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Not as good as it was. Better than it will be.
Cacafuego was mentioned in a comment by 'D' on the prior Duende / Cursi post. I don't know who 'D' is but they must have known me when I lived on a boat my senior year of college.
The runner posing with Cacafuego is a park ranger I worked with at the Castillo de San Marcos and a couple years later at Valley Forge. John was hittin' 12 on the koo-koo meter -- like most obsessed runners. One afternoon at Valley Forge we were both working in George Washington's headquarters when about 30 Daughter's of the American Revolution came calling. One woman asked John the origin of his name. "Hungarian." John replied proudly. The DAR lady, who must'a weighed in about what I weigh now, breathed in an air-of-superiority snort and asked John, "Any of your ancestors in the revolution?" "Sure." said John. "Hungary 1956. Where were you?"
That's an authentic bleeding madras shirt I'm wearing. Found in a men's clothing store on the main street of town just behind my college. It was old stock from the mid 1960's and the elderly Jewish lady who owned the shop put up with a lot from me. I would always dig around (looking for old stock) and she would complain, "Here comes Mr Hot Shot who's gonna tear up my store again. " There were instructions with the shirt about how to wash it in cold salt water to keep it from bleeding. I loved that shirt and the memories of her shop.
The story of the Cacafuego or literally translated, Shitfire, goes back to Sir Francis Drake. My story does not jive with a lot of what's out there but this is how the boat got its name. Right or wrong. Deunde or Cursi.
The Spanish disarmed galleons on the Pacific side so the ships could carry more cargo primarily because the British had not discovered the staight of Magellan yet. Or so the Spanish thought. Drake was the first English pirate to figure out the route and one afternoon, whilst on the Pacific side, he saw through his scope a big Spanish ship with no guns but loaded with gold and silver and named Cacafuego. As Drake approached the ship, he saw an uncial under the second c which changed it to 'z' and Cacafuego became Cazafuego which translates to "Huntfire" or "We're looking for the shit."
Since the Spanish assumed Drake was a Spanish ship, he being on the Pacific side and all, the Cazafuefo was pretty easy pickins for the English pirate and he memorialized the encounter in his diary. Which is where I got the idea to name the boat the guy on the right owned. Actually, his dad owned the boat and I paid rent to live on it.
It was a Danish boat built by Coronet. I think it was 33 feet long. Living on a boat, even a stink pot, in a city marina is a great experience. The neighbors were always generous with beer, dinner and offers of going out on their boats. One neighbor even offered me his wife, a Playboy Playmate from the 1960's - - About the year my madras shirt was made. Being from L.A., they were, what you might call, a pretty fast couple. I said I was flattered and politely declined but must admit to searching out her issue soon afterwards. Like many events passed on in my life when young -- I thought I'd have another shot with a Playmate. I like to think I was optimistic... and very dumb.
Mr Frazier was born 98 years ago today. I just found him yesterday at the Strand bookstore.
While a columnist at the Boston Herald
"A nasty man, Clancy. Unprincipled and destructive. A road company Joe McCarthy. A man of no visible talent except for evil. A lousy newspaperman. A real five-star son-of-a-bitch...I'd have also liked to call him a prick, but why give that word a bad name."
Harold Clancy about George Frazier
"He constantly referred to George as a prissy writer and after George left his office after a rather unpleasant meeting about his disintegrating deadline discipline, reeking of Faberge or whatever cologne he was partial to at the time, Clancy turned to the others in the room and asked sardonically, 'Just what do we have to do to get that guy to smell like a man?'"
The Matter of Style
"It is my own conviction that there can be no style without a certain aloofness, a certain inaccessibility, an immense honesty and inviolability in the matter of one's craft, a relentless being-true-to-one's-own-image. George Frazier
More of Mr Frazier and his September 1960 Esquire article to come...