The Radio…or...Finding Earl

“Bra…ey…….ell…cat………gate….ose…arsee…….north”

No, it is not an alien language, or even a strange dialect of Navajo.  This was the language that all workers on the Platt Ranch had to learn to interpret, and survive, while working with Earl.  The dialect is formerly known as “radio talk”, but its subtitle or colloquial name was, “I can’t hold down the damned button.”

I guess I ought to start from the beginning to make sense.

The ranch was huge.  It covered several hundred square miles of dirt two-track roads, with none being closer than 15 miles from town.  Some roads were 30-40 miles away.  On good days, there were hardly any problems, except the occasional flat tire or broken-down vehicle.  When the rains came, however, the ranch became an evil vortex, ready to suck in the poor, unsuspecting sot who had to turn off a well at 11 pm.  Some roads were downright scary, especially on the clay flats.  After a few hours of rain, these muddy stretches would turn a truck 90 degrees sideways or even backwards in less than a second.  Professional mud-bogging trucks would have had a difficult time in these clay swamps.  The important thing was to keep moving.  The tires spun at 60 mph throwing chunks of sticky clay 50 feet in the air, and the truck slid along at less than 5 mph with its occupants hootin’ and hollerin’ and sayin’ prayers.

It was during these times that we dreaded hearing the words to make anyone’s night turn sour:  “We better go look for Earl!”

Earl owned the ranch.  It was his, and he didn’t give a damn if anybody knew where he was going.  If asked, he would either not say anything, or give the vague, “Out north.”  That could mean anywhere in a 200 square mile area.

The first step was to search the town for the familiar truck parked at the post office, the cafe, the restaurant, or at home.  Perhaps he would be found driving 10 mph down the middle or wrong side of the road through the small town’s main thoroughfare with a line of traffic behind him, honking and cussing.  If Pete, his large black labrador retriever, was still in Earl’s office, or his water bowl (the toilet) was empty, it was a sure sign that Earl had not been home yet.

The rest of the night consisted of 5 or 6 people driving every road on the ranch to find the missing old man, who more often than not, was sleeping in the cab of his pickup with all the lights turned off, waiting for someone to pull him out of the mudhole.  However, finding Earl wasn’t usually the biggest problem.  Finding all the others who went to search for the old man became an even bigger problem and usually lasted into the wee hours of the morning.  Of course, Earl was already to go back out in the morning as if nothing had happened.  He was rested and ready, and seemed not to understand that everyone else had been up till 5 AM trying to find him.

When my dad was given the chance to run the ranch for a while, he took the initiative to put Motorola 2-way radios in all of the trucks.  It was much easier to find someone when they could tell you where they were.  Earl, however, refused.  No radio would go in his truck!  He did not like this modernization on his ranch.  Thank goodness he didn't live long enough to see all the cell phones!

This wariness of the radio all changed one day when Earl didn’t come home.  I still  remember one of the cowboys calling Dad.  “Mitch? Earl hasn’t come home yet.  Should we go look for him?”

“No,” came the reply.  “We’ll let him call us on the radio!”

“Earl doesn’t have a radio!” came the confused reply, after a slight pause.

“Exactly!”

Earl spent a cold night at the Hinkson Headquarters.  His truck had a dead battery.  Listening to KTNN, The Heart of the Navajo Nation, with the engine off can do that to a truck.  We found him the next morning and he was not in a very cheerful mood.  But, a new radio was in the truck by the next day.  As I look back on the years after, I wish he had never figured out the radio.

You see, Earl had a problem with the button.  He never could quite manage to hold it down for an entire conversation.  For a good example of hearing EArl on the radio, put your fingers in your ears and listen to a conversation while removing and replacing your fingers.  He would sometimes get the thumb to lock down the button by the end of the conversation and continue to hold it down to wait for a reply.Boy would he get mad when we couldn’t answer back.  He would get even more upset when we told him to take his thumb off the microphone button.  Suffice it to say, Earl and a computer would have never gotten along.  Earl would have taken an electric cattle prod to it after spending an hour looking for the power switch!

Earl also didn’t realize that radio waves traveled through the air, and they didn’t work better by increasing vocal volume.  Earl would pick up the microphone, hold it a foot away from his face for fear that it just might bite, press the button with his special thumb stutter, and scream his instructions.  All we could do was hope he let go of the button so that we could respond.  There were a few times I swear he had a full 5 minute conversation before he pressed the button in time for us to hear the last word.

My favorite memory, though, was a day when I was driving with my younger brother, Brennan.  Brennan grew up to ride the ranges of supply,  demand, recessions, and inflation as a Professor of Economic Theory at BYU.  We had been following Earl for several miles at a leisurely 10 mph when Earl got on the radio.

“.....ey….you?g…..bra…..r…….u?......eet…….be….atch!”

If you’re wondering, this translates to:  “Bradley? Where are you?  Where are you?  Meet me at the Bean Patch!”  Of course, he held on to that button like a bronc rider holding on to the reins of his steed.  It took another 10 minutes of EArlspeak, getting louder with every syllable before his thumb became too tired to hold on any longer.  He finished with a very loud, very angry, “WHERE ARE YOU!?”  I picked up the mic and keyed the button.  “Right behind you,” I replied.  We could see him check the rear-view mirror, which he hardly ever used, especially when backing up.  He got back on the radio and miraculously made it through an entire string of words without letting go of the button.

“How long were you back there?” he asked.

“For the last 20 minutes!”

No more words were spoken on the radio for that day.  When we met Earl at the Bean Patch, he just got out of his truck and smiled his goofy, “I got caught” grin.

Nothing else had to be said.