Clyde Pidcock, 'The Ole Trapper' dies at 95

Let there be no doubt, he was part of America's Greatest Generation.

He was a World War II veteran of the U.S. Navy. He was a Hall of Fame mink trapper, an independent business owner, an author and a first-class gentleman.

Former Highland County resident William "Wild Bill" Clyde Pidcock died today at his home in Springfield. He was 95.

He died with his lovely wife, Helen, at his side. In fact, he died on Helen's birthday. Helen was OK with that. Her first words were to thank the angelic nurses of Hospice.

When Helen called me this afternoon to let me know, my first thought was that Clyde really got us both. August 13 is not only Helen's birthday; it is also my daughter Meghan's birthday.

Helen understood.

She had called just two days earlier to let me know that Clyde had developed an untreatable cancerous mass and that doctors gave him maybe two more weeks.

It turned out to be two more days.

Clyde also understood.

The last time I saw him he was in the hospital. He told me to go back to my office and write his obituary. I told him that I would write it, but not for several more years.

Clyde recovered from that potentially life-ending condition in 2009, and we continued to speak each year on or about his birthday.

Two years ago, on Sept. 17, 2012, I wrote: "World War II Navy veteran and former Highland County resident Clyde Pidcock turned 94 years old today. 'I've got six more years to go to make 100,' Clyde told me this morning."

He almost made 96.

Clyde signed a copy of his book "A Half-Century of Mink Trapping" for my son, Colin, in 1997, when Colin was not quite 3 years old. We still have the book on our bookcase.

Clyde dedicated the book to Helen, "his favorite person in the world."

If you've ever met Helen Pidcock, you would understand. I used to tease Clyde that he did not deserve Helen. Clyde used to tell me that "no woman deserved me."

As always, he was right.

Clyde also mentioned his "trapping Pidcock family."

"Olin, my father; brothers, Chuck and Frank; and my sister, Sarah, who skinned our muskrats after school."

Every time I read Clyde's book, I can't help but think that he wouldn't amount to much without Helen and Sarah doing all of his work!

Five years ago, Clyde was inducted into the Ohio State Trappers Association Hall of Fame. He was very happy about this well-deserved honor.

As we reported in The Highland County Press, Nick Bower, chairman of the Awards Committee from the Ohio State Trappers Association, notified Clyde of his Hall of Fame status.

"He made my life complete," Clyde told me in 2009. "I'm happy that at the age of 91, I still have my memories and my love of trapping."

The induction was a culmination of Clyde's long history of trapping in southwest Ohio.

Clyde wrote numerous newspaper editorials and letters to various editors through the past 50 years. I had ready many of these editorials prior to meeting Clyde.

One day about 20 years ago, Clyde walked into my office with a letter that some other newspaper refused to publish. He introduced himself and we immediately became friends.

For the ensuing two decades, Clyde Pidcock, Bill Horne, me, and a few others frequently debated on all things political. I introduced Clyde, a conservative, and Bill, a moderate, to one another. They became good friends.

When Bill passed away, Clyde sent his condolences. He wrote to me, "I miss the Old Hog Farmer." I could not stop the tears. The timing of it all was simply too much. Clyde and Bill were polar opposites on some things and in lockstep agreement on others. Both encouraged me in business and both stood with me as unequivocal friends. I love them both for their friendship and support.

Clyde was born in Carbine Hill, Ohio on Sept. 17, 1918, and lived in the Rocky Fork Lake community (Sleepy Hollow Parkway) for many years.

In 1925, at the age of 7, he lost his mother. With the Great Depression on the horizon, Clyde did what he needed to do. He went to work. He carried coal, collected scrap metal, sold newspapers, anything and everything to help his family – including trapping.

"My old man must have thought I owned a coal mine," Clyde told me. "Because every morning in the winter, he'd send me out with a metal bucket and tell me to go find some coal."

Clyde's love for trapping began in 1923 and lasted for 75 years. He retired from trapping at the age of 80. Through all of his writings and public speaking, Clyde was given the name of "The Ole Trapper."

He says he doesn't remember when the nickname started, "just that it stuck."

In his book, Clyde has a chapter on "Trappers' Gems," which are a collection of his humorous words of wisdom.

My son and I read them tonight.

Here are a few.

• Always wear a bright-colored hat on the first day of deer hunting season. You may also want to sing out loud a lot. Some hunters will shoot at just about anything.

• In the Great Depression, we ate a lot of rabbits, roasted coon, fried muskrat, even baked opossum now and then. No wonder I don't like wild meat anymore.

• My parents believed that skunk fat was the world's best medicine for a cold. If you haven't had a skunk fat poultice on your chest, you haven't lived.

• Newspapers are good to ball up and put in your boots to keep your feet warm.

• Mink, under certain circumstances, will scream. It will stand your hair on end.

• I had a lot of fun catching carp for mink and coon bait, but cutting it up is hard work for an old man.

• To be a good trapper, you must love the outdoors and be a hearty soul.

From 1994-2014, Clyde and I shared many stories, many jokes and many observations about life. My only regret is that I didn't know Clyde about 30 years earlier than I did.

Helen told me that Steve Thompson of Thompson Funeral Homes (www.thompsonfuneralhomes.com) will be taking care of the arrangements for Clyde.

Clyde is survived by his wife, Helen, his loving family and many, many friends.

Godspeed, my friend.

Rory Ryan is publisher and owner of The Highland County Press.