I had my heroes, just like every kid.

Mine really got started by getting to know the owner of one of the three active taverns in Palouse in the late 1930s.

His name was Pop Brantner. I never did learn his first name.

The unlikely friendship began from my bringing in empty beer bottles, for a penny a “stubby” and five cents for a quart bottle.

Kids could go in the back door of the tavern, up...