I was not fortunate enough to ever know my Uncle Dale personally, but he left behind a legacy, so to speak, that many people remembered.
Uncle Dale was a unique man. He married young to a lady who I will refrain from mentioning, and they divorced a short while later due to his behavior. But, it wasn't because he was liar. Uncle Dale could not lie if his life depended on it. And his inability to lie often got him into quite a bit of trouble.
He lived with his mother and father in Ft. Sumner, NM. Which, if you have ever been that way, it is only known for the Billy Kid Museum, not much else. Clovis is to the east and that is where, during his day, you had to go if you wanted to buy groceries, or go to the honky tonks, or as he was famous for doing, visit the local brothel.
The Clovis police department was small back then, I think they had maybe three patrol officers, 1 dispatcher , who also doubled as the jailer, and the Chief. One of Uncle Dale's favorite pastimes was to intentionally drive them all nuts. Musical horns came out on the market and Uncle Dale had one. He attached it to his car , knowing full well, that the city had outlawed them. He would drive to the north end of town and play Revilrie and while the officers headed that way, intent on arresting him, he would quickly drive to the south end of town and play taps. He would keep them busy for quite a while, sometimes stopping and hiding on top of on e of the buildings downtown, just to watch them trying to find him.
The key for the police to make an arrest was, catch the offender in the act, have a witness, or a confession. Frustrated, and a bit angry, that they could not catch him red-handed, they decided that they would talk to some of the town folk and get one of them to file a complaint. Not a good idea. Most all of the people in Clovis loved my Uncle Dale and they would never turn him in. Everyone they talked to gave the same answer, "I don't know anything about it. Sorry, can't help ya!".
After a day of interviewing people and trying to convince them to see things the way they did, one of the officers ran into Uncle Dale at the local diner. From the stories that I have been told, I can see the conversation going something like this:
Officer: (Standing tall and authoritative) "Mr. Walker, I know that you are the one blowing that horn here in town. One of these days, I am going to catch you."
Uncle Dale: (Sipping his coffee and taking a drag off his cigarette) "Uh huh..
Officer: "You know that I WILL Dale."
Uncle Dale: (Scratching his cheek) "Yup"...
Officer: (Sitting down at the table): "Dale, what is it gonna take to get you to either come clean, or stop breaking the law of this city?"
Uncle Dale: (Leaning back in the booth, and taking a long drag off his cigarette) "You ain't asking the right question."
The officer looked at him befuddled, and said: "What?"
Uncle Dale got up from the table and as he laid his money down for the tip, grinned at the officer and repeated: "You ain't asking the right questions." Then he walked toward the door.
The officer got up and turned to follow him, "Dale! What do you mean, I ain't asking the right questions?"
Dale just smiled and walked on out of the diner, with the officer on his tail. The officer caught up to him and as they walked, he was running their conversation through his mind, still trying to figure out what the right question would be, when it dawned on him: "Dale, are you the one that has been blowing that crazy horn and running us ragged?"
Uncle Dale looked at him, and grinned, "Yup, was wondering when you you'd ask?"
Uncle Dale was arrested and his musical horn was confiscated, and he spent three days in jail.
Instead of spending all of their time chasing around, all they had to do was go up and ask him. As I said, Uncle Dale couldn't lie, and he wouldn't lie, but he wouldn't volunteer information. You just had to ask the right questions.
Uncle Dale, as I said was a unique man, he served in the war and was a prisoner for three years before returning home. When he passed away, there was not enough room in any church to accommodate the many mourners who came to pay their last respects. From townsfolk, to law enforcement, judges, and ladies of the evening, they were all there. A scoundrel, yet a gentleman, he would never hurt another soul intentionally, except for the German officer he had to kill in order to escape the POW camp,,,and most importantly, He would NEVER tell a lie.
