Master O’Banion, King of Evangeline   When I was a little girl, I never met my Grandpa, Alfred O’Banion.   He was gone and settled in heaven by the blue, blue river of life way before my time…1974 a year that looms.   I knew I came from a long line of strong, noble-like men.   My dad was the hero in my life, a real-life, big “S” on the chest, Superman.   There were things in the past that made him Redwood bark tough.   His past poured some pints of terror upon toiled land, but there was also a genre of love woven into shadows.   “I still loved my dad.” My dad would often say.   Some peeks of sunshine dabbled the Evangeline Parish grass.   The story about my dad’s childhood has never really been told, only by family members and close friends.   So, I will build up the renowned man from the Oakdale dust…Master O’Banion. When I was a young girl, I heard stories that spun like tractor tires over untillable land.   They out-stretched to the outer stakes of the “war” cat