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rawhide.jpg (14241 bytes)The Complete Rawhide Chronicles
Hezekiah Rawhide
(Rebel Without Applause)

 

 

Letter in Ozark Echoes Vol. I No. 4

May-June 1984

Now maybe those guys know what they’re doing, slapping this Springhouse what-ya-may-call-it together, then peddling the final product like so many baby rattles, but between you and me I figure they’re just stumbling through this valley of tears like the rest of us, only worse. What’s more, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if those "grand ideas" they keep coming up with ain’t nothing more wonderful than slight concussions resulting from one too many tumbles down the corporate stairs—or should I say, out of their hayloft?

You see, I’ve been around a long time now, or at least long enough to know when I’m being had. I bet that big shot editor, the one who claims to be a sea captain or some sort, ain’t seen no more ocean spray than I have who has never been out of Pope County except when hauled before the federal judge up at Benton on a matter than don’t concern nobody but me. Anyway, like I was saying, he’s no more a sea captain than I am a tugboat, only just another nobody from the hills dreaming of those ocean waves crashing in on some snow-white island beach that’s complete with grass shacks and a tribe of hula dancers, not to mention zillions of palm tress bent nearly double with coconuts big as watermelons.

As for the big fellow, the one who claims he was a store manager somewhere out West, all I can say about his is WELL, THAT’S HIS STORY! Personally, I’m inclined to believe he’s never been west of Eddyville, also that he couldn’t turn a dime managing a fruit stand in downtown Fairbanks, Alaska. Talk, talk, talk—that’s all those guys are good for.

Ah, but it’s the third on the bracelet of misfits that’s the real jewel. Claims to be a practitioner of prose and poetry. So, why don’t somebody fetch the red carpet? If he’s a writer then I’m the Crown Prince of Golconda and, as everybody knows, that queen city of Pope County has no use for royalty except to ride them out of town on a rail that’s right splintery. Nobody that’s never skinned a deer in a blizzard while his fingers turned blue not only don’t know enough about real living to put pen to paper, but ain’t worth shooting besides. That goes for the whole lot of them—including their contributors and subscribers!

Well, that’s all for now from your old pal, Hezekiah Rawhide, proclaimer of piecemeal profundities –know anybody who needs a good bird dog? – also critic-at-large.

Hezekiah Rawhide

Pope County

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