A reporter I once met long agao sent me the following transcript of an interview he did recently with Limpy Allerdyce. The reporter’s name is Robin Goodfellow. He writes for a nature conservation website in England. They met at Allerdyce’s compound in southwest Marquette County. His plan was to publish a profile of the old violator on Goodfellow’s blog.
GOODFELLOW: Thank you for hosting me at your home, Mr. Allerdyce.
ALLERDYCE: Call me Limpy or Allerdyce.
GOODFELLOW: Where does the name Limpy come from?
ALLERDYCE: Call me Allerdyce.
GOODFELLOW: Beautiful rustic home you have here. May I take photos?
ALLERDYCE: Camp, not home. Take pitchers youse leave here with camera up youse’s ass.
GOODFELLOW: You are friends with the game warden, Mr. Service?
ALLERDYCE: (Holds up crossed fingers) Me, Sonnyboy, like dat.
GOODFELLOW: You’ve known him long?
ALLERDYCE: Since his mum spit’ im out and bit it.
GOODFELLOW: Bit what?
ALLERDYCE: Died. Back den womyns died havin’ dere kittles, eh.
GOODFELLOW: How old are you?
ALLERDYCE: How old you?
GOODFELLOW: I’m not writing about me.
GOODFELLOW: Do you and the game warden see much of each other?
ALLERDYCE: We don’t shower together, that what youse mean.
GOODFELLOW: I didn’t mean to imply. But I have been led to believe that you assist him from time to time on the prosecution of some of his cases.
ALLERDYCE: Sonnyboy, he don’t need no help.
GOODFELLOW: You knew his mother and father?
ALLERDYCE: His old man was pal. Old lady, not so much.
GOODFELLOW: Service’s job has changed some in recent years.
ALLERDYCE: Don’t pay no attention. His job. Not mine.
GOODFELLOW: So you don’t work with him?
GOODFELLOW: Sometimes you do, or sometimes you don’t?
GOODFELLOW: You have the reputation as one of the biggest poachers in the Upper Peninsula, so joining forces with a game warden seems to me, at least on the surface to be a bit unusual.
ALLERDYCE: Biggest poacher in hull state. But not no more.
GOODFELLOW: You’re telling me you’ve reformed?
ALLERDYCE: That what you call it?
GOODFELLOW: Yes, reformed. Changed.
ALLERDYCE: Youse say.
GOODFELLOW: On what kind of cases do you collaborate?
ALLERDYCE: Use English, youse.
GOODFELLOW: It is English. The Queen’s English.
ALLERDYCE: We only got Yooper English.
GOODFELLOW: But your local patois is unique.
ALLERDYCE: My panties is what?
GOODFELLOW: Patois, your way of speaking.
ALLERDYCE: English, not no panties. Don’t talk panties, less you talk ‘em off gal.
GOODFELLOW: Word is that you like the ladies. In fact you’re sort of a legend along those lines, I’m told.
ALLERDYCE: More like dey like me.
GOODFELLOW: Service has a girlfriend?
ALLERDYCE: Yah sure, he porks’ cute Troop dickateckative lives down Marquette.
GOODFELLOW: Do you have a ladyfriend?
ALLERDYCE: When I feel like it, eh. Dey all over place up here, bar, church, eh.
GOODFELLOW: You attend church?
GOODFELLOW: Taverns are not churches.
ALLERDYCE: Mebbe where youse come from.
GOODFELLOW: Can we talk about your career as a poacher?
ALLERDYCE: Talk all youse want.
GOODFELLOW: Will you be candid?
ALLERDYCE: (Puffing up). I tole youse no cameras, no pitchers.
GOODFELLOW: What I meant to say is will you be open with me about poaching?
ALLERDYCE: Youse can ask. We’ll see, eh.
GOODFELLOW: Was it lucrative?
ALLERDYCE: You call me Lucifer?
GOODFELLOW: Lucrative, from lucre. It’s a word for money.
ALLERDYCE: You mean money, say it. What wrong with youse?
GOODFELLOW: All right, was the work profitable?
ALLERDYCE: What work?
ALLERDYCE: Wunt know. I ain’t never violated.
GOODFELLOW: You revised my statement to make sure I knew you were the biggest poacher in the state, not just in the U.P.
ALLERDYCE: You got it on tape?
GOODFELLOW: No sir. You said no recorders, no cameras.
ALLERDYCE: Good. Yer word against mine, bub.
GOODFELLOW: Have I offended you?
ALLERDYCE: Not sure. Have youse?
GOODFELLOW: I just want my readers to get a sense of the poaching life. We have poaching in England, but it seems sort of tame compared to here.
ALLERDYCE: What I care what youse got or don’t got?
GOODFELLOW: (Frustration growing) So when did you last see Mr. Service?
ALLERDYCE: Don’t keep no book.
GOODFELLOW: Would you describe your relationship as one of friendship?
ALLERDYCE: I might. Doubt he would.
GOODFELLOW: Does he trust you?
ALLERDYCE: Some, not all.
GOODFELLOW: Do you find that annoying, this lack of trust?
ALLERDYCE: His feeling, not mine.
GOODFELLOW: So you trust him?
ALLERDYCE: Some, not all.
GOODFELLOW: How did you and he meet?
ALLERDYCE: Shot Sonnyboy in leg.
GOODFELLOW: Shot him?
ALLERDYCE: Shotgun (Points to his own leg)
GOODFELLOW: An accident I presume?
ALLERDYCE: He try cuff me, o take me in. We sort of rassled, pow.
GOODFELLOW: And you went to prison?
ALLERDYCE: Seven years, Jacktown.
GOODFELLOW: What was that like?
ALLERDYCE: Place fulla butt-fuckers, earrings and tats, Queen English like youse talk.
GOODFELLOW: Why was Service trying to arrest you?
ALLERDYCE: Don’t ‘member. Look ‘er up, youse.
GOODFELLOW: You ever see any cougars up here?
ALLERDYCE: Not for long.
GOODFELLOW: You mean you just catch glimpses.
ALLERDYCE: (Rubs belly). Not for long.
GOODFELLOW: But you do have eagles up here.
ALLERDYCE: Taste like shit. Eat too much rotted-out roadkill.
GOODFELLOW: You eat your national symbol?
ALLERDYCE: Govmint eat us. What youse t’ink taxes is, eh?
GOODFELLOW: Why are you standing up?
ALLERDYCE: Tired talking youse.
GOOD FELLOW: You mean the interview is over?
ALLERDYCE: Your call. I ain’t talk no more.
GOODFELLOW: Will you be so kind to give me an escort back to my vehicle?
ALLERDYCE: You got hundred?
ALLERDYCE: What you think?
GOODFELLOW: This is robbery!
ALLERDYCE: Robbery when I hold gun you, take money.
GOODFELLOW: This is at the very least extortion.
ALLERDYCE: Give Limpy hundred, call it what you like.
GOODFELLOW: And if I refuse?
ALLERDYCE: Don’t take no wrong turns on way out, eh.
GOODFELLOW: I’m not intimidated.
ALLERDYCE: Have nice walk. You see bear with scar on head, run.
GOODFELLOW: I was told one should never run from a bear because they’re too fast.
GOODFELLOW: Why then did you advise me to run?
ALLERDYCE: Give you something think about till bear rip out your guts and eat youse head. Had camera youse woulda had Kodiak moment, take pitcher of bear just before he swallow your head.
Mr. Goodfellow advised in his note that he paid Allerdyce $100 at that moment, was shown the trail out to his rental, ran as fast as he could, and did not look back on his way to Marquette. He says the interview will not be published and he will never again return to the Savagelands of America’s Rust Belt.
I called the reporter this morning in New York. “Lucky you didn’t bump into a Waheela on your way out,” I told him.
“Waheela, it’s sort of a wolf that runs mostly alone and takes off the heads of human victims.”
“Blimey, you Yanks are all balmy,” he muttered.
I was going to offer to give him a hundred bucks, but he abruptly hung up.
Indeed we are a bit on the balmy side.
I didn’t tell him the white crows are out and about tonight, but they are. Over.