Good bye Sam'l

If there was ever a man I could have chosen for a father, if that were allowed, Sam'l would have been that man. Not only as a father, but a grandfather to my children. Ah for a different kind of world where we choose our families. Sam left us last June. He was the owner of The Fort outside of Denver where he specialized in serving buffalo. He loved mandolins and he is shown here playing his favorite, the mandola of a quartet set I was priveleged to make for him. As a food and travel correspondent, he would appear on cooking programs all over the world. He needed a mandolin he could pack in his suitcase. This was not an ordinary mandolin, but designed with a rather accurate rendering of a woman's torso. From the front, I carved a rather modest sound hole like an inverted heart indicating breasts. The bridge crossed the belly button as I recall ( I can't find a photo) with the tailpiece an ebony triangle. Turning it around, carved from rosewood, I must say was a rather a good likeness of a butt. During a spot on Julia Child's cooking show, he walked on the set singing an Italian love song. When finished he turned the mandolin around patting the back. Julia, he said, almost dropped whatever she was doing and exclaimed "OHH, Sam'l!" It missed the final edit. His most famous cookbook, Frying Pans West, illustrated by his wife Carrie is still selling well with receipes including how to make whisky with gunpowder and his unusual preparation of moose nose stew. He cooked a three foot moose nose once a year in a 55 gallon drum in the Fort's court yard where he tethered his pet Grizzly bear. I could go on about Sam'l but the point I want to make is how with both grace and courage, he carved big chunks out of the limits and boundaries life surrounds us with. When I feel intimidated by the road not taken I think of Sam'l and remember the Mountain Man's Toast.