"We hope to encourage you in your plans here, Mr. Dawson," replied the mayor.
Suddenly Dawson drew back. "I really mean to do some of these things," he hedged. "The only question is when."
On the drive back to Fort Lauderdale, Dawson elaborated, "There's something about Everglades City that I love, but I don't want those people to think I'm just another big talker. I'm just so pressed for time. My life is like a delicatessen. I need a lot on the shelves."
It may be that Dawson is simply unable to spread himself any thicker. Besides his plans for Everglades City, he has talked lately of enlisting clergymen for a "blessing" of Fort Lauderdale's fleet of pleasure boats and of finally doing something about the Hall of Fame's attendance, perhaps by putting up directional signs on highways. Also awaiting action is a suggestion that Moon Mullins passed along to Dawson one afternoon in the Hall of Fame lobby. Concerned lest Mark the Spitz and Salty the Seal get lonely, Mullins inquired, "Hey, how about a mascot named Buster the Crab?"
"Great!" cried Dawson. "Let's do it!" Moving to a spot near the front door, he said, "We'll put the crab in a tank right here." Then he howled. As the laughter rattled through the lobby, a couple of pilgrims poked their heads around a corner to see who in swimming's sacred shrine was causing the unholy commotion.