Three glimpses of Slim Anderson, a lifelong friend of John's who was a natural on a horse and a menace behind the wheel of a bulldozer: a near miss with John's own chainsaw, a funeral-limousine ribbing that badly rattled the mortician, and a bar-room dispute settling, down to the step, just how Pete Walker caught him on Millie Kistler's porch.
Slim Anderson was a professional horseman. He loved horses, horses loved him, and he was perfectly safe astride them, working them or talking to them and they talked to Slim. Put him on heavy equipment and he was wilder than a March Hare.
I was starting a new tunnel at the Midwest Mine when county roads supervisor, Sam Birdsey, assigned Slim to widen a curve by the mine for better access. I saw disaster in the making but I went about my own chores sawing out and dapping square sets with a faithful Montgomery Ward chain saw. I set the saw on a timber pile completely out of the way as I began carrying posts and caps to the portal site. I was just returning to the pile when Slim roared in with the bulldozer, spun the tracks in a half circle, and caught the ends of the timbers with the blade. The saw nearly went into orbit to the East. Slim laughed and waved before returning to his labors. I finished shaping timbers with a hand saw and axe.
Another day, we were serving as pallbearers for a Creede miner. Slim and I had been friends for over thirty years at this time, since he had accompanied his father, Emil, to Creede to visit my grandfather and other old timers. We berated each other furiously and he was a master at putting me down in good natured fun. We were in the pallbearers' limousine with Mortician, Joe Doney, when Slim piped up. "If I could have one wish, Jackson, it would be that you were in that casket instead of Ivan. He was a helluva good man and I can't think of one good thing about you." Joe Doney stiffened noticeably. Slim went on, "You have no business being with good folks and I don't like riding to the cemetery with you." I told him, "Better back off, Swede, or I'll punch your lights out." With that exchange Joe became so nervous he nearly missed the turnoff to the grave site.
After the service, with Ivan's casket safely lowered into the rough box, Joe Doney took me aside and apologized, "I'm sorry about this, Johnny, I thought you and Slim were good friends or I never would have had you riding together. You can ride back to the church in the hearse with Marge."
A year or so after that, Slim and I were sharing drinks and small talk when I told him, "Pete Walker thinks you are a real man, Swede." "Hell he does," Slim answered, "I haven't been around him all that much but we've both hauled a lot of ore." "Yeah," I continued, "Pete said he was taking trash out of the Elks Bar and surprised you servicing Millie Kistler on the porch above the stairs. He said you had to back up a full step to disengage." Slim bristled up like a Tennessee Ridgerunner. "Pete Walker is a gawdamned liar! I had to back up two steps," he barked.