Patrick McManus on trying to get your trailer lights to work

On an earlier post, in response to a comment asking if I’d read Patrick McManus’s outdoor stories, I mentioned one of my favorite McManus pieces. Published in 1985 in his book The Grasshopper Trap (Holt, Rinehart and Winston), this story relates the frustration, well- known to campers, boaters, hunters, and all ilk of trailer-pullers, of trying to get trailer lights to work. I’ve just run across that story again, and thought I could give the flavor of McManus’s humor (he’s the Will Rogers of contemporary outdoor writing, imho) by quoting the first couple of paragraphs of the story.

One of Kephart’s later stories, I think published in Saturday Evening Post though I’d have to look it up, was advice for on-the-road camping cookery. As I recall, the illustration showed what now appears as a primitive camping trailer. He was undoubtedly familiar with the topic of trailer lights, and I like to think of a smudged, sweaty Kephart, his shirtsleeves rolled up, on his back under the trailer, looking at the the wire in each hand, saying to himself, “Brakelight? Or taillight?”

So here’s McManus, in ”Trailer Trials.”

“Shortly after man invented the wheel, he invented the trailer. Ever since then, he has been trying to figure out how to hook up the lights.

“I know a man who claims the lights on his boat trailer once worked twice consecutively. Anyone with one or more trailers will instantly recognize this as an outrageous claim, but the man is a member of the clergy, and for that reason alone I believe him. On the other hand, he’s also a fisherman, so he may be exaggerating a bit. Possibly his trailer lights worked only once consecutively.

“Over the course of his life, any sportsman worthy of the name will own a dozen or so trailers of various kinds–utility trailers, tent trailers, boat trailers, house trailers, horse trailers, trail-bike trailers, and snowmobile trailers, to name but a few. That is the reason researchers estimate that one-eighth of a sportsman’s life is spent trying to hook up trailer lights.”

If this taste of McManus induces anyone to read further, you’ll find plenty. Check your local public library, of course, and an Amazon search shows 239 hits for Patrick McManus, including all the editions of his outdoor books and his equally hilarious “crime” novels based on the loveable Sheriff Bo Tully of Blight, Idaho.

They make excellent holiday gifts, and appear on my own list for the Elves, along with more of Louis L’Amour’s great Westerns.

Philip R. Goodwin: Outdoor art from Kephart’s era

One of the more popular outdoor artists of Kephart’s time was Philip R. Goodwin, 1881 – 1935. A splendid collection of his art from the “Golden Age of American Illustration,” originally published in 2001 by Coeur d’Alene Art Auction and Settlers West Galleries, is being re-published this month by Mountain Press Publishing Company:

Philip R. Goodwin: America’s Sporting and Wildlife Artist

By Larry L. Peterson and Brian W. Dippie
ISBN 0-87842-540-3

http://mountain-press.com/item_detail.php?item_key=401

Goodwin produced what was known as “cabin art,” which often depicted hunters, cowboys, Indians, fishermen, and the camping life. His art was published as calendars, magazine illustrations in National Sportsman, Saturday Evening Post, and others, and was seen in gun and ammunition advertisements, including those by Winchester.

A biographical article called “Goodwin’s Life: An Illustrated Adventure” by Erin Anderson can be read at http://www.tfaoi.com/aa/6aa/6aa209.htm

Anderson writes that “[Goodwin] was an avid sportsman and outdoorsman and befriended Charles Russell, N.C. Wyeth, Carl Rungius, Theodore Roosevelt, Will Rogers, and Ernest Seton Thompson.”

If I could just confirm that Goodwin and Kephart were friends, it would be too sweet.

Samples of his paintings, and several by other “cabin artists,” can be found at http://studio7b.com/vintage-art-prints/cabin-art.html