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I shall tell you a thing or two about old Wyoming


I was informed—close to my deadline I shall add—that through a clerical error or sheer malaise a “know your enemy” article went unpenned this week and since I rely not on so-called “research” (my mind is like unto a mink trap) and am able to tap out 60 words-per-minute on my Hansen Writing Ball (with no errors—correction fluid is not covered by my employer), I was to fill the void with some facts and figures about old Wyoming. Well, this old press-man is always up for a challenge, and I do not require the writing crutch of “the inter-net”. I do not need this technological marvel to tell me who won the Gene Tunney-Harry Greb tangle in ‘22—because it would be a LIE. Your inter-net will tell you that Tunney lost his crown to Greb at Madison Square that May, but I was at that fight and to call Greb the victor would be akin to saying that Fay Keiser (Tunney’s next opponent) is American. The name gives away Kraut underpinnings and I suspect he may also be an anarchist. Thankfully, Tunney dispatched him in a mere 12 ten-minute rounds. But I digress...

Wyoming...old Wyoming! 44th state in our blessed union (43rd if you don’t count Delaware—which you should NOT) and home to the gridiron Cow-boys who will assail our Broncos tomorrow eve. There is nary a gin-joint between Cody and Old Laramee and I know this to be fact because I covered a Wild West Show in the former and then had to catch a train for Laramee to retrieve a new typewriter ribbon. Not once was I able to get as much as two sheets to the wind, and one needs to be at least 3 to enjoy the sheer mundanity of the landscape. I’m told a cannon-armed quater-back resided therein a short time ago, but as I do not use the inter-net for research and instead scour the wires for news of the sporting world or witness it with my eyes, I cannot with any certainty claim this to be anything more than rumor. The stature alone of the young man would make one think this was another LIE.

The Broncos will take on the Cow-boy squadron in a tilt that did not go in their favor in the last go ‘round in Laramee (named after a Frenchman, need I say more). One of my colleagues here showed me a kinetoscope picture of a Cow-boy lad dancing in a most unsavory fashion after scoring a safety and that was enough for me to land strongly on the side of these Broncos. Who carries on in such a manner? Why do the dance of Mata Hari after a routine safety? It’s the most common scoring play in foot-ball! I’m no Mrs. Grundy, but foot-ball is not a stage for some Oliver Twist to tap his toes in the end-zone. Save that for the Vaudeville stage, young man.

And allow me to go in upon the Cow-boy skipper...a man whose head is completely lacking in hair which we would not know if he’d wear a HAT. I don’t think it old-fashioned to suggest that men should wear a hat any time they venture outdoors—in fact many rheumatologists suggest that this should be the case, but with his players taking part in impromptu dance numbers one can conclude this is not a man who reveres tradition (surprising to me because I’m told he’s nearly my age). I think these Cow-boys should be taught a lesson in manners and the proper way to play this game—which is to maim your opponent until they relent.

Now I’m told that I should finish with some unknown facts about this week-end’s hosts and again I shall reiterate that these are all from my head as I’ve picked up many a tale in my years of public service. Firstly, there was a fellow from Cheyenne in my unit named Johnny Two-Trees who I believe was part Lakota. He was a rather nice fellow and played the harmonica. I believe after the hostilities he settled in “New” Mexico, so I do not expect one should see him at tomorrow’s game. Another fact of Wyoming is that of bison. More directly, the hillsides are so choked with the woolly beasts that a motorcoach can scarcely get through without being rammed. One of the animals nearly totalled a Liberty-Brush Runabout that carried myself and Fred Lieb—the running board alone cost $12 dollars and considerable elbow-grease to straighten. These are two facts that you will not find in other articles purporting to acquaint you with your enemy AND they were summoned from my memory banks and not some electrical database that believes Harry Greb defeated Gene Tunney in ‘22.

Finally, this article has been brought to you by National Pure Rolled White Oats. National: Makes kids husky.