Jack Lindsay

It was quite obvious when I arrived on Bequia in the ‘70s that there were a lot of strange people living here, and as the Island is small I got to know them quickly.  Bequians are very accepting of eccentric people, accommodating them with a graciousness that at times astounds me. Perhaps this acceptance of quirky and bizarre individuals is what draws them to the Island in the first place.

One of the eccentrics was a man named Jack Lindsay, who I was told had disgraced himself at the old Spring Hotel.  By the time I arrived on Bequia the hotel had temporarily closed but the story of Jack and the hotel’s dog was still making the rounds.  The Irish Setter was fond of crème de menthe, and each evening he went to the bartender for his usual treat.  One evening the bartender made the heinous mistake of serving the dog before serving Jack, and evidently all hell broke loose.  Jack attacked the dog, punching it in a fury until he was pulled off the poor animal.  People talked about the incident for weeks and I wondered what kind of lunatic would beat up a dog over a drink!

You could set your watch by Jack Lindsay.  He lived on a tiny yacht called Agui, and each morning at exactly 11:00 he would be climbing out of his dinghy across from the Ship’s Chandlery in Port Elizabeth.  He would make his way to Hodge’s bar and sit down at a table on the patio, where his first drink of the day would be served to him.  Jack had the shakes in the morning so badly that he had to drink his rum through a straw. He never had to order his drink, the young bartender knew what he wanted and would scurry out with the rum and set it in front of Jack.  I was there one day when the bartender set the drink in front of Jack without a straw, the Chandlery had run out the day before and Jack had to pick up his glass if he wanted his rum.  The abuse he heaped on that young bartender was dreadful, and the poor fellow just stood there and took it. Jack cursed him in the foulest language, filth spewing from his mouth, all for the want of a simple straw.

At 12:00 sharp Jack would leave the Chandlery in search of lunch.  He had to rotate his eating places because he was systematically blacklisted at every establishment on the Island.  They always forgave him (or else forgot how bad he was!) and would serve him again after a week or so had gone by.  One day I was at the Frangi and heard him say to the bartender, “Harold, tell those f……g THINGS in the kitchen to get their f……g fingers out of their f……g backsides and make me some lunch.”  Without batting an eye Harold replied, “Yes Sir”.  It made me wonder how far the man had to go before he was blacklisted!  Harold’s lack of reaction to such a rude demand for food made me figure it must be acceptable behavior, at least as far as Jack Lindsay was concerned.

Jack was eccentric and outrageous. He wore necklaces made from dog bones, claiming that the two snakes he kept on board agui ate animals, and that he made jewelry with the remains.  Bequians hate snakes, and Jack’s stories about his on-board pets Louise and Eugene ensured that no-one would trouble that yacht.  After Jack’s death Nolly purchased the boat, and Louise and Eugene were discovered inside one of agui’s lockers – two ropes with eyes drawn on the ends!

Jack died of cirrhosis of the liver around the same time I opened the Pizzeria, and I remember feeling relieved that my restaurant would never be one of his lunch destinations. Whew!