Shamus and the Hot Air Balloon

Shamus O'Tool was watching one of them explorer channels on TV and happened to see a whole bunch of hot air balloons out of California or some such pace, floating so calmly through the sky. It flung a fire into Shamus and burning with the flames of desire, he set out to purchase a hot air balloon for himself. A week and $30,000 worth of long distance calls later, he found that to quench this fire would cost him somewhere in the vicinity of $23,000 US. "By Jaysus" he says to himself, "I don't have to spend that kind of money. I'll just build 'er meself".

Over the next month, people all over St. John's started missing articles of clothing, awnings off buildings, car covers, just about anything made of cloth. Even the schooner, Pride of The Maritimes, was missing a set of sails. As none of the purloined goods were ever fenced, the police were absolutely stumped as to what was happening with them. Shamus borrowed his wife, Martha's, foot peddle Singer Sewing Machine and over the next few weeks was busy cutting, basting and sewing in his basement. This morning he phoned his good friend, Mick O'Brian and some of the other byes and invited them over to help him get rid of a few cases of beer and launch his balloon.

After 14 cases of beer and 3 jugs of screech, it was a merry crowd, indeed, that dragged what appeared to be a huge pile of cast-off clothing into the driveway. Shamus had made the heater for the balloon out of his bar-b-cue grill and since he didn't have anything to use as a basket he had attached the balloon to his lawn chair. As the heat from the bar-b-cue grill entered the pile of cloth, it shuddered and rippled and slowly began to get larger and larger. By the time it stood 50 meters over the roof of Shamus's house, about 30 of his neighbors were standing at the head of his driveway, craning their heads up and in awe of the majesty of such a magnificent creation. At least they did until Mr. Gilroy yelled out, "Hey! Those are my trousers sewed on the side of that thing". Then Mrs. Gilroy chimed in with "And ders me under drawers over der".

The balloon slowly turned, and about the time a triangular sail came into view with the Pride of the Maritimes painted on it, the police pulled up to the front of the house. Seeing that he might have more explaining to do than he wanted, Shamus jumped into the lawn chair and cut the rope attaching the balloon to the bumper of his Ford Pinto and majestically rose into the afternoon sky. Shamus forgot to take one small fact into consideration. His house is dead in line with the runway of the St. John's International Airport and about the time he got up to 500 meters, an Air Canada jumbo jet was just taking off. When last seen, Shamus was about at about 35,000 feet and heading toward Toronto at 500 KPH.

Bob Gurkin and his Newfoundland Stories

My brother, Robert (Bob) McCollum Gurkin, was born in St. Johns, Newfoundland on March 17, 1942. Our father, James (Jim) Lewis Gurkin was one of the first US Army troops to arrive via ship in St. Johns in 1941. He soon met and married our mother, Alice Hicks Gurkin, a young girl who lived not far from dad's Army barracks.  Bob was born on base in 1942. After the war, dad was stationed or a short time in Boston. And then after being discharged he moved back to Selma, North Carolina. Obviously Bob wouldn't remember very much of his early childhood in St. Johns.

Later on in life, Bob moved to Toronto, Ontario, Canada and worked at a ball bearing factory. He met his first wife, Peggy Bowdring, while working in Toronto. As it happened, Peggy was from Bell Island, just off the coast from St. Johns, so they had much in common.,Eventually they moved back down to North Carolina. 

In the late 1990's, Peggy was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer and her wish was to spend her final days on Bell Island. So they moved back there, where she passed peacefully not long after. While on Bell Island, Bob fully embraced his childhood in Newfoundland and it's fabled history and lore. And that is where his remarkable imagination and gift for story telling led to the tales he spun in his notes, and now into this blog.

There was a time after Peggy's passing that he seemed to be wanting to die and join her. But miracles do happen and he luckily later met the true love of his life, Lynn. Lynn's husband had also passed recently and they found each other at just the absolute right time.They married and had a wonderful life together before Bob unfortunately died after complications from heart surgery in 2013. I'm so happy they found each other, and so sad that Bob left us too soon.

This is just a chapter in a part of Bob's history. I have a final few to post from his old notebook. We all miss you brother.

- Rick Gurkin

Shamus O'Tool and the Boat

Shamus O'Tool was working as a carpenter in St. John's and decided he wanted to build himself a boat. Every day he would bring home a few nails or a board or some scrap of wiring from the electricians and every night he would work on his boat. Countless hours were spent in planing and sanding and fitting pieces of wood together. Since the longest board he was able to sneak home was no longer than his pants leg, he got to use a variety of materials. He could discuss for hours the merits or disadvantages of spruce, fir, pine, oak, walnut, cedar and plywood. Since the hull of his boat was built using all of these materials and not one of them was over 1 meter long and most of them about half that, Shamus became pretty good at fitting wood. When he ran out of boards, the plywood would do just fine. And when he had a problem making the boards fit exact, he would tack a piece of linoleum over the holes.

After 6 months of hard work he finally finished the hull and after some serious pleading, he managed to talk his wife, Martha, out of her 1970 Ford Pinto. Another week of work and he had the 4 cylinder motor mounted. It was really ingenious the way he got the drive shaft to come out the bottom of the boat - and a Walmart 3-speed fan blade saw new life as a boat propeller.

Thursday, last week, Mick O'Brian and they guys came down to help Shamus launch his boat. Martha broke a bottle of beer over the bow and with banners flying, a new 30 foot boat was launched. Later that afternoon, after Shamus got her back up off the bottom, he was able to get most of the holes patched and finally got a good launch the next day. "Well bye's" Shamus said, "It's the fisherman's life for me. I've driven me last nail".

The little Pinto motor popped right along and only backfired every now and then, off he goes out of the harbor. Along about 3:00 o'clock that afternoon, Mick and some of the other fellers decide to take a run out and see how Shamus was doing. Shortly after clearing the harbor mouth, they see Shamus heading by them at about 70 KPH. As best we can tell, the U.S. submarine, Nautilus, came through about that time and Shamus must have snagged'er. As he comes roaring by, he yells out, "By the ever Laird Jaysus Bye's, if I can ever get this Codfish up, whack'er with a board or something!".

Shamus O'Tool and the Snowmobile

SAD, SAD event took place just outside of St. John's this week. I was talking to one of my Newfie buddy's, Nick O'Brian today and he was telling me about another fine fellow I met while visiting last summer. A fellow by the name of Shamus O'Tool. If Shamus lived down here, I imagine most folks would call him Bubba. Big ole, good hearted fellow.

Shamus had been wanting a snowmobile for the last few years and what with working up in Toronto in a meat packing plant and as a bouncer in the Kitty Kat Klub bar and grill, he had managed to put away enough to finally make his big purchase. Shamus moved back to St. John's last week and just two days ago bought the most beautiful snowmobile you could imagine. It had a windshield, backrest, AM/FM radio, CD player, heated handlebars, heated seat, heated footrests, V8 motor and a 4-in-the-floor, double clutching syncromesh transmission, with overdrive. Guaranteed to go from 0 to 8 KPH in 1.3 seconds flat. The boys from the Snowmobile Sales Emporium drove up to the appointed meeting place and Mick and about 15 other fellows were there to wish Samus well and see him make his first trip. Shamus would't even let the sales people drive it off the trailer. He said he could manage it himself. He plunked into the seat and got his helmet on and the earphones just right, so he could listen to Whatshisname and the other Fellers, while he was cruising. He kicked the starter over and she fired up with a roar.

Now, I need to mention one thing right about here. When Shamus started wanting a Skidoo, he was still kinda skinny, but by the time he got it, he weighed in at about 436 pounds (lot's of calories in Beer ya know). Well anyway, Shamus popped the clutch and came off the trailer with a screech of rubber and before he got to the end of the driveway was going about 98 KPH. He had a rooster tail of snow flaring up about 40 feet high and 100 feet long. Here is where the unfortunate part comes in. He failed to make the turn at the end of the drive and went straight into a huge snow drift. Now, Shamus was so heavy that the snowmobile couldn't ride on top of the snow and he disappeared from sight into the snow. The boys were able to keep track of him for awhile from the sound of the motor, but finally track of him. They have been looking and digging for the past 2 days, and boys, it ain't looking very good for Shamus.

Another Love Story - Bell Island, Newfoundland

On a dark winter's night, the fishing vessel Rosie O'Donald was making slow headway in the face of gale force winds and blinding sleet and snow. The temperature had dropped to the point that blown spray was freezing in the rigging and the good ole Rosie was starting to wallow from the topside ice and the water steadily rising in her hold.

She was a good vessel, built in Portugal Cove in Conception Bay in the year of 1901. Captain Liam O'Donald strained to see ahead; looking for the lighthouse at land's end on Bell Island. His beloved wife, Rosie, was on the lee side of the island in the snug cottage he had built with profits hard earned on the Grand Banks.

Huge waves were crashing over the bow and washing any loose gear over the stern. Sometimes Captain O'Donald would be in freezing water up to his waist. Ice hung from his hat and shoulders. It was bitterly cold, but never did his hands budge from the wheel, nor his body from it's appointed duty. His only son, 9 year old, Mick, was with the crew in the hold, helping to pump out the relentless sea and secure latches to slow the onrush of the dark waters. Onward the vessel crashed and bucked through the storm. The wind screeched and wailed through the spars. Captain O'Donald never wavered and held the wheel steadfast. Ever onward did the Rosie struggle.

After this seemingly never ending night of staggering human endurance, morning came with dull laden sky, and suddenly the vessel was in calmer waters. The lee of the island! Badly down in the water, and listing to one side, the vessel was slipping up to it's home dock. Standing by the quay side was Rosie, waiting for her Liam. Slowly the vessel eased up to the dock, it's Captain steadfast at the wheel. Young Mick rushed to his Dad, to embrace this tower of strength and endurance. 

Never did the Captain's hands waver from the wheel. Encased in ice and hard frozen, he had brought his only son safely home to the arms of the woman he loved.

- Bob Gurkin