George Proffit Ramey ~ Part 2

My daddy tells the story to answer his question to his father, "Why was Uncle Proffit a nervous style individual?"

Uncle Proffit had a tough time.
One evening after a long day in the coal mines Uncle Proffit, daddy and some other buddies went down to the bar to get a drink. They were standing at the bar sippin their whiskey and this guy comes up behind Uncle Proffit and grabs him by the hair and with a knife tries to cut his throat.

I asked daddy, "What kind of knife was it?"

He said, "A hooked knife, like they use to cut linoleum. He was trying to cut Uncle Proffits jugular."

Uncle Proffit got loose, smacked him and ran out the front door. He was headed for his pony out back. The bar was one of those corner bars with a front and side door. Just as Uncle Proffit passes the side door the guy steps out and catches him in the shoulder with that knife and cut him, in and out, all the way down his back to his butt...clean through his britches belt. Uncle Proffit grabbed his pants and managed to pick up a brick, threw it at him but missed him. So, he got another brick and hit him in the head. Uncle Proffit kept running to his pony so he could get to the doctor.

I asked daddy, "Did it knock him out?"

Daddy said, "Well, yeah! If you got hit in the head with a brick it would knock you out!"

As you can imagine people were getting stirred up and started hollerin that a mad man was on the loose. Uncle Proffit was riding his pony down the street, bleeding pretty bad, still trying to get to the doctor. The sheriff comes running with his shot gun. Thinking Uncle Proffit was the mad man the sheriff shouted for him to stop and when Uncle Proffit didn't stop...he shot him, right off his horse. The shot hit him in the right lower front chest. Well, they hauled him to the doctor. The doctor looked him over and said, "I don't think it is worth sewing him up, he's shot all to hell - just gonna die."

Uncle Proffit rose up a bit and said, "You jist sew me up, I'm jist fine."

So the doctor sewed him up and now wherever Uncle Proffit sits, it's with his back to the wall...facing the door!

After my daddy heard this story he said, "I didn't monkey with stuff in his house."
Daddy also said, "And as proof to me Uncle Proffit showed me his scars, all of them!"

Note of interest: This happened in the late 1920's early 1930's. The story was told to my daddy in the early 1950's and the old coot lived until 1968 to the age of 78!