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TALL TALES & other lies...
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Art Thieme Date: 16 Feb 01 - 12:07 AM A.C. is at the Riverboat Songs thread. Art |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: katlaughing Date: 16 Feb 01 - 01:17 AM Thanks forsrefreshing this thread, Art! I love reading the various ways you did that dog in two, after first hearing it on your KM album! Here's a CLIQUEY to Annie Christmas. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 16 Feb 01 - 08:50 AM It seems that everybody claims to have big mosquitoes no matter where I go. I listen to their stories and grin to myself. I would never think of contradicting anyone. But I grin when I think of what happened one fall while I was out hunting partridges. Now you in the south and west of here may call them grouse but they are and always have been partridges since before they were hunted with cartridges. But I'm not one to grouse about names... Anyway, I was out hunting partridge with the 12 guage side by each. I wandered down the tote road, enjoying the day, confidant that mosquito season was over. As I strolled round a curve in the tote road I stopped in horrified surprise. There in the road was a moose. I could tell right away that the poor thing was in trouble for it had two mosquitoes on it. I could have saved him. People have been known to take down a mosquito with bird shot from a 12 guage but I wasn't gonna try it. You want to be real careful. Mosquitoes charge when wounded. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Uncle_DaveO Date: 16 Feb 01 - 11:21 AM Speaking of mosquitoes, I'm from Minnesota. Some people laughingly say that the mosquito is Minnesota's state bird, but that's not really true. We do have some awful big mosquitoes, though. My Grandad had a farm in Koochiching County many years ago, and one day he was out plowing the north forty with a horse-drawn plow when two mosquitoes swooped down and picked up the horse and flew away over the hill with him, dragging the plow behind. Grandad ran after them as fast as he could, following the furrow left behind, and ran up over the hill. But when he got there they had already eaten the horse, and were pitching horseshoes to see who got the harness! Dave Oesterreich |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 16 Feb 01 - 11:32 AM Yeah our mosquitoes are pretty big but the blackflies stay pretty small. What they lack in size they make up for in population. It's not unusual to pass the time talking to a cloud of blackflies only to find out that the person inside that cloud is a stranger. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: kendall Date: 16 Feb 01 - 10:51 PM I played The Ark once back in the early eighty something. Did it with Sandy Ives, a famous Maine folklorist. If you want to hear a really tall tale, I recommend Beginners Luck by me.It's on my new CD. I knew a woman who was so fat, she ran away from home, and the cops made her take the truck route. Mooseturd Pie is an authentic Maine lumber camp song from the Wild River area of western Maine. Jigger Jones was a real Maine tall tale teller. I got the story from Joe Hickerson, formerly of the Library of Congress. Rodney Dangerfield said his wifes cooking was so bad, the flies in the yard took up a collection to get the screen door fixed. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: katlaughing Date: 16 Feb 01 - 11:01 PM My great-granddad really did engineer and supervise the digging of the railroad bed in Glenwood Canyon in Colorado, runs alongside the Colorado River. My dad just recently told me the story of how he did it in such a fast and thorough manner. Said ole great-granddad uncorked a bottle of good whiskey, threw it down a strategiccally located gopher hole and those gophers had the whole thing dug all the way from Glenwood Springs to Eagle in nothing flat! |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Mary in Kentucky Date: 16 Feb 01 - 11:24 PM kat, do you remember that scene in the book The Virginian where the cowboys are telling tall tales? As best I remember, The Virginian suckers Trampas in on his story about frog legs. It seems that the real art of telling a tall tale is to start out with a truth and then gradually get more ridiculous until the listeners know they've been had, but never quite realize when the line is crossed. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: katlaughing Date: 17 Feb 01 - 12:32 AM Oh, yes, Mary, I remember it, and I think you are right, that and tell them with deadpan delivery. The way my dad tells it, you never know what hit until a couple seconds after, then BAM! Then, ya scratch your head and say "Now, wait a minute!?" The story I remember the best from the Virginian, because it had the most impact I suppose, was them swapping the babies at the dance. The Old Goose Egg Ranch still stood in the days when I was growin' up in Wyomin', in fact it was just down the road a bit from where we lived and my big brother had been out there exploring with his buddies. I was quite impressed with that and also with The Virginian Hotel which we travelled past once on the way to Grandma's in Denver. It is in Medicine Bow and still stands and they rent out rooms to this day. Anyway, mom and dad used to play for dances and I remember first hearing that story when I was about knee high to my dad's pickup truck wheels and being a tad worried everytime I fell asleep at one of those dances. I was sure I'd get swapped, or had already been swapped, as I was the only redhead in the family. For a long time I thought I must've been adopted, then I found out my other grandma had been a red-on-the-head, too. Then I found out they'd really just washed my hair a lot when I was little with the red clay of the surrounding hills, as they wanted me to fit in, when we moved back to Cawl-ah-ra-duh, which means "red" in Spanish. See, I was the only one not born in Colorado and my family, well....it was a matter of pride, ya see? kat
(Oh, well, my first tall tale, needs a little work, but it was fun trying!) |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 17 Feb 01 - 01:01 AM Kendall, have you ever heard the song about how Moosehead Lake came to be? I once heard an old guy sing it up in The County. I always meant to go back and get it from him but my dad told me recently that he has died. The story goes that there was a feller making liquor out in the back woods. He heard the revenue men were looking for him so he kept moving his still deeper in to the woods. Well, the stuff he was making was pretty strong. It was so strong that elderly maiden aunts went looking for a man if they happened to walk down wind of the still. It was so strong that it would take the paint off the side of the Bangor & Aroostook locomatives. It was so strong that lumberjacks had been known to get drunk on only one bottle of the stuff. Anyway, he lit out just ahead of the revenue officers with a wagon load of his liquor and the still. No one knows for sure what happened but there was a most tremendous roar and wind. When the dust settled they found the biggest crater anyone had ever seen. It was already filling with water and they knew it would make a hell of a lake. They figure he got his wagon hung up and rolled it over. When those bottles broke the explosion had pretty much created the biggest lake in Maine. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Amergin Date: 17 Feb 01 - 02:00 AM Ya know...I am so handsome that the women get in line for five blocks just to take a look at my smile....oh, wait this is a tall tale thread....nevermind... |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 17 Feb 01 - 06:45 AM No, that's all right, Amergin, you're in the right place. *BG* |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Mary in Kentucky Date: 17 Feb 01 - 09:31 AM Once Vikinglass (who used to post here) was driving her son to a school event on a Friday night. They were a tad late, so took the back roads and were driving too fast. There was a small bump or sound, but they saw nothing in the dark. The rest of the evening was uneventful, and they never gave another thought to the sound they heard on that dark country road. Several days later a woman called on the phone and told Vikinglass that she had run over her $800 Vietnamese pot bellied pig, and she expected some restitution. Vikinglass was toatally shocked, especially since she had an unlisted phone numeber. She asked the woman how in the world she had found her... Are you ready for this... The pig squealed. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Art Thieme Date: 17 Feb 01 - 11:18 AM This sounds "tall" but it's probably completely true ! When the first Europeans came to North America, a squirrel could climb a tree on the east coast and jump from tree to tree and not touch ground until it got to the Mississippi River ! Art Thieme |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Art Thieme Date: 17 Feb 01 - 11:23 AM My uncle broke his leg playing golf. He fell off the ball wash ! Art Thieme |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Deckman Date: 17 Feb 01 - 03:22 PM "She was so skinny she had to stand twice to make a shadow' She was so skinny she had to run around in the shower to get wet" CHEERS, Bob (deckman) Nelson |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: kendall Date: 17 Feb 01 - 03:22 PM Never heard that one Naemanson. Traditionally, the tall tale is a product of the inland Mainer. On the coast, the stories are short, pithy and very dry. Example. my Uncle Curt told me when I was a boy, that he was picking raspberries, and a bear started chasing him. They ran for miles, the bear couldn't catch Curt, and Curt couldn't out distance the bear. Finally, he says, the only way he could get away from that bear was, to run across Bog Lake. The ice was just thick enough to hold him, but, the bear was too heavy and fell through. Did you notice the point where a truth became fiction? I said "Now Uncle, you said you were picking raspberries, that had to be in mid summer, then you ran across the ice. How can that be? I'm not as stupid as I look." He says "You're right, you're not as stupid as you look. I just didnt tell you that that bear chased me from July to Christmas." As an example of the dry kind, former Senator, Sec. of State, Ed Muskie told me one that has gotten around pretty well. A Texan was visiting a Maine farmer. He asked "How many acres do you farm? Mainer says "300 acres." Texan says "That all? why,on my spread back home, I can get into my car and it takes me all day to get from one boundry line to the other." Mainer says "Yup, I know how that is...had a car like that once myself." |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Art Thieme Date: 17 Feb 01 - 11:56 PM Kendall, I told that one for years. (I stole it from you !) Thanks. Yes, it IS easier to get forgiveness than permission. ;-) (art) |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: kendall Date: 18 Feb 01 - 08:15 AM There is no such thing as stealing a story! I long ago gave blanket permission to anyone who wanted to use anything they heard from me. Minnie Pearl told the one about the old maids and the cat. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 18 Feb 01 - 08:25 AM Why d'ye look so down, Ezra? Oh, I had to shoot my dog. Was he mad? Reckon he weren't too damned pleased! |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: GUEST,Kernow Jon Date: 18 Feb 01 - 12:52 PM My grandfather was a ship's carpenter on the old clipper ships and when they docked at Plymouth he used to follow the side of the river Fal all the way through to north Cornwall and then on a way to Bude where he lived. The journey would take two or sometimes three days.
One time he docked in January and the weather was freezing eighteen inches of snow all across the moors on his way home. He'd been walking for about four hours and his toes were nearly numb, grandfather only had on his sailors canvas shoes with the rope soles. He stumbled on some ice and as he put his hand out touched someone deep under the snow. Granddad uncovered the man and found that sadly he was dead. He did however have a good stout pair of brown leather shoes on. Granddad tried to untie the laces and take the shoes off, after all the poor man had no further use for them, but they were frozen solid to his feet. Grandfather thought oh well here goes and took out his ships carpenter's tools and gently sawed through the man's legs. He put the stumps with the shoes on in his bag, covered over the body with snow and carried on his journey.
He got near to Launceston and decided to find a farmhouse and rest up for the night. In those days it was traditional for a farmer and his wife to provide a place to sleep and breakfast for a sailor in exchange for the sailor telling a few stories about his voyages. This is what happened to grandfather. After a few tales the farmer showed him to the barn. Said he would be warm and comfortable there and not to worry about the cow. Grandfather before settling down for the night took the stumps of legs out of his bag, still with the shoes frozen on, and pushed them into the straw. He then covered himself over with straw and went to sleep. In the morning the farmer came into the barn thought to himself where's the sailor to? Saw the legs sticking out of the straw, pulled on them and finding nobody on the end ran shouting into the farmhouse. Told his wife the cow had eaten the sailor and that they should pack up and leave before they finished up in Bodmin jail.
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: GUEST,Naemanson Date: 18 Feb 01 - 08:18 PM Once a newspaper feller went looking for the strongest man in the state. He heard of one man living up the Line Road so walked off in search of him. At the first house he came to he saw a man plowing his field by simply pushing the plow through the dirt. He was pretty impressed but when he asked he was told, "Oh no, I ain't the strongest man. He lives up the road." The reporter walked on. After a while he came to a house where the occupant was splitting firewood. He did it by digging his thumbs into the end grain and ripping the wood into burnable chunks. He was pretty impressed but when he asked the man told him, "Oh no, I ain't the strongest man. He lives up the road." The reporter walked on. After a while he saw a man reach down and lift up the corner of his house to adjust the rocks supporting the corner. He was pretty impressed but when he asked the man told him, "Oh no, I ain't the strongest man. He lives up the road." Now the reporter was getting pretty uncertain of this and commented on it rather strongly. "What is it," He finally said, "that he can do that shows he is stronger than you or your neighbors? "Oh hell," came the reply, "he's the only man who can grab himself by the scruff of the neck and hold himself out at arm's length." This was funny when I was younger... |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: GUEST,cretinous yahoo Date: 18 Feb 01 - 08:40 PM When I was a boy, one time the wind blew so hard, it unraveled a crowbar, and, blew two rooster feathers right through a grindstone. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Art Thieme Date: 19 Feb 01 - 12:58 AM My uncle had a wooden leg--------from the knee up. My aunt died of terminal slivers. Every Christmas someone would give him a new garter and a box of thumbtacks. Art Thieme |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Tony in Sweden Date: 19 Feb 01 - 04:27 AM We were so poor that, every morning when my father opened the window, the birds would throw in bread. mvh TC |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: GUEST,cretinous yahoo Date: 19 Feb 01 - 08:48 AM My great uncle, 91, married a woman 32. He died of long division. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: NH Dave Date: 19 Feb 01 - 06:53 PM Someone mentioned Richard Chase a while ago. About 20-30 years ago he put some of the stories and songs he had collected into a book. The copies I had were paperback, cost about five dollars back then, and are now unfortunately out of print. The various stories were grouped by theme or subject, so he had Jack Tales, Ash Lad tales, tall tales, and songs of the region. One story I remember, as I used to tell it at campfires, concerns a man hiking through the countryside who got caught in a snowstorm. He'd been climbing this mountain and as the storm got worse he happened upon a cabin beside the trail and went inside to keep warm. There was a fireplace and some wood so he was able to build a fire and keep warm through the night, but when he woke up at what seemed to be morning it was still dark. He put a couple more sticks on the fire and went back to sleep, and when he woke again they had burned to ash, so he new it had to be morning and started looking around. He tried to open the door, but it wouldn't open, and finally had to climb up into the loft and crawl out of the window there, cause the snow was so high it had completely covered the door. Well, he looked around at all the snow, and then got our and started walking around looking for some wood and something to eat. As he walked a bit he came upon several small trees that he could cut for wood, one of them almost completely filled with coons(this part is much like one of your tales, Art). He knocked a couple of coons in the head, and began chopping down one of the small trees for fire wood to cook the coon meat. When the tree he had been felling finally dropped, it fell over onto the side of the mountain and started sliding down the mountain. He tried to sink the blade of his ax into it to keep it from sliding, but he was just a bit too slow on the uptake, and missed it. Well you know, the next tree he felled, he was much more careful of, and managed to drop it without losing it the way he had the first, and got ready to return to the cabin with the meat and the wood. Just as he was turning to go he heard a sliding hissing noise and looked down the mountain in time to see the first tree he had felled sliding back up the mountain towards him. AS he looked out over the side of the mountain he could see that it had slid all the way down the mountain he was on, and up the side of the next mountain, stopped near the top, and began sliding back down towards him again. This sight so surprised him that he didn't even think about trying to sink his ax into the tree before it began its trip back down the mountain. "Well," he thought, "I've got a couple of coons, and wood to cook them on, so I'd best get back to the cabin and wait until more of this snow melts.", which is what he did. The next few days went pretty much like the first; club a couple of coons, fell a tree or so for firewood, and return to the cabin, to wait out the thaw. Finally, just about the time he was getting really tired of coon, there was a warm wind one evening and the next morning he could see daylight streaming in the windows of the cabin and he could open up the door. He gathered up his possessions and started on down the mountain. As he passed where he had gotten his food and wood he noticed that what he had thought to be small trees, were really only the tops of trees, sticking up out of the big snow, and he could even see where he had cut a couple of those tops for firewood. As he kept on down the side of the mountain he noticed that he seemed to be following gully that looked as if it had been cut out by a brook or stream, and that puzzled him a bit since he hadn't seen or heard water on his way up. Finally when he got to the bottom and saw that the cut continued on up the side of the mountain opposite him, it occurred to him that it must have been worn away by that first log he cut down, as it slid first one way and then the other, up and down those two mountains. When he got to the bottom of the mountain, where the gully was really worn deep, he looked into the bottom and saw something sliding slowly back and forth in the bottom of the trench. He reached down and picked it up, and sure enough, it was what was left of the log, all wore down to a sliver. Now, if you've been telling this in the first person, here's where you reach into your wallet, and pull out a short bit of straight twig which you previously cut, and finish off with, "Well, you know, I picked up what was left of that log and put it in my wallet to keep...best toothpick I ever had...and here it is right now!" Dave |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Abby Sale Date: 20 Feb 01 - 09:23 AM NH Dave: It's a loverly story & you told it well. I still have the paperback (although all of it's glue is missing now.) Chase can be heard telling this & several of the best on - They're intersperced with Clayton & Ritchie singing appropriate songs on the compilation reissue: American Songs of Revolutionary Times & Civil War Era Legacy-International CD. It includes "1-2-3" which I admit I raised my family on and very effectively - when all knew the story well & I was irked at some continuing misfeasance, I'd scream "one" at the top of my lungs. The point was always well-taken and I never got to "three." |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 20 Feb 01 - 11:08 AM Do you know what the difference is between a tall tale and a fairy tale? The fairy tale begins, "Once Upon A Time..." and a tall tale begins, "This is no sh*t..." |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Art Thieme Date: 20 Feb 01 - 12:30 PM Abby Sale & all, My split dog tale that I milked for so many years (and posted here in it's various incarnations) is from Richard Chase. He did it on the LP with Jean Ritchie & P.Clayton that you mentioned. Also, "The Jim Bridger tale" mentioned in this thread earlier was also one that was on that LP as done by R.Chase-- but in 1961 I followed Richard Chase all over the first University Of Chicago Folk Festival just soaking up everything I could. (There were no cassette recorders then--or very few.) Mr. Chase had a long walking stick (really a staff) and "picturesque" clothing---a flowing cape etc. Was always talking about a place called "KINGS X" in Tennessee I think. I don't recall what that place was... Art Thieme |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 20 Feb 01 - 12:37 PM You know this is a special place. My story of the strongest man comes from the days of my childhood. I haven't thought of it for years. Then, lurking down the Scottish humor thread, I spotted a request for the punchline to that very story. It seems the poster remembered the story but not the outcome. He'd made his request the day after I posted my story. There must be a story in that... |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: kendall Date: 20 Feb 01 - 01:55 PM If anyone is interested, I also wrote a book of humorous tales. It is titled STORIES TOLD IN THE KITCHEN and it is available through Borders Books. $6.00. Some of the tales are on SEAGULLS & SUMMERPEOPLE, a Folk Legacy Cassette. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Jim Krause Date: 20 Feb 01 - 03:26 PM Me: I saw a horse with a broken leg up the road a little ways. Don't you shoot a horse with a broken leg? Rancher: Nope. We shoot 'em with a shotgun. Back in the 1870s there was this really bad grasshopper infestation in Kansas. They ate up all the wheat, then destroyed the corn. Matter of fact, it is said that after the wheat and corn were all gone, they would eat the laundry off the clothes lines. Finally, they got so ravenous that they chewed a corner off the Northeastern edge of the state. And that's why to this day, the map of Kansas has that funny looking northeastern boundry where the border used to turn a right angle. Yo' mama's so fat, she has to have her own zip code. Well, that's my contribution |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 20 Feb 01 - 03:42 PM Where or when does a tall tale become a joke? |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Bert Date: 20 Feb 01 - 05:58 PM I would say "When it's not true" |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Art Thieme Date: 20 Feb 01 - 09:30 PM I knew a strongman who worked in a carnival. As a part of his show he would squeeze a lemon dry with just one hand. Then he would offer $5,000.00 to anyone who could get even one more drop out of the squeezed lemon. My uncle did it. (He worked for the I.R.S.) Art Thieme |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: NH Dave Date: 21 Feb 01 - 02:52 PM &nbs &nbs &nbs &nbs &nbs &nbs I'd suggest, when it happens to somebody other than you. &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; Another of Richard Chase's tales concerns a rather friendly lady in a small southern town. Hearing that her husband was leaving home for a day or so on a trip, a local step husband, the man who drops by whenever the husband leaves, stopped by. As he was talking with the lady they heard steps on the front porch. "Quick, hide in this old pickle barrel," she whispered. &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; As it turned out, it wasn't her husband, but another admirer, and things were getting right interesting, to the chagrin of the first man, when her husband actually did return home. Without blinking an eye, the second man grabbed the pickle barrel, tilted it onto the rim, and started trundling it out of the cabin, saying, "My missus will be much obliged to you for the loan of this pickle barrel.", as he passed the husband on the porch. &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; &nbs; As soon as he had trundled the barrel down around a bend in the path he stopped, took out his bandanna, wiped his brow, and exclaimed, "Danged if I didn't get out of that 'un pretty slick!" &nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;He nearly jumped out of his skin when the first fellow replied from down inside the barrel, "Not near as slick as I did!" &nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs; And I don't usually tell that one at Scout Camp. &nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs;&nbs; Dave |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Little Hawk Date: 21 Feb 01 - 03:09 PM One time when I was passing through Ohio I got a chance to drop in on Spaw. We sat in his backyard sipping on mint julips or something like that. After the old fella had relaxed some I steered the conversation around to the subject of showing good taste when posting online. I pointed out that his constant references to flatulence were offensive to some people. He was quite shocked to hear that. I then went on to say that certain expletives which I shall not repeat here were unsettling to many individuals, and that he should refrain from using them online. Again, he was dumbfounded, and really quite upset that he had unintentionally offended people. I then capped it by advising him that lying about the size of one's genitalia was a federal offense. He turned pale, and was speechless for some time. The upshot of it was, he swore to never do any of those things again and expressed the hope that everyone would overlook and hopefully forgive his past indulgences. That was back in 1998, and is probably why he's been behaving with absolute decorum ever since... - LH |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: kendall Date: 21 Feb 01 - 03:43 PM SPOILSPORT!! |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 21 Feb 01 - 11:03 PM I think Little Hawk would have had the tallest tale here except it became unbelievable too early in the telling. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: hesperis Date: 21 Feb 01 - 11:49 PM Cna somebody fix NH Dave's post? I think he meant |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: GUEST,RickE Date: 22 Feb 01 - 12:23 AM Attn: Naemanson: "Well done!" on anticipating my joke request but... is that it?? In a joke with ever increasing superlatives, one more doesn't have the "McGuffin" or gimmick the joke needs for a truly fine blow-off. Ah, well, this may well be the search for the Platonian ideal of shaggy dog stories. [grin] Cheers, Rick |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Jim Dixon Date: 22 Feb 01 - 12:51 AM Long before I knew her, my wife was a volunteer EMT – Emergency Medical Technician – in the small town in southern Minnesota where she lived. Once when we were driving through that part of the country, she pointed out a certain low-hanging railroad overpass, and told me about a bizarre accident that had occurred there in her day. This was in the time when CB radios were all the rage, and a lot of people were having them installed in their cars, trucks, whatever, and some of them had real long antennas, often installed by people who didn't really know what they were doing. Once a van passed under that overpass with an extra-long whip antenna, much longer than it should have been. The beaded tip of the antenna caught in a bolt-hole in a girder overhead, and it snapped off at the bottom. The aerial had flexed so far that when it broke loose, it went flipping back the other way, and struck a rider on a motorcycle that happened to be following behind the van. The sharp, broken end of the antenna pierced the man through the throat. He was badly hurt, but he survived the accident. They airlifted him to an emergency hospital in the Twin Cities, where they treated his wound. He seemed to be recovering OK, but a week or so later, he developed an infection in the wound that was resistant to all the antibiotics they tried. He finally died of the infection. The particular bacterium that infected him was so rare that it didn't have a name until then, but a name finally caught on because of the accident. Maybe you've heard of it. It's called van-aerial disease. (When my wife told me that tale, she had me believing it right up to the punch line. I've never yet been able to get her back for that.) |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: wdyat12 Date: 22 Feb 01 - 01:58 AM Sammy Many years, ago before I was ever employed at Bath Iron Works, things were done differently in the shipbuilding trade. Instead of powder paint spray adhesion there was another more dangerous process for making metal impervious to the elements of the sea. The Harding Plant, a remote fabrication plant in the next county from the main shipyard of BIW on the Kennebec River, was heavily involved in a manufacturing method known as galvanizing. As the story was related to me, there were three large rectangular lead-lined cement vats of boiling acid, neutralizer, and zinc. You must remember this was in the days before OSHA, so workers didn't know this was bad for them to even breathe the fumes from these witches caldrons. Sammy was a rigger/crane operator and was perched on the edge of one of these boiling vats directing the load of an overhead crane when suddenly, he faultered and slipped into one of the vats and boiled for a few minutes while his coworkers rushed frantically to extricate him. Sammy was examined medically with all the latest methods and techniques of the time, blood pressure, temperature, and visual reckoning. The docters all agreed he was a lucky man to survive such an accident even though he sustained third degree burns over his entire body. Within a few weeks, Sammy surcombed to his wounds and passed away. His coworkers were devistated. They had lost a brother who kept their minds off their tedium with his sense of humor. Sammy could be counted on to pull any union brother out of a temporary slump by just telling one of his tall tales or simple jokes. His loss was deeply felt by all who worked at the Harding plant in the fifties. By the time I began working at "Hardings," stories of Sammy were common knowledge. Here was a man who sacrificed his life for building ships, a model for us all. In my youth as a shipbuilder, I was so gong ho to beleive in something that I thought we could do anything and I beleived in models like Sammy. Then the weird stuff began happening. The security guards were the first to report strange incidences late at night when all of second shift had gone home. One guard claimed he heard footsteps on the mezzonine traveling across the ceiling of the floor above him while making his rounds. Another guard swore that one of the overhead cranes started up and traveled the whole length of "B Bay" by itself back and forth. The guard checked the service box for the cranes and it was in the OFF position. In another report all the inteior lights of the plant came on and then went off several times while another guard made his rounds. Workers started noticing that there lunch boxes had been hidden or tampered with. These phenomenon continue sporadically to this day. We just blame it on Sammy. wdyat12
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: GUEST,Gary Owens Date: 22 Feb 01 - 10:31 AM Along the south shore of Newfoundland I met an old fellow who, upon my commenting on how thick the fog was that day, replied, "Dat's notting me son - you ain't seen fog 'til you been to Trepassey where I'm from. I ne'er seen me mudder 'til I was eight mont's ol' ! An' wind sir ! We use to tether the chickens on a ca'm day. One time, a real blow come on and we gathered all we could but the ol' rooster was left out overnight. Next morn he was a sight b'y. The tethered leg was straight out to the side li'dat ( standing on one leg, with the other straight out, he leaned over to the laughter of all present ) and there were nare a fether on 'im. So the ol' woman knitted him a pair o' coveralls ( much more laughter from the group ). You t'inks dat's funny, you shoulda seen him wit a hol' o' a hen, tryin' to get the damn t'ings off !!!! |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Art Thieme Date: 22 Feb 01 - 10:34 PM NH Dave, Richard Chase called that story one of the "step husband tales". That's about the husband who steps in when the real husband steps out. Art Thieme |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 23 Feb 01 - 06:58 AM Rick E, I can't comment on what the blow off line SHOULD have been. To the best of my recollection (never very good on my best days) the story ends just that way. There are stories that do that. They end with a twist and a wry smile instead of a guffaw of laughter. There are ranges of humor in the old stories and the old timers (some even older than Sandy, Art, and Kendall!) used to tell them not so much for the laugh but to play with the minds of their listeners. Thus, Kendall's story about the bear and the thin ice above is very funny but not so much for the punch line but for the twist that it puts on the listeners' heads. I would bet that at least half of the listeners to that story miss the fact that the narrator started out picking berries and ended on thin ice. Fortunately there is always some alert listener who catches the "mistake" and brings it to the narrator's attention thus opening up the punchline. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: Naemanson Date: 23 Feb 01 - 07:08 AM Here's a true story: Old Lee Thompson was a fishing guide on Duck Lake in Washington County, Maine. He had the camp next door to ours (in Maine a cabin in the woods is a "camp"). He made a good life, fishing in the summer and wintering with his daughter in Florida until he was killed in a car accident on his way south one year. Anyway he told me the story of a bit of trouble he had when he got out a big steak to thaw. He left it on his kitchen counter and headed for bed. Now he had quite a nice camp, a regular three bedroom house which was unusual in those days. Our own camp was a one room log affair with a wood stove for heating and cooking and bunk beds built into one end. Anyway, Lee's camp had a screened porch looking out at the lake. You could stand in the kitchen and watch the sun come up over the lake and know that all was right in the world. Lee laid the steak out on the counter and went to bed. During the night he heard a noise and padded softly out to his porch. There at the door was a bear, sniffing around and wanting that steak. Lee stood for a minute and then crept closer to where the bear stood in the door way. The screen was torn and open. The bear could neither see him or smell him. Lee leaned in close and shouted "BOO!" The bear, frightened, turned tail and ran. Lee straightened up and then was hit from behind and bowled over as the other bear, the one that was already in the kitchen, ran over him trying to get out! The only cassualty that night was the steak. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: kendall Date: 23 Feb 01 - 07:45 AM Bears can be a problem in camps alright. That is a great story Brett. Years ago, I had a camp on Mopang stream way up in the wilderness of Maine. Every year when I went to it, I found it a shambles because of bear looking for food or girlie magazines. Never left any food around, but, they have lived with humans long enough to know that it is worth a try. I told an old timer about my problem, and he says "Thats simple. bears have their own territory in their part of the woods, and they mark the boundries by stretching as high as they can on a tree, and raking the bark with their claws. If another bear invades this ones territory, he will either be bigger or smaller. If he is smaller, he cant reach that high, so, he leaves. If he is bigger, he will claw the tree ABOVE the first bears markings. When the resident comes by to check, if he sees claw marks higher than his, HE will leave. So, what you do is, take a step ladder and a steel rake, climb as high as you can and rake the hell out of the tree well above the bears markings. I did that, and there hasn't been a bear anywhere near that camp to this day. |
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Subject: RE: TALL TALES & other lies... From: GutBucketeer Date: 26 Feb 01 - 01:44 AM If you like tall tales, I just added a book to the Mudcat Auction. Whoppers, Tall Tales, and Other Lies Collected From American Folk Lore, by Alvin Schwartz. JAB |
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