Written By Kenneth Kinder
In my last newsletter, I wrote about some of the people I knew and their strange displays of, or lack of intelligence. Since then I have recalled two more incidents to report. One fellow was a guy named Dan. I can’t recall Dan’s last name but I do recall his lack of good judgment on one particular fall night.
Where I first met Dan was at the Grizzly Creek Sawmill. When I first got out of the Army in March 1954, I had a job waiting for me driving lumber truck for Ostrem Lumber Co. A lot of the duties required of me driving this truck was hauling lumber from this sawmill, and in the course of carrying out these duties I came in contact with this person of questionable judgment. He was a nice enough person, it was just that his voltage was pretty low. He would rather walk through a door, than turn the knob and open it first.
He also had a pretty good drinking habit, good enough that he drank more than he could afford. So when he couldn’t buy, beg, or borrow, he would steal his booze. He was getting along quite well thank you, stealing his alcohol from Moscow Smarts warehouse of delightful spirits and joy. It was when he got out of his element of expertise that his troubles became apparent.
It wasn’t good enough that he was getting a few cases of beer at a time. No he had to press his luck, leave the warehouse, go into the office and try to crack open the safe. Let’s face it, his hands were so tough from pulling green chain at the saw mill, that he couldn’t feel the tumblers as they hit their groove. So his next inspiration was to take the whole safe with him. Good thought; but he almost ruptured himself dragging and loading the safe on his truck.
He was still ahead of the game when he decided to go up to Scotts Flat Reservoir and enjoy some of his liquid bounty. This must have been around three or four A.M., and the more he drank the dumber he got. He had some dynamite with him and he decided to blow open the safe. He was successful in this attempt, but he couldn’t leave well enough alone. While he was counting and enjoying his newfound wealth, he decided to dynamite for fish.
You guessed it, the long arm of the law that caught him was not the City Police, nor the Sheriffs Department, nor the Highway Patrol; but the Department of Fish and Game. Here sits our local genius drunker than a skunk, eating baloney and cheese sandwiches, drinking beer, and gutting fish when he is arrested for breaking and entering, felony grand theft, and chumming fish with dynamite.
There once was a fellow named Skinner, who took a young lady to dinner. At a quarter to nine, they started to dine. But Skinner was no beginner, he had it made before dinner.
This is a story about another man named Skinner who wasn’t quite as bright. He was the father of one of Wes’s first girlfriends (Jeannie Skinner)and the way they spent their idle hours was to take an extension cord, separate the hot and neutral conductors, strip the insulation back to reveal bare wires and then get an unsuspecting person to sit between the two people holding these wires. The end result was when the cord was plugged into the wall, the innocent person in the middle when grabbed by these two individuals was the recipient of 110 volts of electricity.
Now this is the caliber of individuals that my good buddy chose with whom to associate. So it should come as no shock to me when I read the news of a person caught for breaking into a local market in Grass Valley, not once but on numerous occasions. He would break into the market, steal some food and drink and then leave a note with the signature the Ace was here. The Ace was a lot like Jim in the previous story, he couldn’t quit when he was ahead. He assumed that practice made perfect and after a few break-ins the Ace became relaxed in his new occupation. So relaxed that he started to drink in the market while he was robbing it blind. He got so drunk, that he started taking meat from the coolers and throwing it all over the store. And what is meat without eggs? Well it ain’t no omelet, so the next thing that hit the walls, were several dozen eggs. He was having a merry old time redecorating the store when who should arrive? The long arm of the law, and the brains to this international crime spree was captured and arrested.
The moral to these two stories is that fresh, clean, mountain air and water as pure as the driven snow, both of which were abundant in the sleepy mountain town of Grass Valley did not breed the master criminal.