| Frog-Legs 
              Dundee
               
                | Minneapolis, 
                    MN - What a fine gig this has been! The hotel accommodations 
                    were real suites--for a change. Two couches, two TV's, two 
                    telephones, even two rolls of toilet paper! We performed at 
                    the Minneapolis Institute of Art, which has a beautiful theater 
                    in the center of the museum. Everything was perfectly set 
                    up for us -- a new, rock-solid table built amid the audience 
                    for the lantern, lighting cables already run out to it, a 
                    technician to fuss over the sound. Our "Victorian Halloween" 
                    had two performances, both sold out; very enthusiastic audiences. 
                    Local collectors came to the shows and then treated us to 
                    a delicious home-cooked dinner afterwards. I wish all gigs 
                    were like this!  Now we're ready to leave, shepherding the 
                    lantern in its giant red shipping crate through the Northeast 
                    Air Freight Service. (Note: This was back in the days when 
                    we shipped by freight; now we take the lantern as luggage.) 
                    Ahead of me in line is a flamboyant character dressed in hip 
                    boots and a serape. He's arguing noisily with the freight 
                    clerk about the air rates for shipping frogs' legs.  | 
 Dundee's Frogs in 
                    happier times.By J. B. Beale
 |  The argument goes on and on. I'm getting nervous 
              about my schedule. Finally they agree on a rate, and I move to the 
              front of the line.  I fill out my paper work; an assistant clerk takes 
              the lantern away to weigh it. While we wait for him to return, I 
              ask the head clerk what the argument was about.  "Oh that guy!" he says. "That's just Frog-Legs 
              Dundee, playing the angles." Then he explains that Frog-legs has 
              a business of catching and shipping frogs. Normally he gets a special 
              rate for botanical specimens, because each city establishes special 
              rates for industries that are unique to it; say a special lobster 
              rate for Boston. But Frog-Legs is arguing that because some of the 
              frogs are being shipped live to restaurants, he ought to get an 
              even better rate, the Live Fish rate, which will save him $25.  I'm fascinated. The clerk warms to his story. 
              Frog-Legs gets most of his frogs in the Spring, when the ponds start 
              to warm up. The frogs come out of the mud and collect in the open 
              places in the ice. Frog-Legs swoops down with a net and the frogs 
              are too cold to jump away.  Frog-Legs has a cousin, "Mosquito Dundee" he's 
              called, who specializes in mosquito larvae. . . . . He's trying 
              to get a special rate too. Everybody does. "Like, . . . what business are you in?" the clerk 
              asks.  "The magic-lantern business," I say.  That stops him. I explain. He thinks hard. "Well," 
              he says, "that is specialized. Maybe too specialized. But I could 
              give you a good rate on those mutton-chop whiskers of yours." I take a lesson from Frog-legs and start to haggle. 
               And the result?  The magic-lantern pays full freight. So does the 
              magic-lantern showman. But the mutton-chops ride free. 
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