Long an admirer of our Tehama County Court House, I was surprised to discover a door therein which, when casually closed, caused a loud bang to reverberate about the rotunda on the main floor. In an attempt to report and alleviate this problem I considered contacting the Custodian, when I realized that the fellow who held that position for so many years,  Collis Henderson, had gone to his reward…and I would have no clout with his successor. Desperate to do the right thing, I contacted a county employee who shall remain anonymous, and the following discussion, via e mail, took place.

Me: I would like to register a complaint. I am a long time admirer of the County Court House, pay my taxes as any law abiding citizen, and…

Him: Yes sir, please get to the point as my hours as a public servant have been curtailed due to the current budget shortfall.

Me: Of course. Onward. I had occasion to visit room #17, which is the Civil Department for the Superior Court, to pick up forms for an Unlawful Detainer action in behalf of a client.

Him: I am not allowed to give advice nor assist in the filling out of these forms.

Me: Of course you’re not…but please hear me out. When leaving room #17 with my $5.00 packet, complete with instructions only a Harvard grad could understand, I allowed the door to slam…it was a windy day…and the noise was unsettling to the next door occupant, a fellow in the Veterans Service Department. As I saw him wince at the loud bang, I asked him if this was an everyday occurrence. He gritted his teeth, rolled his eyes and nodded his head in assent.

Him: I don’t see what this has to do…

Me: I’m getting to it. Have patience. Now, I am contacting you, in the absence of my friend, the late custodian, Collis Henderson, to inform the proper person to correct this problem.

Him: I am fascinated by your story, but this complaint does not fall within the parameters of my job description. However, what do you propose as a solution to the problem.

Me (warming to this little contest of wills): Well, it so happens I am the president of the MINCH QUIET DOOR CLOSING COMPANY, with charter in the Bahamas. Our motto is “Less bang for your bucks”.  For a paltry $3.99 for each device, plus shipping, allow 3 weeks for delivery, my company can furnish all the doors in the elegant but drafty Court House.

Him: There are many doors in the Court House.

Me: In my father’s house there are many mansions. I assure you we can handle the situation. And, by the way, our device will put the Court House in compliance with the Handicap Quiet Door Closing Act of 2006.

Him: I see. If the County is coerced into purchasing the device you manufacture….and what is it, exactly?

Me: It is a tennis ball on a string. It engages the door jamb and allows for a quiet door closing.

Him: I see…and if we don’t purchase from your company…?

Me: I will sue, of course.

Him: Of course. Can I get back to you on this?

Me: Of course…but remember, time is money…and the fellow next door may have to take disability leave if the banging door continues.

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A lady friend of the missus availed herself with the rare luxury of a pedicure. She was quite pleased with the new look of her toes. Her next stop was the hospital for an unrelated test of some sort. The technician instructed her to remove all her clothing except her socks. Damn, she thought, realizing no one would be observing her pretty feet.

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Last week’s quiz had no complete winners. The co-composers of the song “Caravan” along with Duke Ellington, were trombonist Juan Tizol, and Irving Mills. Gene Krupa endorsed and played on Slingerland Radio King drums, trumpeter Harry Edison was nicknamed “Sweets”…and small bandleader Red Nichols dubbed his sidemen his “five pennies”.

This week’s quiz: What rotund singer “owned” the song “God Bless America”, what was Glen Miller’s theme song, and how many valves on the flugel horn, played so well by Clark Terry?

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A group of 40 year old buddies discussed where they should meet for dinner and they decided on the Gashaus Gutenberger restaurant because the waitresses wore low cut blouses  and had nice breasts. 10 years later, when they were in their 50’s, they again chose the Gutenberger because the food and wine were excellent. 10 years later, in their 60’s, they chose the same place because it was quiet and smoke free. 10 years later, in their 70’s, they went back to the same restaurant because it has wheelchair access and an elevator. And finally, 10 years later, in their 80’s, they chose the Gutenberger  because they heard the waitresses wore low cut blouses with nice breasts…and they had never been there before.

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

We formulated a saying years ago: You can only embarrass yourself. Of course you can embarrass others…we do it all the time either in jest or seriousness. There is something satisfying in deflating the bubble of a pompous ass. However, the Donald Trumps of this era appear oblivious to embarrassment. No, we are talking about self embarrassment, the premise being we will only feel embarrassed if we allow it. Many times when we deserve a red face, we have been the architect of our predicament. But often we will avoid it by rationalization and justify our action, or our remark, because of extenuating circumstances. By this shift we place the blame of our gaffe on others. So?

In this section, we usually mention those who have passed on but deserve one more round of accolade. In this variation, however, we discuss the living who have gaffed and lived to gaffe again; the editor of this website being one uncomfortable example.

I have, for years, written songs or poems for family members. They were meant for family consumption. The great pianist, John Gonsalves, was kind enough to transcribe some of the songs as keepsakes for said family. Unfortunately, he decided to arrange one song for his group which was chosen to perform at a McCarthy Ranch gathering years ago. The missus and I, plus one daughter, were in attendance, and when John announced to the crowd that the next number was written by yours truly, I detected a slight groan from the audience. Nevertheless, I inadvisably placed 3 chairs in front of the bandstand and we plopped down in nervous anticipation. The band played, at a dirge like tempo, a fellow sang the lyrics to my sappy love song…and I writhed in agony. Tepid applause followed from the crowd which fortunately quickly returned to their beer and top sirloins enabling them to wash down the after taste of the first and last public performance of my musical treacle. God, it was an awful moment!

The above happened about 25 years ago, and I have yet to strike the incident from my mind. Hopefully, many of the audience at the time will have died. Those still living may still relish this performance like mustard on a hot dog. In my mind, this moment will never die.

There have been other times when I was embarrassed, of course.  I recall an outing for dinner and  dancing with another couple in which the other fellow’s wife…a statuesque woman, refused to dance with me because I was too short…but then that is more of matter of genetics than poor decision making on my part.  But if confession is good for the soul, then perhaps I shall eventually forget life’s most embarrassing moment…but I don’t think so.

I think Mother enjoys being in the hospital…if only to get me to visit her more often. She was in last weekend just for a checkup…but it still behooved me to visit her daily…something I don’t do when she is home. Strangely enough I enjoy visiting at the hospital if no one is seriously ill, that is…and during a storm, it is a very secure place to be. The temperature is always just right, the nurses in crisp white uniforms are very comforting, it’s a good time to run into Sister Columba for a spirited talk about Ireland…and it’s the only place you can get a doctor to make a house call.

The advent of television has really changed the atmosphere of the hospital room. No longer is it merely four blank walls with a crucifix and boredom. Of course if I were in for a long stay I might change my mind.

Mother introduced me to the new Baptist minister, Dr. Fred Reed. He’s big and friendly with a good sense of humor. I wonder if he would like to moonlight at the Presbyterian Church?

I think he is just what they need. I’ll suggest it to my wife. It would pep up Dr. Martin too. He takes his religion very seriously…so that when his church needs a good sky pilot, and the courts are too wet for tennis, he gets in a really bad mood. Dr. Reed came from Delano where he was up against Caesar Chavez. Chavez threatened to picket his church, but the minister called his bluff, as I call Dr. Martin’s bluff when we play tennis.

Robert Minch 1929-?

Not as clever as Dorothy Parker, but more personal are these words of grandfather’s:

Within the garden of thy heart, I crave the choicest vine,

From out the chalice of thy heart pour me the rarest wine.

The purple grapes that clustering hang, like curls upon your brow,

Shall still the hunger of my soul that longeth for thee now.

The flowing wine that sparkles bright like sunlit foam at sea,

The rich wine of thy love, shall quench my thirst that pants for thee.

O to be drunken with delight, and satisfied with joy!

To taste the rapture of thy lips! A bliss without alloy.

Earth has no pleasures that compare with those of thy pure love,

They fill the soul, and raise the mind all common things above.

Benjamin Franklin Minch 1869 -1936

Ed. Note: I wonder what grandmother Minch thought of her farmer turned poet husband. As a practical woman, struggling to raise 5 children, she probably suggested he should plow more and poet less.

I SAY FOR 22 January 2010

Little elderly Bert, 17 pounds wet, does not appreciate his companion, young Murray Clyde weighing in at 170, getting too close. When stepped on, or when his food is eyed hungrily by Clyde, he emits a sound often written in comic strips as “Aaugh”. This is not a bark. It is a primitive cry that often scares the hell out of the big dog. It is a sound that Mel Gibson might have emitted when painted blue and charging down a hill in his epic movie the title of which I have forgotten.

Bert is a study in what a diminutive fellow can accomplish when properly motivated. But of course he is still “intact” in the sense that his testosterone is still functioning and he feels, well, “manly” at times. One such time is when daughter Maralyn comes to visit with her 3 dogs, one of which is an old and decrepit female named Cali. When Maralyn’s family is in residence in the wing they constructed contiguous to our own house, Bert’s ears go up when Cali arrives on the south patio lawn. How he knows this is beyond me, but he awakens from his elderly sleep and stands at the glass slider in the living room indicating to me that he wants out…now! When he does re-kindle his one sided romance, there is little on his agenda except wishful thinking. Cali is a Lab and Bert is a Pomeranian…and never the twain shall meet. And yet, hope springs eternal as it does in all the animal kingdom.

Way to go, Bert! We are proud of you and your occasional outburst of “Aargh”! It shows the home fires are still burning.

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The headline in the Daily News read “CRABS COME TO COTTONWOOD”.  In our high school days, this would have set off a series of guffaws and elbow nudges. Today, it would cause nary a ripple in the double entendre set.

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The recent series of storms has given us hope for a wet winter and the replenishing of our water supplies. However, with the rain and the wind comes a certain dampening of the spirits. The visage outside our office at 760 Main is gloomy, the only bright spot being the newly opened US Bank across the street to the north and the equally new Tremont Café & Creamery to the south. But we are seeing a little more in commercial real estate and that often is the tail wagging the dog of residential sales. The long shuttered Papa Joe’s Pizza building at 734 Main is being restored by Brandon E. Minch Construction and may find a tenant by early spring. This is not name-dropping or product placement. We just report the facts and let the chips fall where they may. In fact, a Fish and Chips place might be a good fit for downtown Red Bluff.

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A  Police Log in the DN noted they received a call from a woman on Stagecoach Road who claimed her neighbors were using electronic weapons to shoot stroke-inducing beams at her residence. When the police arrived they pointed out to the woman that the neighbor’s equipment was merely a regular satellite TV receiver.  If the woman then said,”Never mind”, it was not reported.

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Last week’s quiz was first answered correctly by ex-educator and jazz bassist D. Gallagher who rattled off the names of the Ellington sidemen: Johnny Hodges and Harry Carney, the developer of the two bass drum set being Louie Bellson…and the original Brubeck Quartet, with Brubeck, Paul Desmond, Bob Bates and Joe Dodge.

Other responders asked for more of the same…so here is this week’s quiz: Who is the co-composer of “Caravan” beside Ellington and what instrument did he play, what make of drum did Gene Krupa endorse… and trumpet player Harry Edison had a nickname, what was it? Oh, and going back a ways, how many pennies did Red Nichols have?

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A woman took her husband to the doctor for a routine medical checkup. But afterwards. the doctor took the wife aside and said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. Unless you adhere to a strict routine, your husband will die. You must feed him a good healthy breakfast, you must cook him a nutritional dinner every night, you must not burden him with housework, and you must keep the house spotless and free of germs. It is a lot of work, but it is the only way to keep your husband alive.”

On the way home, the husband asked his wife what the doctor had told her.

The wife replied, “Oh…he said you were going to die.”

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

When we think of Red Bluff Union High School, we don’t envisage a collection of huts and prefab buildings…we think of the very grand RBUHS that once graced our fair city.

In 1897 a petition was circulated to establish a “Union High School.”  The petition passed and the upstairs of an elementary school on Lincoln was rented for this purpose with a modest rent of $400.00 per year. The high school opened in September with 64 pupils…or so stated the first issue of the “Dictum Est” published 1898.

By 1907, new larger quarters were needed, and so a bond was passed and a two story building was erected at 1203 Franklin for the grand sum of $32,000. However, by 1911, with an enrollment of 227 students, the original building was torn down, and for $90,000,  the marvelous palace with grand colonnade many of us recall and cherish, saw the light of day…said light dimmed after the building was condemned for not meeting questionable seismic requirements…and finally mysteriously burned to the ground in 1964.

Today, the site is occupied by the Coleman Tennis Courts…a tribute to the late great teacher Carl Coleman. It is a fitting memorial to the man and to the building that once enhanced the town, but the campus that rose from the ashes, bears no resemblance to the magnificent two story brick structure that stood for nearly 50 years. Many former students have stood for much longer, and still recall the days of hallway clatter and chatter, the basement cafeteria ringing with the din of metal trays and endless discussions of athletic events to come followed by  school dances to celebrate victory or morn defeat…and the gatherings on the spacious lawns where romantic intrigue often prevailed.

The phrase is, by now, somewhat  hackneyed, but truly “Those were the days”. A look at the photos in the old Dictum Est year books and  surviving 16mm film, will instantly convince skeptics that RBUHS indeed once was a palace…and the students therein became prince and princess for the rest of their lives.

Saturday evening, while waiting for a shave in Frank’s (McCaughey) Barbershop, a man got out of his chair all fixed up, turned to me and said, “Say buddy, what’s doing in Red Bluff on a Saturday night?”

I said, “I’ve only been here 22 years, and as far as I know, the answer is nothing”.

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I’m beginning to feel slighted. All these unsigned letters to the editor that are printed each day…and none about what a menace I am. I must be slipping.

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Lana Turner is certainly coming along. In Friday night’s film at the State Theatre she was starred with Robert Taylor and currently with Clark Gable. Two years ago while in Los Angeles we had the pleasure of watching her make one of the scenes for “Dancing Coeds”. We had never heard of her before, but the boy who was showing us around the MGM lot insisted the big shots had her slated for stardom, so we paid particular attention to her. Several of the extra girls were much prettier than she was. In fact, I was not impressed at all. Just as the shooting started, someone noticed she had on the wrong shoes, and so they stopped the picture and 40 extras sweated and waited while she exchanged her shoes.

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Easter Sunday and probably every church in town is filled to capacity for the first time since last Easter. There must be a reason why less than 10% of our population goes to church regularly. We used to say it was because the automobile took people such a distance every Sunday that they forgot about church. It looks like that alibi won’t do anymore.

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Our salesman in Oakland is my idea of an optimist. 64 years of age and he applied for a 25 year loan to build a house.

Dave Minch  1900-1964

More Parker as requested:

BRAGGART

The days will rally, wreathing their crazy tarantelle;

And you must go on breathing, but I’ll be safe in hell.

Like January weather, the years will bite and smart,’

And pull your bones together to wrap your chattering heart.

The pretty stuff you’re made of will crack and crease and dry.

The thing you are afraid of will look from every eye.

You will go faltering after the bright and impervious line,

And split your throat on laughter, and burn your eyes with brine.

You will be frail and musty with peering furtive head,

While I am young and lusty among the roaring dead.

DE PROFUNDIS

Oh, is it, then Utopian to hope that I may meet a man

Who’ll not relate, in accents suave, the tales of girls he used to have?

PROPHETIC SOUL

Because your eyes are slant and slow, because you hair is sweet to touch,

My heart is high again; but oh, I doubt if this will get me much.

GODSPEED

Oh, seek, my love, your newer way; I’ll not be left in sorrow.

So long as I have yesterday, go take your damned tomorrow!

Dorothy Parker 1893-1967

Sister L. Smith…my sister, not a bride of Christ, is always on the lookout for unfamiliar names. She recently observed a fellow in the obit column whose first name was “Pniler”. She asked if I had run across the name before…and, if so, how it is pronounced. I suggested it rhymed with “vanilla”. The missus thought it would rhyme with “miler” as in a race in field and track. The person has gone to his reward and is not about to shed light on the subject. The missus’ maiden name was “Miller”, which doesn’t bring us any closer to the truth. If she happened to have, say a cousin, who full name was “Pniler Miller” we would be getting somewhere. As it is, the name is no more enlightening than that of a law firm, such as “Crane, Poole, Pniler and Schmidt”. Maybe you had to be there. It is a slow news day.

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From the Daily News police logs last week: “A woman reported receiving a strange phone call informing her she had a package containing one million dollars awaiting her in the state of Washington. As she has not heard anything further about the package, she wonders if it was a scam of some sort.”

My reply, if asked, would have been, “Yes, madam, that would be a reasonable assumption. But if the million dollars package does arrive, best to have a hand truck on hand to transport it into your house…and be sure to tip the delivery man. ”

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In his book, “Drugs: America’s Holy Wars” , Professor Arthur Benhavie writes that we are spending 50 billion a year on this war…and not winning it. He is a neuroscientist at Duke University and seems to know what he is talking about. He says we should stop putting addicts in jail, develop government programs to help them withdraw, as many European countries have successfully done…and eventually dry up the market for drugs of addiction. He cites Alcoholics Anonymous and their 12step program as an example. Drinkers are not incarcerated nor should drug addicts. It seems such an obvious solution, and yet congress and law enforcement doesn’t get it. Tsk,tsk.

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Those Merry Manton Madcaps have a new gig going on their website: “The Merry Standish Standard”(www.merrystandish.com/standard.html). It is very topical, very funny, very naughty and not for your Aunt Martha unless she was a former lap dancer. The Standard is a welcome offset to our daily dreary news reports.

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The ability to tell a joke well helps a person cover up his shortcomings in education and other endeavors.

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This just in: Journalist C. Larimer, snow bound and frost bit in North Dakota is thinking of getting into politics, as he has been getting to politicians for years. He’s thinking the Bowman City Council and wants advice as to run or not. He won’t take your advice, but that is another matter.
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Last week’s quiz was again answered by J. Angelo who knew that Academia was Aristotle’s stomping grounds, that Teddy Roosevelt had two daughters, Alice and Ethel…and the last thing Paul Revere said to his horse was, “Whoa!”

This week’s quiz: Name Duke Ellington’s most famous sidemen who played alto sax and baritone sax , name the drummer who introduced the two bass drum set up… and the personnel of the original Dave Brubeck Quartet after Cal Tjader left the group.

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Mixed emotions department: My name, in graffiti, was recently (and crudely) inscribed on a column of the Cone & Kimble Clock Tower. Was this a result of my contribution or opposition to the tower years ago? Only the shadow writer knows…

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A highway patrolman pulled over a nun for driving too slowly at 25 miles per hour which endangered others driving 65.  She said, “I’m sorry, but I saw a lot of signs which read 22, not 65!”

The patrolman explained that was not the speed limit but merely the name of the highway. He then looked in the rear of the car and saw two other nuns trembling with fear. “What’s the matter with them?” he asked.

The nun driving said, “We just came off  Highway 119!”

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

Here is an editorial from the Red Bluff Daily news of 17 November 1981 when Jim Dimmitt was Gen. Mgr and Bill Goodyear was Editor:

“TO NAME OR NOT TO NAME the Red Bluff Union High School tennis courts in honor of retired teacher Carl Coleman? That is the question the Board of Trustees are asking the community before they make a decision on the proposal.

Members of the community recently petitioned the board to name the courts after Coleman because of his contributions in the educational and recreational areas, according to Superintendent E.A. (Pat) Murphy.

Coleman never missed a day of work in a 40 year career; the majority of it spent teaching music at RBUHS, according to Murphy. An advocate of good health practices, who set the pace for joggers long before it was fashionable, Coleman was often out on the courts helping children learn to play tennis on his own time during his teaching career and still does so in his retirement.

A fellow athlete, the late Bill Rainier also did the same thing, and Murphy said that Robert Minch is proposing to the City Council that the Lincoln Street courts be named in his honor.

“He made a point that it would certainly be nice to honor someone during his lifetime instead of after he had passed on,” said Murphy.

If the Board decides to follow through on the proposal, it has precedent. Salisbury
Continuation High School was named in honor of its first principal, Floyd Salisbury, also a former RBUHS principal, a few months after his death.

Murphy expects that the Board will ask him at its next meeting if there has been any comment from the community and will consider it in making its decision.

It’s traditional that flowery speeches and plaques are produced after a noteworthy person dies. But why not give the honoree an opportunity to enjoy the festivities, too! Traditions sometimes need to be broken.”

Ed. Note: The naming of the RBUHS tennis courts “Coleman Courts” was approved by the Board on 24 November 1981 after a proposal by Minch to the Board on 21 September 1981.