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Show Thursday, February 15, 1979 Page 13 v What D 8 UD nn9 111 By Doc Murdock' This here is a story that will never get told lessen somethin' happens to me, that is. I am putting this story in with some other things and my gold watch-what ain't really gold but just got a thin coatin' of gold-and selling it to my Aunt Nell who I ain't seen much of lately now that she lives up on the hill with her new husband. But she was good to me once and ought to get somethin' if I am dead. (The box was full of assorted junk and valuables including in-cluding a handcrafted silver ring, two beaver pelts sewn together leather to leather, the gold plated watch, and, of course, this story. The box has floated around the Park City branch of the family for years, but as far as I know the story hidden within it remained undiscovered until now.) This story is not really about me at all, but about old Stew Grogan. I wouldn't need to be involved in-volved in it at all and you can believe I'd as rather not. But me and old Stew had got to be friends while we was both workin' the old Millhouse claim. We had just got to Park City and took the job diggin in that played out hole because the Parken Brothers had got all shot up while protecting their women's good names. Stew, he didn't have nothin' he owned but a red kerchief and even though I had relatives in the town, they was about as poor as a thin board floor and couldn't help me any more than I could help them. (The family is somewhat better bet-ter off these days having had the foresight to hold on to the old house until Salt Lake City became a big enough city to work in which made it too big to live in which made it worth living in Park City again.) Me and old Stew never did get paid for workin' that worthless claim and so by and by we quit and went to work up at the King Mine, like just about everybody else. But Stew never lasted long at any one job and he didn't do any different at the King. He and the booze were known to be close friends and he once told me that his noticeable acquaintance with the sauce had long ago resulted in the get-tin' get-tin' of his present first name. It was not, he said, his real given name, which was not revealed. Stew took to hangin' round town, mostly drunked up. I, along with some others, was often of-ten wondering where he got the money which to buy that much whiskey. ( Well, one day I found out about that and this is the place where by rights the story should really have begun. This is the story of poor Stew Grogan the Park City drunk, and how the heathen Chinee and the dogs of the street were workin together to hide their evil ways from us all. The right place to begin it was that day when I was comin' back from the mine and found poor Stew lying fell-down drunk and half froze right in the ditch. I put him on his unsteady feet and we was headin' for my place with me doing most of the headin' and him mostly draggin' and fallin'. He was blubbering in his beard, carrin' on about his miserable fortunes and thanking me for saving him from the clutches of the heathen Chinee, and the dogs. Now I guess I plum forgot to tell you about the fact that Stew never did like them dogs much. Pack of dogs, all kinds and varieties of near wild dogs were prowling the streets most every day. They would naturally be somethin' of a problem to one such as Stew who spent much of his time lying on the street. The street was generally thought of as the domain of dogs. They bothered him somethin' terrible. Many's the time I found him down on his knees among 'em fightin' tooth and nail for his spot on the turf. Stew was likiiy as not to ramble on for hours about some or other fired up plan for get-tin' get-tin' them dogs. He swore to kill 'em off one at a time and he probably did stick a knife into more than one of 'em. It's a fact that makes his final, act upon this spinnin' earth all -the more fit-tin' fit-tin' if you look at it in that way. An now I'm guessing that I also forgot to te)4 that in spite of his feudin' and fightin' with them dogs there was one of 'em that seemed to' take a real liking to Stew. It was a little white mutt that somehow had stayed alive, first witty one of the packs and then with another, for quite a spell. That despite the plain fact that most of them dogs didn't last very long around Park City. If it wasn't old Stew that got 'em it must have been somethin' else because just about the time you'd get to recognize a particular par-ticular dog, it would up and disappear. But there was always a new litter poping up somewhere so there was always plenty of dogs. Still, folks was always wondering what happened hap-pened to the ones that disappeared. This one little white dog had outlived em all and had, by and by, come to be known as Grogan's dog. Because of that most everyone left it alone. It still prowled the streets some but mostly it would stay near Chinatown because that's where Stew lived. You could tell the mutt just wanted to be near him. Well I took Stew home with me that night and he began to talk. The tale he related to me that night would set the chills up the back of any man in this town, and I claim it don't matter if he's a deep tunnel miner or a skillet headed bar fighter. It's a story that he told in bits and pieces but the gist was that the Chinee, over there in their dark and mysteryfied part of town, have ways of doin' things that make a man realize that he is but flesh and bones. He told me that they will settle an argument bjr waitin' for the other man to be asleep and then i sneak into his house.... well, it's just too awful to talk about. Stew claimed that a group of Chinee cooks was out to get him. It was them that had the year round contract cookin' all the meals for the mines. Stew claimed he was on to some horrible scheme of theirs and they was afraid he would leak out the secret of it. He said that they had been keepin' him quiet by plying his weakness toward booze but now he was afraid they would try to shut him up for good. I pressed for details but he drunkenly put up a finger to his lips and shushed me with a squinty wink. He said the cat must stay inside the bag until he was ready to report to the proper authorities. Then he lapsed into one of them restless drunkard's sleeps wherein he mumbled and moaned the night through about , the heathen Chinee and the terrible dogs of the street. I finally gave up listening to his ravings and went on to bed myself. It was maybe just the nerves that come in the dark of the night that made me get my gun and look out the front before I went to sleep. But, as far as I could tell there was nothin' out there but that little white dog, patient and waitin' for Grogan. When I left for the mine next mornin' Stew was still snorin' hard asleep. I was surprised to see that the white dog was no longer waitin' out front. All day, up at the mine, there was more and more rumors of trouble down in the city. At the qui tin' time whistle I joined the rest of the boys all hurrin' down to the town where an angry mob was forming at the entrance to Chinatown. The word sweepin' through the Fresh Sole. LiT TlJv II onH i ma i rtnetor l fa .I.. .1 m 'p VV openaajL,r-iipm. V ... oOOIIiam-i. y J crowd was that Stew Grogan had spoken to the sheriff that afternoon makin' some might mean ' charges against them Chinee cooks. Seems VStew was as drunked up as usual and the sheriff sent him home to sober up while he conducted an investigation of the charges; this despite Stew's fears to be left alone, with them heathen Chinee on the prowl and lookin for his scalp. It didn't take two hours for Stew's story to be all over town and by the time the sheriff headed for Chinatown he had a howlin', restless mob in tow. From the pieces of talk I could pick up inside in-side that boiling posse it sounded as if either old Stew of else them Chinee cooks was going to speak some truth, or dance for it. What had got the men so turned out was the pretty well agreed on story that them cooks had been providin' the mines with a hearty and thick beef stew that wasn't beef at all, but made from the ground up carcuses of them disappearing street dogs; the difference between dog meat and beef meat being of little difference to a Chinee but of noticeable concern to the miners. We made our way over the China Bridge into Chinatown. The district was eerie quiet; not a Chinaman was to found anywhere. The spirit of the group was some stilled now that they was in hostile territory and knowin' that the heathen Chinee was somewhere nearby, hidin' and wat-chin'. wat-chin'. But the sheriff was not a man to be scared off. He led the mob straight to the big kitchens. What we found there was proof enough for any straight seein' man. Behind the building was a whole passel of penned up dogs, fatter than they had been when runnin on the street, and right at that moment chowin' down on a big tub of red meat. The sheriff said he was hereby closin down them kitchens but it looked like to me that the cooks had long since left the environs and was undoubtedly already then half the way to Brigham City. The whole mob then broke up and headed for Pape and Bowman's bar to discuss the thing a bit more. I stuck around while the sheriff broke down the dog's pens. But most of them dogs he couldn't even get to leave since they was so well fed and taken care of in there. They just kept up their eager chompin' on that meat like it was tomorrow's only hope. All except, that is, for one little white mutt which I recognized as the pup that followed old Stew around. He was just sniffin' around that meat, crying and whim-perin' whim-perin' and carryin' on like he'd lost his last friend. It's been two days since the Chinee cooks lit out and things has pretty much turned back to normal. Old Stew who disappeared that day too has not turned up and my suspicions is grownin' with the time that's passin'. 'Course suspicions ain't nothin' that can stand up in a court of laws but I'll tell you a thing that I am real sure of: I ain't never again going to get down another an-other mouthfull of meat stew, no matter what they tell me is in it. FIREPLACE CONVERSION MODEL Maka your flrtpJac start paying you back! The fireplace conversion model has the same unique features as the original Earth Stove. Automatic draft Pre-heatlng manifold pre-heatlng secondary drafts Burns 14 hours Convene to open fire Cooks your favorite dishes '" Burns Vi the fuel of many stoves Weatherbeater 556 Main Street P.O.BOX 2020 Park City, Ut 84060 649-9275 Crepe & Fondue Expresso & Cappuccino 402 Main 649-999S Open 7 Days 5:30-10:30pm mm jafaaUffiaU (1 lt r Be ready for bad (VvlU7r X , weather wintertime . 'fr m T"anyQ L I driving by keeping A, ";Jy!StOp constant check on . f X- -lT k . V operating efficiency of W:r-lr tW 'sLj&. ' V l windshield washers and A) JPOWTirLlfl Viri TtL wipers. Add a solution aWlBT ) I ,-JttL vl 35 LS. of water and washer It ) J fjr' lX H9'"- V .JL. antifreeze and check gyc S y fir t r rubber refill sections in Tf f& the wiper blades. If ."l" Z- i Hw C"; ,.L rubber blades are split I k,j or cracked they will " - ' -lk.'" streak windshield jf during inclement HOW OVC11 at conditions and cut down A , ituui uytu ui visibility when you need I Sweetwater Lift Lodge , JJ ' mS' JJ - Open 3:30 -Midnight 649-9651 " f ' 122 JRSXKDIMF ffflTi w siiuhiTeiioiisf Annual 9 uff-i? 3 Patrick Darmon's French Cuisine & ... . , . .pizza Parlor .-. with Music and Warm Atmosphere Disco Apres Ski until 6 p.m. and Again after 9 p.m. MUD FLAP Country Rock Featuring: Al and Justin Wed. Feb. 14-Sat. Feb.17 and Wed. Feb 21-Sat. Feb.24 9:00pm-l :00am $1.00 Cover Dancing At the Top of Main Street Auditions OPEN FOR THE PUBLIC Try Your Act Out! Feb 21, Tuesday Night Rusty Nail Saloon, Park City Resort Center 7:30-10:30 FIRST PRIZE includes gift certificate from local stores, and other donations totaling over 300.00. Tom Kennedy-(name that tune) M.C.-I lolly wood Star Panel For further information call 649-8111 ext 289 Ask for Jerry or Gene I first mi fjl 649 - 8981 fiAlVVl! |