Little Daisy Hamlin: Justice Served
Johnny Cash had a song somewhere along the way about “A Boy Named Sue” and it was about a boy growing up named Sue”. While a young man he had hated his father, who left at an early age in the boys life and left him named “Sue”. When he finds his father in a bar, one day, the father explained that naming him Sue was the best thing he could have done for him. It had caused the boy to grow up tough.
Before “A Boy Named Sue” there was my great uncle, Uncle Daisy. In fact his actual name was Little Daisy Hamlin. He was born in 1900 and he died in 1963 and is buried in the Fellowship Chapel cemetery down on Sandy Point Rd. I don’t remember him as being tough but I remember him and Uncle Calvin doing carpenter work and eating hot peppers with my Grandfather.
I have mentioned before that it was quite common for every home to have at least a shotgun and they usually were readily accessible. By that, I mean, they stood in the corner of the bedroom with a box of shells on the floor or they might have hung over the fireplace mantel with a box of shells sitting on the mantel. If a “mad dog” showed up foaming at the mouth in the yard, there was no animal control to call. You called on the shotgun. If someone was trying to break in the henhouse to steal a few chickens, you had no phone to call 911, you called on Harrington and Richardson. Whether there was trouble at the fuel tanks with someone trying to steal fuel or someone trying to steal a ham from the smokehouse, the response was a load of birdshot in the backside! Usually the 12 gauge was sufficient to stop most transgressions in their tracks.
Uncle Daisy lived in a little house near what we always called Carter’s Store and is now known as Sandy Point Grocery. His house was on the same side of the road as Carter’s and sat back from the road two or three hundred feet.
As he got older, he got a little more “peculiar” in his ways and he caught the attention of some teenagers who found it fun to harass Uncle Daisy. Nothing serious, but they would drive down in his yard late at night and blow their horn, yell and cut donuts in his front yard. It made him furous!
My details are a little fuzzy now, but I think he came over and asked my Grandfather to let him borrow his shotgun but my grandfather did not go along with him. The sheriff could not do much because he had no names, witnesses, or pictures of the perpetrators.
Somewhere, somehow, Uncle Daisy got a shotgun and started looking out for the hooligans. And, sure enough, one night they showed up. They showed up in a young man’s very nice looking 1953 +/- Chevrolet. It was white and the fellow lived over in the big city of Lizella. He was from a very nice family.
They came into the yard as usual and Uncle Daisy was waiting. As the car made its swing through the yard, it was greeted with a load of number 8 birdshot. It was a well place shot with most of the pellets from the shell plastering the driver’s door. A 12 gauge shell can have between 200 and 450 shot depending on shot size in Ounces. That will give you an idea of how many small dents were in the door of that Chevy!
No one was injured in the incident but the driver’s father was very upset and went to the sheriff who decided that the car owner had gotten what he deserved. And further more, to add insult to injury, the car driver had to drive around with all the pellet dings in the paint job for some time since he had no insurance to cover the costs of repairs. We would see him regularly driving around, pellets and all, and his father went to church with my Grandfather.
So, if you run into “A Boy Named Sue” or one named “Daisy”, you’d best be careful. Messing with guys like that could get you a load of birdshot in your driver’s door, or worse, and can be downright dangerous.