The Village Squire, 1981-08, Page 26One Day at a Time
I don't want to get involved
For years, I've been looking down
my nose at people who turn the other way
and refuse to get involved when a
travesty of justice is in process or when
some natural disaster is endangering the
welfare of others.
I was, of course, appalled when I read
the horrid tale years ago of the young
New York woman who was murdered in
broad daylight while dozens of apathetic
apartment -dwellers and passersby looked
co with morbid curiosity without raising a
hand or a phone to help the unfortunate
victim.
That was the first such awful incident
to anger my idealistic senses and since
then, I have kept a keen eye on the
newspapers for all similar disgusting
examples of human coldness in the face
of tragedy.
And I guess I really believe that had I
been on that New York street when that
young lady was being stabbed to death, I
would have acted in a much different
manner than the callous people who just
stood there and let her die while she cried
out desperately for help.
But like most other great theories, I've
never had the opportunity to put that one
to the test so I have remained quite
comfortable in the certain knowledge that
I would act the Good Samaritan if the
opportunity ever arose.
Well, last Thursday night I finally got
my big chance and 1 am now in the
process of trying to figure out what went
wrong.
It was my own fault, I suppose, for
going into such a sleazy tavern but I liked
the band that was playing there and
didn't think any harm could come from a
couple of hours of sitting and listening.
Two young ladies accompanied me and
we sat at a little table near the door.
All went well until about 20 minutes
before the bar closed for the night.
A huge. muscle-bound man. obviously
drunk and more obviously in a very
belligerent frame of mind, staggered into
the tavern and started beating his chest.
The drunk was apparently well-known
in that establishment and not very
well -liked. A small, neatly -dressed man,
immediately rushed over to where Tarzan
was yelling out his war cry, grabbed him
and tried to hustle him out the door. A
Jim Hagarty is a freelance journalist and
/armor rc7rortc'r/or the Stratford Beacon
Herald. Responses to his columns ruur he
/orwarded either to the Villa e .Squire ,Ire
Box 456. Mitchell.
by Jim Hagarty
waitress and a bartender also arrived on
the scene to help their boss eject the
troublemaker.
The Incredible Hulk did not appreciate
the attempts to have him removed and
with arms and hands as powerful as any
I've seen, he grabbed the little hotel -
owner by the sides of his head and began
squeezing it and banging the poor chap's
noggin against a cigarette machine. The
unfortunate owner was in agony and, 1
surmised, in grave danger.
Prompted by years of serious moral-
izing on the issue of apathy and genuinely
sympathetic to the plight of the man who
was being brutalized, I put my common
sense in my back pocket, jumped to my
feet and rushed to the rescue, ignoring
the pleas of my two female friends who
wanted me to stay uninvolved.
When I reached the drunken monster,
he had succeeded in scaring off the
owner, the waitress and the bartender
and was hungrily looking around for
someone else to chew on.
His angry eyes landed on me and he
roared in rage, obviously upset that a
bystander who had no interest in the
matter would have the nerve to become
involved. He broke away from his
pursuers and lunged at me.
After a big meal, I weigh 155 pounds
and on my tip -toes, I stand about 5 feet, 9
inches. I've been in three fights in my life
and lost all three.
But for five years in high school, I was
a member of the cross-country team and
boy, can I run. And to the amusement of
the hotel crowd gathered in that sleazy
bar that night, run is what I did.
I got away from him and made it back
to my table and the two girls who by now
were very fearful for my safety. But they
were not half as afraid as I was.
Fortunately, the masher must have
been literally blind -drunk because he
couldn't pick me out of the crowd, though
he tried hard. Standing five feet away
from our table, he looked out over the
patrons and roared, over and over,
"Where is he?"
Still searching for me and promising,
"I'll kill him!", Muhammad Ali wander-
ed away from the front door and that is
when my friends and I took off. We didn't
stop running until we reached my car and
just as we got safely inside, the drunk
staggered out the front door and looked
around menacingly.
As the saying goes, "I'd rather be a
live chicken than a dead duck."
And now I have an inkling of why
people don't get involved.
Bayfield Country
Fair
125th Year
August 28th and 29th
Special Attractions:
Heavy horses
Poultry
4-H Calf Club
Crafts
Flowers
Vegetables
Fruit
Baking
Sewing Exhibits
Friday, August 28th
Bingo, 7:30 p.m.
Saturday, August 29th
Parade, 12:30 p.m.
Log Sawing
Nall Driving
Horseshoe
Pitching
Jumping Jack
and
Fishpond for
the children
Saturday 's admission ticket of $1.00
good for draw on $50.00 cash.
Protect your skin with sun products
from
ELLEN BETRIX
Sun protection sticks,
water repelling sun jellies,
sun creams for sensitive skins
Also for the summer
Eyelash tinting, new make up
colours for summer, hair removal
with organic wax.
acheS 'n Creatil
CAROL GOWING
SKIN CARE STUDIO
32 Newgate St., Goderich
524-4403
Open Tuesday thru Saturday
VILLAGE SQUIRE/AUGUST 1981 PG. 25