my love affair with a shark

In the summer of 1975, ,me and my mom and I moved back to our original home, deep in the heart of Texas' low-rolling hills. I have never understood why this area is traditionally called "West Texas" because geographically it is smack-dab in the middle of the state. I guess it's called that because it's west of Dallas, where the vaunted Dallas Cowboys play.

Our home was isolated, over 20 miles from the nearest significant town. It was "out in the boonies", as they say. By this I mean: you took a farm-to-market road for 21 miles, then turned left on a dirt road and went a mile and a half before turning right on another dirt road, then went another mile and reached my house, which incidentally was the ONLY house on this long stretch of caliche. It was the house and property my Mother's parents had gifted to their daughter as she started her new family. It was called the "Old Lincecom Place", but after my parents moved in, to us, it was just called it 'home'.

After the divorce, Mom and I moved away when I was five in 1969. We needed to start a new life, so I am guessing that Mom needed a change of scenery. At age 47, she went to nursing school and became a LVN (Licensed Vocational Nurse). This was perfect because her daughter, Reba, was already a nurse. Reba lived in El Paso, Texas with her husband and was just starting her new family. Mom decided the best thing for herself, and her busy little 5-year-old son, was to move to El Paso, lend Reba a hand, and get a nursing job there.

I have some fond memories of living there, but that's another story. However, it was not all fun, I was mercilessly picked on. In my mind, I felt I’d have a better life living at our old home place, and attending the same school as my sister, brother and cousins. By 1975, Mom's parents were getting older and needed more care. I was unhappy. Moving back home made sense.

So we did.

The plan was for me to attend school in the town of Clyde, a thriving metropolis (pop. 2, 218). That fall I started in the 7th grade. To get to my new school each day, I had to ride the school bus which took about an hour each way.

During the summer of 1974, everyone was talking about a paperback book by Peter Benchley simply titled, Jaws. Big, frightening monsters were right up my alley, so I borrowed my sister’s well-worn copy, and dove in.

The paperback’s cover was mesmerizing. Simplistic and primal, it featured a naked woman swimming, completely unaware of the terror rocketing upward, about to maul her from below. This now iconic image conveyed its immense size, and, man, those TEETH! Multiple rows of razor-sharp daggers! What can humans do against that! It was truly horrifying.

Back then, I was not much of a reader (still not). My experience with casual reading consisted of 100-page Louis L’Amour pulp Westerns. Apparently, I was not yet ready for "grown-up" books. Anything that required a "long time" was not my thing. Novels just did hold my attention.

Looking back, I am certain I had a common condition called Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD). Folks called kids like me "a handful". I preferred the moniker my uncle C. T. Straley gave me, Kid Lightning. Sounds kinda like a super-hero, right? After raising two wonderful boys of my own, I can testify that they inherited it honestly. As part of my condition, I possessed an entire cache of annoying sounds that I could deliver at a moment's notice. My specialties were a rooster, a werewolf howl, and the great Godzilla. I also emitted several noises unknown to man. GOD BLESS my sweet mother and all she patiently endured. She was the Saint of Patience. My 5th grade Spanish teacher, the always nervous Mr. Castillo, literally hated me. He told my mother at a parent-teacher conference, "your boy should be put on medicine! He is so disruptive!"

Mom, thanked him, walked out and summarily refused to treat me medically.

Jaws, however, held my interest. Every page was engaging. I loved the grisly details, the tense encounters, and, the wonderful characters. As testosterone began to drive more of my thoughts, really loved the fervid sexual encounter between Oceanographer Matt Hooper and police Chief Brody’s wife (a scene that wisely did not make it into the movie).

In 1975, Jaws, the movie, was released nationwide. Mom reluctantly agreed be take me and serve as my “parental guidance”. This was probably a good thing because the movie was not for kids. I was ready, but I don't think I was prepared. It was nerve-wracking, and really scary!

But guess what…I loved it! I had never felt so exhilarated!

I became immediately obsessed with everything related to the movie: shark, its novice director (Steven Spielberg), its stars, sharks, how it was made, the special effects, sharks, and all dangerous creatures in the ocean. Did I say sharks!? Like my earlier "monster" phases, I collected all things related to Jaws: books, posters, t-shirts. I saw it in theaters at least ten times.

When Jaws finally hit the drive-in theater in Abilene, and I again begged Mom to take me (You see, I had a plan). I remember her saying, “Ain’t you seen that ol’ thing enough! This is not healthy!”

After I pitched a fit, she finally relented and off to the drive-in we went. Once we had parked and secured our snack bar treats, I produced my small black tape recorder from the back seat. Time to enact the plan. As the opening credits rolled, I diligently held the device's microphone up to the drive-in's window speaker.

By now, I was proficient with the cassette recorder. I had filled many blank tapes with recordings involve my schoolmates. We'd laugh at them for hours.

So, I knew I had to be quick when the tape reached the end of a side. Snap! The recorder would click! Like a flash, I'd eject the tape, flip it over, slide it back into place, and press the red-dotted record button. Whew! Luckily the entire film fit on two audio cassettes.

I am certain I drove poor mother crazy playing these audio recordings over and over. I memorized every scene, every word, even the unexpected interruption: “Brenda Jackson, please come to the snack bar, Brenda Jackson.”

To this day, I often will recite lines from many scenes, that is, depending on how many bourbon's I have in me.

The best lines belonged to the grizzled shark hunter, Quint. Boy, did we love Robert Shaw in this film!  My buddies and I would quote him often using our best Quint voice:

• "$10,000 dollars for me by myself. For that, you get the head, the tail, the whole damn thing."
   
• "Here's to swimmin' with bow-legged women!"
   
• "Here lies the body of Mary Lee, died at the age of 103, for 15 years she kept her virginity, not a bad record for this vicinity."
   
• "That bastard shark might eat it, I suppose...saw one eat a rockin’ chair one time."

Still today, when I watch his recollection of his experience aboard the U.S.S. Indianapolis, I get chills down my spine. It's legendary.

I became an instant Shaw fan, seeking out his films including: Robin and Marion (1976), The Deep (1977), The Battle of the Bulge (1965) and Force 10 From Navarone (1978). He died from a massive heart attack at age 51. For most of his life, he was a raging alcoholic.

I also read book on the making of Jaws called The Jaws Log by producer Carl Lottlieb. I began to understand all the work and coordinated effort required to make a movie. Filming Jaws was a nightmare, as brought to light in the book. Filming on the ocean is the most difficult of settings, so production was filled with issues and delays. Sea water was hell on electrical equipment. Stars’ personalities clashed. Many days seemed like the film would never get made.

Then there was the mechanical shark. This expensive creature creation was a key to Spielberg's film. They nicknamed it "Bruce" and he was always broken. The crew would spend hours fixing it. Then the salt water would get into the electrical system and things would be shut down again.

More to come...

fin (not shark fin, but 'the end' fin)