Back some years ago, there were only two liquor bars on Gorrie Drive, on St. George Island. One was the Captain’s Lounge and one was the Dolphin (which was located inside the Islander Restaurant.) The Captain’s Lounge was very popular because they featured live entertainment every weekend. The Dolphin was doing well because of the sorry drinks that were served at the other bar. Whenever the band at the Captain’s Lounge took a break, there was a huge migration of people walking the few blocks from one to the other. It was worth the walk and the Dolphin became famous for its ‘Island Specials’.
One of those crazy weekend nights, under a bright full moon, a certain red-headed bartender was minding the Dolphin bar in the Islander Restaurant. It got really busy that night and a huge surge of customers had the restaurant’s staff running in circles around each other. By the time it died down, the manager decided to close the restaurant and go home to rest up for the breakfast shift.
She left instructions for the bartender to close the bar up and hide all the money and paperwork in a Crown Royal bag inside a large cooler just inside the kitchen door.
All went well until the last rush of the night. One of the last of the big spenders of that heyday decided to buy everyone a ‘last call’ drink, including the bartender. Of course ‘last call for alcohol’ isn’t ‘really’ last call - it’s just the first last call. By the time everyone got pushed, pulled, or shoved through the door, that bartender was worn slam out. He emptied the ashtrays, wiped the tables, swept the floor, and shooed a few more people away from the door.
When he got to the kitchen to stash the money, he found that the light bulb was out. Rather than trying to change it in the dark, he decided to use his cigarette lighter for light. He held it up and fumbled around in the cooler for a hiding place. By the time the lighter started to burn his thumb, it went out. So, he felt around, found a large cooking pot, lifted the lid, and dropped the money bag inside. Then he went home to pass out.
The manager came in at 6 A.M. the next morning and looked in the cooler for money to start Sunday’s till in the restaurant. No money. Folks were starting to gather around the front door, wanting coffee and breakfast. In typical ‘island style’, the manager and breakfast waitresses pooled their money and got through the morning. All went well until lunch was served. The ‘soup of the day’ was a shrimp and crawfish stew - always a favorite of their regular customers, and tourists as well.
“This soup tastes funny,” said one of the diners.
So the manager tasted the soup. It didn’t taste right. Several others tried it and declared it wasn’t fit to serve. So they decided to feed it to the cats out back.
That afternoon as the cook and dishwasher were cleaning up for the night crew, they took the pot of soup out back for the hungry cats that gathered around each evening. There was an old bowl for the cats and this is where they dumped the soup. When they did, there was a ‘whump’. “What was that?” asked the dishwasher.
“Probably a hambone I used for extra flavor,” replied the cook. An hour later, the manager came in and went around back to get ice for the waitress station. She saw the cat bowl and stopped. She looked. She looked closer. There, in the bottom of the cat bowl - smelling to high heaven, and partially chewed - was last night’s money bag!
