Matt

Matt fit into the B. Barer & Sons scrap iron shlepping program quite well. Over six feet tall and with a barrel chest he was the epitome of the expression "strong back and weak brain.

When it came to tossing cast iron scrap motor blocks onto a truck he had no peer but when we began using a cable operated hoist he would consantly get tyhe cable fouled until we realized that either pulling a lever and releasing it used to much of his mental capacity or in absence of intelligence he could express himself by screwing things up.

During the enlightened 1960's the local prison offered the inmates the privilege of conjugal visits.
The administration brought in house trailers. Numbered residents with good behavior records were allowed to spend weekends with there wives.

This meant an influx of families of inmates into the community. As a sidelight this resulted in a vast increase in crime as the acorns did not fall far from the oaks.

One of the inmates whose family moved to Walla Walla couldn't let well enough alone and started a riot which resulted in a lockdown at the prison. The riot eventually broke down and Mean Max or whatever his name was lost privileges for a long time to come.

Mrs. Max's bed got cold and she invited our friend Matt to share it.

Matt was beaming one morning as he came to work bragging of his new conquest. He not only shared the information with us but sounded off in the bars of the demi- world of Walla Walla.

A few days later Matt did not show up for work. Weeks went by and no word of Matt.

Eventually, we got the answer. Matt was in a nursing home in Milton Freewater, Oregon. Apparently Mean Max did not look well on this interloper and had confederates on the "outside"
take Matt for a ride.

He was found in a gravel pit with bruises all over his body barely alive.

That was the last wer heard from Matt. Apparently he did have enough sense to grab the first bus out of the valley if he survived.