A reader, upon reading of the errant airline pilots overshooting their destination by hundreds of miles, suggested there was hanky panky involved. I second the motion. And later, when the pilots were interrogated regarding their lapse, they claimed, not cockpit trouble, but laptop computer engrossment. However, Ess Eff columnist Jon Carroll, in Tuesdays Chronicle, averred there must be a woman or man involved in some sort of show of affection. Good show, Jon, right on. Great minds run in the same prurient channels. And, if true the pilots were engaged…but not in piloting, this episode is but another reason I do not fly.

As I recounted previously in other venues, I used to fly a plenty. While in the service in World War 2.5…the Korean Conflict, my folks would send me funds to fly from Columbus Ga. to Red Bluff Ca. five different times during my OCS years.  I was then more afraid of the possibility of approaching combat across the water than airline disasters here at home, it took a commercial pilot error on a slick runway overshooting same and skidding into a cotton field driving the landing gear up through the wings and scaring the hell out of the passengers, to convince me that airborne traffic was not my cup of tea.

Today, I happily avoid airline terminal search, luggage search and soul search for the relative comfort of auto transport. Sure, it takes me longer to get from point A to point B, but what’s the hurry anyhow? You say time is money? Granted, but safe arrival at your destination is comforting…and, at our collective ages, the missus and I are unlikely to be engaged in extracurricular speculations while driving, if you get my drift. Oh? The missus, upon reading this, said, “Speak for yourself old fellow”, but she was just kidding. I think.

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Unfortunate headline in the Daily News: “VET CLAIMS GOAT WAS A HEALTH RISK AT THE FAIR.” How did the editor let this abbreviation slip by? “VET”? Are we talking of a Veteran of Foreign Wars who callously did away with a little baa baa with a cough, or perhaps a licensed Veterinarian schooled in Goatalogy? Tsk, tsk.

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Columnist Lee Pitts is a good reason to read Farm Bureau News and get your mind off the cost of the new Farm Bureau digs on Sale Lane…an unnecessary expense when suitable buildings were available at distressed prices. Anyhow, in a recent issue he wrote of not being a joiner…Rotary, Kiwanis, PTA, KKK, John Birch, Book of The Month club and so forth. I am likewise a non joiner. However, he has confessed to being a member of COSTCO, and writes, ”
I’ve never understood the concept behind buying clubs like COSTCO. I respect the company for selling great meat and having the nerve to ask their customers to fork over $40 a year for the privilege of giving COSTCO shovelfuls of money. Think about that for a moment. If someone had suggested, “I’ve got an idea. Why not charge folks to shop in our stores!” Wouldn’t they have been branded a nut case? What other group, besides the U.S. Congress, gets away with charging people to do business with them?” And then winds up his article with “If you think it is farfetched, for example, to watch an auction, you have probably not been to the Red Bluff Horse Sale where thousands pay $10 each just to watch.”

A good and witty writer that Lee Pitts.

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Last week’s quiz asked when the Red Bluff High School, the Cone & Kimball building and the Tremont Hotel burned to the ground. L. Brown, perennial responder, keenly noted that the Tremont did not burn. It was torn down in 1965. The High School burned in 1964 and the C & K in 1984.

This week’s quiz: What mutilation did the legendary female warriors, the Amazons, suffer to improve their fighting ability, where did the Alpine hat first become popular, and Artesian wells were allegedly first driven where?

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Two drivers climbed out of their cars after colliding at a road junction. One produced a hip flask from his pocket and said to the other, “Here, have a nip of whiskey to calm your nerves.”

“Thanks,” said the other driver, taking a swig from the flask. “Here, you have one too,” he added, handing back the whiskey.

“No, I rather not…the police will be here soon.”

(To respond to this website: rminchandmurray@hotmail.com)

The difference between a literate free thinking people in a so-called Democracy and the people under a dictator rule, is shown very plainly at present.

If Hitler or Stalin announced there was a gasoline or sugar shortage, there would be no questions or arguments, but over here, where our people have been taught to think, it is a different story. We know there is no shortage of either commodity and we are not going to stand still and let someone try to scare us. It looks as though the people in Washington should consider we are grown up and tell us the truth. Then, when some real shortage comes along, we will be more apt to believe it.

They have another mistaken idea in Washington which has been helped along by radio commentators. It is this oft repeated line, “Everyone in the United States, no matter what their views, were immediately a united people the moment Japan attacked us on December 7^th.

We are united only in knowing that we are in a very serious war which must be won if we are to exist. But it does not mean that everyone agrees with all policies that come out of Washington.

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My contest with a $25.00 Defense Bond as a prize is going to be to name the songs that place from one to ten in the Hit Parade Program Saturday night, Feb. 28. I’ll have a form that will be printed in this column that week for you to fill out. Listen to the program this Saturday evening and get an idea of the songs that are chosen each week. It is on at 6p.m.  and repeated at 8 p.m.

Dave Minch  (1900 -1964)

John Hoy (1892-1982) was my father’s General Manager at our old meat plant 2 miles west of town. Prior to that, he was a meat cutter from the town of Kennett, which is no longer because it is now at the bottom of Shasta Lake.

Father had just opened his new grocery store on the 600 block of Main, and decided it should be a full service food store…a precursor of today’s supermarkets. He put in a deli, a bakery, and a meat department. He advertized for a meat cutter, John answered the adv… and they became fast friends for the rest of their lives.

There was some question as to John’s background as a meat cutter, but never a question whether he was a hard worker. He was big, smart with little schooling, and knew how to make money. He believed in service…but quick service, and had a tendency to move customers along so he could wait on the next one. It was said his wrapping up of beef cuts in butcher paper was not a work of art, and nothing like a woman wrapping Xmas presents. It was not unusual to see a customer leave the store with a link sausage or two hanging out the back of a John Hoy wrapped package.

In the old days…the depression days, father, John and others in the grocery store would, work evenings, weekends and holidays at father’s newly acquired dilapidated slaughter house. Soon, John was working full time at the plant, and, sensing a winner, father shut down the grocery store and concentrated on what was to become Minch’s Wholesale Meats, Inc.

In a few years John was promoted to General Manager, and would jump in and help wherever needed. When I would be skinning calves on the loading dock (calves were slaughtered with hide on and then later, chilled out, skinned, thus producing the desired light pink veal coloring) John would join us to speed things up. We would be standing shoulder to shoulder on a raised platform with one or two other butchers. As was my habit, I would start up a conversation on some topic of the day and others would join in. It was then that John, no nonsense fellow, would offer his famous saying: “If you can’t work and talk at the same time, don’t talk.” That admonishment has stayed with me to this very day, and if I am working on some project at the ranch, and somebody engages me in conversation, I will pause briefly out of courtesy, and then continue my work.

John eventually retired from the plant and spent his time on his ranch and orchard in Antelope. He also made other investments and bought several hundred acres west of town for very little per acre. He was a fine fellow..and admired by all.

As opposed to prose, poetry should have a lilt or meter to please our ears.

“Listen my children, and you shall hear,

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.”

Or even the darker stuff as supplied by WB Kelsey of Burlingame.

“Readers, did you ever hear

Of Mickey Monkeyface McBlear?

His snout is long with a flattish top

Lined inside with a slimy crop:

His mouth like a slit in a money box

Portrays his kindred to a fox.”  (”Poems of Puncture” by Amanda McKittrick Ros)

As opposed to the more contemplative poetry of A.E. Houseman

“With rue my heart is laden

For golden friends I had,

For many a rose-lipped maiden

And many a lightfoot lad.

By brooks too broad for leaping

The lightfoot lads are laid;

The rose-lipped girls are sleeping

In fields where roses fade.

Monday’s Daily News displayed a column by one Richard Mazzucchi titled “Positive Point”. Although the article is well written…and in English, there is apparently one typo. Deep in the text he proclaims, “Even though I am a conscientious objector that can’t fight for my country on the battlefield…” this defensive statement should read “…that won’t fight for my country.” A world of difference, Richard, a world of difference.

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Do you ever awaken in the middle of the night…and find that sleep evades your every effort to return to its healing embrace? Of course you have. Counting sheep is passé and nowadays only fashionable in cartoons. Hot milk works for some, or, if economizing, I find hot water works as well. But if all else fails… despite being blessed with a bed partner who, for reasons of her own,  remains unresponsive to your most persuasive efforts to strike up a meaningful conversation, you might turn on your bed light, and read.

I have a friend who keeps several books by his bedside, which are heavily bookmarked because he never seems to finish one. He apparently reads a few pages of each until sleep overtakes him. As he is retired, he can afford this luxury which will probably leave him red eyed and drowsy in the morn. I usually shun such panacea because it may interfere with the day’s commerce ahead, though readers may laugh at the prospects of a real estate broker conducting any commerce in this economy…but, I digress.

So, throwing caution to the wind, I recently read, in the middle of the night,  a marvelous short story in the 19^th of October issue of the New Yorker titled “Complicity” by Julian Barnes. It fictitiously details the author’s discovery of and relations with an intelligent woman equipped with a good sense of humor. It is such a good tale that it should be made into a movie with a stunning actress and a handsome man. It would be a movie seldom made these days, bereft of cart wheeling cars in flames and maniacal killers with chainsaws. It might not be box office fodder, but a few of us mature folks might pay to view it. The word in the title of the story, “Complicity”, is defined by the writer has dictionary definition of “partnership in a wrong doing”, but the author defines it otherwise. He writes, “I used the word ‘complicity’ a bit ago. I like the word. To me it indicates an unspoken understanding between two people, a kind of pre-sense, if like. The first hint that you may be suited, before the nervous drudgery of finding out whether you share the same interest or have the same metabolism, or are sexual compatible, or both want children, or however it is that we argue consciously about our unconscious decisions.”

When asked about the secret of a long and happy marriage, I usually reply “chemistry”. I think I shall add complicity to my definition.

* * * * *

Speaking of relationships, TIME has a special report titled, “What Women Want Now”. It is not what you may think. It begins, “If you were a woman reading this magazine 40 years ago, the odds were good that your husband provided  the money to buy it, that you voted the way he did, that if you got breast cancer he might be asked to sign a form authorizing a mastectomy, that your son is headed to college but not your daughter…and that your boss, if you had a job, could explain why he was paying you less because, after all, you were just working for pocket money.” Sobering thoughts, what? I guess the bottom line is that young people, getting married for the first time these days, should figure out who will wear the pants in the family. Or will they opt for not getting married at all? “The times they are a changing…”

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Last week’s quiz was answered by several readers correctly except for the author of the quote “Tell it to the Marines”, the reference being to the English Royal Marines rather than our own U.S. Marines. It was finally answered most succinctly by L. Brown who discovered the first written reference is attributed to John Marshall Deane back in the 1700’s. My source had said Sir Walter Scott…but that was 20 years later. His full quote is, “He may tell it to the marines, but the sailors will not believe him.”

This week’s quiz: May we have the years that the Cone & Kimball Building, the Red Bluff High School and the Tremont Hotel burned to the ground?

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A good joke via the internet: A guy is lonely and goes to the pet store on a Saturday looking for an unusual pet. The clerk sells him a talking centipede from England. The guy takes it home and builds a little house for the centipede.

The next day is Sunday, and the guy is anxious to show off his new pet, so he comes up to the little house and says, “Would you like to go to church with me today?” There is no answer. He leans closer and says, “Good morning. Would you like to go to church with me today?” Still no answer. Concerned, and a bit irritated that he has received no response, he leans down, puts his mouth up to the door of the little house and shouts, “Hey in there! You wanna go to church with me, or what?”

And the centipede yells back, “Just a minute, Guvenor! I’ve got to get my blomin’shoes on!”

(To respond to this website: rminchandmurray@hotmail.com)

Young Richard Pugh went to his reward this week. I say “young” because he was forever young to me. However, he was 71, which is aged only to the young of today.

Richard was at least a third generation attorney (perhaps fourth) in the Pugh dynasty, who practiced law in Red Bluff at 756 Rio with his partner Tom McGlynn, until an accident interrupted Richard’s career. There was Felix Pugh, then Fred C.  Pugh, who worked at his 642Main Street office along with his son Stanley who begat Richard.  Stanley was our family lawyer after Curtis Wetter ascended the bench.

Richard was a bright young fellow with a wry wit. He seemed to think I too was similarly equipped and we hit it off quite well. He bought the Dr. Doane house on Doane Way, a rather obscure one block street between Cedar and Union. They were neighbors of our old friends Betty and Bill Dalby, and whenever visiting the latter, I would often encounter Richard puttering about his spacious lawn overlooking the river.

Regarding his accident, Richard had a passion for flying, not the conventional type motored plane, but for gliders. However, his hobby was cut short by a near fatal crash which left him with a shattered leg and a lengthy rehab which never restored him to good health.  He retired from law practice, and for a time, opened a stained glass business a few doors south of our office at Main & Walnut, where he created beautiful windows.  We still have one with a bamboo motif in our home today. In those days, we would often see Richard making his way cautiously down the street, cane in hand…outwardly in good humor, but resigned to life at a slower pace. I guess he was content being a lawyer, but, as he once remarked, “Getting busted up in the glider crash is one way to get out of this business” or words to that effect.

As the years rolled by, we saw him less and less until we heard, through the grapevine, that he was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. Eventually he was placed in a care facility in Redding where he eventually succumbed.

We were distressed to hear of his passing, but realize it may be the best for him and his family that his tribulations have ended.  I regret not visiting him when informed he was in Redding. A mutual friend told me of seeing him there, and though cheerful and responsive, he apparently did not recognize old friends. I thought he certainly would have recognized me if I had dropped in to see him and cracked a couple of lawyer jokes. Surely would have lit up and said he was glad to see me. And yet, I put off going for fear he would not recognize me…and perhaps I would not recognize him.

R.I.P Richard.

President Roosevelt has inaugurated many new customs, some popular and some that are not. He started one that has everyone’s support, the March of Dimes that finances the fight against infantile paralysis (polio).

I am particularly interested in it because my brother Dallas died from the effects of this disease in 1926 before very much had been learned about counteracting it. He was a very bright and ambitious boy and a junior in high school. I watched him suffer; dying a little day by day with no hopes that anything could be done to help him. I know that when death finally relieved his sufferings, he was not sorry.

No disease is impossible to overcome if doctors are given unlimited time and money to experiment. The money that is spent in fighting this war could probably, if used in fighting disease, wipe out every ailment from the face of the earth. But as long as we cannot do that, let’s help with the March of Dimes, something really worthwhile.

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Spent part of Sunday digging in an old Indian mound down near the Sacramento River. Shoveled for two hours and only got a few sea shells for the effort. We are going to try it again someday. It seems alright for me to dig up an Indian grave yard, but if Indians dug up one of ours, they would be arrested for desecrating a burial ground.

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Bull Department: The following gem is from the March issue of Modern Screen magazine. “Mickey Rooney is so proud of his new wife, that although she is 8 inches taller than he is, he likes her to wear high heels when they are out so she will be seen by everyone”.

Dave Minch (1900-1964)

Clever Willard Espy wrote:

“When I for love of you lay ill,

Fal-lal-lal-lay,

You doled out kisses like a pill,

Three times a day.

The kisses cured—whence I deduce,

In love, placebos have their use;

Or else that any lover

Will nearly die, till some excuse

Permits him to recover.

Fal-lal-lal-lay.”

However,  A.E. Houseman saw it differently:

“When I was one and twenty, I heard a wise man say,

‘Give pounds and crowns and guineas but not your heart away.

Give pearls away and rubies but keep your fancy free’

But I was one and twenty, no use to talk to me.

When I was one and twenty I heard him say again,

‘The heart out of the bosom was never given in vain;’

‘Tis  paid with sighs a plenty and sold for endless rue.’

And I am two and twenty, and oh, ‘tis true, ‘tis true.”

            In last week’s effort, in the Passing Parade section, I lamented the deeding of our very grand Tehama Court House to the State of California. Then I corrected this assertion saying only the Annex in Red Bluff…and the Court building in Corning, had been deeded over…and promised more on this later.

            Thankfully, our Court House on Washington Street is apparently of no interest to the State. They have the power to “take” buildings in which the courts are located if they so choose. Usually they will take over facilities that are of recent vintage and pose no great cost to maintain or retrofit. It is all rather complicated as to how they are reimbursed by city and county for their upkeep, but suffice to say their stated objective is to keep the premises in good condition…and insure maximum security. If that is all they have in mind, then well and good. If there is some other agenda, then I think we had best look into one of the grass roots “tea parties” currently in fashion.

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            Theodore Hesburgh of Notre Dame writes, “The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.” I’ll second that notion.

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            A name you rarely see any more is “Esau”. Hence, this bit of nonsense. It may be difficult to follow, so I’ve added commas to assist the elderly:

 ”Esau Wood, would saw wood he saw, with a saw he saw, would saw wood.

But the wood he would saw, with the saw he saw, was Knot wood.

And the saw he saw, would not saw Knot wood.

So Esau saw, if he would saw Knot wood, he would saw with a Knot wood saw.

But a Knot wood saw, Esau Wood saw not.” (Found in newspaper circa 1900)

            I hope you will agree this is preferable to “How much wood could a Woodchuck chuck, if a Woodchuck could chuck wood?” (This is not a quiz)

* * * * * * *

            Last week’s quiz was answered most completely by L. Brown who knew that, in Jane Austen’s time, “knocked up” meant “tired”… or “exhausted”, and that we refer to groups of animals as “a shrewdness of apes” “a brood of hens”, “a leap of leopards”…and ” muster of peacocks”.

            This week’s quiz: What plays of Shakespeare’s gave us these familiar expressions: “The game is up”, “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers”, “There is something in the wind” and “It’s Greek to me”. Also, who wrote the admonition “Tell it to the Marines”?

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            It never fails. We bemoan the drought until the rain comes in droves…and then yearn for those idyllic days of fall with abundant sunshine. This, like so many things in life, we must take in stride. But then, is not variety the spice of life? Of course it is.

* * * * * *

            A man came home and found evidence his wife had been unfaithful. “Was it my friend Pete?” he demanded.

            “No, it wasn’t.”

            “Was it my friend Mike?”

            “No it wasn’t”

            “Was it my friend Larry?”

            “No it wasn’t,” she screamed. “What is it? Don’t you think I have any friends of my own?”

            (To respond to this website: rminchandmurray@hotmail)

            Tehama County in general and Red Bluff in particular has had a plethora of characters over the years. My father wrote in his “I Say” column in February of 1961, of twenty or so. I quote:

            “A couple of weeks ago I visited Sheriff Jim Froome who is recuperating from an operation. We got to talking about characters who lived around here over the years. The word “character” is not meant to mean “odd people”, but rather people who played their parts in the life around here 30 or 40 years ago.

            There was Cheap Campbell who ran a clothing store, and when you asked him the price, he would always whisper it to you.

            George Martin, the colored man who ran a very popular shoe store, and with his wife and son, figured they were socially above most of us ordinary people.

            Arthur Milsap, who was slightly addled, rode his bicycle around town at break neck speed, and with his thoughts in other places, often ran into fences, trees and occasionally people. He herded sheep in his spare time and insisted the sheep talked to him. Boys kidded him about what the sheep had told them about him, and he always replied that sheep are awful liars.

            Jim Matlock, a robust lawyer, who had as his adversary one day the District Attorney. When the D.A. questioned his honesty, Jim walked over to him and knocked him to the floor. The presiding Judge told Jim that someday he was going to go too far in his actions in court.

            Al Preusser, a giant of a man, swore that when prohibition became law, he would not shave until it was repealed. He grew a very long black beard, and with his bald head and great physique, was a sight to remember. When he ran afoul of the law, no one deputy could arrest him. It took two or three to deliver him to jail.

            Gorham King, who ran the big store under the town clock, drove his big Winton touring car a fast speeds when his condition was not too good, but was far too important for any policeman to arrest him, especially if the officer wanted to keep his job.

            Joe Clinton, the colored handy man about town who would go into Brooks Drug Store fountain, buy a 5 cent glass of Coke, drink one half and say it was a little strong, ask to have it filled back up with soda water, and then say it was a little weak and have the waitress fill it back up with Coke. It happened daily and was a standing joke.

            George Hastenplug, ran the old Concordia Hotel on Walnut. He and his cronies were sitting around the coal stove in the lobby one night when suddenly the front door crashed open and a large bull charged in and started towards the men. The bull chased them until the floor got so slippery the bull could not keep on its feet.

            Al Conard who didn’t have time to pay much attention to his Tremont Hotel, for all his time was spent in creating Lassen Volcanic Park along with the aid of Congressman Englebright and others.

            On the southeast corner of Main and Pine, the Abe Shoenfeld family had the oddest store. Nothing was sold for years because there was no way of finding anything. When Jack Metzger finally bought their stock, he burned the whole lot. Abe’s sister Goldie, walked him to high school every day until he was 18 years old, all the time holding tightly to his hand.

            Sam Lee, the old Chinaman from Tehama, drove his wagon around town selling vegetables for years. When asked how he was, he always answered, ” Half past six.”

            Pokie Pete walked around town wearing shoes with wooden soles one to two inches high selling his eggs and chickens and reciting poetry at every opportunity.

            Joe Casale, who bought up most of the Orchard Park land at $2 to $3 dollars per acre, and considered himself very fortunate when he sold it at $15. per acre.

            Ben Waterfall, the very successful and popular insurance salesman who sold a million dollars of insurance a year when money was very scarce, who, to everyone’s surprise, suddenly drove his car into the country one noon and shot himself.

            Sarah Ide, the daughter of William B. Ide, always wore the same plain black dress and was supposed to have a lot of buried money.

            Mr. Cahoone, the elderly slight president of the old Tehama Bank was accustomed to walking down the bank every Saturday and Sunday evening and trying the doors to see if they were still securely locked.’

            Such was the remembrance of Sheriff Froome and Dave Minch of interesting people in our fair city now long gone.