Who Is Spike?
Spike Africa was an old salty dog with a story for every occasion (though not all were appropriate for children). Also known as the “President of the Pacific Ocean,” his love for the sea had been passed down through the generations and ran deep throughout his veins. He worked in shipyards, served in the Navy, fished in Alaska, raced boats around the world, skippered private yachts. His final sea voyage on the Wanderer was even one of the most publicized sailing ventures of modern times.
Near the end of his career, he became harbormaster at the Seattle Yacht Club, where he moored a private vessel owned by a wealthy gentleman named McClellan. Spike would receive enthusiastic phone calls from that arrogant top executive. He would yell, “Africa! Get a pencil!” before curtly listing everything he needed done and slamming down the phone. This went on for some time until one day, McClellan called and ordered for his boat to be brought to Tacoma immediately.
When Spike went down to the docks to gather the crew, he found they had been helping themselves to the boat’s liquor cabinet. They were drunk as skunks! Nevertheless, they jumped to work on Spike’s urgent command. They weighed anchor as the captain staggered to the helm and gunned the engine, full steam ahead. Alas, he had forgotten to put the boat in reverse. The vessel slammed into other expensive boats and took out the dock. It plowed on through flowerbeds and several yards of manicured turf before finally coming to rest on the clubhouse lawn.
The damages added up to over $100,000. At that point, Spike went inside, picked up the phone, dialed his boss and exclaimed, “McClellan! Get a pencil!”
Soon after the fiasco, Spike retired and spent his time in his office (a no-name bar), telling his tales to anyone who would listen. We would sit with a seacap full of ice cubes, sharing stories like the time he lost, and won back, his wife in a game of craps. However, he was soon realizing this slow-paced life wasn’t for him. It was then that an old friend from Huntington Beach proposed a unique job opportunity to Africa.
Spike was asked to help with the nautical decor for his friend’s restaurant chain. The job brought him back to his roots, and before long he himself became part of the decor. He contributed pictures, fancy knot work, and articles featuring himself (of course). Even a life-sized statue of Spike became part of the restaurant’s allure. His weathered skin, gray hair, tattered seacap, anchor tattoo, and snuff stained beard were all trophies of his years at sea. At last, Spike Africa could be happy to just have a drink, waiting to tell another story.