In loving memory of Kenis D. Keathley 6/4/81 - 3/27/22 Loving father, husband, brother, friend and firewood hoarder Rest in peace, Dexterday

Wood seller skullduggery in the 50’s

Discussion in 'The Wood Market' started by Sourwood, Jan 31, 2021.

  1. Sourwood

    Sourwood

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    One of the adventures of my great uncle when he settled into rural county. He eventually became one of the pillars, there and wrote many stories of the quirkiness of the community.

    Brown County has become a “Vermont “ of sorts in Indiana. Rolling woodlands that attract tourist by the thousands every Fall.


    Editor’s note: This story was written by the late Hank Swain and published in the Brown County Democrat on Feb. 16, 1956.


    One of Brown County’s finest natural assets is its native sandstone. Laid into rustic retaining walls or in massive fireplaces, its warmth and texture add much to a house and its setting.

    Let us suppose you have just purchased a cabin and are sitting in front of a warm fire in your Brown County fireplace. You notice that the former owner left a small pile of wood by the tree outside, and make a mental note to order more wood the next day.

    Using one of Brown County’s various means of communication, you learn that a man named Tyson Milo living up Indian Hollow sells wood. Placing a call, Mr. Milo assures you that he can bring you a cord of fireplace wood the next day or two. By the end of the week, you call Mr. Milo to see about the arrival of your order of wood.

    “I’ve been hauling coal,” says Mr. Tyson.

    “What’s that have to do with me?” you say. “I ordered wood.”

    “I’ll have it there first thing in the morning, sure.”

    You don’t quite know how to continue the conversation, so you decide to wait for Tyson to bring the wood.

    Three days later, he arrives with the wood. By this time you are more than a little annoyed because you have picked the yard bare getting enough sticks and twigs to keep your fireplace going. But Tyson is a mild-mannered man with an honest face, and you forgot your anger on meeting him. You show him where to stack the wood between two trees near the cabin and ask him to knock on the door when he is through unloading.

    “All done,” says Tyson, standing in the doorway.

    “How much?” you ask. “You said $8 a cord, didn’t you?”

    “What’s a rick?” you say.

    “A cord.”

    You go out with Tyson to survey the pile of wood. To your surprise, you discover that you have a pile of fireplace wood 4 feet high by 8 feet long, the sticks of wood being 2 feet long.

    “Tyson, you only have half a cord here,” you say pleasantly.

    “It’s 4 by 8, isn’t it?” says Mr. Milo, looking at you with a patient gaze, pitying you for your ignorance.

    “Yes,” you say, “but it’s only 2 feet wide. It takes 4 feet wide to make to make a full cord.”

    “A rick’s 4 by 8, don’t matter how long the wood.”

    “But that’s not a cord.”

    “A cord’s a rick; a rick’s a cord,” states Mr. Milo. “That’s $8.”

    You are new in the community and you don’t care to make enemies, so you give in to his logic.

    “How much for a load of 16-inch wood, Tyson?”

    “Six dollars a rick.”

    “How much is it that the stove wood is less?” you ask. “You have to cut a lot more pieces and handle them. I’d think it would cost you more to get it out.”

    “The pieces is smaller and lighter,” answers Tyson.

    This is reasoning the like of which you never met before, and you don’t quite know how to handle it, so you pay Tyson his $8 and walk over to the truck with him. You feel that you have been beaten, and you want to make some last effort.

    “Tyson,” you say, “I’ll want another cord in about a month and I”ll call you when I need it.”

    Tyson seems pleased and says he’ll be sure to bring it.

    Then you add, as a kind of a last fling: “But next time, Tyson, I think you ought to stack it together more closely. I think if you had packed that wood right tight you just unloaded, you wouldn’t have had a full rick.

    “Oh, I could have done that,” says Tyson. “But you didn’t ask for a ‘shook rick.’ That would have been a dollar more.”