The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1936-03-31
Vagabond.
from
Indiana
ERNIE PYLE

EDITORS NoTE-This rowing reporter
for The Times goes where he pleasex
when he pleases, in search of odd stories
about this and that.
hort WORTH, Tex. March 81
Il The ranch is in that part of
Texas where if you stand on rise,
and look all around, you feel you
are standing in the middle Of the
world, seeing it all.
You can see for Is miles. There
are no hills, but the land rises and
falls in vast. sweeping slopes. liks
the swell on the Pacific Ocean.
There are hardly any trees, and not
many fences. But there is grass.
Here and there, far away, you see
a little bunch of cattle or horses
grazing.
1t was Just noon when we got
there. The sun was bright and hot.
( A man in a big hat and cowboy
boots showed us where to park. We
could see quite a few men walking
around the barn.
We went over, and everybody in
PRODUCED himself and shook hands.
Some had on big hats and high
heeled boots and leather jackets.
Some wore ordinary business suits.
TINE brick well-house under the
Il water tank had been fixed up
as a bar. Over the door was
cardboard sign, and painted on it
in red letters was Bar"
A few feet away, alongside the
barn, was real cowboy "chuck
wagon" The top of the wagon was
arched over with canvas, and the
back end was stacked full of tin
plates and loaves of bread and
pickles and so on, as though it
were picnic.
A campfire was going, over by the
feeding troughs. A huge kettle
of stew was hanging over it from
an iron tripod. 1t was being stirred
by a 'sourdough" cook, who wore
big hat, and shirt without any
sleeves, and an apron of old flour
sacks.
"VXTHERE'S Louie?" people kept
w asking.
Hes gone to the village to get a
shave"
Does he know about it?"
mo, I don't think he's caught
on"
"Old Louie1l sure hate to leave
Texas, won't he?"
HE sure will. He loves 1t like a
native. But I'll bet he'll be back"
I gradually picked up what the
gathering was about. 1t was sur
prise farewell party for Louis
Swift, heir to the Chicago pack
ing fortune.
Louie Swift, after five and half
years as manager of the Swift plant
in Fort Worth, had been promoted
back to Chicago. He was leaving
in a week. His friends had come to
say good-by.
1t was just like any Board of
Trade picnic, except that it was
staged on a Texas ranch, and with
the flavor Of old Texas running
through it.
! EINALLY Louie Swift drove up.
IL He got out of his car and looked
all around, like man who can't see
for the sun. He was surprised all
right.
He looked more like Texas than
anybody there. He stands about 6
feet 3 inches, and is big but
slender. He had on a, battered 10
gallon hat, faded blue shirt open
at the neck, bleached duck pants
tucked into high-heeled boots. He
walked with roll.
Men crowded around him, and
there was lot of handshaking.
They stood around the barnlot in
groups, talking. They drifted into
the bar, and out again. Some began
to yell, How about eating?" The
sourdough yelled, Come and get it."
After we had eaten, some of the
men saddled ponies and went lop-
ing around the barn-lot, hitting at
polo balls. Some of them couldn't
ride at all. Some even fell off.
Others, in businessmen's clothes,
could ride like cowboys and smack
the ball every time.
= 4
r QUE SWIFT took his friends
l. back into the bunkhouse, behind
the stables. He took a fiat wooden
box out of a trunk, and opened it.
And there lay two of the most beau
tiful Colt six-Shooters you ever saw.
Dull blue steel, with pure white ivory
handles. A pair of matched six
guns, in engraved leather holsters.
A farewell gift, from Texans.
Louie Swift knows how to use
them, too. You can throw a can in
the air, and he'll never miss. He
ruined half dollar somebody put
on a fence post.