During the two years that I lived in Crewe, things were more
or less quiet with the exception of one incident. The house that I
lived in was just two blocks away from the local police department. The
town used to be a railroad terminal station, but when the railroad cut
back it more or less died on it's feet and there were only about nine
hundred people living there and the town employed only two cops. Both
of which reminded me slightly of Barney Fife and Gomer Pyle. I never
realized that there really were those kind of people in the world.
I was at home that night watching the television and had gotten up
to get a soft drink from the kitchen. By this time I had sworn off
alcohol of any kind, having learned a valuable lesson during my divorce
from my second wife. When I came back into the living-room I tripped
over my shoe laces of all things, and fell face forward onto the floor.
As I fell, some one started firing automatic weapons fire into the front
of the house.
The gun fire went on for watch seemed to be an eternity, but in
reality was only a few minutes, but later estimates by the local
sheriff's department and state police stated that at least several
thousands of rounds were emptied into the front of the house. Due to
the construction of the house, a concrete foundation wall about three
feet high is what apparently saved my life. At first the law
enforcement agencies thought that it might be something that my ex-
father in-law decided to do since I was not budging on inch on the child
support thing, and he had the reputation of being slightly radical when
it came to his daughters. They weren't able to prove anything though
and the investigation more or less was dropped. In the meantime I
decided it was a more healthy idea to find different lodgings and
quietly disappear again.
This time I moved to Blackstone, Virginia where I went to work for
a gentleman by the name of George Walker, who owned a cattle farm and
raised Angus Cattle. I worked for George for several months until I
stepped down from a tractor one day and ruptured the ligaments in my
right knee and had to have surgery. It took me several months to
recover from that, and of course George's insurance paid for everything,
so I had an extended vacation whether I wanted it or not. During this
time I recovered and did a little writing for the local paper.
It was at this time my mother contacted me and told that she had
gone to a farm auction to buy a pig and fatten it up for the home farm's
freezer. The wind was apparently blowing, she heard pig, 20, and
assumed that she was bidding on a pig for twenty dollars. She raised
her hand to bid and found out latter that she bought the pig farm for
$20,000.00. Would I be interested in coming out and helping her and dad
get it in operation??