I began training under him, he often took me into the bars with him where he would seek out the biggest, toughest-looking guy in the place, tap him on the shoulder, and say, “My name is Al Kline, I’m 5 foot 9, and I can whip your anytime.”
Then he would push me in front of him! I learned real quickly how to think and talk on my feet!
Learning Pains
Yet despite his tough demeanor, Captain Kline was always gentle and kind toward me. I was the son he had never had. Never once did he ever demean, criticize, or tear me down.
I remember the first time he told me to dock the boat. “Jack,” he said, “you’ve got to pull it up, spin it around 180 degrees, line it up between those two pilings, and give it reverse throttle before you drift out of alignment.”
Operating a boat at sea is one thing; docking it into a narrow slip against a three-knot current with the wind blowing is another. Add to that the close proximity of dozens of other boats and anaudience of 60 tourists on deck, and you can understand how terrified I was. “I can’t do it, Captain Kline. I can’t do it!” I was scared to death.
Captain Kline walked over, put his hand on my shoulder, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “Don’t worry, Jack. I’m right here behind you. You can do this. I believe in you, Jack.”
When a father believes in you, you’ll try anything. I did exactly what he told me to do. I pulled in, turned 180 degrees, lined up with the slip, threw the throttles into reverse … and took out the pilings. I hadn’t been quick enough and had drifted out of position before reversing the throttle. As soon as it happened I ducked, expecting the barrage of abusive words and rage over my failure, such as I would have gotten at home. But they never came. Captain Kline just stood there with his hand on my shoulder and said softly, “That’s okay, Jack. I’ll take care of the pilings. Pull it out and let’s try it again.”
“I can’t do it, Captain Kline. I can’t do it.” I was almost in tears. On the deck below some of the tourists were cursing and screaming, “What’s the matter with that idiot kid up there in the wheel-house?”
“You can do it, Jack,” Captain Kline assured me. “In 40 years at sea I’ve never seen anyone as conscientious as you. I’ve never seen anyone who learns as quickly as you do. You can do this. You’re going to be the best. Pull it on out. I believe in you.”
So I pulled the boat out. Captain Kline refused to touch the wheel or the throttle. I moved upstream a little ways and then came back around. I lined the boat up just as before and gave it reverse throttle. This time the boat backed neatly into the slip. I risked failure but succeeded because I had a “father” who believed in me. And I started believing in myself. From that day through the 2,000 days of captaining fishing boats that followed, I never had another docking accident. That doesn’t mean I never made anymore mistakes. Captain Kline was one of the greatest men I have ever known and I would have done anything for him—anything to please him.
One day, when we had no charters, Captain Kline was two decks below in the engine room changing the fuel filters while I was in the wheelhouse polishing the brass when I decided to push the throttle levers forward out of their neutral position into wide open so that I could polish the chrome on and around the throttles more easily. That was all fine and good except that when I finished polishing the controls, I forgot to return the throttles to neutral.
Having finished in the wheelhouse, I joined Captain Kline below deck in the engine room where he had finished replacing the fuel filters and was ready to crank the engines to test for leaks. There was a start button near the engines and Captain Kline pressed it. Unlike modern cars, which will not start with the transmission in gear, boat engines do not have such a safeguard. As soon as Captain Kline pressed that start button,
Then he would push me in front of him! I learned real quickly how to think and talk on my feet!
Learning Pains
Yet despite his tough demeanor, Captain Kline was always gentle and kind toward me. I was the son he had never had. Never once did he ever demean, criticize, or tear me down.
I remember the first time he told me to dock the boat. “Jack,” he said, “you’ve got to pull it up, spin it around 180 degrees, line it up between those two pilings, and give it reverse throttle before you drift out of alignment.”
Operating a boat at sea is one thing; docking it into a narrow slip against a three-knot current with the wind blowing is another. Add to that the close proximity of dozens of other boats and anaudience of 60 tourists on deck, and you can understand how terrified I was. “I can’t do it, Captain Kline. I can’t do it!” I was scared to death.
Captain Kline walked over, put his hand on my shoulder, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “Don’t worry, Jack. I’m right here behind you. You can do this. I believe in you, Jack.”
When a father believes in you, you’ll try anything. I did exactly what he told me to do. I pulled in, turned 180 degrees, lined up with the slip, threw the throttles into reverse … and took out the pilings. I hadn’t been quick enough and had drifted out of position before reversing the throttle. As soon as it happened I ducked, expecting the barrage of abusive words and rage over my failure, such as I would have gotten at home. But they never came. Captain Kline just stood there with his hand on my shoulder and said softly, “That’s okay, Jack. I’ll take care of the pilings. Pull it out and let’s try it again.”
“I can’t do it, Captain Kline. I can’t do it.” I was almost in tears. On the deck below some of the tourists were cursing and screaming, “What’s the matter with that idiot kid up there in the wheel-house?”
“You can do it, Jack,” Captain Kline assured me. “In 40 years at sea I’ve never seen anyone as conscientious as you. I’ve never seen anyone who learns as quickly as you do. You can do this. You’re going to be the best. Pull it on out. I believe in you.”
So I pulled the boat out. Captain Kline refused to touch the wheel or the throttle. I moved upstream a little ways and then came back around. I lined the boat up just as before and gave it reverse throttle. This time the boat backed neatly into the slip. I risked failure but succeeded because I had a “father” who believed in me. And I started believing in myself. From that day through the 2,000 days of captaining fishing boats that followed, I never had another docking accident. That doesn’t mean I never made anymore mistakes. Captain Kline was one of the greatest men I have ever known and I would have done anything for him—anything to please him.
One day, when we had no charters, Captain Kline was two decks below in the engine room changing the fuel filters while I was in the wheelhouse polishing the brass when I decided to push the throttle levers forward out of their neutral position into wide open so that I could polish the chrome on and around the throttles more easily. That was all fine and good except that when I finished polishing the controls, I forgot to return the throttles to neutral.
Having finished in the wheelhouse, I joined Captain Kline below deck in the engine room where he had finished replacing the fuel filters and was ready to crank the engines to test for leaks. There was a start button near the engines and Captain Kline pressed it. Unlike modern cars, which will not start with the transmission in gear, boat engines do not have such a safeguard. As soon as Captain Kline pressed that start button,
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