The Orange Leader (Orange, Tex.), Vol. 56, No. 167, Ed. 2 Sunday, July 12, 1959 Page: 4 of 12

                                
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SUNDAY, JULY <3, 1*5*
The Hermit
Recluse on Bayou
Likes Solitary Life
By JOE PARSLEY    | He doesn’t care much for vege-
The heavily jungled bjnks of tables, and confines his garden-
Cow Bayou some two miles south ing to a small patch of sweet po-
_______ —Z-tPder Photo bv Joe Parsley
SWEET POTATOES HELP SUSTAIN ORANGE COUNTY RECL‘ SE
Tilings Other Folks Scatter Along the Highways Provide Spendirg Money
of U.S. 90 is home sweet home to
a legendary, bewhiskered little
bald-headed hermit.
- And He wouldn’t trade his mea-
ger little kingdom for all the
money you could pile in his palmet-
to-thatched lean-to. Money . . .
he hates the filthy stuff . . . says
it all should be burned and we’d
have a better world to live in.
He’s d w"ri" Tt pecu >nr in man-
ways, but he lives at peace with
his soul despite its conflict with
what he calls a false civilization.
To him, men are slaves to customs
and gadgets of all so.ts. They wor-
rv themselves into early graves.
They destroy tlieir health and hap-
piness in a vain effort to “get
ahead."
But how many of them do?
"Most of them die with debts big-
ger than their assets,” he con-
tends. “But not me. I don’t owe
a crying dime. My only expense
is a dime a month for fuel for my
lante-T). You spend more in £
month than I spend in 10 years
... mavbe even for the rest of
my life."
This- little fellow’s called the
Cow Bayou Hermit, and rumors
of his wild existence and strange
habits have fallen on most ears in
this area.
To him his simple way of life
is “far brtter than most people
could ever dream. 4dy needs are
few, and I don’t complicate life
by creating false needs." Contents
of his primitive shelter bore out
his words.
Several toesack? on the dirt
floor served as his bed. His fire
was built in the open end , of -his
lean-to, and served both for
warmth and cooking. He has a
ijurnsd up skillet and one pan, a
few spoons, a can to boil cofl';e
in (when he has coffee, he didn’t
lost week), a jar cf sugar, can of
bak'ng powder, end he said he was
fresh out of flour. He rolls his
own cigarettes, when ho smokes.
He brings his drinking and cooking
water from his closest neighbor’s
■well some au^rter of a mile away.
He maintains a barter system
with settlers in his area. When he
catches too many catfish on his
trotlines he t'Hes thorn a few. They
:h
tatoes and a few hills of Irish po*
tatoes, but he says the latter va-
riety are "fit only for the garbage
pail." He also believes that vege-
table shortening isn’t good for
cooking, and he uses only the fat
from meat to prepare his meals.
"When you use it, you get the
same benefits as you get from eat-
ing meat," he said, and apparent-
ly that’s the main source of his
meat . . . the grease.
He doesn’t hunt the game with
which he shares his kingdom.
“They’re like neighbors, and I get
a kick out of them." But on rare
occasions he accepts a neigh-
bor’s invitation to share a meal of
coon. "It’s the best wild meat
there is,” he believes.
The wizened little fellow ap-
parently eats very little. He’s
small in stature, but isn’t bony.
He couldn't weigh more than 100
pounds, but appears to be in good
health.
There were surprisingly few
flies in his shelter. He said mos-
quitoes give him fits at times, but
he isn’t bothered by seed ticks—
the scourge of the woods at this
time of the year. "You only find
ticks around where there’s cattle,
dogs or ocher animals,” he re-
marked. “There’s no cattle near
here and I would rather have a
panther around than a dog. I ain’t
got no earthly use for them.
They’re a nasty nuisance."
The hermit's lean-to is built
atop
also share
him.
their surpluses wit*
■
iJ;fr
te‘
,-*c
lljffe'
Sip
iss
i- i
a rectangular mound about
two feet high in which twigs, moss
and leaves form the outside wall,
which is straight up. It's filled in
with dirt. He said he built the
mound straight up to keep the
armadillos out of his shed. “They
can’t climb the walls,” he said.
He’s now occupying his second
shelter in the 10 or 11 years he's
been living on the bayou. Flood
waters in 1953 and last year came
over the mound several inches both
times, he said, and he had to
“camp cut in the open under a
wild plum tree back there," he
motioned away from the water’s
edge. He doesn’t think water will
come over the mound which holds
his shelter now. "Unless it’s worse
tthoce othir two floods.”
The little 'fellow has cultivated
an interest ii^_ 'lowers in recent
years. He’s picked up lily bulbs
from along the highway, some of
his neighbors have given him cut-
tings, and he’s purchased a few
seeds. He has started a strawber-
ry patch from, the seeds of some
discarded berries he found in a
roadside park. He showed some
just sprouting in a can, and they
weren’t from runners, but from
seeds.
He Fas- a hard time getting plants
to grow in the barren ground on
h’s fenced-in plot — about the size
of a city lot. He has brought in
sand and loam to mix with the
ciayish soil already there, and he
waters his plants religiously with
bayou water.
The hermit says his name is
Justin Baker and he’ll be 57 later
this month. He was a house and
sign painter, and worked 13 years
on a railroad before he started
"following the roads," which he
did for several years before he
settled down on the bayou. He said
Lensing. M!rh., w^s his home
originally.
While following the roads he be-
gan looking every step of the way,
and claims you'd surprised at
the things you can find there. In
fact, that’s how he gets money to
buy his bare necessities now. He
picks up discarded bottles and
other litter of value along the
highway and either gets the depos-
it or sells his salvage wherever
he can.
You leave the hermit’s simple
castle reluctantly. It’s solitude
brands you with near-disbelief.
—leader Photo by Joe Paratejr y* “"“7 T°*    .    ..    .    ,    .
A MAN NEED NOT BE LONELY IF HE IS A FRIEND OF THE WILD ANIMALS    , Yet it s there in its untamed glory.
Gazing Across His Boat Into Cow Bayou, the Hermit Finds His Surroundings Soul-Satisfyinf
Do you envy him? In a few ways,
yes. But in most ways? Ho.
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