let us not forget Delores’ and Frankie’s Neighbor Nook on Johnson near the Lincoln Street Elementary. Boy, did I give that place a lot of business when I was a kid!

* * * **

            Regarding C. Larimer, this just in via e mail: “I can’t get out or see out the front door. An 8 foot snowdrift is blocking the way. About two feet of actual snow fell overnight. I am off to trek the three blocks to the hospital to take a donut to Betsy. The only other weather news I have heard about the Dakotas is that they’re planning to have summer on a Thursday this year.”

            I would have reported being “arse deep to a giraffe”, but then I am a more colorful writer than the Word Merchant.

* * * * *

            Last week’s quiz was answered, but only in part. Our Roundup was first called the “Red Bluff Roundup” in 1921, the late Jim Owens started the Wild Horse race by firing a shotgun while seated on his mount…and Paul and Marie Soncrant performed their fancy roping and truck riding under the name of St. Croix.

            This week’s quiz: Name at least 4 previous Tehama County District Attorneys. Name the Senator who kept the Red Bluff Roundup from floundering  during the twenties.

* * * * *

            Lots of movies about dogs these days. Director David Frankel says, “There is something wonderful about the way dogs live in the moment. They don’t look back. They don’t yearn. They don’t want what they cannot have. Clearly we are not like that as a nation.” Professor Alan Beck of Purdue University says, “There are few worthier recipients of a child’s affections than the dog. They have no age, no race, no background. You don’t have to justify anyone’s love for them.”

* * * * *

            “I’ve got no bosoms. In Africa they want to name an underdeveloped nation after me.” Joan Rivers.

            “Where lipstick is concerned, the important thing is not color, but to accept God’s final word on where your lips end.” Jerry Seinfeld

          Don’t expect to get rich immediately on account of the war. Sugar and hogs and grain took a big upward spurt, but these commodities are not scarce, there is a big supply of all of them. Hog raisers held back their shipments expecting big raises  and they created a temporary shortage. Rath and Company at their plant near Chicago kill 8000 hogs a day. For the past three days they have received only 250 daily. This shortage raised The market 2 cents per pound, but markets that are raised by speculators usually go down as fast as they go up.

                              * * * * * **  *

          These cool mornings announce approaching fall to me, one of the nicest seasons of the year. Back home on the farm (near Bridgeton, New Jersey) it meant getting ready for winter. Soon we cut corn stalks and shucked them in rows, picked yellow pumpkins, and green and white citrons. After the first frost, persimmons dropped and hickory nuts were on the ground for kids and squirrels to fight over. Wild fox grape leaves began turning beautiful colors; apples were picked, put in baskets and placed in cold storage to be drawn out during the winter. As the weather grew cold, each farmer had their hog killings assisted by all their neighbors who made a real social affair of it, making sausage, lard, bacon, frying down the hog meat, gossiping, visiting and eating.

          `                          * * * * * *

          While in the city, we went to see “Tobacco Road” at the Curran Theatre. It is an exceptionally successful play having played in New York for 6 years. It is the story of white trash in Georgia. Critics acclaim it as a wonderful show, so I must be wrong, because the idea of paying to hear people swearing and see them roll in the dirt does not appeal to me. Their conversation depends entirely on profanity to put it over.*

 Dave Minch. 1900 -1964.

*I wonder what father would have thought about the language in most films today. I know what the missus thinks about it. We seldom get through a whole movie when watching a DVD.

Here is an article regarding the short life of Melvin Horner by my father, Dave Minch. I never met Mr. Horner, but feel he deserves mention in the Passing Parade. This is what father wrote in 1939:

            “Melvin Horner, who passed away last week, was an employee of ours when he first came west. I have felt badly ever since knowing he was fatally stricken. It does not seem that a man of 34 years with a family to support should be taken so early in life.

            Melvin was not a genius and would not care to be one if he could. All he asked was to have plenty of work to do. I never heard him complain of work being too hard or hours too long. Nor did I ever hear him speak a harsh word about anyone. Here is the type of dependable hard working men that built our country and kept it intact. If we had enough men like him there would be no depression and no need of government assistance. I don’t think he ever received a large salary, but he spent only in proportion to what he earned.

            He did not consider that the country owed him a living. He expected to earn it by hard work and to find that work him. When we, as a country, live by his precepts, our country will progress. It will not progress the way we are doing now with large numbers trying to create ways of spending without earning.”

            With some modifications, the above description of hard work and not looking for a handout, would fit father to a T.

            Private Eye Grimes Arbuckle is coming down the home stretch. His search for the missing country western singer Proberta Gerber has led him to a spot called “The Spot”. Grimes spotted this spot and shot off I-5 for a cup of Joe.

            The bartender, named Alice…don’t ask, astounded Grimes with the information that Proberta Gerber was actually a spot off the freeway…a convergence of the towns of Proberta and Gerber! Grimes, in addition to being astounded, was shocked, shocked I tell you! After declining a shot of Sarsaparilla , Grimes shot out of The Spot, without firing a shot, wiped tears of frustration from his face and snot from his nose, and drove off north in pursuit of his last contact, a cowboy named Bluff… Callmy “Red” Bluff. Needing gas for his 47′ Huff, he pulled into a combination gas station, massage parlor, brick sales, theatre restoration and organic salad bar joint . This was an unconventual convenience store. He speaks. Listen!

Grimes: “Guten morgan, Herr dude.”

ClerK: “Hey man, we only speak English here… and maybe a little Farsi.”

Grimes: “Sorry dude, I just wanted to get your attention…and maybe make a point of order.”

Clerk: “You want fries with your order?”

Grimes: “Why you….!”

The Private Eye deftly decks the desk clerk.

Clerk: “Didn’t hurt.”

Grimes: “Why you….!”

The shamus decks the clerk again.

Clerk: “Now that hurt!

Grimes: “Now we’re getting somewhere. I’m looking for a songbird who allegedly is appearing at….”

Clerk: “…at a theatre near you?”

Grimes: ” No, kid, at a big three day show around here. Where would that be?’

Clerk: “Well, It wouldn’t be at the Court House with the Board of Supervisors because that’s only a one day show, at best….hmm. I’ll have to do some checking.

 Come back tomorrow and I may have some info for you. You got a place to stay?

Grimes: Yeah, I always stay at Manahan’s Auto Court…know it?”

The clerk’s face turned a bright red and he clammed up like Assembly Nielsen stonewalling questions about his primary residence.

            Will the P.I. find the songbird?  Tune in next Friday for the next to last installment of “Our Story so Far…”

One of our children, years ago, wanting to escape the homestead in favor of an over night sojourn with a school mate, devised the ploy, “I’ve been invited to so and so’s house to spend the night”. The brilliance of this statement is that it gives an illusion that our child is in great demand by another household…and therefore a suitable companion for another’s darling. I mention this bit of foolery because I have been invited, even at my advanced age. I have been invited to write an article for the up and coming Red Bluff Roundup Souvenir Program. Brochure. Whatever. It is an honor I shall accept with alacrity. There is a caveat, however. If I contribute an article and it is accepted, then our family advertisement gets a price break.

This is an example of the barter system which may become once again popular if our economy continues to falter. In this instance, I am not paid for my article in hard currency (if there is hard currency today!) but in exchange for a reduced rate for advertising. I mention this inside trading business for two reasons.

One may consider themselves a writer, if and when one is compensated for one’s efforts. Ergo, a price break is considered compensation and a writer’s head is held high. Conversely, if a writer creates a blog and pontificates on a weekly basis, compensation is elusive. An occasional “love your stuff” is about par for the course.

The other reason is to encourage readers to attend the Roundup for their own enjoyment, and to benefit the community.  This might be the year of the shortfall, attendance wise and our hard working Roundup people will need all the help they can get.

* * * * * *

There is a stately home on Gilmore Road, known to old timers as the Sale House. It is set back somewhat from Sale Lane and the east bank of the sand slough. In my day it was home to Mary and Ritchie Sale and their 8 children. Today only Latane, Douglas and David survive to lament the fate of the old homestead.  It is currently leased as a shelter for women.   A shelter may not be the highest and best use of the aged structure, but at least it will continue to provide comfort today as it did for the Sale family years ago.

Patriarch Ritchie came from Virginia. He was a tall, handsome man who favored leather leggings and was considered a good bird hunter. The family dog was a Springer Spaniel named Lina.

At supper time the family would sit at a large oval table with Ritchie at the head. He carved the roasts as plates were passed about. I have written of my stays at the grand house in the past. David was their youngest son and my pal. In the drawing room (parlor?) a monopoly game was usually at the ready.

It is a fine, memory filled, old house. It is rewarding to see it put to a good use, rather than someday being demolished. They don’t make houses like that anymore…or families like the Sale clan, for that matter.

** * * * *

Last week’s quiz was answered first by L. and J. Darling, who knew that J.Arthur Rank was the producer who opened each film with a fellow striking  a huge gong, that Cab Calloway sang, “Kicking the Gong Around”, and that the jazz standard song is titled “Gone With The Wind.”

This week’s quiz: When was our Roundup first called the “Red Bluff Roundup”, how did the late Jim Owens start the Wild Horse Race. and under what name did local trick roper and rider Paul Soncrant perform?

* * * * *

I hear by the grapevine the Daily News is conducting a “Best Local Hamburger” contest. This may go a long way in providing additional readership and advertising for the newspaper…and it may not. The Ess Eff Chronicle is also having a hard time making ends meet, and has asked its Union for concessions. At our old meat plant years ago, we were not successful in getting union concessions when times were tough. So when this hamburger hunt by the DN surfaced, I was reminded that, in addition to many cuts of beef, we produced a large amount of ground beef for the armed forces, school lunch programs, and of course local restaurants selling the burgers the DN pursues. I therefore thought I had a humorous tie in with their great perfect hamburger search…but I’ve lost my train of thought. Pass the ketchup, please.

* * * * *

Los Molinos natives are up in arms about proposed Cal Trans plans to alter 99E in the area of their bailiwick. Townsfolk apparently like the looks of the place just the way it is. It does have a different look, don’t you think? It has just one very wide main artery running through town…and a visitor is not likely to get lost therein. What you see is what you get in Los Molinos.

All our lives and towns should be so simplistic.

* * * * * *

A tiny turtle climbed a tree very laboriously, slowly walked onto a branch, jumped in the air waiving his front legs…and crashed to the ground. He repeated this act again and again…each time with the same crashing results. While this was going on, two birds were watching in the tree above. The female turned to the male and said, “Darling, don’t you think it is time to tell little Edgar that he is adopted?”

            Her parade has not passed, but it is time to honor Tomasina for her daily treks through the environs of our city and county collecting aluminum cans for her livelihood.  She has probably logged more miles in her lifetime, with her dogs in tow, than any politician you might mention.

            Unless you have been living in a cave or under the bridge, you must have noticed this lady, usually wrapped up securely for any weather…and with a flower in her hat, walking behind her shopping cart to which are tied three dogs of various breeds, color and size. There are never more than 3 and never less. Look closely and you will notice her smiling. Her dogs smile as well, but she is the lead smiler. She tirelessly walks the streets and has been doing so for as long as I have known her, which must be as long as I’ve been a broker…say over 30 years?

            The missus and I first met her when she was living on the 3^rd story of the Cox building. This building is on the corner of Walnut and Washington, was formerly the Elks Club, then Cox Electric and currently Dr. Skip Shoff’s . We were new in the property management business and about 10 small apartments above the main floor were ours to manage. Tomasina lived in a tiny studio apartment along with her dogs…and we saw no reason to prohibit them. She has since occupied other abodes, and we are thankful she no longer has to navigate the steep stairs of the aforementioned building.

            What we have learned about this lady is that she is a staunch advocate for housing for her newly arrived countrymen and women. She is Hispanic and often, in the past, she has dropped by to tell me a sad tale of someone who needs a place to rent…and would I please bend the rules and find them shelter.

            She is a grand old girl and we hope to see her and her brood pushing her cart and chastising her children for inappropriate barking for years to come.

          Is it safe to say that the majority of us regret, from time to time, what we put on paper? Yes. But how about what we put in our stomach? Does temptation often win over the threat of indigestion? Yes. And ever has it been so, although, in the distant past, gluttony was a sin of mainly the rich.

          I have happened  upon the subject of eating, and eating disorders, by observing the dog. He appears to be discriminating regarding his intake. Of course, his food is usually set before him, and he has little choice in the matter. But I have observed these animals for many years, and found them to be cautious and prudent eaters. A dog even knows how to improve his digestion and subsequent elimination by eating green grass from time to time. However, our dogs have one deplorable taste: a penchant for horse manure.  

          Veterinarians may say there is something lacking in the dog’s diet when he scarfs down horse puckey.  Yet, I say, our dogs just have a thing for horse droppings. And horse trimmings. When the farrier comes around, the dogs line up behind him,  and the horse he is working on , in anticipation of good, aged, hoof trimmings…the ranker the  better. Maybe that’s where the expression “hors d’oeves” comes from. Maybe not, although the dictionary does define these French words as “…any of various foods usually served as appetizers.” They are certainly appetizers for our cadre of canines!

          In conclusion, we should shower our pets with love and affection, and probably overlook this culinary flaw in their character…this insatiable appetite for horse left overs. However, while we accept their bizarre eating habits, we have decided to teach them to shake hands, in lieu of a good night kiss.

Robert Minch

            Private Eye Grimes Arbuckle has been searching for missing country western singer Proberta Gerber. The trail had been colder than a loan officer’s heart, but recently turned hotter than McDonald’s coffee before the law suit.  As the scene opens, Grimes is driving up Interstate 5 in a Huff…a 1947 Huff, and is talking  to himself regarding the twists and turns of this tepid tale, as the music of Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians blares from his Motorola. Listen as Grimes mutters…

Grimes: “Drat! I haven’t slept for days since I’ve been on the hunt for the songbird. I should be in another line of work…maybe work for a collection agency…or maybe as a bouncer in a massage parlor…perhaps on a crab boat in the frigid waters off Alaska…or in a ‘How to do it’ film running  an earth worm farm. I don’t know …I’m getting rummy and hallucinating. Better pull off and get a Cup of Joe.”

            The P.I. pulls off the Interstate and parks at a little bistro called “THE SPOT”. He strides through the door, plops on a stool and orders a Cup of Joe. The bartender speaks. Listen…again…

Bartender: “What will it be, big fellow?”

Grimes: “Give me a Cup of Joe.”

Bartender: “How’s that again? Joe? Ain’t no Joe here. My name is Alice.”

Grimes: “I thought you didn’t live here anymore….never mind. Coffee. Coffee is what I need…and some information. Does the name ‘Proberta Gerber’ mean anything to you?”

Alice: Yeah. You’re sitting in the first part and behind you is the second part.”

Grimes: (becoming animated) “What? You mean…?”

Alice: “Yes. Proberta is a town…and Gerber is a town nearby…hence, on the Freeway there’s a sign indicating the Proberta Gerber turn off.”

Grimes: “Holly cow! I’ve been on a fool’s errand!”

Alice: “Yeah, I’d say so…either you or the guy writing this story…”

Grimes: “You know… I’ve been played for a sucker. Talking to an imaginary lawyer named Maxwell Williams…I bet there’s a couple of towns named that!

Alice: “Right”.

Grimes: “…and Henley Hornbrook, Adin Lookout, Buttonwillow McKendrick …”

Alice: “Yeah, Buttonwillow and Mckendrick is a turn off on I 5 before you go up the grapevine…”

Grimes:”…and I been looking for people with names like  Almanor West, Mokelumne Hill, Chilcoot-Vinton., Frenchy Gulch, Crescent Mills…and I bet they are all names of towns! Christ on a crutch! I’ve been taken for a sap!”

Alice: “Don’t beat yourself up because you didn’t get it. Plenty of readers didn’t get it either…or, more likely, they didn’t wanna get it. Here, have some sasparilla on the house.”

Grimes: “Well, thanks. But I’ll be moving along. I’ve got one more lead to follow. It’s up the road a piece. Some cowboy named “Red” Bluff says he knows that a country western singer is going to perform next month at the Roundup…and maybe there is a Proberta Gerber after all! See you later, Alice.”

With that, Grimes is out the door and headed north. This story has to end sometime, and next week is as good as any…

I SAY for…13 March 2009

          Son Brandon made an interesting observation the other day while we were discussing the merits of our horse facility and the ability to move equines from field to paddock without incident. Incidents often occur when large animals are forced to close proximity with one another resulting in kicking and biting. He said, changing the subject only slightly, “We are fortunate in not having any problem relatives”. I concurred, but then wondered if our family is unique in that respect.

          What Brandon meant by the term “problem relatives”, is that he suspects, in many extended families, a little rain has fallen. An errant husband, an alcoholic brother-in-law, a coke sniffing sibling…perhaps a gambling and suicidal wastrel who has let family fortunes slip away without a moments thought of the consequences. Fortunately, we have not had to deal with any of the above in our, yes, fortunate flock.

           We didn’t actually plan it that way. New additions to our family were never “vetted” as they say in Washington. Children grew to adulthood without arrest…and no animals were hurt during their occasional testing of the boundaries of propriety. Ergo, splendid offsprings begat splendid husbands, wives and children of their own.

          The beauty of our family life…and there must be other fathers and mothers who can be equally boastful, is that it makes leaving this earth a much easier transition. When the time comes for heads of household to say adieu to this wonderful life, they can do so with head held high and a song in their hearts. A sappy conjecture…but a valid one.

My father had a favorite expression, which he would direct to my mother as he passed through the kitchen while she was preparing supper, “The Minch’s”, he would say, with tongue in cheek, “…are lovely people.”  

I propose we paraphrase his remark: “…are lovely fortunate people”.

                                         * * * * * *

          The Clock Tower Carillon plays a lot of “show tunes”. In the week preceding the Round Up, the programmers should switch to cowboy music. I suggest “When It’s Roundup Time in Texas”…and “Red River Valley” for starters. Maybe “Oklahoma Hills”?

                                              * * * * * * **

          Editor and Publisher C. Larimer, in far off Bowman, North Dakota, writes of his favorite headline, which he created all by himself years ago when working for a newspaper in the southwest. Cliff was covering an ongoing, bitter and sometimes violent dispute amongst Jicarilla Apache tribal leaders. One thing led to another and a duly elected tribal president resigned from office under pressure… then withdrew his resignation.  He and his followers decided to go to is old office in Dulce, Oklahoma and reclaim his seat. However, when they arrived at the building, there was a sign on the door saying the office would remain closed until the end of the local basketball season, basketball apparently being large in Dulce. The group turned around and went home greatly frustrated and discouraged. This set the stage for Mr. Larimer’s inspired headline for his paper the following day: “REIGN CALLED ON ACCOUNT OF GAME”.

          The Word Merchant is a clever chap.

                                          * * * * * * *

          “The value of your home is utterly irrelevant until you want to sell it…the same as your baseball cards.” Joel Stein.

                                         * * * * * **

          Last week we fretted because readers were not responding to the quiz…and considered closing it down for the duration of the recession. However, with four immediate e mails now on file, we shall, like Gen. McArthur, return. Rick Adams was first in reporting Oswald the Lucky Rabbit was Walt Disney’s first cartoon character…and that the great Groucho first portrayed Otis B. Driftwood in the classic “A Night at The Opera”.  Several others responders said another actor, Rob Zombie, used the name in a later film, but we prefer Groucho’s definitive role.

          This week’s quiz: What English Producer opened each of his films showing a muscular fellow hitting a large gong?  What musician sang, “Kicking the Gong Around”?  And is there a song titled “GongWith the Wind”? If not, what is the correct title?

                                             * * * * * *

Great joke hot off the internet: Three dead bodies turn up at a

mortuary, all with very big smiles on their faces. The corner calls for the police, and describes what happened to each.

 ”The first body is of a 72 year old Frenchman who died in the arms of his mistress, hence his smile of satisfaction. The second body is a 25 year old Irishman who won a thousand dollars in the lottery…spent it all on whiskey, and drank himself to death, hence the smile on his face.”

“What of the 3^rd body?” asked the Inspector.

“Ah, that is the most interesting of them all. Nancy Pelosi, speaker of the House, 66, was struck by lightning.”

“Why is she smiling then?” inquired the Inspector.

“She thought she was having her picture taken.” replied the coroner.

Robert Minch

THE PASSING PARADE for 13 March 2009

          Lorin Boots was born in Red Bluff in 1918, and died here 80 years later. He was a serious dedicated family man and loyal employee of my father, Dave Minch , who hired Lorin as a mechanic during the Second World War. He soon discovered Lorin was indefatigable, worked long hours rebuilding truck engines, and patched together worn out trailers to keep them on the road at a time when the truck factories were manufacturing engines of war. When cattle truck driver Carl Shultz was drafted, Lorin took over his chores as well.

 One evening years later, after the end of the war, Lorin got into a heated argument with a Brand Inspector name Leland Anders. In Leland’s defense, he was on call all hours of the day and night inspecting cattle being shipped from one end of the state and on the lookout for stolen or mis-branded animals. It was late on a summer evening when Lorin called Leland to come out to the plant to inspect cattle he had just unloaded. When the inspector arrived at the plant hours later, an argument ensued and Lorin, a powerful man with a temper, finally settled things by knocking Leland to the ground and breaking his glasses in the process.

          The Inspector told my father about the incident, and demanded Lorin be fired.  Lorin had called father earlier, reported the encounter, and said he understood if his actions cost him his job.  Father was between a rock and hard place. He didn’t want to fire one of his favorite hard working employees, and yet could not run the plant without brand inspection. Leland said he would not inspect cattle at the plant if Lorin was still an employee, so father reluctantly fired him However, a happy ending. Lorin bought a cattle rig, Boots Transportation was born, and father gave him all the business he could handle.

          Years went by and Lorin Boots became one of the most successful cattle haulers in Northern California. And yet, in his seventies, and still active, he became embroiled in a zoning dispute with a quarrelsome neighbor who wanted to put him out of business because his trucks made too much noise to suit her.  By then, my father had died, and Lorin asked for my help in resolving the matter. I talked to the County Planning Department in his behalf and they agreed Lorin could remain in business as his truck shop was “grandfathered”, that is, he had been in the area for many years…and was there first. The neighbor woman would not let the matter drop, bombarded him with obscenities, and insisted the County shut him down for minor violations. What was particularly unfortunate, was that Lorin was diagnosed with throat cancer, and eventually rendered unable to speak. I saw him shortly before his death and he handed me a note which read, “The next time I see you, I will be able to talk again.” But it was not to be.

          Lorin Boots was a hard working person greatly admired by those who knew of his talents and his loyalties. He has been gone these many years…gone but not forgotten.