Claude Dallas?

[ColdWaterFshr]

Last I seen of my nephew Claude he was bussin tables at the Heritage Cafeteria on south Glenstone, but that was years ago, and before he fell in with the wrong crowd -- fly fishermen. He really never had a chance. His mother was a spent-piece of big city office trash. Her breath always smelled of stale coffee and bourbon. And his dad, Jett Dallas, my brother, was never around, had a job as travelling salesman of fireworks and file cabinet handles along the eastern seaboard.

And Claude's fishing prowess was always a work in, uh . . . regress. I worked patiently with the boy from a young age, but he never improved, he got worse, and the worse he got, the harder he tried, which made it only worse. Claude struggled with monofilament, its as simple as that. He would tangle, break, twist, snap -- you name it. I don't think he could see it - any of it, 12 lb line, 15 lb line didn't matter, and so 7x?? - forget it. If it could go wrong with fishing line, Claude could tell you all about it. So when de-spooling of a reel was mentioned in that last post, my thoughts immediately ran to Claude. I can only imagine how he is doing with fly-fishing. Leonard told me that he had a client one night that stepped on and broke his rod at the steps of outlet 2 one night and never even said he was sorry. Musta been Claude.

If you see the boy, tell him his uncle says hello.

[Phil Lilley]

I started laughing before I began to read this... I knew what was coming.

Like the new avatar too...

[rubicon31]

Last I seen of my nephew Claude he was bussin tables at the Heritage Cafeteria on south Glenstone, but that was years ago, and before he fell in with the wrong crowd -- fly fishermen. He really never had a chance. His mother was a spent-piece of big city office trash. Her breath always smelled of stale coffee and bourbon. And his dad, Jett Dallas, my brother, was never around, had a job as travelling salesman of fireworks and file cabinet handles along the eastern seaboard.

And Claude's fishing prowess was always a work in, uh . . . regress. I worked patiently with the boy from a young age, but he never improved, he got worse, and the worse he got, the harder he tried, which made it only worse. Claude struggled with monofilament, its as simple as that. He would tangle, break, twist, snap -- you name it. I don't think he could see it - any of it, 12 lb line, 15 lb line didn't matter, and so 7x?? - forget it. If it could go wrong with fishing line, Claude could tell you all about it. So when de-spooling of a reel was mentioned in that last post, my thoughts immediately ran to Claude. I can only imagine how he is doing with fly-fishing. Leonard told me that he had a client one night that stepped on and broke his rod at the steps of outlet 2 one night and never even said he was sorry. Musta been Claude.

If you see the boy, tell him his uncle says hello.

probably one of the most pointless posts ever

[bigredbirdfan]

Leonard told me that he had a client one night that stepped on and broke his rod at the steps of outlet 2 one night and never even said he was sorry. Musta been Claude.

I guess this is the connection to Upper Taneycomo? So obvious. Can Claude...Paul...and Debbie Does.... all have their own forum section to contain their whereabouts?

[Gavin]

Dont be hating on here....

Last time I saw Claude he was swimming in hip boots on the Upper Current on cold rainy day in April. When he finally struggled to shore, he almost broke his neck cuz the hood of his raincoat was full of water. Got a fire going to warm him up, and there was this funky smell coming from someplace.

Figured it was Claude...His poor upbringing and all...But I looked around anyway just to be polite, and it turned out that it werent him....Turned out that there was a big dead beaver floating in the back eddy near the spot I lit the fire. So I found a pokey stick, and poked it out into the river and set to tending to Claude.

Not even 5 minutes later it was smelling funky again..I looked at Claude, then over in the back eddy just to be polite, and that darn beaver was back..Guess I didnt poke it out in the river far enough...So I poked it out a litter further this time..

I was due down at Parker in a couple hours, and Claude was starting to dry out and planning to head back up to Baptist..Asked him if he was OK, and if I could head out..He said yep...Just as I was about to set off, it started smelling funky again...I figured that it had to be Claude for sure this time, all that hoppy beer that he drinks, but it werent him...I was darned surprized. That beaver was back again..

And thats were I left him. Sitting by the fire with the pokey stick at Dead Beaver Hole..... No telling how long Claude sat there half clothed, poking beaver, but thats the last I saw of him.

[fishinwrench]

I guess this is the connection to Upper Taneycomo? So obvious.

Thanks for clearing that up PD, I was wondering who the heck Claude was. I think we officially have someone to blame all those dispicable and blatently rude acts on now.

Shuffling, Powerbait contaners, holding fish up by the gill plates, floating cigarrette butts, ect. .... Musta been Claude !

[Phil Lilley]

Sounds like another

Never-Ending-Story...

[Forsythian]

Paul, I wonder if he's the young fellow what cleared our table the last time me & the Mrs. ate at Montana Mike's?

I took him for a fly fisherman right away because of the anguish in his eyes... the Corps had been running water non-stop for weeks. He looked like he wanted to be somewhere else, but had nowhere else to go.

That, and he was wearing wading sandles over lycra socks.

Could've been anyone right? Even the humorless rubicon. But no, there was an odd dichotimy about him. It's what made him memorable, and I'm thinking now it might have been your Claude.

Here was a fellow who clearly has been in the restaurant business all of his working life. His bussing skills were incredible. He was stacking and sorting as easy as you and I breathe. It was poetry in motion.

But, when it came to setting a table, he was completely lost. Condiments were dropped, shakers fumbled, and daily-special teepees flattened. The ability to encoss utensils in a napkin was beyond his skill-set. He tried harder and harder, with a grim and hopeless persistence, until it seemed the table itself might come apart from the thrashing.

His co-wokers, apparently accustomed to the routine, were able to break his trance with the clicking sounds of a Martin model 67.

Paul, I'd go back and check for ya, but me & the Mrs' next anniversary isn't until March, sorry.

[Gatorjet]

Can Claude...Paul...and Debbie Does.... all have their own forum section to contain their whereabouts?

Good idea for you Phil. Call it "Where in the World is Claude Dallas". Then we see something incredibly stupid happen on Taney, we can just report it as another "Claude" sighting.

[Gavin]

LMAO! Forsythian.....thanks for a bit of cheer on a dreary Friday.