As spring vacation approached, the Dean called me to his office and said that he was in charge of the small golf course which was on the University Campus. They had decided to clear some additional land of old fir and cedar stumps to enlarge the golf course. Since he knew that I had had experience with dynamite, he asked me to dynamite the stumps. He had made arrangements with the police department to supply twelve men from the county prison farm to do the labor of digging and burning the stumps. My pay was very satisfactory, though I cannot now remember how much.
I made a list of dynamite, caps, fuse, electric detonators and all other essential equipment for blasting stumps.
On the golf course was a caretaker, an old Scotsman, Mr. Giddens. There was a very good headquarters building for the golf course, where Mr. Giddens had his phone, tools and golf course supplies. It was arranged that he supply a hot lunch for the prisoners. Each morning before noon he went to a nearby restaurant and picked up a supply of hot stew. On the stove he made plenty of coffee, and heated up various vegetables, such as canned beans, peas, corn, etc. Sugar and canned milk was on hand as well as bread and butter.
The twelve prisoners arrived in a panel truck with wire screens, well locked up. Two husky guards drove out from the prison camp. They unlocked the padlock and let the men out. They were a very nice lot of men, being drunks, drug addicts, wife beaters, petty thieves, etc.
Each morning I started to work after choosing a helper for my work. When I was ready to blast, it was important to notify the guards, who then took all the men a safe distance away, for as they explained to me, if one of the men got injured, there would really be hell to pay. In my opinion they always took the prisoners much farther than necessary.
At twelve o'clock we all went to the building where Mr. Giddens would have a very fine hot meal ready. I sat at the head of the table, with the twelve prisoners before me, while the 2 guards walked around supervising the meal. They ate later when the men were resting.
Once as the meal started a man shouted angrily, "these peas are too salty." The guard immediately said "you hold your tongue, we won't take any complaints out of you." Soon another man complained and received the same answer.
I became curious and helped myself to some peas. Upon tasting they were like brine. So I said to the guard, "you had better try some peas, they are too salt to eat." At that he got a spoon and took a spoonful. He spit them out and said "Mr. Giddens, how much salt did you put in these peas?" He replied "you told me to put in eleven spoons. I thought that was too much, so I put in only 9 spoons." The guard said "Mr. Giddens, I told you a level spoon, not eleven."
Upon another occasion Mr. Giddens came to the guards first thing in the morning and said "I left my wet socks here yesterday and someone has stolen them, and I can't afford to lose my socks." The guards called all the men together and explained the situation. He then said "Boys, I want Mr. Giddens sox returned and there will be nothing more said about it." I could hear the men mumbling to each other and no one seemed certain of anything. At lunch time however Mr. Giddens shamefacedly told the guards that he had found the sox. They had fallen behind the stove out of sight. When this was announced to the prisoners, they were most indignant. I heard one say "just because we work for the government the old bastard thinks we are a bunch of thieves."
Upon one occasion I had a number of small roots of large stumps requiring a few small extra shots. They required only about ½ stick of powder each, which does not throw very far. I decided on this occasion to say nothing to the guards, as the shots could not possibly reach near them, and if I said I was going to shoot, they would march the prisoners a block away, thereby losing a lot of time. I don't know why I was concerned about this, but all my life I have hated to see waste of any kind.
At any rate I quietly set fire to all my dynamite charges. There was a portable toilet near to where I had loaded the dynamite. No one had been near it for a long time and I simply never dreamed that someone would be in it. When the first blast went off showering the toilet with dirt, thee was a yell, the door flew open and an old man came jumping out with pants around his knees, trying to pull them up. Another shot went off showering him with dirt. He yelled again and leaped aside. In all there were about 5 or 6 shots, and the old man kept leaping from side to side yelling for help. The guards came running down to see what was going on. By then the firing had stopped and the old man was not hurt, but badly scared. The guards gave me fits and said never to fire a shot again before notifying them.