A friend asked why I chose the Godzilla pic for a thumbnail.
After I explained, my friend said, hey, that's a good story.
So.
Godzilla and the Jolly Green Giant.
My Father, Don, Sr, ( not to be confused with me, Donn Jr)
Is my hero.
Has always been so.
Not just because he sort of looks like Fess parker, ( Davy Crockett/Daniel Boone fame) or because he was taller than Charlton Heston.
Side note;
Dad was a DJ on WIRK 108 FM in South Florida. He interviewed famous folks now and again .
When he Met Charlton Heston, He looked up at Dad, “ They grow them big where you come from don't they” Dad was Six Foot Six and a half, 250 pounds. Kind of Jack Reacher sized.
Anyways;
My parents Divorced when I was a Teenager. Dad moved to Nashville Tennessee, which also happens to be where I was born.
After I had survived my teen angst, anger, stupidity and mayhem, In my early twenties I moved to Nashville from South Florida.
In Nashville, I began hanging out with Dad. Who it happens, is a talented Song writer, Guitarist. I wonder where my propensity for guitar and verse came from? Hmmm.
Dad, had become a Bail Bondsman, remarried and, my Stepmom, Vicki, was awesome btw.
I began to accompany him on jobs.
We would pick up folks that skipped bail.
Now, I should explain.
Dad, is Six foot Six and 1/2, Black hair, Blue eyed, short hair.
I am Six foot Five, 210, long strawberry blonde hair, and hazel eyes.
He, dressed Country gentleman, suit Jacket, Dress shirt, Jeans, Nice Cowboy boots.
I, had a pirate loop ear ring, wore Black BDU pants,or Jeans, Combat boots Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, or Alice Cooper concert Tee, and either an Army jacket or Black leather jacket.
Folks seldom guessed we were working together.
Which worked in our favor most times.
Though, the nice law enforcement officers often gave me side eye.
Usually our jobs went very easily. Dad would call the “ Skip” let them know we knew where they were etc and ask them to just come on out and get in the car and take care of things.
I would say, nine out of ten times, that's exactly what happened.
The Skip would come out ,get in the car, we would drive to the Downtown Nashville Metro Court, sit and wait our turn, see the Judge, and Dad would Bail the person right back out. No muss no fuss. Usually, we didn't use cuffs , or rudeness.
Dad frowned on coarse language.
He demanded that we be polite during all phases of work. Seriously!
Even the few times things got physical, we had to be mannered, calm and polite.
More than one transportee told me that Dad, smiling, and saying excuse me, while kicking their ass was much more terrifying than the loud yelling, cursing, frantic act most Law enforcement used.
To Quote one such; “ Damn that muthafcker gonna just take me out casual and ain't sweating. Cold as ice. He ain't sweating. Cold, don't fuck with cold.”
Dad was always calm. Usually smiling. Always a southern Gentleman. Dad said, treat them with respect, and most, will act with respect.
I, not so much. I am not as cold as Dad. I learned to keep my mouth shut, wear black, loom in silence. And, Smile.
Dad had the expensive experience of decades in law enforcement.
Prior to that, He had enlisted in the Army in 1961. He eventually made it into Special Forces. His calm ,no nonsense demeanor was earned and learned, not fake.
Anyway;
Back to the point of the story.
A fellow Bail bonding agent was having issues with a skip.
This particular agent happened to be about five foot three, female, and cute.
Not imposing at all.
The Skip in question was a six foot tall, belligerent Black belt, out on bail for domestic assault and battery. Oddly, the victim of the assault, his ex-wife, was cosigner on the bond. Dude missed his court date and was rude to the Bond agent. Obviously unwise of him yet apparently par for his course.
So, we went to pay him a visit.
Back in the day, pre internet, before smart phones one of our tricks of the trade was to make friends with pizza delivery places.
Great sources of Intel when looking for folks.
Dude liked Domino's.
So, we get the call, that he ordered a pizza and off we went.
Met up with delivery guy at the apartment complex, Dad paid for the pizza, plus a little tip, and we went to deliver the pizza.
I positioned myself, Looking over the ground floor sliding glass door exit into the apartment complex courtyard. With A Mossberg 500 12 gauge shotgun.
Dad took the pizza and knocked on the open Hallway/breezeway Door. “ Domino's!” I heard.
The Skip opened the screen door, saw Dad, yelled “Fuck!” Ran for the Sliding glass door, snatched it open and , bounced off of me, standing ready braced, kitted out , with Ballistic vest, black BDUs, and, shiny Steel Roman style Greaves.
Why Steel Roman style Greaves you may ask?
Because the heavy duty plastic ones were expensive and broke easily. My Steel Roman style Greaves, cost me $90.00 from Museum Replicas, and were more durable than the expensive law enforcement plastic crap. Plus, they looked intimidating with the black BDUs. Besides, ever been kicked in the shins?
People that object to being arrested and taken to the court and jail they had been avoiding sometimes resist. Sometimes their significant others, mothers, angry southern grannies would object.
They seemed to love to kick you in the shins. The look on their face when they kicked steel, I have to admit, could often be a treat.
Anyway, The Skip,
He lay on his back where he landed after bouncing off of me ( I may have given some slight assist to his bounce) looking up at me, and my Dad , who happened to be wearing a dark Green Jacket and Dress shirt that evening. Rolled over onto his stomach and crossed his wrists on his back as well as crossed his ankles before we could ask him to. I guess he had some experience with the process.
We transported him with no issues, no problems, met up with his Bond agent in court. When he saw her he asked “Did You Really Have to send The Jolly Green Giant and Godzilla after me?”
We laughed.
As my Father's son, I would have accepted “Sprout” to his Jolly Green Giant,
However Gotta Admit, Godzilla is much cooler!
I love this! I saw the Jolly Green Giant pic, and I immediately thought about my dad. He was a Seabee, and did 4 tours in Vietnam between 64' and 72'. During his last tour I was 2, and every time I saw a can of Jolly Green Giant veggies, I'd get super excited, and yell out "DADDY!!!!!!" To a little girl, my 6'ft tall daddy, dressed in green fatigues was the Jolly Green Giant. Thank you for sharing your story. Your dad sounds like a real, honest to goodness, bad-ass.