Both Bob and Doug Iverson were living with me when Doug broke his leg. Two CRAZY brothers. When Doug was in the hospital we visited him; he shared a room with a biker who was banged up badly. Both of them were grimacing from the pain they had. When we asked them why they didn't have drugs, Doug lifted his pillow, showing three pills -- "They give us painkillers, but we are saving them for a party tonight."
I jumped at the gulch for two years, during the death days. Our team during the ChuteOut was the Frapp Factory. Sport Death was born there for a good reason, which I'll write about some other time.
Cartwright had a horseshoe malfunction. The last pic of him is unforgettable.