The Redheads and the Matched Pair of 1890's

[C9]

The Redheads and the Matched Pair of 1890's      

The oil patch along the SoCal coast - and any other oil lease areas - turned out some very muscular and confident young men.
Many of them deal with heavy weights in a dangerous, fast moving and slippery area.
Toss in some body surfing and ocean swimming along with a little skindiving, sandlot hardball at the college's well groomed diamond and it all added up over time,

More than a few beauteous young ladies were surprised to see some of these presumed to be poor and on the wrong side of the tracks guys strip down at the beach.
Surprised because they didn't realize they'd be so sexually attracted to them.

Now and then, they'd see them around town in an older, well cared for and well tuned car wearing either dirty oilfield levi's & t-shirt or their newer clean t-shirt.
Most times with their similarly dressed pal's.
Times like that there was no particular interest from the neatly turned out girls.

Sometimes a lucky oil field guy would get a date from one of these mostly unobtainable young ladies and who knows, maybe it was the young ladies who were the lucky ones.

Not long after, they'd go too far and some of the girls gained weight rapidly for a few months.
A few of the idiot townie's would ask why and usually the girl involved in that conversation answered that it was too many pizza's and beer and leave as soon as it was polite.

Yeah, pregnant or not, they were embarrassed and who the hell could blame them.
Some of the girls were gutsy and just told them that she was pregnant and that they could kiss her *.

More than a few of them figured that would be a great place to do some *-kissing and they'd be pleased to do so.
That was when the fights started and more than a few townie's got their butts kicked by the slender appearing and more than tough and strong oil field guys.

More than a few times the girl's with middle manager exec type father's would drag down the old hunting rifle or shotgun and go after the daughters boy friend.

Things happened sometimes.
Bad thing's.
Some father's died, some young men died, but most times each realized the futility of their position and went home after more than a few bitter words and recriminations.
Here it is fifty years later and the hurt and hate from one family to the other is still there.

The daughter did what pregnant, unmarried girl's have always done.
They went to school out of state if they could, but whether they went to school or not, they ended up living at an aunt & uncles until the dust settled.

Not long after their return you'd see them pushing a baby carriage or the like and once in a while there would be a happy ending with a marriage and a child new to the world.

Other times the new mom would end up single for a lot of reasons.
The Vietnamese war was heating up, the drug and hippie era was in full bloom, many young men were running off to Canada and it was easy for a * guy to disappear no matter the reason.
The fatherless child would grow up in the girls family home and once locals realized what had happened, the general thought was the child was better off in a stable home with a mom and two loving grandparents.

It was interesting to see - in this case - the girl's red haired child running with the red haired child of an oil field guy and a blonde girl new to the town and the state as well.
They were best friends and many times both families let it go and it was just another family skeleton in the big, muchly used closet that most families have.
Long hidden secrets could come to light years and generation's later.
Some of them exactly what the town thought, but didn't truly know and some that were a total surprise.


Strangest part about this story is the father of the girl, a Mr. Armstrong, the local bank president tried to shoot an oilfield guy named Michael, got a round off and the classic old Winchester pump 22WRF ended up with a barrel bent at about 90 degrees, a crushed receiver and a severely damaged walnut stock that was still beautifully figured, but now useless.

Out on the C.C.M.O. lease, well 19A, the lease just east of La Conchita near the Ventura-Santa Barbara county line is where Mr. Armstrong caught up with the perceived miscreant.

The old man didn't expect the big compressor at the plant down the hill to blow the relief valve and the loud noise scared him, but it was a commonly experienced noise in the oil fields.
Michael took the 22 rifle away from the old man without hurting him, stuck the barrel into a solid as a rock  4" guard pipe on the rig steps and bent hell out of it.
Then he crushed the receiver & stock in the big Wilton vise on the back of the electricians truck and handed it gently back to the old man.

That was the end of the Armstrong family's matched pair of octagonal barrel Winchester's.
The 22 caliber 1890 was ok, but the WRF was pretty much a goner.
The two rifles came down off their mantlepiece display and were stored away.
As far as I know the 22 caliber was never fired again and ended up lying at the bottom of the dresser drawer collecting a bit of surface rust in the humid and sometimes salty air of the Ventura, California coast.

Michael married the daughter and came to be accepted as a loved member of the Armstrong family.

Mr. Armstrong, a pretty lovable old guy his own self outlived Gail's mom by quite a few years.
He wasn't what you'd call a character, but he did have a strange sense of humor.
I don't know how old he was when he attended Michael's retirement party.
Michael, now 65 was completely stunned when he opened the long and slender package.
Inside were the two 1890's . . . the almost perfect 22 caliber and the almost totally destroyed 22 WRF.

The 22 WRF had a beautifully finished walnut stock, a straight and almost new barrel installed, but the old man couldn't find a new or even an old receiver to complete the repairs.
Just as well I suspect, it was almost to the point similar to the old story about Abraham Lincoln's old axe.

I'm pretty sure you know that story, but that's about all I'm going to say about Michael and Gail other than to mention I'm a redhead, still have the 1890's, my family still works in the oil fields and I grew up in Ventura, California.....



The 1890's.


An interesting area of old Ventura.


An author photo for a book written around the three bracelets in the photo.
Done as a couple since a lot of Gail is in the book and the bracelets are key players over 50 years and two continents.


A photo of me circa 1949 or so.




Translucent can be very clear at times....

[enjenjo]

Great story Jay, way too long since I heard one from you.

[C9]

Thanks.

Busy on a book . . . one O these days....

Five miles to the airport, five miles home on good roads, lost a car trailer tire, all cut to heck and gone.

Went to Sam's Club down the hill for a replacement, got one, gambled at Laughlin, lost $20.
Got a neat shirt . . . way better'n losing one . . . and a nice dinner.

Moved the roadster out of the trailer this morning - did I mention I bought a pair of slicks for it after the drags?
No?
I did.

Also found another cut to heck car trailer tire this morning.
Not sabotage, got some idea's, more later.

On the way to the tire shop as you can figure.
Gonna buy a couple of roadster front tires and one more trailer tire.

Daughter won $1028. a couple weeks back at Harrah's
Sweetie's got a couple hundred out of the same machine.

Guess which gal is gonna buy me a new trailer tire....

[HotRodLadyCrusr]

Thanks for the GREAT read Jay.  Sure would like to hear more from you.  Your stories are the best.  Maybe bring up a couple of old favorites for the newbies.

[C9]

Thanks for the GREAT read Jay.  Sure would like to hear more from you.  Your stories are the best.  Maybe bring up a couple of old favorites for the newbies.

Thanks . . . I don't know where the heck that one came from.

The writers board I frequent was trying to scale a statue of - Daniel I think it is - throwing a discus.
Nude, like Michelangelo's David and somewhere along the line of graphing a photo to get the height it was decided he was 6'6" which would be very tall in that era where men were 5'2" - 5'5" on average if I remember right.
Regardless, they were big men and moved the world at times.

Anyway, the statue looked like a typical Greek athlete as determined from paintings and records and was very muscular.

It wasn't long until well muscled young men were being discussed by gals and the story above kinda fell together.
About an hour to write it and a couple more to get it to the not-really-well-edited-point.

One thing I didn't know and a sculptor explained it is a statue done in that style, leaned down etc. isn't properly muscled anatatomically speaking.
The muscles are thicker in one area depending on what the sculptor wants to see from a particular angle and above the hips where us modern day types keep our beer muscle the statue is overly thin to accentuate the musculature of the remainder of the body.

And I used to date an artist.
With her I thought more about paint and wondered if the cotton picking choir would ever finish practice so we could sit and talk in privacy - he lied completely straight faced.

I was more interested in her musculature than I was the discussion at hand although now and then stone would be mentioned....

[C9]

Far as a reprisal goes, a short list.


Frosty Shop Blues
(Black 38 Ford coupe takes on the world and a 50 Ford coupe.)


Interview with Skinny Jim
(Long dead guy running the desert highways in a beat to hell 25 Dodge roadster from his viewpoint.  This one a little offbeat for me, but it's fun to write about things besides gettin' sideways in 2nd gear . . . not that I've ever done that....)


One Black and Foggy Night
(The opening lines - "   Perhaps this little story should have been called the Single Six, the cow, the nylons and the Starlight.  One black and foggy night doesn't even begin to describe it.  Even if it was a little foggy and almost black.  
   Sometimes, life was such a daze and other times it was merely confusing.  Things would happen that you couldn't hardly believe and other times things happened that nobody would believe."

One of my favorites and not many have seen it.  Posted once and pulled, been hanging onto it for a writing contest on the writers board if they ever get a subject that would fit.  They're nice people, but sometimes they lay on so many parameters that I'm surprised people enter.)


Runnin' the Orange Groves
A couple of Missouri guys transfer into Ventura High School circa in the late 50's and educate a few car-wise locals as well as learn a few things themselve.  


Singin down the Kansas Flatlands - Mk 2
Version 2, slightly rewritten about a somewhat famous Hemi powered mit kompressor 31 Pontiac coupe.

A bit of an essay at a time when Kerry was wondering if the doggone thing would ever get finished.
I think it helped a little when he visited and drove the 32 for a while.
It does put a different outlook on life.


Slick Sam and The Hundred Dollar Bill
You'll recognize Sam and may figure out who's doing the observing.
Life at the A&W on Mooney Blvd in Visalia (Central Calif.) one hot summer night for the most part.

The XK-120, The 29 and Norma Jean
Circa late 40's, mostly true.
Pretty much what the title says.


Yellow Light Novella
Mild big block in a 32 roadster vs a bad-* small block.
Starts at the Saturday night rod run at the Mooney Blvd in Visalia.
Not too far town-wise from where American Graffiti was filmed.

I'm pretty sure the photo links still work, if not, lemme know

Pick a couple, I'll dust em off and post them.

No voting, Denise's choice....

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