Kids Say By Jabbo Gordon

By Jabbo Gordon

Art Linkletter, a former radio and television personality, used to exclaim that kids say the darnedest things. To prove his point, Art even hosted programs around that theme. The kids didn’t let him down.

Bill and Anne Hyatt, former owners of Tampa-based Sailing Specialties, had some similar experiences and could have written a book too, but Anne simply jotted down a few of her favorite yarns, compiled during the 30 years that she and Bill took their company’s products on the road to various regattas.

For example, they were in Chicago for a major Optimist regatta when a very young Green Fleeter (first year competitor) came to the Hyatt’s tent. “Mister, I need a piece of that line,” he announced.

Bill replied, “OK, how long do you want it?” The lad looked a little bewildered at first and then rose to the occasion. “For the whole regatta.”

It all started with the Orange Bowl when the Hyatt’s son and daughter raced International Optimist Dinghys. Parts were hard to find, but Bill always had a van full of spare parts in case of breakdowns. As a Flying Dutchman skipper of considerable repute, he knew the value of having back-ups and replacements. You probably know the old saw: 3 is 2, 2 is 1, and 1 is none.

Soon, other sailors found out that the Hyatts had parts and began buying spares. When their children aged out of Optis, the Hyatts thought that their regatta days were history. However, the Orange Bowl Regatta chairman asked them to provide parts for future events. And a business was born, starting with a card table and a few cardboard boxes of parts.

Eventually their mini-van grew into an oversized cargo van. Four six-foot tables replaced the card table, and the cardboard boxes evolved into some 60 plastic boxes. Later the Hyatts added a 15-foot tent for clothing and glove racks. That reminded Anne of another story – one of a sailor wise beyond his years.

It was blowing hard at an Orange Bowl Regatta and hiking pants were new at the time, and very popular. “We sold all we had within a matter of minutes,” she recalled. “Except for one pair, size XL,” Anne added. “When a sailor wanted to buy them, I explained they were way too big for him and that hiking pants need to fit to work right.”

“Well I know why they were left,” the skipper offered. “Extra large people don’t hike.”

Also regarding hiking pants, the Hyatts were in their store when they received a long distance call from Lake Garda, Italy, where the wind was howling. The father of a competitor wanted to know if a pair of hiking pants could be shipped overnight.

Yes, they could and the hiking pants made it to Italy on time, only to be held up in customs. Apparently, the officials didn’t know what they were and cut open the padding looking for drugs. What a disaster.

The Hyatts quickly learned that young sailors and their parents also needed help installing the parts they

purchased. Bill spent almost as much time changing tiller universals, tightening a few bolts, rigging a new boom vang system or replacing a flat dolly tire as he did selling the gear in the first place.

At one Green Fleet regatta, Bill noticed a young skipper standing by his boat, but his boom was upside down. Bill pointed out to the sailor that the boom needed to be turned over.

“No it doesn’t,” he quickly replied. “My daddy rigged it.” Fortunately the father overheard the conversation and was most grateful for Bill’s help.

Anne’s specialty was pasting on sail numbers, and both became expert at translating problems such as, “The u-shaped thingy is missing the little round deally” or “The rope that holds the boom to the mast isn’t holding in the cleat.” Furthermore, the Hyatts became a source for borrowing tools.

At a national event in Sarasota one year, the official measurer was causing concerns among competitors in a variety of areas. Bill and Anne started the regatta with four tape measures and were down to one when a sailor came up and wanted to borrow it. Anne told him that he could use it, but that she needed it back in 15 minutes. “

If you don’t bring it back, I may have to find you and wring your neck.”

“I’ll bring it right back,” the boy promised. “But I really, really need it.”

However, in about 15 minutes, the lad came back with a long face and empty hands. Anne demanded to know where her tape measure was.

“I don’t know; I lost it,” he wailed. “What do you mean you lost it?” Anne countered. “I’m not in the habit of wringing little boys’ necks. Go back and find it.”

With that the lad reached behind him and produced the tape measure that he had stuck in the back of his pants. He was laughing so hard, he was almost crying. His laughter was contagious and Hyatts began laughing almost as hard as he was.

Then there was the time that the Hyatts spotted a youngster in deep despair. He wasn’t weeping; he was crying crocodile tears. “What happened?” Anne asked. “I lost my tooth,” was the reply. “Well, it’s OK. Another one will come in where that one was,” Anne counseled.

“No,” the kid sobbed. “It came out but I lost it and so I can’t put it under my pillow for the tooth fairy.”

“I’m not the tooth fairy,” Anne admitted. “But if I give you a set of sail ties, will you feel better?”

The tears seemed to evaporate. He took the sail ties and left grinning. Catastrophe averted. Who would have thought that sail ties could replace the tooth fairy?

Then there was the time that a Red Fleet skipper came up and asked if the Hyatts wanted to see his digital wind meter. Of course, they said yes. So, he licked his forefinger and held it up in the wind. It was not as high tech as the Hyatts were expecting, but it certainly worked and gave them another laugh.

Travelling to regattas as far north as Maine, as far west as Texas and as far south as the Florida Keys, the Hyatts visited 15 states. They often took Jacques, their four-pound white teacup poodle with them and all the little girls wanted to play with him because he looked more like a toy than a dog.

“We made the mistake of letting three girls walk him when we were in Rhode Island one year,” Anne recalled. “They were told not to leave the parking lot next to our tent. “We were busy and when I looked up the girls had taken Jacques to the beach, where no dogs were allowed, and put him on a skimboard in the shallow water where the Optis were being launched. Jacques was not a surfer and he crashed hard, but then ran up on the beach and rolled in the sand.

“The girls were hosing him off by the time I got to him. Jacques didn’t like baths to begin with and being squirted with a hose was not his favorite activity. In fact he was traumatized and it took a lot of cuddling and doggie treats for him to return to his normal happy self.” Anne remembered with a smile.

Then there was the time in New Orleans when an Opti-Mom came to purchase parts for her son with her three-year-old daughter in tow. Suddenly she realized her daughter was nowhere in sight and was frantic. Fortunately they found the little lass under the table, curled up, sleeping with Jacques and sucking her thumb. It made a cute picture.

The Hyatts loved interacting with the youngsters and a favorite was a self-appointed fashion adviser. Every year she would evaluate the new foul weather gear or rash guards and then provide her professional opinion to Bill and Anne.

“For girls, camo is in, but pink is out,” she proclaimed one year. “Boys?” she added. “They don’t care what they look like.”

Sometimes, it was the parents – and not the kids – who made the Hyatts laugh. For example, there was the time that an Opti-Mom was complaining about the price of a new IOD. Bill explained that while an Opti is costly, a family could sail one for a few years, sell it and recoup a lot of the original cost. Anne added that the most expensive part of joining a sailing team is traveling to regattas.

About a year later, the same mother came back and told the Hyatts they were wrong. “The most expensive part of sailing was buying the SUV to haul the Opti around.” Point well taken.

Fathers can be key at a regatta. In New Orleans one year, a mother wanted to take a farmer john wet suit up to the restroom for her daughter to try on. That was fine with the Hyatts, but the mother insisted on leaving her husband for collateral.

After the mother and daughter left, Dad wanted to know how much the merchandise cost. The Hyatts told him $80 and he laughed. “I guess I’m worth that.”

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