Murky Press
Picture

Clearing the fog

  • Home
  • About
  • Blog
  • Contact

10/6/2017

That Cursed Jack

4 Comments

Read Now
 
Pud’s journal still presents a handful of mysteries that we haven’t been able to solve: names of people we could never identify, fishing regulations we couldn’t ascertain, even the precise source of the nickname “Pud.” During the early months of the project, perhaps the one that bothered me the most was our inability to identify that “cursed” Jack.

For the most part, Pud’s entries reflect a generosity of spirit and a good-naturedness that may seem almost precious to today’s readers. Sure, there are flashes of annoyance, such as when the younger Boy Scouts bring too many supplies to camp and not enough blankets, or when Bobby plays the radio all night. But they’re always short-lived, and then the tone assumes the same equanimity that permeates the majority of the pages.

And that’s why the one exception stands out, the one seeming fit-of-pique that Pud allows himself to express. On Friday, May 8, 1942, he writes:

“Came to camp with Bobby and Jack (curses) at 4:30. The river is high and has a very peculiar yellow color.”

And with that, the hint of anger is over. But who was this “Jack,” who had elicited such an uncharacteristic response?

I asked everyone I could find. I asked my cousins. I asked the graduates of the long-defunct Lawrenceburg High School at their annual reunion. I asked the two surviving members of Pud’s core group of friends, Rinky and John Allen. Thankfully, as it turned out, no one could recall a “Jack” who would have been at the camp. It was enormously frustrating not to be able to identify who prompted Pud’s unrestrained reaction.

Then one day, deep into the research process, I finally got to sit down with Bobby Cole’s son, Bob, at his house in Salvisa, Ky., not far from the site of the camp. I had a long list of questions for him. He had spent a lot of time on Salt River with his dad, and he certainly knew more than anyone else about the fishing holes, the neighbors, his extended family, and the stories he had heard about Pud and his father. I worked my way through my list, madly scribbling notes. Then I looked at him and asked, “Do you have any idea who Jack was?”

And he didn’t hesitate. “Oh yeah, Jack was dad’s dog.” 

And there you have it. Never once had I considered the possibility that Jack was not a person. Jack was Bobby Cole’s dog who loved to frolic in the river, and thereby ruin the fishing for the two young men. On May 8, Pud was looking forward to a good day of fishing, but as soon as he saw Jack he knew the chances of that were slim. And, for possibly the only time in the journal, he allowed himself to document his frustration.

As with nearly all facets of life, I finally had to accept that I wasn’t going to get answers to all of my questions. Some mysteries would remain. And perhaps that’s as it should be. The Last Resort was, after all, the boys’ private hideaway on the river. We weren’t supposed to have full access to all that went on there. But I sure am glad that Pud left behind a multi-pane window that lets us glimpse just a little of what those boys were up to.

Special thanks to Bob Cole and his son, Evan, for providing these video clips.

Share

4 Comments
ROBERT V GOODLETT II
10/9/2017 10:45:48 am

I could have guessed that Jack was a dog, had I seen this sooner. Great video...I know that spot well.
Bob

Reply
Teri
10/26/2017 05:08:30 pm

Beautiful essay.

Reply
Liz Atchison
11/3/2017 10:43:33 am

I love the nostalgic feeling of your writing and subject matter. Makes me long for my childhood

Reply
Sallie Showalter
11/3/2017 11:36:30 am

Thanks, Liz. I'm humbled to know that you're keeping an eye on my blog!

Reply

Your comment will be posted after it is approved.


Leave a Reply.

Details
    Picture

    Author

    Between the debilitating effects of age and the 24-hour crush of mind-bending news, my brain is frequently in a fog. Nonetheless. I'll occasionally try to sweep aside the ashy gray matter and shed some light on what's going on at Murky Press. Perhaps together we can also gain a little insight into how we can better use words to organize and clarify the world around us.

    Cheers! 
    Sallie Showalter, Murky Press 

    Archives

    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017

    Categories

    All
    Current Events
    Family
    Grief
    History
    Marketing
    Nature
    Next Train Out
    Publishing
    The Last Resort
    Writing

    RSS Feed

Proudly powered by Weebly
  • Home
  • About
  • Blog
  • Contact