Jack’s Turkey Party
Of course having big parties for a meal or a night for outsiders as guests of a cabin owner was a common occurrence, and some of these were surely the real thing. One resident of the Valley really did it up “brown” when he entertained, though a few of the Valleyites were ever invited. The details of this particular party were given me by a native who was a good friend of the host and present on this occasion.
The date was around Thanksgiving, nice bracing weather, and some dozen or more friends came up from below to enjoy this hospitality and have an unusual meal and a great good time. The host and his friend Pete did a lot of cooking for the big event and made arrangements for this meal that should go down in history in the minds of those invited. It certainly did! Came the day, also the guests; the table with white linen and silver was a sight to even dazzle the eyes of the folks from the big city. An the turkey – a beautiful, large bird – and the best the market afforded – just too lovely to be eaten.
All were seated, cocktails were served, and now the host – ready to perform the arts of a fine carver with all eyes on him and the bird. The moment was crucial – mouths watered with expectation. But hardly had the fork rested securely astride the fowl’s backbone with the sharp knife in the air – when some second instinct must have come to the carver, or perhaps it was a faint, foreign odor. The knife stopped in mid-air; he drew one long breath to make it certainty, then grabbing the fine table clothe with both hands he pulled turkey and viands to the floor in one fell swoop. Such a mess! You see, the noble bird had never been drawn. And yet, perhaps, there are those living who would say that that one was Jack’s greatest party of all.