A few years after Walter Blunt's death, the Bowl Tribune decided to interview a few of his acquaintances for a story that never got published. One such interview was of his long time friend George Pinkett. The piece isn't complete, and it's too wordy to put into a paper of today, or even back then, so I guess it would have to have been changed quite a bit before publishing.

"How did you come to know Walter?"

"Well," George said, "I grew up around here, so I've watched the town growin' up around me. I damn well know this place backward and forward." The old gentleman pulled out a foil pouch and rummaged around in it with his now empty pipe, scooping out a bowl full of tobacco strands. He pressed it with his thumb while talking to me. "As I was saying I have been here all of my life, and this town just sprung up from under my feet. See that building over there? First one that wasn't a house. I watched it put up when I was five."

"Tell me about Walter."

"He was a stringy sort of fellow. I mean he had a stringy head. Like a big city guy with all them stresses. He spoke too fast. [I] never got used to that."

"Did you like him?"

"Did I like him? What kind of question is that? You wanted to interview friends didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but I just want to know more about that."

"Well, then yes, whatever. I mean he was likeable. He handled my groceries since I can't hardly pick them up myself. Speaking of, you got time after this?"

"Sure."

"Good answer. I liked him plenty. He was the guy who got the cat down, you know? Why I remember down by the Park place on Placer over by The Viewport there was this nasty dust-up about a neighbor girl. [She] got pregnant, I hear. Never saw a baby. He got all the yelling out of there and settled down before any regretful thing got happened. Liked him plenty."

More interview, but in scraps. I'd like to put it down if I can.