Life Sketches by Terry Berskon
Watching old western reminds me of shootout on Angel Hill
I watched the movie “Shane” the other night and the shootout at the end brought back memories of a local shootout that used to take place every year in the middle of August:
“Hold it,” Teddy Dziadik Jr. said quietly as he shouldered his shotgun. Chuckie Crist let his hand drop to his side. Dziadik swept his gun across the horizon several times. Then he said, “okay!” and Crist lifted his hand and pulled on the rope that released the spring that sent a clay bird climbing into the sky. The barrel of Dziadik’s gun followed the bird’s path until suddenly there was a blast and all that remained in the air was powder. The shooter had connected again, preventing the next man in line from getting a shot at the same clay bird. That’s the way the competition, called a shootout, worked. Several men, usually six or eight, lined up in anticipation of the clay pigeon’s release. Then the bird was launched and the first man in line, the one who was nearest the release, would shoot. If he hit the bird, he was in the clear, but if he missed, the next man in line could shoot, and if that man connected the first man would get an “O” and so on until the shooter was O U T of the competition. There were other details to the game but what I’ve described should give the reader a general idea.
I hadn’t attended the shootout, which amounts to a picnic with gun smoke, for several years. The annual event was hosted by Buddy and Cathy Crist who live on Angel Hill outside of Schuyler Lake. The last time I competed I had fared much better using the strategy of not shooting until the last second so if I missed, the man following me wouldn’t have a chance to blast my bird to give me an “O” or a “U” or a “T.” Waiting until the last second had worked well, because Buddy had lent me his old Remington Model 11 and that gun was able to reach way out there. Even then, young Ted was a fierce competitor and eager to go again if he didn’t win.
Several years ago my waiting strategy flopped like a tin turkey as the Dziadik kid blasted the birds shortly after they took flight. Before the day was out he had won several rounds. Raymie Misencik, Ryan Sagan, Chuckie Crist and Keith Johnson also experienced the taste of victory.
There was another competition involving a rifle that never shoots the same way twice. Chuckie Crist said he had practiced with the weapon for hours but still, when the shooting counted, the rifle remained unpredictable. Late in the afternoon Cathy was eager to get back down the hill to her garden, but unfortunately when she shouldered the defective rifle she incredibly hit the target and had to wait to give others a chance to hit the bull’s eye.
When the smoke cleared, a slippery guy dressed in black and wearing two low slung pistols lay dead on the ground.
“Was that Wilson?” I thought I heard someone ask.
“Yeah, that was Wilson.”
“Was he fast on the draw?”
“He was fast, alright.”
“But, not as fast as you … You’re hurt! Where’re you going? Come back! Come back!”
As the shootout ended, and a liberated Cathy was headed for her garden, I think I spotted Shane, wounded and slumped in his saddle, riding off into the sunset.