At one time, during my youth, I worked at Uppita Lake.

Wednesday, September 05, 2001

At one time, during my youth, I worked at Uppita Lake. Uppita Lake offered a store, a dance hall, a bar and a bait shop. The Lake featured a campground as well as many year around residences. My job at Uppita Lake matched my abilities as a 16-year-old, requiring lots of physical labor and very little thought. I pushed a broom and sold bait. I would paint the boat and pontoon rentals an awful green color. The paint, obviously bought on sale, was a shade of green that cannot be found anywhere else in the world. The paint would remain on the boats for about three hours, while staying on my hands for approximately three years.

I sold bait – minnows, leeches and worms. I lost a dollar bet one day when a man bet me he could eat a worm. He ate three of them. It was an important lesson and has kept me from doing any gambling in my life. I did charge him a quarter for the worms he ate.

The dance hall contained an old jukebox. There were nights when one of the fellows would come in while I was sweeping up. He would order himself an adult beverage and then put $2 worth of quarters into the music machine. Then he would spend quite a bit of time pressing D-14 over and over again. D-14 was the button to push to hear &uot;In Heaven There Is No Beer Polka.&uot; I think you got about three plays for a quarter in those days, so I got to listen to 24 playings of &uot;In Heaven There Is No Beer Polka&uot; while I cleaned the hall. To this day, this song is the theme music to any nightmare I might have.

One night, I was slaving away selling bait and renting boats, when Deputy Doug came into the building. Deputy Doug wasn’t a real deputy sheriff, although he did have some powers. He was a sort of a rent-a-cop charged with the duties of making sure everyone behaved while at Uppita Lake. To a cool teenager like myself, Deputy Doug was a bit of a dork. He was the kind that a young fellow would try not to be seen with. Deputy Doug walked over to me. He was pale and breathless.

&uot;You need to cut back on those Camels,&uot; I offered.

&uot;You need to come with me,&uot; said Deputy Doug.

&uot;I don’t want to go anywhere with you,&uot; I answered.

&uot;I need your help,&uot; countered Deputy Doug.

&uot;I’m not much help. Just ask my boss. Besides, I need to work here. Can’t you find someone else to help you?&uot;

&uot;There is no one else around,&uot; said Deputy Doug in a pleading sort of a way.

&uot;Yeah? Well, I can’t help you. What do you need help for anyway?&uot;

&uot;I need a witness. There are three young women a few years older than you, skinny dipping down by the beach. I need you to be a witness to my proper behavior while I arrest them.&uot;

&uot;Young women skinny dipping? Well, why didn’t you say it was a national emergency?&uot; I said while hanging the &uot;Closed&uot; sign on the door. &uot;Let’s get going before those criminals are able to make their escape.&uot; I ran to Deputy Doug’s old pickup and encouraged him to hurry. &uot;Come on, come on!&uot; I begged. &uot;We can’t let these scofflaws get away with this.&uot;

We drove to the beach. Deputy Doug was nearly hyperventilating. We got out of the truck and walked toward the three young women swimming in their birthday suits.

&uot;Get out of that water right now so I can arrest you!&uot; hollered Deputy Doug in a statement severely lacking in tact. The women responded with cries of derision. I watched the proceedings intently, looking for clues. When I was finally able to regain the ability to form words, I suggested that perhaps Deputy Doug could forgo the pleasure of arresting the lasses if they in turn would promise to put on their clothes and leave. I emphasized to Deputy Doug that he should use the time-proven technique of patience when dealing with the young women. I think that &uot;Please don’t hurry them!&uot; is how I worded it.

Deputy Doug adopted my plan and it worked. I was sorry to see the girls go, but I felt good about helping the law bring an end to a terrible crime spree.

It was the only time Deputy Doug ever asked for my help, but it was one night that I pressed into my little black book of golden memories.

Hartland resident Al Batt writes columns for the Wednesday and Sunday editions of the Tribune.