He was well known in Ruthin, an institution almost in the late 1950s. Known as Dick Dunn to the townsfolk, properly his title was ex-corporal Richard Dunn, late of the King's Own Shropshire Light Infantry. He was a short, thickset man with a full beard through which peered two sparkling eyes full of humour. Dressed in a variety of old coats and with an old hat perched on top of his head, he looked for all the world like an unmade bed in motion. All his worldly possessions he carried in an old sack which contained, among other things, his cooking utensils and various pots.
In fact he was a true 'gentleman of the road' as he shuffled his way around the town, visiting various shops where he was known and where he would ask ever so politely for bacon scraps, butter or a pinch of tea for his pot. In the evenings he would visit local pubs and always be offered a drink or three by the customers. He knew the country well and was well liked by the farmers as he was a hard and conscientious worker.
In the winter Dick would disappear from the town and head for a farm where he would be sheltered and fed in return for work. In the spring Dick would reappear in the town, well dressed and clean shaven after his hibernation.
His knowledge of army squad drill was second to none and it only needed a broomstick and an appreciative audience for Dick to go through his whole repertoire of army rifle drill. 'Present arms', 'Shoulder arms', 'Port arms' he would shout in a sergeant-major manner much to the joy and admiration of his onlookers.
Sadly, as the years went by Dick took ill and died and great was the sorrow amongst the people of Ruthin. He was not, however, going to be buried as a pauper: his funeral expenses were paid by a local gentleman. A public subscription was opened some years later and a gravestone, suitably engraved, can be seen today in the graveyard of Llanrhydd Church in Ruthin. 
your comments
Robert A Owen-Ellis
As a child staying with my Nain and Taid in Mount Street, Ruthin, Dic Dunn was used as a kind of bogey man to ensure my behaviour was proper. I was threatened with "dyn y sach" (the man with the sack) coming to take me away. Consequently, I was loath to pass Dic when he sat ouside the National Provincial Bank on St Peter's Square, Ruthin, and would always head towards the post office to avoid him!
Mon May 19 09:01:44 2008
Geraint, Rhuthun
Dick Dunn was a First World War veteran, and as with thousands of others couldn't adjust to normal life following the hell of the trenches. He transferred to the 4th Bat RWF and in 1916 saved the life of fellow Fusilier Frank Hitchen who was lying wounded on no-man's-land under heavy machine gun fire. Dic carried him to safety. Frank Hitchen, however was killed in 1918. Hitchen was the son of Hugh Hitchen, then landlord of the Wine Vaults in Ruthin. After the war, Hugh Hitchen gave Dic a daily meal and beer to thank him for his actions. He never took his meals inside, but ate on the veranda outside the Vaults (still there today). I was told that a car back fired on the Square once, whilst Dic was about to tuck in. His reaction was to leap onto the floor, sending food and beer flying. The War left a permanent imprint on all veterans.
Thu Nov 29 11:44:44 2007
Richard (Dick) Morris, Caernarfon
I remember Dick very well. I remember him leaving Denbigh January 1962 for Llansannan (the very hard winter) and no one saw him for a couple of weeks and thought he may have perished in the snow, but Dick turned up safe and well. I remember asking him how he kept alive and he told me if he saw a sheep lying in the snow he would move the sheep and lie in its place because it was warm. He was a hard, but loving man who would help anyone.
Mon Mar 26 08:36:09 2007
John Hugh Roberts from Llandyrnog
I used to live in Brynffynnon and Pant Glas Ucha, Bontuchel, and I remember Dick Dunn very well. He used to come for some food, especially on a Sunday when my mother would give him a dinner. He died in April 1961 and my father and a few locals went to his funeral. He was buried in Llanrhydd churchyard ,Ruthin, but never had a headstone on his grave. A friend of mine, Idris Jones of Pandy, Bontuchel, suggested that a fund be set up and in 1998 enough money was raised to erect a headstone on his grave. The inscription on it reads :- 'Richard Dunn (Dic)- Died April 20th 1961 aged 66. He walked alone, he died alone, a gentleman of the road.'
Fri Mar 16 08:19:56 2007
John Hodgkinson, Liverpool
I spent the first few years of my life in Ruthin, we lived in St Meugans out by Llanrhydd. I remember Dick Dunn vividly, he used to fascinate me. My dad, Arthur Hodgkinson, ran Bridge Garage (opposite Park Place Hotel, where he was born) and Dick would often sleep on the forecourt, sometimes he would tidy up in exchange for some tea.
Thu Mar 1 11:23:34 2007
Phyllis Riordan nee Harrison
How well I remember Dick coming to the back door of our house in Llanfwrog.He would ask for hot water, my mam would always give him a piece of cake. On a saturday night, from my bed I would hear him recite Shakespeare in the most cultured voice. He was a grand old man.
Fri Mar 10 20:15:23 2006
John Derbyshire from Walkden, Manchester
This man laid no store by material things. But yet Dick Dun had a inner peace that people rarely find.
Tue Dec 6 12:19:48 2005
Wally Brodie Armstrong, B.C, Canada
As a boy I lived in Bontuchel, a village near Ruthin. I remember Dick very well, as I worked on many farms in the area alongside Dick. He was a bit of a mystery, but a very hard worker, as I remember. He could be seen, even in the winter, bathing in the river in Bontuchel, or sleeping peacefully in the hedgerows. He was part of the times - much more laid back and enjoyable than the present.
Sat Aug 27 02:04:17 2005
Pam Cresswell, Oshawa, Ont., Canada
How lovely to come upon this website! My memories of Dick Dunn always make me smile. I lived in Bontuchel, Pen-y-Bryn, until I was nine and we came to Canada. Dick used to come for some tea and he would swing his can around in the air to stir it. Once he asked for tea and my mum said "only if you will clean the hen house Dick. My husband is away and I am always good to you". Dick walked away grumbling. Mum called after him, "then Dick don't come again". Back came Dick, he was offered half a crown and a full breakfast, so the work began. I'm sure everyone knows the smell of a hen house (ammonia). Well, poor old Dick took his plate of food back into the hen house to eat with a cup of hot steaming tea. Wonderful memories of my childhood. Pam Cresswell nee Dawson.
Fri Aug 26 20:22:27 2005
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