THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, August 26, 1996 TAG: 9608260033
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY LINDA MCNATT, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: SUFFOLK LENGTH: 129 lines
Right around 4 p.m. on any summer day, cars going north on U.S. Route 17 begin to slow down just before the Bennetts Creek Bridge. Southbound cars make U-turns.
It's the white flag with the bright red crab, the sign, a collection of chocolate Labrador retrievers, a rusted, beat-up '77 Datsun pickup truck and the Crab Man that attract the attention.
``I'm a crabaholic,'' says Sally Dellinger, laughing. ``I can't stop eating them. He's the best.''
He is John Boudiette.
In the summer, he's the Crab Man.
In the winter, the Dog Man. Throughout the year, he's a free spirit who doesn't punch time clocks, has no worry with co-workers, doesn't think about schedules, is responsible only to his dogs.
``It's a good day if I catch six to eight bushels of crabs, nobody robs my pots and the engine on my boat doesn't blow up,'' says Boudiette, as the flippers of the stuffed lobster he's wearing on his head flap with the bobbing of his head.
It's a bad day if it rains or if he can't get out on the river. He wears the hat, a gift from his father, to make himself feel better.
``I can look at this silly thing, realize how stupid I look, and laugh at myself,'' he said.
Born in New York, Boudiette, 45, spent most of his childhood traveling from one state to another with his parents while his father worked for General Foods. He finally attended the same school two years in a row, he said, as a junior and senior. From there, the man who has always been an animal lover went on to the University of Colorado with dreams of becoming a veterinarian - or a professional baseball player. Neither dream came true. ``I didn't realize you had to be smart,'' he said. ``I thought you just had to like animals.''
Boudiette has never used the agricultural degree he earned after seven years of college. He waited tables, was a bartender, a ski instructor. For several years, he worked in concrete construction in Colorado.
There were too many people to suit him. That, combined with a boss who was a stickler for punctuality, drove Boudiette to join his parents, John and Neil Boudiette, in Suffolk, where they had settled after retirement.
Boudiette, who came to Suffolk 15 years ago, was drawn to the quiet, uncomplicated existence of baiting crab pots one day, picking up the bounty the next. At first, he sold his catch to packing houses.
``And then, on the Fourth of July, I sold a bushel of crabs to my landlord, and the man who had been buying them found out about it and said he didn't want my crabs if I was going to sell on the side.''
That's when Boudiette went in business for himself.
Boudiette lives what his family calls a ``simple existence'' in a ramshackle house off Route 17. Down a dirt and gravel path through cotton fields and down toward the shores of the creek, the barn-red building looks like it may have once been a farm outbuilding. A clothesline filled with towels stretches from just outside the front door to a post in the overgrown yard.
On this day, having just gotten off the 14-foot boat he keeps at the dock near the bottom of the hill, dressed in cutoff jeans and black rubber boots, he's loading the wooden bed of the truck with bushel baskets of crabs and a small assortment of watermelons.
By the time he's made his way across the four-lane highway, the Crab Man has donned a white T-shirt and dock shoes. The lobster hat completes his outfit. An alternative, straw hat sits on the dashboard of the truck with four pairs of sunglasses.
Cars begin to pull over before Boudiette even sets up. Debbie and Steve Reed pull in just behind him.
``I've been coming by once a week,'' Debbie Reed says. ``I live way over on the other side of Suffolk. It's a good 20-minute drive, but it's worth it. He's got the best crabs.''
And he sells them at a bargain. Jumbos - 6 inches and up - are $10 a dozen. Large crabs are $8 a dozen. Boudiette also sells by the bushel.
What he doesn't sell goes back to the creek. If the crustaceans are unlucky enough to die first, they are tossed on a grassy knoll over the pulloff where the truck is parked. The dogs take care of the litter.
As the dogs - four of the 30 or so he keeps in two kennels on opposite sides of the highway - crunch the shells, Boudiette sells crabs, talks, takes messages.
``If my wife stops by, tell her I got the crabs,'' one customer says, as he steps back into his pickup truck.
Boudiette refuses to take sponge crabs - females with eggs. He doesn't take undersized crabs. They won't sell. He usually sets the 200 pots he uses in his business right in Bennetts Creek or at the mouth of the Nansemond River, never straying far from home.
He sometimes rises as early as 3 a.m. to collect his catch. On other days, he tends his dogs first, works on his boat.
The dogs are a part-time business. He always had a Lab-mix when he was growing up, just because they are a friendly breed. He bought his first registered chocolate female while still in Colorado. He's a familiar sight walking with the dogs near Route 17. Depending on loyalty and obedience, he seldom uses leashes.
``Every time I see him, I think about the Pied Piper, and I wonder what he has in his pockets,'' one Bennetts Creek resident says. ``The dogs are right at his heels.''
On crab-selling days, he encourages the dogs to stay at the kennels. They don't always obey. During off months, when he can't crab because of the weather, he sells from six to 10 pups a year to supplement his income.
David Larkin, who works at Newport News Shipbuilding, discovered the crab man one day early this summer, when there was a wreck in the Monitor-Merrimac and he detoured through Boudiette's domain. Now, he takes the long way home to Great Bridge at least once a week.
``John sells fat crabs,'' Larkin says, as he watches Boudiette count out two dozen. ``I got 13 crabcakes out of two dozen crabs I bought last week. He's got me hooked.''
Although Boudiette likes what he does, he can't say how much longer he'll be on the side. Suffolk is beginning to get too crowded for him. People are meant to live on grass and dirt, he says, not asphalt.
``And - who knows - if some wild woman from Jamaica shows up with a million dollars - well, I'm outta here.'' ILLUSTRATION: FREE SPIRIT
[Color Photo]
JOHN H. SHEALLY II
The Virginian-Pilot
John Boudiette doesn't worry about schedules or co-workers. All he
worries about is getting the crabs he catches to his customers on
Route 17 at Bennetts Creek Bridge.
JOHN BOUDIETTE: ``It's been a good day if I catch six to eight
bushels of crabs, nobody robs my pots and the engine on my boat
doesn't blow up.''
John Boudiette picks out a dozen jumbo crabs for customers Debbie
and Steve Reed at his roadside stand. He came to Suffolk 15 years
ago and was drawn to the quiet, uncomplicated existence of baiting
crab pots one day, picking up the bounty the next.
JOHN H. SHEALLY II/
The Virginian-Pilot by CNB