Karl Dahlin and a Whale of a Terrifying Tale

(Continued from last time)
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale.
A tale of a fateful trip
that started from Harding Avenue
Aboard this tiny ship

Patrick fancied he was a sailin' man
The Skipper brave and sure
The three of us set sail that day
for a Three hour tour
a three hour tour...

The weather started getting rough
the leaky boat was tossed...
all for the sake of a couple fish
The Minnow would be lost.
The Minnow would be lost

The swells had gotten so big that the little motor couldn't even push the boat up what seems like an uphill climb at a 45 degree angle, and I didn't know if we were moving forward or whether we were actually going backwards. Every time we crested the top of the swell we sped downhill like a skier shooting out of the gates of a slalom run at the winter Olympics. Down we sped into a 30 foot trough - assisted by gravity - motor revving into a crash course with a mass of water that begged to swallow us at the bottom.  I held on to the throttle arm of the sputtering motor as Patrick bailed while Karl was busy pressing the gooey Velveeta cheese on to his fish hook, totally oblivious to the fact that we were all going to die!


We plowed into the bottom as the nose of the boat buried itself into the dark water that crashed over the front.  Karl cast his line and told me to head towards the Venice Pier and barked out orders for Patrick to bail faster as we were ankle deep in water and things were beginning to float in the bottom of boat. Heck, I was beginning to think that a fisherman would be happy to hook a prize fish and be dragged away to a sea burial. Unable to keep up with the leaks and the water that kept crashing over the front, Patrick was beginning to get scared and I in particular did not care how many fish we caught - this was not the way I wanted to die!

The swells, the wind and the current was moving south against us and we were not making any progress. In fear of over using it, I didn't say Sister Edith's "death prayer" yet. I only prayed that the motor would continue to run and that Karl would catch something soon so that we could head back into the safety of the Marina Del Rey Harbor. The optimistic fisherman didn't seem to care about the fact that water in the bottom of the boat had been inching higher and that Patrick was crying and under the front bow screaming Sister Edith's prayer every time the USS Minnow crashed into the bottom of trough between swells. Karl fished, I furiously bailed with one hand as I held onto the throttle arm of struggling old Johnson 35.

The wind and the seas continued to blow against us until we realized that we had hadn't made any forward progress at all...only pushed back between the angry sea and the breakwater... (this is the part of the story where you hear the lady on Psycho scream in terror)... we had to keep the boat pointed directly out to the open sea, just to keep our distance from the gnashing teeth of the breakwater rocks that had eaten a boat or two.

Then it happened (this is the part in the story where you hear the Psycho sound effects of the screeching death knife) - The 'O Johnson motor just up and quit and gave up the ghost.

We were now being pushed dangerously back towards the rocks by the fury of the relentless storm.

Doom, Doom, Doom!  Why weren't we in the Blaser's boat? Why were we here in the first place?

Gherhing the Great, me and the Fisherman were all going to die. Karl had a feisty corbina on the line and he wasn't about to be distracted by something so trivial as death.  We were going to die!



Good bye Tommy, Good bye mom and dad,

Good bye Saint Mark's friends,

Good Bye Frank Nargie










Good bye Ricky Tripp...


...and Dennis Dugan and Jeffry Lennon, and Kippy and all baby brothers


 Good by Lennons - on Harding

and Lennons on Superior Ave 

Good Bye Wolf Pack -

Good bye Monster under my bed...

Good Bye Alligator
Good Bye Monkey
Good Bye foul-mouthed Mynah bird
Good Bye Snakes, lizards, Veloci-Raptor, and Iguana Del Diablo

Good bye Harding Avenue...











...And - Good bye future me...

I'll see you all at the bottom of Davy Jones Locker.

Du...du....du...Just When you think things couldn't get any worse...