Every chance he had, Newt took his boat out into the Gulf of Mexico after grouper, tarpon, tuna, kingfish, whatever was running. His wife, Miz Delores, didn’t complain when he was gone for those two days because he was such a good fisherman that he made money at it.
His family could never eat all the fish he caught, so he’d sell most of it to the fish buyers who waited at the docks for the boats to return. Whatever he didn’t sell he’d bring home got one of his Sunday afternoon fish fries. Neighbors were invited to bring covered dishes. Several coolers of beer would magically appear.
Bill Tjaden
Newt would set up his Coleman deep fryer on his carport and drop filets into the bubbling oil. If he felt up to it, he made hush puppies which I, a transplanted Jersey boy, had never heard of. Thick globs of batter were dropped into the hot oil and fried until golden and crispy.
My mother made her cole slaw, Maxine up the street made Boston baked beans. There was potato salad, macaroni salad, sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, watermelon, orange slices and gallons of iced tea with lemon slices or mint leaves. The latest news was discussed and gossip was exchanged.
After supper, most of the children bolted, but my brother Ralph and I usually hung back to listen to the men. The women would clean up and continue gossiping in the house. The men would stay at the picnic table and tell jokes, swap stories and drink beer. The evenings were soft and warm.
One evening the men began talking about the bobcat that had been terrorizing the area. Pets had been attacked, dragged off and killed or sometimes left there in the yard to be fed upon later. No one felt safe being outside at night. “We oughta hunt that cat down and kill it,” one resident said. A couple men agreed with him and, after several more rounds of beer, they all agreed and joined the posse.
First the men all went home and got their guns. My Dad had a .22-caliber pistol with a nine shot clip in the handle that he bought back in the 40’s. They gathered in Newt’s driveway with a variety of weapons --pistols, shotguns, rifles.
were seeing.
This was like a Saturday morning Western movie come to life. The women, who had no idea what was going on, came running outside. Miz Delores was incredulous that no one thought to have the children get inside while there were guns (and drunks) around. Normally a soft-spoken woman, she loudly berated the men, leaving them hushed and looking at their shoes.
After the women and children went inside the men sat around quietly planning their strategy. Mickey Hungerford suggested tying someone’s dog outside somewhere as bait, but no one was willing to volunteer their particular pet. It was decided to leave some leftovers from that evening’s meal out near the lake at the end of the street. That way any stray shots would end up in the lake or the orange grove on the other side. An hour or so after sunset my mother brought my brother and I home and soon we were sent to our beds.
Later that night I was reading a Hardy Boys mystery when I heard a shot ring out. Then another and another.
The posse was running through the neighborhood like cowboys rounding up stray cattle. “He’s over this way!” “He’s in Buddy’s yard!” “He’s running along the lake!” “Watch where you’re shooting that thing: You almost hit me!"
Eventually the gunfire, and the chatter, stopped. I could hear the men back at Newt’s carport talking again, laughing and drinking beer. The bobcat apparently made an escape. The only known casualties were a twisted ankle and a shattered taillight.
But these proud hunters were certain the bobcat would never show its whiskers around there again. They’d scared it off for sure. I drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that our neighborhood was safe once again.
Then, a few nights later I heard the low growl of a bobcat. Suddenly Mr. Keller’s dog went missing.
I couldn’t wait for the next fish fry.
Bill Tjaden of Oakland is a volunteer firefighter, motorcycle enthusiast and grandfather whose lust for life hasn't changed since he was graduated from Mahwah High School in 1968. He's served in the Air Force -- including a stint in Thailand -- has three adult children (with his wife, Valerie) and two gorgeous grandkids. Bill still listens to Tom Waits, Dylan and Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen. And his sense of humor is as cutting and caustic as ever. One of his favorite quotes was his dad's: " If you break a leg, don't come running to me."
