I’m pretty sure it was the spring of 1962 but then again it could have been the fall. Anyhow, the court records, if they have been unsealed will verify the story.

It was a classic morning in Camp 4 when all the usual characters were trying to decipher a game plan for the day’s activities. Climb, beach it, play with the chicks, scrounge for some food or just play it as it happens. No hang-ups with analysis paralysis and having to psyche up for a climb.

Seemed like a good morning to explore, cruise around the Valley and “look” at existing routes and new possibilities. Lots of possibilities back then. Hell, we might even go climbing in the afternoon.

Calderwood had his old VW, there was a large group of us, so we all crammed into his little Bug. There was Rich Calderwood, Mort Hempel, Claude Suhl, myself and others I can’t remember. Perhaps Amborn, Beck, Foott, Kor, Sacherer????? Anyhow it was packed, jammed to the max. After a spell of climbing in and out at every stop it seemed more logical to stay outside and ride on the bumper and top. Seeing this little VW flying down the Valley below El Cap with a bunch of clowns hanging on for dear life must have been an inspiration for the later, open coach cattle-wagon idea of the Curry Company?

Now Mort is a wonderful musician with a beautiful voice and after a spell of warming up he was busting out the sounds at full volume. Once we got through the Joan Baez repertoire, it was time for some new tunes. One of our favorite songs at the time was “Duke of Earl” by Gene Chandler. Mort would sing lead and the rest of us would back him up with a deeper “Duke, Duke, Duke ,Duke of Earl.” I have to tell you it was beautiful. Calderwood, the only one inside the car was keeping the beat with his horn. Meanwhile we are blasting down the road, serenading the walls and having a grand old time

Duke,Duke,Duke, Duke of Earl………………...

We even got into our own rendition and started singing, “Beep,Beep Beep the Horn”, with Calderwood taking the lead.

In reality, it was a fairly productive excursion as with our combined experience of routes climbed we could discuss many of the existing climbs and the endless possibilities that still existed. Climbers were not so reluctant to share knowledge back then and we picked out a number of possible new routes.

Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl………………….

Well as with any road trip things don’t always flow the way you anticipated. We had circled the Valley from Camp 4 to El Cap, to the Cathedral Rock arena and along the South side of the Valley with many stops and were heading to the Bishop Terrace area. While opposite the Ahwahnee Meadow a ranger truck with red lights flashing and siren blasting pulled us over. Well at least it was easy to just jump off the VW and we didn’t have to crawl out. I mean, that many guys piled into a wee car like that certainly would have been some type of violation.

Duke,Duke, Duke,Duke of Earl………………………..

Out steps this chunky little ranger in full colors and he is pissed off. Well, nobody could be that upset over a wee infraction of the vehicle code. The guy must be having some major personal problems, maybe his wife left him for a climber or another lady or whatever. Anyhow he is reading us the riot act and we are feeling pretty humble, contrite, looking down at the ground and avoiding eye contact. It was hard to look sad and not break into uproarious laugher. I can’t remember if Kor was there because it would be hilarious to think of Kor looking down at the ground because it would be so far away.

Well, things were calming down, the ranger vented his original build of steam and we were almost down to talking levels when Suhl casually says,”Fuck you ranger, you fat little piece of shit, what’s your name? Porky Pig?”

Well, that kind of got the ranger ranting and raving again and things were not looking too good for quietly sliding on back to the relative tranquility of Camp 4. No, our ranger buddy had to call for backup and when the backup got there they had to call for more backups. Now Claude is in full form and he is ranting and raving in a mode only a true Vulgarian could appreciate. We had spent enough time with Gran, Craft, Suhl and the boys from the East but this was an exceptional manifestation of their true talents. How one person could get so many rangers so upset in so little time was truly remarkable. East meets West I guess?

Duke,Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl

As I Walk Through This World

Nothing Can Stop the Duke of Earl

Before too many rangers gather, Suhl runs into the center of the Meadow and hides but continues his incantations about rangers, NPS, law and the rights of man and just about anything else, with appropriate tidbits of profanity thrown in to keep it all in perspective. Soon the Meadow is literally surrounded by rangers. Rangers on foot, on horseback and with numerous patrol vehicles as backup in case he should make a bold and dashing exit. As the circle narrows, Suhl’s tirades get louder and louder. Alas, with such a show of power it had to end, and he was dragged out in handcuffs to a cheering crowd.

A little time in jail, a meeting with the good judge Geno Ottonello, who almost became my father-in-law 5 years later, and Claude was kicked out of the Valley for a year. Rumor has it he was back in the talus behind Camp 4 within 24 hours.

Cause I’m the Duke of Earl

So Yeah, Yeah,Yeah, Yeah, Yeah

Above is the legend, below is the stuff legends are made of.

Take your pick!

(By Clawed Sool)

Especially in light of those who fear that one should not behave thusly in Yosemite, and there were plenty of them, even back in the 60's:

note the behavior of the RANGER :!!!

follows a response to some who pointed out this fine LEGENDARY observation

DOODS & DRUIDS,

thanks

grate story just like Kelsey would quote Ken Kesey - "it is the truth , even if it didn't happen" (not quite a great story - just a little bit raspy)

essentially true in nature

but how I remember it was:

1st of all 

it was Art Gran's VW

driving on the bumper was only me

inside was Art, at least one other eastern climber

and, I just found out last spring, Jeff Foott was on board or aboard. (he lives near Raivo in Castle Valley and we always see him when we go to Moab)

Mort Hempel is another good candidate for being present.

I remember being very peaceful and driving very slowly from Camp 4 to the Village (where Degnans and the Ranger Station were)

the Ranger who came out to greet us was only moderately belligerent and authoritarian BUT he was interrupting a very composed and peaceful reverie that threatened NO ONE ! We were mindful of someone riding on the outside of the car AND had to do this because 6 or however many of us there were could not fit in to a VW bug. Here comes this brash MF making a big deal about nothing - the Valley was very uncrowded and very bucolic that morning.

Upon my telling the Ranger " I negate your authority" in Neitzschian fashion, (after having told him "fuck you") said Ranger proceeded to go inside the station and come out with his handgun held high overhead. A few hours later after cooling my heels in the small stone and steel nearby jail cell I was dragged into court. The judge obviously saw the humor in this great offense and calmly remanded me back to jail for a sentence of a day , I believe. Having just left the cell and having found it impervious and extremely contrary to my earlier totally free and peaceful state of mind - as we exited and marched back to jail - I was in the center with four rangers at each quadrant - so I bolted, or perhaps boogied, right out the side of this confinement and fled deep into the vast meadows to the south. As I heard sirens wailing and saw flashing red lights of ranger cars circling around the end of the mile wide meadows I jammed myself deep in to the center of a centrally located bush. Half hour later the dogs found me - straining at their leashes-savage fangs menacing- saliva showering in all directions as if to pre-digest an upcoming feast - I think they were actually trying to lick me, being Lab like. So I earned an extra 24 hours in the clink. I was told by those in the know that Wayne Merry interceded in my behalf. I had met him via Hemming before Merry had become a ranger a few years before.

Any way I will not fight the legend - may it grow - certainly there were raucous trips around the valley with many scoundrels riding outboard , perhaps not that particular time AND I did tell that ranger, who was from Brooklyn originally !! as I later found out from him, I did tell him to go f*#k himself as well .......but who knows mammaries and memories fade and coalesce .... what the f*#k?

also I believe I was wearing baggy old corduroy Gunksian knickers that were extremely ventilated throughout and a Roperian very dirty once white T-shirt.

Now I've got to find out who wrote the article in Stupor Topo.