OPINION: Tuffy and Bill Go Fishing

This tale contains many of the elements that a good old-fashioned country yarn must possess. The setting is a slow-moving Ozark creek whose meandering waters flow just on the outskirts of a small rural town. The yarn involves two country gentlemen and their love of fishin'; this story includes a slithering and unexpected surprise.

The tale of Tuffy and Bill takes place near the small southwest Missouri town of Pineville. To be more precise, the exact setting is a spot along the banks of Big Sugar Creek, not to be confused with Little Sugar Creek. It was near the town of Pineville that two men, Bill and Tuffy, raised their families amongst the rolling Ozark hills and low, grass-covered valleys. Bill, whose first name was actually Thomas Alton, and Tuffy, whose given name was Richard had two things in common, and after all, commonalities are what bring people together. Both men had little or no use of one leg and even more important, the two men just plain loved to fish.

Some of the folks living in and around Pineville considered fishing more than just something to pass the time; it was a passion. There were those who needed the day's catch to provide the family's dinner meal, while others fished for the joy of the time spent by one of the many Ozark creeks, streams or rivers. There was always that notion that the elusive monster catfish or smallmouth bass might be just one cast away.

Folks in small towns know everything about everyone and, so it went, that it was no secret that Tuffy enjoyed an occasional sip of hard spirits and, occasionally and more often than not, that sip turned into many tastes. Sometimes, and often without warning, the caramel-colored distilled fluid that once shaded the view of the bottom of a fifth of whiskey bottle had vanished.

In his younger years, Tuffy dreamed of becoming a big-league baseball player. There was little doubt that he was as skillful as anyone when on that diamond of grass and dirt; but, when the spiked cleated shoes were removed, thoughts of Jack Daniels filled his head. One fateful night brought to an end those images of seventh-inning stretches and crowds shouting his name.

Tuffy had consumed a bountiful amount of whiskey and, as he walked along abandoned railroad tracks, sleep began to tug at his sleeve. As the drink clouded possibilities considered, Tuffy made a decision that would forever fill his heart with regret. He laid his tired body down to rest on those rails of steel. Sure enough, a short time later a puffing locomotive with railway cars in tow came along and removed one of Tuffy's legs. Tuffy was later fitted with a wooden appendage which he would use for support for the remainder of his days.

Bill was also afflicted with a leg ailment. At the age of nine, he contracted polio. The virus left the youngster with a shriveled right leg and, for the remainder of his years, forced him to walk with the aid of crutches. Some folks said the two made quite a pair and indeed, quite a duo they were.

It was a typical steamy hot July day in the year 1964 when the two long-time pals decided to try their luck. The tourist-filled canoes floated on the warm Elk River water and the youngsters in Pineville gathered at a favorite swimming hole on Little Sugar Creek near the dam and not far from Havenhurst Mill. Tuffy and Bill considered several fishing locations but decided to visit one of their favorites along the banks of Big Sugar Creek.

Tuffy often bragged of catching a monster catfish there. Bill sometimes interrupted the self-professed angler by stating, "You'd like to tell me that story about the last big catfish you caught, but it's been so long ago that the story changes every time you tell it."

The two men stood alongside the slow-moving waters and, although a small perch or two were snagged, the afternoon seemed to hold little promise for catching that monster of a fish. Then came the moment, an interruption in the routine of casting lures onto the water's surface, that would become the story which would be told over and over again.

To say that Tuffy was somewhat taken aback about what happened would be grossly understated.

"Thunder and guns, what in tarnation do you think you're doing," Bill asked.

Tuffy, while doing a jitterbug-inspired dance as he tried to remove his overalls. answered Bill's question. "Now don't have a hissy fit, there's a gal darn snake in my britches."

"What kind of snake is it," Bill asked in a rather nonchalant tone and with a crinkled nose.

"A lil ole water snake, I hope," Tuffy replied, "but I won't know for sure till I get these dadgum britches off and take a look at the darn thing."

After some fancy maneuvering and a few not to be repeated words, Tuffy was able to remove the overalls. Tossing them onto the ground as if contaminated by something that might be catching, he stepped back and waited. Then the two silently watched as a small, maybe 12-inch, water serpent crawled away from the discarded clothing and into the water. How odd the two later thought, but they didn't speak but only watched as the snake swam away.

The silence was finally broken by Bill.

"Now look here," Bill stated, "you better get those pants back on. You never know who might come by and any explanation we might give would most likely be considered one that was made up. Besides, you and that little snake interrupted my fishin'."

Like most fishing stories, as the years passed, the story of that day spent on the banks of Big Sugar Creek grew into a tale almost larger than life. The number of fish caught that summer day grew, as did the size of the snake that crawled up Tuffy's once-carved-from-rough-oak artificial wooden appendage and into his overalls.

Richard "Tuffy" Bottles' one good leg, his arms and, well, the whole of him joined his missing leg in death in the year 1974 at the age of 64. He rests alongside his wife, Reba Madge Best Bottles, who died in 1999 at the age of 88. The two are buried in the Pineville Cemetery.

Thomas Alton "Bill" Carnell was for 34 years the county school superintendent. He passed away in the year 1993 at the age of 89. He and his wife Thelma Marie Bunch Carnell, who died in 2006 at the age of 94, have found peace in the Jane cemetery.

I hear that Tuffy and Bill's favorite fishing spot along the banks of Big Sugar Creek is still a good place to catch big fish but, if you go there, make certain that you keep an eye peeled for little crawly things.

Stan Fine is a retired police officer and Verizon Security Department investigator who, after retiring in 2006, moved from Tampa, Fla., to Noel, Mo. Stan's connection to Noel can be traced back to his grandparents who lived most of their lives there. Stan began writing after the passing of his wife Robin in 2013. Opinions expressed are those of the author.

Editorial on 01/16/2020