Claude Dallas?

[brownieman]

I took Claude fishing one time...only once, lol.

At the end of the trip he had broke his own rod, net and lost most his tackle.

At the end of the day, hesitantly I let him throw my rod at a spot where I knew a big one layed.

There had been a gillion canoes beat through there all day long, people swimming everywhere, you name it.

On the second cast I heard his/my drag sqwalling and Claude yelling. I ran back up and helped him land what was the fish of a lifetime for him, just shy of an 8 lb. brown...guess I deserved it for sharing my honey holes just thought no way this would happen.

Moral of the story...even the very worst fisherman can be a sh$$hook now and then.

later on

bm

[fishinwrench]

Don't let him anywhere near your outboard. Basturd's blown more powerheads than Lake-X

[ness]

Oh my gawd -- Claude Dallas is your nephew?

My first job was working Dietary at St. John's in the late seventies. Started out on the evening dish crew, before working my way up to the line. Well, Claude started working the EDC as part of some special program. I was around 16, and he musta been about 30 or so. He started out almost at the low end of the totem pole -- a 'Rinser' rinsing the plates coming in on the conveyor belt from the cafeteria. This was one of the nastier jobs, and was always dreaded by all the rest of us. All you really had to do was get the silverware off the plates and into a tub, pitch the trash and then rinse the slop off the plates into a trough of moving water that went into the Somat.

Somat was an industrial-strength garbage disposal, and you needed to be pretty careful around it. If a knife dropped into the trough and made it into Somat, it sounded like a gun going off. A sensor would shut Somat down and a supervisor would have to come over and check things out, then push the red button to start things back up. After a couple violations, you'd end up with 'Pots and Pans', which was even worse than rinsing, but required some skill and strength (because the darn cooks would burn the crap outta stuff in those pots).

Anyway, McGonigle, the boss, thought Claude could handle rinsing, so he started him off there. About 10-seconds into his first solo, he sent a glass down into Somat. Well, it didn't trigger the sensor, but it shot glass shards back out the front and hit this pregnant chick who was just looking for a reason to sue somebody. Last I heard she got a full-ride C-section.

So, Claude kept at it and about every-other plate something would go into Somat. McGonigle got so tired of coming back there to reset it, that he gave me a 2-cent an hour raise and made me assistant manager, just so I could reset Somat. That turned out to be a full-time job. Plates, forks, knives, glasses, bottles, cans, you name it. Claude would fumble stuff all through the shift and really keep me hopping.

I'll never forget this because it happened the same day Elvis died. Claude got ahead in his work (a real first) so he climbed up on the conveyor belt to get ahead of the oncoming dishes. Well, his apron dropped into the flowing water and got sucked into Somat. Fortunately, he slammed into the side cross-wise, so he didn't get sucked in. But it took two of us to hold him while another got to the kill switch.

Anyway, after that Claude left. I heard he got a job in the lab.

[ColdWaterFshr]

And thus the expression was borne, "I wanna get me Soma-At". Count on Claude to hep develop the modern day vernacular of our times. Industrial, 200 hp garbage disposals and Claude don't mix.

I suppose ole Claudes' still out there somewhere . . . bussin tables at Montana Mikes possibly, bumblin with the dishes, gettin written up by hot-headed supervisors for breakin 'em. Maybe he's pokin a dead beaver carcass on a lonely gravel bar somewheres in Dent or Oregon County, or burnin macheteed' cane over a campfire while enjoyin a can of pork n' beans. Or he could be shufflin below outlet 3 in search of the 40 lb Tippy. Maybe tonight he's out fishin off the rip-rap bridge on the south side of the Branson landing under the glow of a Coleman lantern and enjoyin a 24 oz camo-Busch tall boy, holding a solemn vigil to make peace with the Bill Bablers of the world. I sure hope so. He'll wipe his feet and bring 'is own doughnies next time, I can tell you that much.

He sure thinks the world of Bill, even if the tippin was a little south of 15%

[fishinwrench]

Superb !

darn, feels like Winter 'round here.

[brownieman]

I think we all need to get the hip boots on...not for wadin water neither, lol.

bm

[snagged in outlet 3]

He's around boys. I saw him at Big Louie's in the summer. He was gittin his butt kicked by the manager after messin somethin up at Chicken Bones Party Bar and Grill. He was telling the guy to give him another chance and that he could help out at The Skin City Tattoo Shop.

Next I saw him about a month ago at Spankies after fishing Crane Creek. We had a couple beers and he said he liked Spanks because they have a swingset out front for his kids to play on while he watches the entertainment.

SIO3

[Gatorjet]

Ya think Claude was the guy on Phil's dock that asked me if I had to burn jet fuel in my jet boat?