Jacob Painter and the Mulberry Bow

The Gable family grew up in the foothills, where the Appalachian Mountains start to diminish as they spill into Pennsylvania.

As is/was the Gable family tradition, the clan that occupied those hills from 1945-1965 had eleventy-billion boys and a couple of girls. And that group, like all the Gable's before and after, had a hard earned reputation of...well how do we say this politely...ummmm, a hard earned reputation of terror.

They were a hard working people who lived in a hard environment. The boys not only had to deal with life in the mountains with no electricity, no plumbing, and Western Pa winters, but they also had to deal with the realities of living with 6 other brothers. So if you were another kid on the mountain, you did your best to steer clear of the Gable boys. A fight with a Gable was a lose-lose. You were probably going to get your ass kicked straight up. But if, by the grace of god, you happened to hold you own, then you were faced with the prospect of having to fight your way up the food chain. And at the top of that food chain were the biggest and most feared of the Gable boys, Buddy and Kevin Gable.

Buddy wasn't the oldest, he was second in line. The oldest boy was Kevin who, at over 6 foot tall and over 200 lbs was the largest of the clan. But what had in size he lacked in both quickness and brains. Buddy, while smaller was crafty, quick, and above all aggressive. These two would often test each other to see who was alpha dog with Buddy almost always winning out. Buddy's favorite move was to, just every once in a while and without warning, punch Kevin in the gut and then run for the barn. Because of his size and agility Buddy was able to climb up the barn rafters and drop between the wall of the main barn and the side of the horse barn. Kevin couldn't get up nor over the over the rafters and although Buddy was a foot away, he was on the other side of some 2x6's and untouchable. Kevin would stand there frustratedly screaming that one day he would catch Buddy and beat him to a pulp. Eventually Kevin would run out of steam, go away, and Buddy would climb out unscathed.

But the Gable boys were not without fear. There was one thing that they most definately feared....their father. No matter what hijinx were afoot, the site or sound of their father sent the boys running.

One day the boys were hanging out bored. When Kevin reached up to grab a limb of a tree he had interest in climbing, Buddy punched him square in the gut. He turned to run but Kevin grabbed a foot and a fierce battle ensued. The other boys watched in anticipation as Buddy was about to get what was coming to him. But before Kevin could really do any damage, Buddy squirreled away and the footrace to the barn was on. In a flash, Buddy was up and over the rafters. He stood there laughing right up until he felt a dull thud hit his lower back. He reached around to feel some wetness and when he looked at his hand it was blood red. Kevin, in his frustration, had picked up a sickle and not really thinking about the consequences, slammed the blade between two of the slats of wood. He had stabbed Buddy in the back.

The boys were so scared of their father, they didn't tell anyone. In fact, all the boys helped drag Buddy to the bedroom they shared and they all pretended that the boy was sick with the flu. He laid in bed for a week, somehow not dying of infection or the injury and soon returned to the mountainside games. I'm pretty sure that he never blasted Kevin in the gut again.

But I didn't write all that to tell you that story. All the corn being harvested this week locally reminded me of another story that involves this same family.

Every harvest season the boys would use the leftover corn cobs to play a game of cowboys and Indians. Actually, because they were smart enough not to shoot each other with guns, it was more like a game of Indians and Indians. What they would do is make bows and arrows. And I mean real bows and arrows that they would also use to hunt small game. Often this would take all summer. They'd find a good piece of wood, carve is out into a bow. They'd string it up. And in the end they'd have a bow decent enough to hunt rabbits and squirrels with. But when they weren't hunting. they'd take the left over corn cobs, shove an arrow into the cob and run around shooting each other. As insane as this might sound you have to remember that there wasn't a lot of cable TV on the mountain in the 1950's, so you really had to be creative to keep yourself busy. And despite how dangerous it might sound, the cobs were very effective at keeping everything safe. The game really caught on and over time all the kids on the mountain looked forward to the fall battles.

Understandably, everything in the Gable house became a contest. If one kid climbed a tree, the next kid had to climb a bigger tree. If one kid tossed a crab apple 100 feet, the next kid had to toss it 101. And so it was with the building of the bows. This came to a head in 1958, when Buddy found a huge limb broken off from a Red Mulberry tree. He spent all summer carving out a giant bow. When he was done it took four of the boys to string it. Only two Gable boys, Kevin and Buddy, could draw the finished bow. But even those two struggled and with their best efforts could only draw it a few inches. And there was not way to aim the thing with any accuracy. It was eventually put away for the rest of the summer and forgotten about in favor of other games and activities.

Finally the fall came and Indians and Indians began. After a pretty good drubbing one day by some boys who lived a little closer down toward town, the Gable boys decided that they would need some heavier artillery to help salvage the family name. They decided to break out the mulberry bow. Now since it wasn't going to be possible to use a huge gun like this as a mobile weapon, Buddy hatched a plan. What they would do is have Buddy and Kevin hide at the end of the orchard facing down a row of apple trees. The other Gable boys would, as best they could, drive the other neighborhood kids into the orchard. By working together from the seated position, Buddy and Kevin could put their feet on the bow and both pull the string all the way back. This, he concluded, would result in super high powered welt-inducing corn cob arrows. The impact of the cobs as well at the sight of the giant bow, would be enough to seal their reputation forever.

The next day everything seemed to go according to plan. As the two older boys laid in wait, the younger Gables did a fine job of luring the unsuspecting kids into the trap. Jacob Painter was the first unfortunate sole to walk into the crosshairs. The two oldest Gables drew the bow back as far as it would stretch and they unleashed, with great velocity and power, the biggest arrow on the biggest corn cob that they had. Victory was to be theirs !

Before Painter had any clue as to what was happening, the bunker busting corncob arrow nailed the kid and blew him off his feet. When he stood back up and went to dust himself off, they all realized that they had made one small miscalculation.

Corn cobs make _excellent_ bumpers when shot from a rabbit bow.

Corn cobs make _terrible_ bumpers when shot from a cannon.

Upon impact, the arrow split that corn cob in two, and was now firmly stuck in the side of a 12 year old boy. The same twelve year old boy who was now flailing, screaming and running back toward town to go tell his mother.

After some stunned silence all the boys suddenly came to the same frightening conclusion. No, it wasn't that they had shot a boy with an arrow. If he was running...and flailing....and screaming...then he wasn't dying. Getting shot was going to hurt like hell, but the cob had slowed the arrow down enough that it was only a couple inches into his side. The fear that coursed through the veins of the boys that day ran much deeper than that.

If Jacob Painter got to Mrs. Painter
...then Mrs. Painter was going tell their Dad
...and if their Dad just found out that they shot a boy with an arrow
...then the mulberry bow was going to become a mulberry ass beating stick.

In a rush, the boys headed down that mountain as their lives depended on it. They caught Jacob Painter at the end of the meadow on the towns edge. They smothered him until he quieted down, then the dragged him into the woods and yanked out the arrow. Just to make sure, they gave him a thumpin'...nothing bad, just a little something to get his attention. And they let him know if he said anything to anyone, there'd be a lot more thumpin'to follow.

In the end Painter was fine and Dad never found out.

Just another day on the mountain.