In Tribute to Our Mentors

[Dean Romig]

Please join me if you wish, in remembering our mentors - those men who made a deep impression on us and helped to shape the men we came to be.

I pay tribute to a man I wish had been my grandfather but who was not even blood-related to me. Hubert G. Simons, former fire chief of St. Johnsbury Vt. but was a great deal more than that to me. He, who walked barefoot to the one-room schoolhouse in Tampico around the time of "The War to End All Wars" - who pot-shot grouse on the ground and from trees to augment the family's food needs - who went to war in '42 and joined the fire dept upon his return - who loved horses - who bought twelve acres in Tampico and built a camp on it in '54 - and who invited my Dad to hunt with him - and unknowingly fostered in this boy a deep respect and love for the hills and fields, the melodious mountain brooks and blazing autumn maples, the deer and pa'tridge and woodcock, the gravel roads and stone walls of the Tampico of his youth.

Please post your pictures too.



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[ch]

My Grandpa who took me fishing, I love to fish. My Dad who told me of God let me take the old pickup to the creek fishing when I was a pup. Taught me to trap and every thing else I know If I was only half the man he is. yes we hunted also. Dean, time sure slips by.
Godspeed Oh I have that same respect for the land we walk on.

[Patrick Devlin]

Dean- A kind and fitting tribute to Mr. Simons thank you for sharing it. I have a felling that if Mr. Simons were able to speak on his relationship with you it would be with the same reverence.

Pat

[Ben Yarian]

My father and grandfather, both had a great inflewence on me, taught me the love of the woods and fields. But 2 others had a great inflewence also. Art Adams, a neighbor, taught me a lesson in sportsmanship. I was hunting with him when he spied a rabit hiding under a small brush pile. He pointed it out to me and said we would not shoot it yet. He called the dogs over and had a run, then said we could shoot it as it passed by. Kenny Douglass, also a neighbor and an adopted grandfather so to speak, was dieing of cancer and still went hunting. His wife didn't alow him to go alone, I was elected to take him hunting. My dad gave me explicit instructions as to how long Kenny could hunt and were we could go, so as not to exhaust him or cause him pain. When we had hunted for a while Kenny said we were going down to the hazil brush(one place I was told i was not to take him as it was a long hard walk there and back) I made up excuses why we should not go there. After failing to convice him I finally said that I was not allowed to take him there. "hummp, I am taking you!" was his reply. He was one of those old timers that were made of all grit and sand. I learned a lot of what it ment to never give up and to be resilient from Kenny. Cancer eventually took him, but he lived 3 times longer than they said he would and did things that they said he would never do again.
Chuck Gilland was another. As a young man lost the frount half of both his feet in a insilage chopper. He continued to farm till the day he died and was a big coon hunter. Taught me to leave enough game in an area to reproduce for the next year never take to many. I had the privlage to grow up with what I feel are some of the finest people and the finest comunity. I feel that they all had a hand in the man I am today and owe them all a debt of gratitide.
Ben

[George Lander]

My Dad, V.G. Lander, who was born in 1896. Served with Gen'l Pershing and Capt. Patton in the mounted cavalry on the Mexican Border chasing Pancho Villa, in France & Belgium in WWI and back again in WWII. He taught me to ride my horse (a Welsh pony), shoot his gun (a Fox Sterlingworth) and my Remington .22 and stay true to myself. Don't lie, don't steal & don't cheat, ever.

George

[David Hamilton]

George, There are a bunch of you Landers in SC not to mention a town. You don't mention where your Grandfather hailed from. My Grandfather died when my mother was 13 and I didn't inherit his guns or have him as a guide.My Father's Father died before I was bore but he was not a hunter. My father taught me to shoot targets but he was very cerebral and I was left to my own devices. No hunting memories. David

[MarketHunter]

In the early days it was Dad, his Father, and Uncle Jerry (Mom's brother). All bird, dove and squirrel hunters with Uncle Jerry also being a turkey fanatic. Dad had hunted waterfowl quite a bit in earlier days but had pretty well given it up by the time I was old enough to go. Dad and Grandpa were both double gunners and poisoned me along those lines. Father bought me my first side by side when I was about 14 and it's been like that ever since with only occasional lapses toward humpbacks and modern guns during the days before bismuth. Dad also taught me to shoot on the wing though I'm still not the shot that he is. I still watch him and try to do what he does but he's just more of a natural with a gun than I am. Cool nerves I suppose, he just takes his time and never gets rattled. In his day Grandpa was better than both of us put together, never saw a dove shot that was his equal.

While in high school my oldest friend (kindergarten) Wade Clements and his father Kenny let me start coming along on their waterfowling expeditions. Little did they know, it would become a lifelong passion for me. Wade's father Kenny was (and is) also the best squirrel hunter I ever met and he taught me a lot along those lines as well. I just chatted this evening with him about some squirrel hunts we'd made together years ago.

Once I started college at 18 I met Dave French who became my steady fowling partner for quite a few seasons. He'd been duck and goose hunting with his Dad since he was just a little fella so knew much more than I did. He was the same age as me but I still count him as a mentor and a close friend.

Along about that same time I met Tom Horn (direct decendant of the gunfighter) and that was really the beginning of the end of normal life. Tom taught me how to blow a duck call to where ducks actually listened, better ways to throw out a rig of decoys, other tricks of the trade that I still use today. Also he began my fanaticism for hunting diving ducks, his stories of layout shooting on Crab Orchard Lake during the old point system days showed me that greenheads weren't the only thing under the sun.

And so here I am at 40 years old, still gathering a mentor every now and then. Guys like Don Kaas, Russ Bickel, Jeff Milliken, Capt. Barry Fudge, still teach me something new either about old guns, pigeon shooting, or fowling on a regular basis. Even as a grown man you can have a mentor, it's not all kids stuff I assure you.


Regards,
DLH

[charlie cleveland]

to me each and every one of you fellas out there are my mentors. ive learned more than i can give thanks to you fellas. i appeciate each and every one of you. i also grew up with good memories. my father was a double gun man.. he had no eaquil in quail shooting. i could be a little predice. there are some lengedary fellas among you fellas out there that are writing there way and living there way to there time in history. glad to have met all you parker boys...... charlie cleveland

[Researcher]

With a Father and Grandfather like this I never stood a chance --

[George Lander]

David: I was speaking of my Dad who was from Hopkinsville, Kentucky. He mustered into the 11th. U.S. Cavalry in Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia just in time for the Mexican Campaign. He came to Columbia, South Carolina as a Buck Sgt. when they opened Fort Jackson at the onset of WWI. There is a town in S.C. called Landrum, near the N.C. border. The ones that put an "s" at the end of their name ("Landers") like the College in Greenwood, S.C. are the money side of the family. Both sides came from Virginia. We are related to the Lees and the Washingtons through the Randolph Branch of the family. My grandmother was a Randolph.

Best Regards, George