This story was told to me by my husband Sid, that was told to him by Lester’s oldest boy, Dave.
The weather has turned balmy, from 40 below to 20 below. Lester is fully dressed as he leaves the house to feed the cattle. Warm toque, woolen coat, woolen mitts. After the first stack yard, off comes the toque. After the second yard, off comes the mitts. After the third yard, off comes the coat. So after the cattle are all fed, he’s back home. Next day, same thing all over again, new hat, new coat, new mitts. End of the day, back to the house; next day he knows he’s gonna have to go through all that again, but now there’s an additional problem: where’s my teeth? Lester always kept his teeth in a glass beside his bed. So Dave tells me, when Lester got riled, you didn’t want to be around. So, as Steve and Mike were looking for Lester’s teeth, Dave walks out on the porch, and there’s the dog–munching away on Lester’s top plate! So Dave says to himself, “Yeah, I mean, I think I’ll go shoot some squirrels!”
Sid has related lots of Lester Dorsey anecdotes to me, and he says there may be more to come, if only he can remember them! He says, “They don’t come any tougher than Lester! He could take a boiling pot of coffee off of the stove and drink it right down!”
