Overboard!: A True Blue-water Odyssey of Disaster and Survival - Five stars book review

 

BOOK REVIEW-FIVE STARS

Overboard!: A True Blue-water Odyssey of Disaster and Survival by Michael Tougias

Gripping, exciting, and fast moving!

I don’t remember ever reading anything the equal of this well-written and exquisitely edited one-of-a-kind true life thriller.

My wife Jane and I both spent many years of our lives out to sea as captains and navigators, and we can’t believe our good fortune surviving our learning experience that generated four Travels of Dursmirg sailing books.

EXCERPTS

He glances down and notices a bottle of Yuengling beer floating in the water. God damn it, I’m going to have a beer. He snatches the bottle out of the sloshing seawater, and returns to his perch. Bloody hell, this may be my last beer, might as well enjoy it. He taps a cigarette from his pack, lights it, and enjoys a long leisurely smoke with his beer.

The Gulf Stream’s current may have been partially responsible for the two unusually large waves that hit the Almeisan, as well as the two that clobbered the At Ease two days earlier. Some experts now think rogue waves technically defined as any waves more than twice the height for the average current sea state are to be expected in the Gulf Stream in stormy weather because of the explosive combination of wind and sea current.

The kind Loch is most worried about is the mako, both the short-fin and long-fin mako; the latter can grow to thirteen feet in length and weigh 1,400 pounds. Both makos are fast, and the short-fin is said to be able to reach bursts of speed topping thirty-five miles per hour and jump close to twenty feet out of the water. Neither is the shy, retiring type, and more than one mako, having been hooked by an angler, has jumped out of the water and into the boat, fighting its tormentors in the cockpit. And in rare instances, a mako has freed itself from the hook, only to come back and ram the boat.

The International Game Fish Association says the short-fin mako is the undisputed leader in attacks on boats.

The actions of a sleep-deprived person are often similar to those of someone who is drunk, and the ramifications can be just as disastrous. Loch has had no sleep since Friday night because of seasickness on Saturday and being pitched into the sea early Sunday morning. No sleep in more than forty hours combined with expending incredible reasoning skills will slowly decrease the longer he stays awake, but he’s facing another issue due to sleep deprivation, hallucinations, which might have graver consequences.

Although a person may see most of his surroundings correctly, imaginary images may be interjected or a real image altered.

The person is conscious, but loses the ability to tell the difference between self-generated and real external stimuli

Initial hallucination begins not with his immediate desires, such as the vision of a ship, a life raft, a bed, or drinking water, but with a Nautilus weight-training

View John Grimsrud's author's page on Amazon.com

Info. on Sailing Beyond Lake Superior, Travels of Dursmirg

Up from Slavery, an autobiography - Five Star Book Review

 Up from Slavery, an autobiography by Booker T. Washington

An autobiography of one of the most outstanding personalities that left his political and philosophical imprint on America after the Civil War. An exemplary citizen.

EXCERPTS:

The slave system on our place, in a large measure, took the spirit of self-reliance and self-help out of the white people. My old master had many boys and girls, but not one, so far as I know, ever mastered a single trade or special line of productive industry. The girls were not taught to cook, sew, or to take care of the house. All of this was left to the slaves. The slaves, of course, had little personal interest in the life of the plantation, and their ignorance prevented them from learning how to do things in the most improved and thorough manner. As a result of the system, fences were out of repair, gates were hanging half off the hinges, doors creaked, window-panes were out, plastering had fallen but was not replaced, weeds grew in the yard.

As a rule, there was food for whites and blacks, but inside the house, and on the dining-room table, there was wanting that delicacy and refinement of touch and finish which can make a home the most convenient, comfortable, and attractive place in the world.

Withal there was a waste of food and other materials which was sad. When freedom came, the slaves were almost as well fitted to begin life anew as the master, except in the matter of book-learning and ownership of property.

I would say that I think I have learned, in some degree at least, to disregard the old maxim which says, “Do not get others to do that which you can do yourself.” My motto, on the other hand, is, “Do not do that which others can do as well.”

I make it a rule to clear my desk every day, before leaving my office, of all correspondence and memorandum, so that on the morrow I can begin a new day of work. I make it a rule never to let my work drive me, but to so master it, and keep it in such complete control, and to keep so far ahead of it, that I will be the master instead of the servant.

There is a physical and mental and spiritual enjoyment that comes from a consciousness of being the absolute master of one’s work, in all its details, that is very satisfactory and inspiring. My experience teaches me that, if one learns to follow this plan, he gets a freshness of body and vigor of mind out of work that goes a long way toward keeping him strong and healthy.

I believe that when one can grow to the point where he loves his work, this gives him a kind of strength that is most valuable.

View my author's page on Amazon

Looking Back Fifty Years - Launch of Dursmirg

 

Looking Back Fifty Years

It is fifty years since we launched our self-designed and home-built 46-foot sailboat Dursmirg. Building and sailing Dursmirg was a life changing experience. Our reward was fifteen of the very best years of our lives. Now we can look back at where the world has come to in the past half century.

Our adventuresome life aboard Dursmirg became even better with every unrelenting passing escapade.

This was in the era before the internet. There was no email, only snail mail. Self-sufficiency was the key. I made a rain catcher and never went to the dock for drinking water. We had solar hot water, a wind powered generator, refrigeration achieved by converting an absorption refrigerator to run on lamp oil.

Fresh seafood prepared exquisitely by my culinary dream girl with her secret ingredient: creativity.

We became extraordinary sailors because of the Arab oil embargo. Silently going where the wind blew us, when the spirit moved us, and the price was right.

We lived out of the sea and off the land. With no motor vehicles we used bicycles, and we sailing and rowing dinghy. Sailing up the anchors and getting under way was quick, easy and enjoyable no engine used. We also had the ability to fabricate necessities. The sewing machine had a hand crank. We went snorkel diving for salvage, plus lobster and conch hunting. We combed the beaches for fun and collected usable items like bottles for our home-made beer and wine production, lumber for crafts and carving, wood for our fireplace-smoke oven, and the list goes on and on.

We were asked what kind of fruit we used to make our wine, my response “free fruit.”

Life is an adventure, and we are always looking for a new frontier.

Since the launch of Dursmirg fifty years ago technology with its innovations has rapidly changed the world.

For a look into the sailing life of self-sufficiency today, take a look at this video: Living on a Self-sufficent Sailboat for 10 Years.

The basic thoughts of self-sufficiency, and freedom this lifestyle yields are still there.

My conclusion upon looking back is that now I could design and build the perfect yacht for living off the grid with a minimalist lifestyle incorporating many new Cyber age innovations.

Remember that youth only comes to you once. Spent it wisely, and with someone you love and trust.

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt

 

Book Review – Five Stars

Book Review - Five Stars

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt

Too good to be true, but it is true! We first read this American classic 25 years ago, and we loved it!

The book has special meaning to us. In 1972, on our maiden voyage to Florida aboard our home designed and built dream boat Dursmirg, I had a disabling accident while passing through Thunderbolt, Georgia, a suburb of Savannah.

As I was dashed off to the hospital by the marine patrol, my wife, with the help of a fisherman. docked our boat in the raging ebb tide at the Savannah Yacht Club’s floating dock.

Long story short: The manager, Mr. Palmer, and his staff were all extremely friendly and helpful to us.

The reporter from the Savannah newspaper, Latham Davis, came to do a feature story of our adventuresome journey. He gave us a guided tour of Savannah complete with lots of history and tremendous suggestions of must see and do things such as eating places like Miss Wilke’s Boarding house and historical sights.

At the Savannah information center we were told: if you go to Macon they will ask you. “What’s y'all’s religion? If you go to Charleston they will ask you, “What’s y’all’s grand pappy’s name? When you come to Savannah they will ask you, What do y’all want to drink?

It became apparent that we were entering a world apart, like none other.

Over the years we revisited Savannah every chance we got. We still have life long friends there. A very good friend Bubba Schill some years later came to visit us and had this to say: “Bing” (my nick-name), “Before you die, you must go to Savannah, Georgia, for St. Patrick’s day! It’s an alcoholic's dream come true!”

Back to the book review:

Recently a good friend who owns the English language book store in Mérida, Yucatan, Mexico, mentioned that John Berendt, author of the book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil had just visited her store, Between-the-Lines and signed her copy of the book. This rekindled our interest to reread the book. My wife can no longer read print books so she downloaded the audio book. We enjoyed the narration. We hadn’t laughed so hard in years. It was a superlative work of wit and writing! Even better than the paper edition.

Doings of Dudley Doolittle. Adventures - St. Augustine, Florida

 

This is the second in the Doings of Dudley Doolittle series. It is set in the early 1970s, a time of political unrest.

The country was deeply divided over Vietnam, inflation was running away, and the free-love movement was smoking it up while experimenting with mind altering substances.

Jane and I had just completed our five year plan of building our 46-foot dream boat, liquidated our home, business, and everything that would not go aboard our dream boat Dursmirg.

We sailed away to warmer latitudes.

Our first winter in Florida with our sailboat, and no cars, only bicycles, we had dodged the bullet that wounded the nation. We were just beginning to live with nature, and it was great!

We found a place to dock our boat in St. Augustine, Florida. It was no frills, but it was our only option.

We bicycled everywhere: shopping, to the beach, and exploring the multitude of interesting attractions in America’s Oldest City.

1972 Florida

The Vietnam War was raging and a lot of the people we met on other boats had had enough of some of the government policies that were dividing the country and making many enemies of the United States worldwide. The Arab oil embargo was beginning to have its affects on the economy. At this time in Florida construction ground to a halt, and condominiums that were half completed were being sold off board by board, and even the fixtures that had been installed were sold to forestall foreclosure.

We met some newcomers to St. Augustine when two small sailboats came to have their boat bottoms painted at Uncle Harry’s boatyard where we were docked. Harry made them a special deal if both boats would agree to be pulled at the same time on his marine railway. Steve and Lum had a 25-foot wooden sailboat and Dudley had a 23-foot homemade molded fiberglassed plywood sailboat.

Sure enough, crafty Uncle Harry got both boats up at the same time.

Harry may have given a special price quote, but he was an expert at padding the bill. I actually saw grown men cry when Uncle Harry totaled up the yard bill on some shrimp boats he had worked on.

We got to know the interesting newcomers with their fascinating and unique stories.

Soon we found ourselves departing St. Augustine with Dudley Doolittle, a long, lanky and lean jug band musician with a cannabis grin. We were headed for Fort Lauderdale aboard his 23-foot sailboat. Dudley was relocating for carpentry work.

This was new water to Jane and me. lWe hadn’t been any further south on the Intracoastal Waterway than St. Augustine. All our trips south along the Florida coast had been offshore.

Dudley, Jane, and I took an early departure from Uncle Harry’s boatyard. We were making fantastic time the little sailboat. We had a strong tail wind that put this little boat up to its hull speed. I had no idea that Dudley couldn’t read a navigational chart when I turned the helm over to him and went below for my morning coffee. Soon we abruptly came to a halt on a sand bar. I came out on deck to find that we were at least one hundred feet from the navigable channel and solidly aground.

We tried all the usual tricks of carrying out an anchor, heeling the vessel over and attempting to sail off. We weren’t going anywhere soon, and we would have to just wait for “Mother Nature” to bring the high tide waters back to us. Then we could float away.

The strangest part of this whole ordeal was that while we sat aground we were still in full view of the downtown of the Old City even though we had an early morning departure from St. Augustine. Aground our first morning out of St. Augustine, the boat was painfully heeled over at low tide.

By afternoon we were sailing again. The wind hadn’t let up. We were making record speeds, and it appeared that we would be able to get close to Daytona Beach by dark. This was an exhilarating sail with only the jib flying. We had attained hull speed and were leaving a sizable wake behind us.

We had just passed Matanzas Inlet. I was at the helm when an extra burst of wind took the mast away faster than I could blink my eyes. The sail and half of the mast were gone! We quickly slowed and were bobbing along with the flood tide. Dudley felt totally defeated at this point and wanted to just give up and return to St. Augustine. I told Dudley that we were less than a mile from Marineland where there was a marina, and he had all of his carpenter tools aboard so we could repair the mast there and continue on. I must have been pretty persuasive because we got Dudley into action. We folded the broken mast and rigging, retrieved the sail, and stowed the lines. We used Dudley’s outboard motor to get to Marineland. We rented a slip and set out to look for the materials needed to do the repair job. While we walked the grounds of Marineland, we soon spotted just the right sized piece of wood to plug the two pieces of the aluminum mast together.

Dudley got busy planing the wood plug to “force fit” into the mast while I took over the job of milling the two metal mast pieces so that they would fit together almost like they had come from the machine shop. Besides the mast repair, we had to shorten all of the standing rigging that included the six shrouds plus the fore stay and back stay. The chain plate where the back stay had been fastened was badly rusted. We drilled a new hole in the chain plate where the metal had a little more meat. When Dudley had the plug neatly fashioned and ready to install in the two mast parts, we took the mast up to a sturdy cement wall. The three of us took the mast like a battering ram and drove the force fit plug into place. It was an impressive repair, and when it was together we again saw Dudley’s face beam with pleasure. By the next evening our diligent efforts had paid off and the mast was ready to step (install).

Just like we had an appointment that had been previously arranged, here came Steve and Lum from the boatyard in St. Augustine. They were both good sized people, and that was what we needed to stand that mast up. Steve and Lum were truly surprised that we had only gotten twenty miles in our first day, so we had to relate our incredible story to them. At the present speed we might be to Fort Lauderdale by Christmas.

Most of the rest of the trip we had to use the engine because of the lack of wind, but we had a very good time. One night we stopped on the Indian River and had a wonderful experience at a fishing camp dock. The bartender was a jovial character. When he found out that I was of Norwegian descent, he made sure that we had the time of our lives. We had cherry-stone clams raw on the half shell with hot sauce. This was our first time to ever imbibe this delicacy. Jane was skeptical at first but after one plate full, we were addicted to them.

The bartender was also the chef, and the next morning he insisted that we come in for his special $1.00 breakfast with no questions asked. He served us a more than ample breakfast. We were so stuffed we could hardly get back aboard the little boat. The fun and laughter of that evening lingers on in our memory.

These special unplanned happenings is what makes adventure traveling to special to us.

What a way to arrive in Fort Lauderdale! We seemed to be going right through the front yards of the classiest homes in town. The town was just dripping in opulence. lThe homes with huge yachts tied in their front yards and Cadillac’s and Rolls Royce’s out back made a real contrast to poor little St. Augustine. We tied up at a very nice marina in Fort Lauderdale, Pier 66, on the 17th Street causeway, where Dudley had a carpenter job waiting for him. This was as downtown as you could get. The reason the marina was named Pier 66 was because of the Phillips 66 fuel facilities.

The amount of boat traffic past the marina was unbelievable. The one bridge between the ocean inlet and us had a novel feature. The bridge opened for large vessels and sailboats but on a restricted basis. Next to the bridge tenders house was located a large clock that resembled the type used at sports fields. This one told the number of minutes remaining until the bridge would open. What I liked about this system was that after the bridge had opened it would be fifteen minutes until the next opening. But if you arrived at the bridge and the clock had counted down to zero minutes it would then open right up. At night when there was little or no boat traffic, any boat that approached the bridge would not have a wait.

During the time we were docked at the marina we did get to sight see in the neighborhood and the biggest attraction was the super-sized yacht of Aristotle and Jackie Onassis. We did check out the other marinas and discovered that they were even more palatial than the place we were at.

One big surprise was that we happened to see our friends, Don and Betty Currie going through the 17th Street bridge in their boat Ione. This is the boat that had just towed us on our boat Dursmirg from Superior, Wisconsin, to Duluth, Minnesota, when our boat was launched. We had recently visited Don and Betty in the Florida Keys when we invited them to come to St. Augustine.

Our last night on Dudley’s boat in Fort Lauderdale was interesting to say the least. We had an idea that Dudley loved to smoke up his “weed” but we didn’t have any idea that he would carry a sizable stash of the stuff. He had enough to get the authorities attention for sure. With one of his big ear-to-ear grins, he pulled out his screwdriver and unscrewed a metal flame deflector from above the galley stove and down came a big carefully wrapped bag of his clandestine stash.

While we were all asleep that night, Jane happened to roll over in her berth and put her foot on the cabin floor. She discovered that the boat was filling with water. The marine head (toilet) had inadvertently not been shut off after its last use, and water began to siphon in and slowly flood the boat. Of course, the lower the boat got in the water, the faster the water would flow in. Needless to say this event required a couple of hours of intense work to rectify.

Dudley’s mother drove down from Jacksonville to meet us and give us a ride back to St. Augustine. She obviously had plenty of money judging by the luxurious car she drove and the elegant clothes she wore.

Upon arriving back in St. Augustine, the big news was that the authorities had swooped down on Harry’s Boat Yard and made a “drug bust.” They missed the one big haul they could have made on Dudley’s boat, but they did find a potted marijuana plant on Steve and Lum’s boat, for which they were fined $100.00. Steve and Lum were not in the business but occasionally smoked a joint. They preferred to grow their own. It was healthier and free of pesticides! The Sheriff’s Department got a bust, and they made news!

May 22, 1973, our anchor was up, and we proceeded through the Bridge of Lions heading north in the Intracoastal Waterway, leaving St. Augustine, Florida, after our first whole winter away from snow and ice. A wonderful new world of experiences and changing tacks awaited us. We were sailing through life into those strange and uncharted waters where we would have one of the most precious commodities of all, the time to enjoy life to its fullest.

We continue our adventures in our book Sailing the Sea Islands: Travels of Dursmirg.

If you are afraid of getting wet, you shouldn’t go sailing, bicycling, or be a plumber.

Story 1: The Cowboy Wanna Be

Story 3; Keg of Beer St. Augustine

John Grimsrud's author's page.

Hidden History of the Florida Keys by Laura Albritton

Book Review - Five Stars

Hidden History of the Florida Keys by Laura Albritton.

This book is an in-depth look into what brought South Florida’s Monroe County to its present state of being.

I loved the author’s insightful story telling ability to put a human touch and face on how and what brought it about. When my wife and I first sailed into the Florida Keys back in the mid 1980s it was said about Monroe County that there were so many junkies there that you could become one by osmosis.

This is a very interesting and entertaining read.

EXCERPTS:

“Miami wasn’t a shipping port at the time. The only real natural port in those days was Key West. In 1900, it was Florida’s largest city, a bustling port alive with the cigar industry, fishing and sponging. So the impetus for building an overseas railroad was that Henry Flagler needed a port.”

Just a few years earlier, nobody had any need to “run” rum, whiskey, gin or any other spirit into the United States. But with the ratification of the Eighteenth Amendment and the passing of the Volstead Act at the end of 1919, Prohibition became a reality. Suddenly, the law mandated that “no person shall manufacture, sell, barter, transport, import, export, deliver, or furnish any intoxicating liquor.” Across the Florida Keys, it was as if the residents released one long, exasperated groan in response. From the sparsely inhabited shores of Key Largo to the city streets of Key West, the majority of residents—not to mention visitors—despised this new puritanical ban on alcohol. Because the Upper and Middle Keys saw a limited number of year-round residents in the 1920s, local law enforcement was almost nil. One lone officer made his way up and down the Keys, and somehow, the “coconut telegraph” ensured that people generally knew when he was coming. While rumrunners hid in Islamorada’s Little Snake Creek (around today’s mile marker 86.7, near the Montessori school), illicit watering holes catered to the thirsty on the island of Key Largo. Opened by Mabel Harris in 1928 in North Key Largo, Mabel’s Place served up favorites such as Florida lobster and key lime pie, along with prohibited hooch. Mabel Harris, sister of future politician Harry Harris, ran what was politely termed a “tearoom,” although customers did not necessarily have any interest in a pot of Earl Grey: “In the Prohibition years, ‘tearoom’ was a common code name for an establishment that served alcohol.” Not only could customers imbibe, but they could also indulge in the services of the on-site brothel.

John M. Grimsrud

City of the Century: The Epic of Chicago and the Making of America by Donald L. Miller-Book Review

Book Review - Five Stars 

City of the Century: The Epic of Chicago and the Making of America

by Donald L. Miller

A classic book worthy of more then five stars. It is extensively researched and magnificently edited. Miller tells this awesome story of American propulsion in the first century of the Industrial Revolution where explosive expansion set a standard that would be a tough act to follow.

I absolutely loved It!

Excerpts:

“A terrible calamity is impending over the city of Chicago! More I cannot say; more I dare not utter.” The following night, around nine o’clock, a fire broke out on the West Side of the city in the cow barn of Mrs. Patrick O’Leary. Aided by strong winds off the prairie, it turned into a one-and-a-half-day holocaust that consumed the entire core of the city of some 300,000 people, leaving 90,000 homeless and nearly 300 dead. It was the greatest natural disaster up to that time in American history. Frederick Law Olmsted, sent by The Nation to the stricken city, reported that many of those caught in the inferno thought they were witnessing “the burning of the world.”

The morning after the fire, fear gave way to disbelief. Everything was gone.

But more amazing than the destruction was the recovery. The rebuilding began while the ground was still warm in the burned district, and within week after the fire more than five thousand temporary structures had been erected and two hundred permanent buildings were under construction.

1893, when the city held the World’s Colombian Exposition to celebrate—one year late—the four hundredth anniversary of Columbus’s discovery of the New World, Chicago had the busiest and most modern downtown in the country, with a dozen and more of the highest buildings ever constructed. Chicago would never become as big or as consequential as New York, its greatest rival, but it had made good its boast as the city that could accomplish almost anything.

The epic of Chicago is the story of the emergence of modern America. Child of the age of steam, electricity, and international exchange, Chicago “[is] the very embodiment of the world-conquering spirit of the age,” an English writer observed in 1893.

The Cowboy Wannabe: Doings of Dudley Doolittle

 

Doings of Dudley Doolittle: This is the name I will use in the sometimes hilarious, outrageous, or cynical short stories posted monthly on https://bingsbuzz.blogspot.com/

A fictitious name will be used in most of the stories. It is there to protect the identity of the guilty.

These true stories are over half a century old or more.

The Cowboy Wannabe

by John M. Grimsrud © December 2021

Dudley Doolittle was born into a real no frills hardscrabble Northwest Wisconsin farm life in the early 1940s. A psychopath from birth, his cowboy lifestyle evolved. A fiercely independent renegade outlaw was what ultimately developed. This was the Dudley Doolittle we came to know.

At the time of our first encounter we were always open to hospitality at our Billings Park home in Superior, Wisconsin, where we kept our refrigerator stocked with beer and our larder of wine and booze was forever there to travelers who ambled in. Needless to say people who are free with their booze acquire lots of fair weather friends.

Dudley Doolittle was introduced to us by his cousin, an old classmate of mine. Our hospitality must have been adequate because Dudley Doolittle became a regular drop in thirsty visitor. We soon met his lovely wife that psychopathic Dudley Doolittle tried to burn to death as she slept in her bed...she escaped!

Dudley Doolittle went from one criminal escapade to another logging tons of time in jail. He loved to brag about his outlaw life style. His cowboy lifestyle inclinations included cattle rustling.

He got caught because of his partner in crime was his brother-in-law Jack, and Jack ratted him out.

There you have a brief look at one of the many social misfits that made our lives lively with never a dull moment.

Now the rest of the story:

While Dudley Doolittle cooled his heels in jail for his capers, his psychopathic mind had the time to think of a fitting justice.

Here is what evolved: Like a patient spider weaving his web his plot was put into action using a beguiling confidence man act of heart warming family friendship. Dudley Doolittle soon had his brother-in-law Jack unconditionally trusting and eager to please.

The web was ready.

As an act of friendship Dudley Doolittle said he wanted to take Jack out on the town, and he said it would be his treat. First to the bar for a friendly libation. A shot of booze to toast their friendship. Dudley Doolittle complimented Jack on his great ability to handle his whiskey.

Dudley Doolittle proposed a wager:

He bet Jack he couldn’t drink an ounce of booze a minute for one hour. Dudley Doolittle goaded him on...after all Dudley Doolittle was paying the tab and to sweeten the deal further he promised a hundred dollars for one hour of drinking at Dudley Doolittle’s expense. This was just too good to be true. Dudley Doolittle and Jack shook hands on the wager. The clock was in motion. Dudley Doolittle’s brother-in-law had already downed his first shot and only had 59 more to go.

The bartender lined up the shots on the bar and Dudley Doolittle kept score.

Dudley Doolittle said that he was truly amazed at Jack’s ability. He made it to 45 shots before he fell off the bar stool. No problem, Dudley Doolittle picked him up off the floor, got him back on the bar stool, and a few more shots were put away before Jack finally lost consciousness.

Dudley Doolittle paid the tab, and he told the bartender that he would take good care of Jack. Dudley Doolittle took unconscious Jack home and put him in bed to sleep off the booze.

The next morning Jack was stone cold dead.

Dudley Doolittle said that he even went to the funeral to make sure Jack was truly dead.

The story of the circumstances of Jack’s death made the news. The bartender was charged and nearly went to prison.

The patient plotting spider got his long awaited justice.

Links to other stories in series:  

2. Adventures - St. Augustine

3. Keg of Beer St. Augustine

John Grimsrud's author's page on Amazon