Wow, glad to see you are enjoying that up-in-age sticking it, nothing like a good bead in between strumming gigs. And touring some more, today like in tonight and last night more to come? For real, be safe on that World-Wider stage. I’m still reviewing that “Rolling Thunder”, so behind the times a bit I guess, it’s an age thing but I will catch up before I hear that knock on Heaven’s door. OK, I did take a year off doing something worthwhile, listening to “Murder Most Foul” over and over again. It is like a sermon, never gets old new meaning all the time. Sad that Joe Bidden has followed in Trump’s footsteps, refusing to give up the “sealed” Kennedy assassination stuff in evidence, at least for another year we wait in vain. What is they trying to hide for over 58-years? But besides that, I find it pretty amazing your iron age interest, I guess it is that diamonds and rust jurisdiction, its time has come to find significance welding ashes-to-welding ashes rust-to-rust a new life - in “art”. But I have a favor to ask, the “vandals took the handle”, so maybe in your spare time when not torching together odd remnants of Americana farm life or on tour some more sea to shining sea, when back at the Black Buffalo can you chip away a “handle”. Wow, amazing what you produce at the Buffalo, gives Buffalo Soldier new meaning. OK, the pump is still working don’t need a weatherman, but we sure could use one of thum thar iron art works of yours, up here in the North Country Fair, Alaska that is. As a tribute to the salt of the earth workers that engage in that “iron” art as not in “art” such but for a living either way it is “art”. See, down along Westchester Lagoon in Anchorage, a setting by the sea engulfed in the beauty and splendor of the Sleeping Lady mountainous backdrop, there is a park with a special meaning memorial - in reserve and respect for that “Dumb Iron Worker”. The poem follows as an attachment, as being a poet also it may find meaning to your work. Now the iron workers are part of Alaska’s fame through history, likewise with the gold-diggers and the sourdough squatters, those that made the 49er what it is today, as in “IndIpendent”. Like so was Alaskan Jack Marler an ingredient for that inherent right in success of individuality, that we Alaskans can go it alone. Jack was the chief IRS agent in Alaska who was arrested for failing to pay taxes and beat the odds when a jury acquitted him, because he was righteous in claiming “No Taxation without Representation” when Alaska was still in “Territorial” status. One guy, on his own made a big difference as it forced full throttle ahead on “Statehood” and the 49er was soon hot-off-the-press “We’re In”. But “No Taxation” may have forced the issue, must be the same accounting philosophy used by Donald Trump’s shadow, in “False Profits” talk about “Murder Most Foul” and the multitudes! But for Alaska back in the 70’s, it was the iron workers with stick in hand that braved 800-miles of open trenches to perform a “patriotic call to duty” under the most wicked and treacherous of working conditions - from dark cloud like blood thirsty hordes of biting mosquitoes to life below zero living in infamy sometimes reaching 50-below and the prevailing wind-chill off the charts, all in efforts to arc together some pieces of pipe amounting to over 100-thousand 7-pass girth welds, it was a pipeline in the making. And the last weld to piece it all together, folks we now have a “pipeline” taking place in Thompson’s Pass, in a death-defying act to stick weld that pipe together so that the Trans-Alaska-Pipeline could help out and ease the frustration of those long gas line struggles down in California, due shortages caused by oil import strangulation through our Arab nation friends! I am sure you remember that bother my brother, people were killing each other for a tank of petro and stealing those gas pump handles! But Junior Leslie of the 798ers rings a bell in my book of heroes in Alaskan folklore, talk about a welder’s “welder” no fear don’t want fame just have to “stick it” out - maybe a song about him is in order as this guy was brave like the Hurricane. When it came time to weld that last joint, in a “daring young man on the flying trapeze”…OK on rewind it was the oldest welder from Henrietta-Texas that stepped forward to prove it could be done. It was Junior volunteering himself in harm’s way, as a ways and means to protect the young welders from a dangerous job as there was no guarantee this weld could be accomplished without accident. It meant difficulties from 4-foot diameter steel pipe, some 60-feet long swinging out of control on the gantry above the workers to giant boulders crashing down from above into the trenches - solid rocks 3 times the size of a big man raining down from out of nowhere that “Rolling Thunder” thing again. Thompson Pass was notorious for unheard of working conditions, a site even OSHA could not comprehend any guidance the sentiment “you guys are on your own”. Along with its Keystone Cannon, as this is wherein a famous “shootout” between those “railroad men that drink up your blood like wine” occurred, back in 1907. But Junior Leslie proved it could be done, even in hesitation that which emphasized “I was scared, and everybody else was scared too, but I was going to go if I lost my life…after so many of ‘em tell me, it can’t be done”, end of story a happy ending. So if ever you get the interest to write a new song about a person that lived by the stench of the torch and the arc with the sparks away, may I suggest Junior Leslie in your will. See, Junior - aka Hugh Ellsworth Leslie - he rests-in-peace remembered as one hell of a man with a torch to grind and made Tweedle-Dee feel like Tweedle-Dum thinking it couldn’t be done. And that weld is still holding its own after 25-years pushing oil to California as Junior rests in peace, knowing he did something deserving for mankind, just a “Dumb Iron Worker” and like you, continuing to bear your torch! Happy ending? There is no other.
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