EDMOND — Let’s call her Beatrice. By the time I got there, Beatrice had sucker-punched one of my bartenders and knocked a fella named Gary out cold. She had Gary’s date by her long blond hair and was dragging her toward the door. No doubt, she had some things to say to the lady in private. Ordinarily, I don’t stick my nose into a conversation where I’m not invited, but I sensed the blonde had heard enough.

Beatrice let me know that any interference from me would be most unwelcome. She was raging about provocation and retribution as she shouldered past me with the wriggling blond in tow.

All efforts at diplomacy failed. Beatrice wasn’t interested in my sympathy and she couldn’t care less about the fact the blonde (probably) didn’t know Gary was married. I tried to convince Beatrice that I thought Gary was coming around and if she would only release the blonde, I’d help her get Gary into the parking lot where she could add such exclamation points to his bloody nose as she thought necessary.

Nothing doing. Justice required that Beatrice add some knots to the blonde’s head to go along with the bleach and she had the duration of the marriage to settle up with Gary. I toyed with the idea of butting out. But gallantry demanded that I give the blonde the benefit of the doubt. So I insisted Beatrice would have to release her victim.

No need to dwell on our back-and-forth discussion. Suffice it to say, Beatrice decided that reasoning with me was futile and more persuasive measures were called for. I curled into rope-a-dope mode and the blonde made a break for it as Beatrice probed my defenses, searching for an opening.

Now, if you’ve never been pounded by a meaty fist decorated by a sizable diamond (or zircon maybe) wedding ring, you can’t imagine the variety of escape options that run through your mind. I won’t go into it.

Anyway, I’ll be the first to say that I could be criticized for blacking Beatrice’s eye. It was regrettable and, believe me, I went overboard apologizing after the fact. After all, it was that good-for-nothing Gary who pushed her over the edge and got us all in trouble. For what it’s worth, the witnesses all agreed it was self-defense.

This story comes to mind this week because Nov. 3 was the 83rd anniversary of the death of Annie Oakley. As she was only 5 feet tall, it is unlikely she ever pushed a fella into a fist fight. But from age 15 until she died at age 66, she rarely met a man she couldn’t outshoot.

Born in extreme poverty, she was such a skilled sharpshooter that she was able to provide game for neighbors and nearby hotels and restaurants in such quantities that she helped pay off the mortgage on the family farm by the time she was 15. Among her exploits, it was said she could split a playing card edge-on with a .22 rifle at a distance of 90 feet. At age 62, she won a shooting contest in North Carolina by hitting 100 clay targets from a distance of 16 yards.

Most everyone has heard of Annie’s shooting skills. But she was also a great philanthropist and proponent of women’s rights. When she died, she was one of the world’s best-known celebrities, but she had given almost her entire fortune for the benefit of her family and various charitable concerns. She was devoted to Frank Butler, her husband, business manager and one-time sharp shooting rival. He was deeply in love with her as well. He was so crushed when Annie died that he also died 18 days later.

The Broadway musical “Annie Get Your Gun” is a fictionalized account of the early days of the romance between Frank and Annie. Near the end of the production, Annie and Frank sing a duet called “Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better.” In this number, they exchange challenges about who would top who in any endeavor. There was a time I would have insisted that, whatever talents a lady might have, she could never be a match for a man in a bar fight. Now, I know a bartender and a guy named Gary who are not so sure. Even so, I ought to say that my wife Mary still has to ask me to open the pickle jars. I’m Hink and I’ll see ya.



MIKE HINKLE is an Edmond resident and retired attorney. He may be reached via e-mail at hink@edmondsun.com.