It seems that there is a general decline of young folks in interest of our country’s past. Some think that Americans have become isolated through the use of the internet and social media. Personally, after much thought, it seems that the problem is that there are no benches. You know, the ones that sat near the front door, usually occupied by two or three local elders. These were the oracles of our history.
Liar’s benches was a name eventually given to these thrones of senior knowledge, and it was from these edifices of exaggeration that the tall tales of our history came alive. These American stories could be placed at far away parts of the country, or at local farms and logging camps. And, with these stories was always some extraordinary person, one of the most famous was a character called Paul Bunyan. The following is a modified retelling of several tales that could have been shared from a local bench.
Paul and me worked the camps from the Yellow River to the Perdido. It was good work as the trees was small here, only 80 to 100 feet tall. But, it was the varmints that finally gave us pause, and decide to look at other work. You always had to watch in camp for the Flitterricks.
These little flying squirrels were so fast that you could not get out of the way. I saw one strike an ox between the eyes that killed the animal. And then there was the Camp Chipmunk. Originally small animals, they ate the prune stones discarded from Paul Bunyan’s camp cook shanty and grew so big and fierce that they killed all of the bears in the neighborhood. Paul had to finally shoot them all out. Another camp critter was the Axehandle Hound. It looked kind-a like a dachshund with a hatchet-shaped head, a short handle-shaped body and short, stump legs. It prowled about the camps at night looking for axe handles, this being its only food. Whole cords of axe handles were eaten by these troublesome wild hounds.
The woods were also full of terrible beasties, like the Luferlang and the Roperite. One of the worst was the Hidebehind, a dangerous animal that accounted for many missing lumbermen. That critter was always hiding behind something, usually a tree. Whichever way a man turned, it was behind him. From this position it sprang on its victim and carried them away, never to be seen again. Because it was so good at hiding, there has never been a description of the critter.
Also, really troublesome to the woodsmen was the Moskittos. Some folks thought that these were birds. They were so big that they could straddle the creeks and pick the passing lumberjacks off the log rafts. Sometimes a logging crew would find one in this posture, quickly tie its legs to a nearby tree and use him for a bridge. One time Paul Bunyan imported a swarm of giant bumblebees from Texas to kill-off the mosquitos, but they intermarried. The results were worse for the loggers, as this produced a critter with a stinger at both ends.
Me and Paul fancied leaving the woods, we decided to try farming for a while. There had been a good demand for popcorn the couple of years before, so we planted a four-thousand tract of popcorn expecting to make a little money for our effort. But, everybody planted popcorn that year and there was no demand. We decided to go ahead and harvest it and stored it away in ten big barns. Not long after, a hot wind started up from Mexico, the wind got so hot that it soon set fire to the barns.
Well, the popcorn just popped and popped, and popped all over that part of the country. Some six or eight miles from the farm, there was a big herd of cattle. When they looked up and saw all this popcorn flying around in the air and coming down they decided it was snow and froze to death. The owner of this herd then raised a big fuss and Paul and me had to pay him about $60,000 damages. But then that wasn't all lost because Paul and me just boxed up the whole herd, packed them in popcorn to keep them cold, shipped them to Chicago and sold them to a packing house for $80,000.
At Century, on the front porch of the ASHS museum is a bench. Built originally as a pew for the Methodist Church, the scarred old bench now holds more than 100 years of secret memories. It is sure that many stories have been born here. Bring the family by and set awhile, perhaps your own stories may stir.
The ASHS museums are open each Saturday, or call to schedule your family or group for a tour during the week. Just call 850-256-3980; tours are free.
