The Sonalert. He sold that to GM and Polaroid.
The door opened and in walked Regis Grenier a white-haired man in a pinstripe suit.
Regis! exclaimed Jean.
Gentlemen.
The drinks are on Bronson, said Lyle. It was a good service, I thought.
I wonder what will become of his land, said Regis.
He has two children.
He always looked like a bum to me, growled Claude who was sitting on his stool since this morning.
He didn’t worry about what others thought, said Regis. One time, he and I had to go before a judge over a land dispute, and it took me a week to get him into a coat and tie, laughed Regis.
There was a pause as one man looked at another to see who would go next.
I remember the time with Ruggiero’s manure dispute with the state, said Lyle.
Regis laughed,
Oh, I can tell that story. Bronson had a neighbor, Robert Currier, you all know him? One spring, maybe fifteen years ago, one of Bronson’s goats got loose from its pen and got into Mrs. Currier’s flower garden and ate pretty much all her newly bloomed flowers. Currier told Bronson the next time he would shoot the goat, and made Bronson pay for the flowers. Then the state went onto Ruggiero’s pig farm, and told him he’s got too much manure on his property, and the Soil Conservation Office told Ruggiero they could build him a concrete holding pond for manure for $20,000. Ruggiero laughed in their face. Bronson saw his opportunity, and he and Ruggiero worked out a deal where they would transport the manure in trucks to Bronson’s field which happened to be up wind of the Curriers.
Regis was laughing.
Currier showed up at the Selectmen meeting screaming about the stink, but as far as the Selectmen knew, there was no law being violated. They told Currier they would contact the state and get an official to render an opinion on whether the location of the manure was legal or not.
The men laughed at the story.
When I was at Harvard, I heard a story about him, said Jean, it had to do with a rare donkey from the Middle East called an onager. Seems like Bronson was traveling in Iran with the son of the Premier, no less, when they came across a herd of thirty of these onagers. Bronson had no money and was worried about how he was going to get home. He would, of course, never say anything to the Premier’s son as that would be too embarrassing. They give chase to these onagers in a jeep, breaking the colts away from the herd cowboy fashion. Bronson’s quote in the New York Times, was something like: You get alongside one, lean out, hug him around the neck, and let him pull you out. He soon tires. Then you throw him to the ground and rope him. Bronson Potter meets the rodeo. I’m confused how he learned to do that, growing up on Long Island. They captured five onagers, and Bronson made a phone call to the Bronx Zoo and told them he would donate the onager if they would send him the air fare.