A COCK AND BULL STORY

Frank Holister, a trouble-shooter for the Blue Water Cooperative Telephone Co., was working late. He had trouble up a pole on the Elsmore place, so he checked in with him before climbing. Elsmore laughingly said, "Be sure to watch out for our watch rooster."

As Paul Elsmore was known to pull a leg or two in his time, Frank just laughed off the comment.

Since he, like many pole climbers, wore his hooks all day, he was ready for the ascent when he arrived at the foot of the pole. Upon reaching for the pole in the dark, his hand encountered the 2 x 4 Elsmore had nailed to the pole which was used for his wife Sandy's clothes-line.

A second but far more alarming surprise awaited him. As he again reached for the pole, his hand descended on an explosive ball of feathers.

Falling back in surprise he was covered with soft bodies and flapping wings. He later recalled a squawking, the likes of which he had never heard before, followed by a stabbing pain in his right leg.

The Elsmore's chicken flock had long ago found a safe haven from roving coyotes atop the clothesline and our trouble-shooting friend had spooked them.

Big Red, the lord and master of this flock of hens, did what any rooster would do. He attacked the intruder, Frank. And Frank did what any sensible telephone man would do in this situation, he ran for his wagon.

The Elsmore family had, after hearing the ruckus, guessed what had happened. They watched from the porch as Frank went charging by with his antagonist flaying the shirt off his back. The last thing Frank heard as he whipped his horse into a dead run was old man Elsmore bellowing. "Stick him with your spurs, Frank, stick him with your spurs.

While the line crew under Foreman Sunny Meals was working on a right-of-way on private property in Mansfield one day, a large and pugnacious bull caught sight of the red shirt worn by Lineman James Caffrey, and charged through the underbrush and sent Meals and Caffrey on the run.

Caffrey was wearing spurs and nimbly climbed a pole. Meals, being without spurs, tried to hide behind the pole. When Caffrey reached the top, he removed his spurs and tossed them to Meals, but by this time the bull was snorting and pawing the ground about ten feet away, evidently startled at these human beings who stick their feet into poles and climb.

With one eye on the bull, Meals adjusted the spurs with shaky hands. He started to climb just in the nick of time, for the bull had decided that he was wasting his time and began to charge the butt of the pole. He nearly shook Meals off before the foreman reached the crossarm. Meals' escape infuriated the bull all the more, and our reliable plant men say he was highly indignant as he charged the pole a dozen or more times, nearly breaking it off.

Things were uncomfortable for the boys up there until Meals, a former big league baseball player, took the insulators which Caffrey had untied, and after several attempts scored a bull's eye on the bull's ribs. Surprised, chagrined, the bull decided to take his base and retired, leaving the men much relieved.

John Brody was not a man to be trifled with. His line-gang was assigned to build a line between Phillipsville and Handley's Mill and he intended building in a straight line whenever possible. He didn't care much who didn't like it. And so, upon reaching the boundary fence of farmer Harold Norman, he set his boys to placing poles in a bee-line across Norman's fields. This brought a predictable response from the farmer who was also a man who was known to assert himself when the occasion called for it. This was one such occasion.

He promptly ordered a halt to the digging and suggested that the only part of this line-gang he wanted to see was their coat tails as they went over his fence. Brody promptly produced a "legal paper" which he claimed gave him authority to place his poles wherever he chose and put the gang back to digging.

Norman's only response was a faint smile before he turned and headed for his barn. Had Brody known the farmer better he would have been a trifle worried as that smile was the one reserved for "getting even time."

It wasn't long 'til the linemen and their pugnacious boss heard the thunder of hoof beats and spied a large, red bull charging in their direction. His intent was all too clear, so leaving tools scattered the men began to run for the fence.

Farmer Norman was heard to shout, "Show him your paper, dang it, show him your paper."

Love,

MA