Denny was a 5-foot tall, Irishman, a twinkle in his eye, and pipe hanging out of his mouth. Within 30-miles of our house there was four Grange Halls and there was potluck or dance at least once a month at one of them. These events would drawn the people off the farms, ranches and from the sawmills for miles.
These were major social events in the rural county. Beer was sold and a few pints came in the door. Hogan would also show up at the events. At 6-4, and looking like a Hollywood actor Hogan thought the world was his and Denny had been put on it to make fun, of, embarrass, and bully.
People in the community thought Hogan was actually jealous of Denny. Denny had 160-acres of land, a major part of it under irrigation. He nice well kept home, a couple of barns, and live stock. Denny took care of his property and live stock in his spare time. His primary income came from pulling green chain at the local sawmill.
It was after midnight at the Grange dance and Hogan had been bullying Denny all night and had spilled a drink him. Other people tried to keep Hogan calmed down, but he was the ultimate, unsuccessful, oversized bully. Other folks more of Hogan’s size tried to reason with him but without success.
Denny was leaning against the door and Hogan started out looking for a refill of hard stuff. Hogan could not help himself, he put his arm on Denny’s head and lean his weight on him. Denny’s fist slammed upward, driven by those muscles develop pulling green lumber at the mill. Hogan was out like a light, it took a while for him to wake-up, he was missing some teeth, and it was apparent the only person who cared for him was his wife.
My folks talk about the events of that night a great deal.
Denny the Irishman is long gone, but I again offer him and his wife my thanks. I was only four or five years old and they let me fish the stream that irrigated their pasture land. I fished it under close supervision of my mother and Denny’s wife. I caught my first fish there.
