Brother Brady

Brother Brady was the Scoutmaster of a Boy Scout Troop in Sutton, West Virginia. When I was eight or nine years old he took me camping on Elk river with his Troop. The Scouts nick-named me “Dodo” because I sang a lot. The camping trip nearly ended in tragedy.

Our camp was on the opposite side of the river, across the railroad bridge from the depot where we would board the train for Sutton. Loaded with all the camping equipment and gear, we all started across the bridge to wait for the train. I was in the middle of the bridge when the train whistled and I looked around to see it bearing down on me. The Scouts who were still on the bridge either hurried off or scrambled up into the supporting girders. In my fright I was transfixed in the middle of the track. Brady, seeing my peril, rushed to me and swung me down onto a concrete abutment of the bridge-probably five or six feet. He jumped down with me before the train passed over our precarious perch. This was probably the nearest to a fatal accident I have experienced. Brady saved my life.

Brady’s first child, Brady Junior, born when I was eight, I believe, made me an “Uncle”. I spent many happy summer days in Sutton with Brady and teary. There were neighborhood children to play with and a big woods near the house for adventuring. Imagine the excitement of ambushing a poker game being played in the woods by Sutton men. Leaving, their game in a hurry, they left several dimes that we picked up.

I started sixth grade in the Van Horn school, just below our house, when I was twelve years old. Miss Zeppa Lynch was the attractive, vivacious teacher who captivated me completely.

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