I won’t be wronged. I won’t be insulted. I won’t be laid a-hand on.
I don’t do these things to other people, and I require the same from them. – J. B. Books
JDW: The skilled professional interviewer doubtlessly would be well prepared with myriad questions but I have no idea where to start with you.
TCP: Does that mean I can go?
JDW: I know you don’t get out much. Why don’t you just start at the beginning?
TCP: The beginning? The beginning. In the 50s, society’s anxiety about conformity began to be reflected through the prism of the Old West. Instead of taking on bad guys with a posse, the protagonists in these mid-century Westerns (Shane and High Noon the best examples) were loners compelled by their own values to fight against wrong, while those around them cowered in fear like sheep. Too young to fight, I refused to cower.
JDW: So, what did you do?
TCP: Avoidance.
JDW: How did that work for you?
TCP: Still working. Like you said, I don’t get out much. Even today. Best for everybody. I work alone. Just me and the dog. I trust him. You don’t want to rile either one of us. And we rile easily.
JDW: Excuse me, but didn’t you used to go out looking for trouble? You are practically famous for misbehavior.
TCP: Excussseee me. You clearly have mistaken me for, you know. Sometimes instances of inebriation caused someone to not be able to handle himself in a dangerous situation and that’s when I have to make a surprise appearance.
JDW: What about your appearance?
TCP: What about it?
JDW: The bristly beard, the wild white hair. Crazy look in your eye, You really do appear a little demented, if I may say so.
TCP. Hey, it’s your ass. I didn’t always have wild white hair. Almost cut my hair, happened just the other day. Had a crewcut once. Couldn’t get a date. Those were hard times. I may have crazy eyes, but I swerve for caterpillars. And you are forgetting something.
JDW: What’s that?
TCP: Don’t need to be an old man to be a crazy prospector. A young woman could do it. More an attitude. I will not be fucked with. And mean it. I WILL NOT BE FUCKED WITH. Then you give them the look. With authority.
JDW: And that works?
TCP: Well, sure, there’s been times they’ve been waiting outside for me after they had occasion to think about it or maybe a couple more drinks or how bad they looked in front of those girls who saw everything. Always best to figure out a way to disappear. A high level of aerobic fitness always handy.
JDW: Hiding. Running away. That doesn’t sound very courageous.
TCP: Courage. What is courage, anyway? Sometimes just means walking away. Let’em try to shoot me in the back.
JDW: And if you can’t?
TCP: Look. You be the guy waiting outside with the aluminum bat. Never over until The Crazy Prospector says it is.
JDW: I still don’t get it.
TCP: The Crazy Prospector Self-Defense is a martial art with roots going back over six decades. I have forgotten more about defending myself than any three guys ever learn. That gave me a serious lack of fear. Which quickly became a calm confidence. An early opponent mistook my focus for some kind of mental defect, and backed away. I saw I was on to something. Avoid actual combat and you won’t even hurt your hand. Plus, I always carry a derringer in my hat.
Crazy Prospector as a youth (with his sidekick, Stubby)
JDW: Why The Crazy Prospector?
TCP: As a kid, there weren’t many television channels, but we somehow watched a herd of cowboy movies. Many movies many times. Seemed like thousands. I love westerns. They imprinted me. Shaped my masculinity.
Every once in a while, we’d stumble across some dusty old dude in the desert. How does he manage out here all alone, no one to talk to except his mule? Marauding marauders everywhere, hostile hostiles lurking behind every cactus. Carefully.
Turns out the Indians, as Native Americans were then known, believed the insane were possessed by some manner of demonic demon. So, you couldn’t kill any crazy prospector or you’d go to Indian Hell. Hiawatha Insane Asylum, anybody?
Ergo, the crazy prospectors of the Wild West roamed Indian Country with impunity.
JDW: I can’t help noticing most folks don’t believe it’s bad voodoo to kill the insane.
TCP: Yeah, but those folks decide I’m not worth the trouble. Which dead or alive, I will be. Some other folks worry I can’t be killed. Every once in a while, you come across some bloated dotard with small hands and big guns who simply won’t shut the fuck up. Just walk away from him.
JDW: One more question.
TCP: No.
Playing Pool With the Boys At the Calico Cat
