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Texas Agriculture Archive

July 4, 2003

Every now and then, Mel will say, "Did I ever tell you about the time..." and I say, "No, but I have a feeling you're about to..." Like the other night, when this skilled storyteller began a tell that went like this:

"When they were teenagers, two railroaders—I'll call 'em Clem an' Claude for thur families' sakes—got to hittin' the moonshine purdy hard one night. They got to feelin' thur Cheerios an' decided they wuz gonna pull off a bank heist. Decided to rob the bank in Morgan, Texas. But since they wuz afoot, first they had to steal a git-away car. 'Em boys swiped 'em a Model A truck.

Well, they broke into the bank in the wee hours o' the mornin' an' tried to crack the safe, with no success. They had two problems—they didn't know the combination and eben if they had, they were so looped, they couldn't see straight to turn the tumblers. So they fin'ly give up an' just sat thur starin' at one anuther. Suddenly, Clem had the bright idey to just load that ol' safe up in the bed o' the stolen truck and take it out in the woods sos they could shoot the lock or use an ax an' whack thur way to the money. So he backed the truck up to the front door, an' the two inebriated robbers commenced to scoot the safe across the floor towards the door. They inched an' tugged, pausin' now an' then for another swig o' white lightnin', an' manuevered 'til they got her out on the sidewalk. They wuz strainin' an' pantin', but didn't have sense enough to quit.

Somehow, they managed to git that safe to the edge of the concrete an' just pushed her over into the back of the truck. When they did, they blew out all four tahrs an' that baby set down on the axles.

Well, they hadn't exactly counted on that, and by then, it wuz close to daylight. So they decided they'd jist go home an' sleep it off.

Next mornin' bright an' early, the banker arrived to find his safe full o' money loaded in the back of the truck with the tahrs mashed flat. He wuz runnin' back an' forth in front o' the bank an' summoned the town leaders. Apparently, Clem an' Claude had left all kiney evidence behind, or maybe somebody ratted on 'em—anyhow, they figgered out who the purpetrators wuz right off. Went to thur house, collared 'em an' marched 'em back to the scene o' the crime.

"Did they call the law?" I asked.

"Nope. Only thang Clem an' Claude had to do to keep from goin' to jail wuz put the bank's safe back whur they found it, which wuz no small task—especially once't they wuz sober. I thank they ended up gittin' some long poles or a block an' tickle...don't recall how they got it back inside."

"You're kidding. You mean they weren't punished for trying to rob the bank?"

"Shoot no. Local folks wudn't let 'em. Said they wuz heroes.

"Heroes?"

"You got to understand. Times wuz hard in nem days," Mel explained. "Because 'at one li'l incident, the mechanic got to sell four new tahrs, the blacksmith got to straighten out a bent axle, and the dry goods fellar got to sell replacements for the broke winderlights in the bank building an' a new door!"