When I moved into the area I now live in, about 33 yrs ago, I was 21 yrs old and about to embark on a career of law enforcement. I'd been hired as a deputy sheriff for the county.

I wasn't there for long and a new inmate booked into the jail was one of three brothers, hereafter referred to as the Brown boys (not their real name).

The one jailed was Gordy, for drunk and disorderly. He seemd to be an ok kinda guy when sober but according to my co-workers, he was one of three big time hell raisers. When the Brown boys went on a toot they left a path of destruction behind them as they went from bar to bar, provoking the locals into fights and it was an all points law enforcement alert.

Gordy had a total of three brothers at that time. Two lived locally and one, the so-called good one, lived in Milwaukee.

Donny, Gordies older brother, was more settled than Gordy, having a family and more business acumen, but he was MEEEEAN. A more ornery person you'll not likely meet---very touchy, easily set off.

Jerry was the youngest. He was a deeply troubled person but very large and very strong. He was ok when he was on his medications but when he drank on the meds or went off them he was very unpredictable---snakey its called around here.

Donny owned 80 acres in the neighborhood but lived with his family elsewhere in the county. Gordy and Jerry lived on the 80, which at that time was a large but half-assed junkyard. These guys were used to very hard, very heavy, physical labor. Gordy and Jerry lived in shacky mobile homes. Donny joined them when his wife divorced him. The "facilities" were outhouses and they got their water from the creek. It wasn't untill shortly before Donny died that they had electricity. It was quite a circus around here then because the boys would get drunk, fight tooth and nail with each other, sometimes shoot the place up, or demo derby the junk cars around their own "race track".

In about 1968 George, the eldest, from Milwaukee, died from a massive heart attack on the steps of a neighborhood bar, leaving four sons and his widow. They moved back into the area from Milwaukee.

At that time Jerry was about to be shipped out to the state hospital for the criminally insane and now Gordy lived alone at the junkyard as Donnies wife had not yet left him.

I recall Jerrys departure fairly well. It stemmed from another drunken bout, standing in the middle of what is now part of the I-highway system, challenging all comers to hit him. That would be cars. It took 6 city cops to subdue him and two of them were hospitalized. When he was brought into the county jail where I was working as a jailer he was like a terrified wild animal, beat up, in cuffs and leg irons.

He was a neighbor and I knew him. I was even on good terms with them all. After a little bit, if he promised to calm down I'd get him some coffee. He did and I did and everything was cool at that point. After his court appearance he was shipped out to the state hosp for evaluation. He was there for quite some time. Meanwhile Donny gets divorced and moves out to the junkyard. He lived there for about 5 years before he died.

By this time Gordy has seen the light, quit drinking, and has gotten religion. He became public-phobic, kind of a recluse. Donny tho has taken up old habits and would get wildly drunk on whiskey, would shoot up his trailer, yelling and screaming. Then Jerry returned, heavily sedated but ambulatory.

I think I know what it means when someone sez another is possessed because I remember coming to the junkyard for some part or another and Jerry was having a loud three way conversation in three very distinct and very wierd, spooky voices. Gordy just laughed and sez he musta run outta pills. Jerry dies a coupla years later and Gordy is left alone.

I'd left the Sheriffs dept several years before and became pretty friendly with Gordy. He was by far the cheapest place around to buy car parts, tho the junk yard proper had been shut down by the DNR they still permitted Gordy to run a small outlaw operation. I recall sitting outside on a car fender just chatting or discussing religion stuff. I enjoyed making him laugh. I even worked with him on a coupla bigger salvage jobs in the late seventies.

Fast foreward---in about 1990 Donnies widow/ex decides to sell what remains of the land, all except the acre Gordy lives on. She'd been selling off bits and pieces before so all that was left was 3 1/2 acres. I got wind of it and we bought it. We also bought at the same time an adjoining 2 1/2 acres which Donny had sold to a small time rotten granite operator. This is where we eventually built our current home.

I'd come to the land to dink around. Its where I kept the back hoe, the saw mill and "surplus" cars. We lived about a mile away. When we bought the land we also acquired a squatter, Gordies nephew, named George, son of George. He was also a drunk and lived in a truck camper with "additions". I knew George quite well also and let him live there till he became obnoxious. Its not cool to bite the hand that feeds you.

I'd visit Gordy sometimes just to chat. I enjoyed making him laugh, which he did easily. Gordy had a buddy named Ray. Ray was often there and I was glad Gordy had a buddy.

I come to find out later tho that Ray was taking advantage of Gordy because Gordy would "loan" Ray money that he'd never see again. Gordy would pay Ray $30-$50 just to take him into town, in Gordies car, for groceries. Tghis is a 2 1/2 mile drive. Ray would buy beer with the money and get drunk by Gordies place. Then his wife would come and get him and they'd fight in the drive way with Ray screaming "You're not the boss of me!"

About three years ago Gordy had a heart attack and was taken to the hosp. His niece assumed responsibility for taking care of his affairs. It was a pretty rough ride for Gordy and he went to a nursing home for a while, then upon recovery insisted on returning to his shack. I'd carry water for him and help him out. His niece got him a cell phone that he could use to call out and us in case of an emergency. It happened one day she came out and found Gordy in a medication related coma. I helped her get Gordy to the ground while the ambulance was enroute. Gordy was again taken to the hosp, this time to not return. His niece had his place condemmed for habitation. Gordy was not happy. The niece wanted to get rid of the land but Gordy would have none of it. To complicate things Gordy had made a living estate out to George, the squatter nephew, and now the state was involved because Gordy was basically a pauper so he "owed" the state.

Today we closed on the land, one acre with a bunch of decrepit shacks. Penny, the niece, had put her foot down with Gordy and insisted George release his interest. All that remains is to get the deed from the court house.

Gordy isn't taking it too well. Its hard to let go, even if it is a very run down shack, its still home to him. I visit Gordy now and then.

-- Anonymous, December 18, 2002

Answers

That is a fantastic short story john . . . you really should submit this to a newspaper / newsletter (changing the names to protect the innocent).

I kind of empathize with Gordy's feelings about a run down shack meaning the world to him. The cabin at our ranch, once occupied nearly every weekend 20 years ago, has fallen into disrepair, and mice are frequent occupants. During deer season, my brother and I often sleep inside the cabin, cleaning it out, but finding it dirty once again upon our return. One of the main ranch arteries is upwind of the cabin by about 20 feet (you know how dirty that can be), and keeping it clean back then was constant.

With gaining familys, my brother and I aren't able to go out as often as we'd like, and so dirt has taken control. One of our leasers, walking into the place, looks around and tells us how nice the cabin MUST have been when it was clean. Clean or not, the cabin is full of memories for my brother and I, of my now deceased father, my aging uncle, who was our mentor / hero back then, my grandfather and grandmother, who built up the ranch on their own, then passed it down to us.

The leaser couldn't be aware of these memories, but they are still very clear to my brother and I. What he sees as dirty, we see past it and see the memories. Just like Gordy.

-- Anonymous, December 19, 2002