Kurt lived a couple of parcels north of the ranch. I heard of him before we met. Most of what I heard was bad. He lived out side the law. But so close to it, that he drifted back and forth between being citizen and outlaw. As a result, he was in and out of jail.
Kurt worked intermittently. But he worked hard, and fast. He remembered exactly what was said or promised and viciously, held to that line. I tried to be sure that we understood exactly what was expected of each other before acting on some new agreement.
He gave and took, as he deemed fair. – I have been surprised at both actions! - He might remind one of Robin-hood, who was a partime outlaw too.
Kurt’s labor was mostly clearing old farm property for redevelopment. It was hot dirty work. It required some heavy equipment to haul the decades of accumulation to dumps or salvage places. He not only moved off the moveable stuff, but the corrals, fences and barns. He traded stuff, sold stuff and collected stuff.
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The acres where he lived were a small sea of rusting machinery, rolls of horse wire, and used lumber. If it truly were a sea, it would have floated the fair sized boat that was grounded there! As time went by, the wreck became more, and more, a derelict Kurt had a faithful wife and several faithful dogs. They all lived together in an old mobile home.
It was sheltered under a framework of heavy timbers. The same material formed a front deck. Stuff was stored under it too. The family was permanently camped there, without a well, electricity or formal sanitation. Kurt ran a gasoline engine, driven alternator for power. In the quiet, country, evenings we could hear the engine running in the dark. We knew when he turned off the lights and went to bed!
He hauled water from his mother’s place. I have seen him drive up to my barn and fill the army ‘water buffalo’+ towed by his truck. He didn’t ask first or thank me afterward.
Too many cars visited his place. - He couldn’t have had that many friends. –
He entertained on the open deck, a fire burned in an old oil drum, near the steps (a bright beacon of flame, leaping in the night.) Most neighbors thought that drugs were involved. Many times I would call for Kurt and hear his wife say,” He is in bed, he isn’t feeling well.”
I think that I first met Kurt when he asked me about scrap aluminum.
(I had salvaged the aluminum from an old camper shell. I was saving the large one- piece roof sheet to use but the tenant’s children found that it was fun to jab holes through the soft metal.
Kurt and I visited about metal salvage and my projects on the ranch. He knew more about the ranch than I did. I was making large sliding barn doors and he offered to supply me with the overhead track and trolley hardware for the barn. I said that it was worth $200 to fix the roof. The next day or the day after, I drove down to the barn and was surprised to see Kurt and three strange men. Strangers to me, (and just plain strange.)
Kurt was the leader, and this was his crew. They were already at work on the barn roof! They came from as far away as Russia. They couldn’t have been more diverse, tall and short, skinny and muscular, blonde and dark. Each was a character ready to play his part. Surprising me, they worked well together! They had brought their own tools and were efficiently pounding spikes. They laughed at their own jokes and made fun of each other’s version of English! They pretended to question their sexuality! Laughing off ‘fighting words’.
A small tap set the spike, a second strike forced it in most of the way and a third strike sunk the head below the surface! (The hammer blow squeezed the wood and set the spike. The resilient wood sprung back to leave the metal head below the surface! They went back where I had driven in spikes to re-seat them! A properly driven spike is much less apt to bend or lose its head. The men had brought their own 1X6 sheeting and closed the 4X8 foot gaps in the roof. (Plastic sheets had been placed to act as skylights in the roof.) Missing barn doors had allowed gale force winds to blow out the skylights.)
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Kurt knew that our windmill was ruined and that I would like to fix it again. I never asked him for anything or promised a trade but one day I saw a chunk of metal at the base of the mill. It was a good, hardly worn, complete Air Motor gearbox! Kurt had left it there for me!
At that time, I kept the tractor in a shed but parked the tractor tools in the barnyard. The most expensive tool was a commercial grade mower that could cut through heavy going and large sticks and trash. It was called a Bush Hog. I noticed that it was gone. It would have been a chore to take it without a tractor. (Things like machines and horse tack can be left out for a year of two before they are stolen.) Thieves come through the countryside and rapidly go from place to place taking lots of stuff. Then they are gone and people become careless again.
While Kurt was working on the barn, he saw an old tractor parked inside. (Someone had taken it mostly apart and the parts were mixed with those of a Chevy truck. Some were missing and I didn’t need two tractors anyway.)
Kurt said that he knew where there was another Bush Hog and he would like to trade it for the tractor. He came for it with part of his crew.
The left rear tire was flat and would not hold air. He screwed a large bolt into the hole, (the pressure is low) and pumped it up. Soon they were out on Gloria Rd. headed north. Tomorrow they were going to deliver the Bush Hog.
They drove up with the heavy machine in the back of a full sized pickup. The metal bed was oily where it had hauled truck engines. The large base of the mower over hung the truck bed. Several ideas were advanced on how to unload it. We voted. The truck was backed under a strong tree limb. The load was chained so, as to be supported by the limb. I placed two tractor tires to soften the drop of the mower. I held a 4x4 post to steady the load.
Slowly the truck pulled away. The chain tightened as we waited for it to move. There was enough friction to pull the chain several feet out of line before the load shifted. When it did finally move, it shot out of the slippery truck bed. The force knocked me flat on my back and ripped the 4x4 out of my grasp! The load swung free on the chain, slamming the mower into the tree. Stunned, I was beginning to realize what had happened. I was afraid, what if my leg was broken? I grabbed my right knee with both hands. My levies were showing blood! ( I was thinking fast. Just what should I do first? Then I noticed the inside of my right hand. The palm was torn and bleeding. – I had transferred blood from my hand to my leg- my leg was all right! The men were asking how much I was hurt.
The mower was hurt too. The chain, brush shield was bent. We could bend it back again. The excitement was over. I only limped a little. The tractor tires didn’t help at all. They were untouched!
I didn’t see Kurt for a while. No one else did either. His wife dropped by to borrow a Post-Pounder. Kurt was gone.
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Three months later, a man drove up in an old dump truck, about dark. He had just come from Kurt’s place. He was upset and a bit afraid. He couldn’t leave the truck or drive it to Elsinore in the dark. Could he leave it with me, or would I drive his pickup and follow the truck. He would pay me. I said that he could buy my dinner in town.
The old truck lights weren’t all connected, the seat was about gone and the door handles were missing. When we were ready to go, he slammed the door and I was locked in! Beside me on the seat were the tools he had used to start the engine.
While we were eating, he told me part of what had happened
The misunderstanding was about the old dump truck. Both men felt strongly that they were right. There would be no compromise. He decided to photograph Kurt. Kurt drove him from his place by pelting him with rocks!
He also told me about playing polo. It is costly to play. One must have a least two ponies. This is so that they can spell one another during the exhausting play.
At my last meeting with Kurt, he told how he had been arrested again. He was on his way home, in the dark, leading a convoy of trucks and trailers overloaded with stuff. Some were towing trucks that had stalled.
There were not enough registrations or licenses to go around. He had old citations for this and for over loadings. He lacked permits for work he was doing and had done.
(Other ranchers had used un-licensed trailers or moved tractors on roads without permits. Sometimes they were carrying too much weight.) But Kurt had made it a standard practice. Now the law had shut him down!
A missionary friend from Kenya was visiting me. He was looking for windmills to set up in Africa. Kurt invited Earle to visit his stock of stuff. He was offering anything Earle could use. I was proud to know them both.
+ The short trailer carried an oval water tank. It was made to be towed, by a jeep or larger truck. There was a fill cap centered on top of the tank. It earned its name by wallowing along as the water sloshed inside. The water sloshes on the outside of a real water buffalo.