The legend of "Ye Olde Knife in the Kidney Tavern."

Followers, better known as 'Maaltmen,' of Tommy Maaltman's Wild, Wild, West, a big part of Tommy Maaltman's Malt Musings found on tommymaaltman.blogspot.com (shameless plug) have wondered how Ye Olde Knife in the Kidney Tavern got it's name. Well, I'm glad your inguiriing minds wanted to know and I'm happy to tell you the story. Big John Brown, a mountain of a man as rough as a cob, was used to having and getting his way around town. One night he walked into a no name watering hole in Borculo, a small backwater town in the muck land of western Michigan, and sat down at the bar next to Norma Stitz, a shy, naive eightteen year old local out for an evening of fun for the first time in her life after running away from what she perceived as overly strict Dutch Reformed parents. Accompanying her was Benny Spade, better known as 'Digger.' No Digger was not a respected undertaker as so many in the profession were nicknamed in those days. Digger made his living in a more sinister manner as a grave robber selling the bodies to aspiring physicians for dissection which was illegal and helping himself to any valuables that the grieving families forgot to remove from the body prior to burial. He made a good living but always complained about the bad hours and poor work conditions having to work late at night in poor lighting. As Big John sat down next to Norma, the bar stool creaked and groaned with the strain of the weight of his massive body. Looking at Digger, Big John said, "Get lost Puke can't you see I'm talkin' to the gal." Norma's chest swelled with a feeling of exultation and for the first time in her life a sense of importance and relevance. Digger, incensed and enraged, knew better than to make a scene and quietly got up and slinked off into the night to pursue his profession. Several hours later when the bar was empty except for Big John, a semi-conscious Norma feeling the effects of alcohol for the first time in her life and a dozing bar keep, Digger slipped back inside and quietly made his way to within inches of Big John's back. Like a flash in the night, he expertly jabbed a twelve inch, sharp as a razor, steel shank directly into Big John's left costrovertebral angle. The knife pierced the skin, muscle and fascia and directly skewered the left kidney stopping shortly after severing the left renal artery and vein. Big John never felt a thing. With the room spinning from what he thought was the effects of too much cheap rot gut whiskey, Big John got up off the stool and then dropped to his knees before crashing face down on the dirty floor surrounded by an expanding pool of bright red blood and died within seconds. With Big John dead, Norma passed out and the bar keep asleep with his head down on the bar in a pool of drool, Digger was in no hurry to leave and helped himself to a dram of Glenkinchie 10 year old, 43 vol with a Dutch gold color, soft lemon and melon nose, spicy, cinnamon and Demerara taste and an oaky dry finish. What Digger didn't know was that Garret Maaltman, a Dutch immigrant just off the boat, was sitting in a dark corner drowning his troubles and feelings of home sickness with genever gin and witnessed the entire sordid affair. Garret didn't speak English. Obviously fearing for his life in a strange new land, he did the manly and honorable thing and kept his mouth shut for many, many years until on his death bed he told the story to his son, Johnny Maaltman, who in turn told his son, Bernie Maaltman, who told his son Kenny Maaltman, who finally told me, Tommy Maaltman when I was just a kid with a passion for dissecting animals, a passion latter channeled to a more socially acceptable career as a kidney surgeon. Ever since the night of the murder the establishment was known as Ye Olde Knife in the Kidney Tavern until it burned to the ground ignited by embers from the Great Chicago Fire blown across Lake Michigan by a strong hot wind in 1871. Fortunately, the sign was salvaged and now hangs in a residence on the very same shores of Lake Michigan. Sláinte, Tommy Maaltman.