12/28/2012: Laredo, TX – In a little-noticed transaction approved at the most recent PEBA Winter Meetings, the San Antonio Calzones de Laredo were sold to millionaire trucker Cledus Snow.  Snow, those of you with long memories might recall, is the trucker immortalized in the Smokey and the Bandit movies.  Those films, based loosely on the exploits of Snow and his partner the Bandit, earned Snow millions for the use of his story and likeness.

Snow had lived quietly out of the spotlight in recent years, seldom seen or heard from.  He invested his money wisely over the years and lived a rather simple life.  He has remained in the small three-bedroom home in Chattahoochee, Georgia that he first bought as a young trucker in 1974.  He continued working as a long-haul trucker and still to this day, despite a net worth estimated at over $500 million dollars, continues to drive a truck at age 71.

I was interested in learning more about Snow but found him quite difficult to locate until I learned that the deal giving Snow ownership of the Calzones had been brokered by Kentucky Thoroughbreds owner Bill Shatner.  Mr. Shatner is far more accessible, and when I contacted him by phone, he invited me up to his old Kentucky home for a sit-down with himself and the elusive Mr. Snow.

I arrived at Bill’s Kentucky home and was led inside by the maid.  She fixed me a tall glass of bourbon.  “Courtesy of Mr. Bill,” she told me.  Then she led me to Bill’s office and requested that I have a seat, saying, “Mr. Bill will be with you shortly.”

After about 15 minutes, the door to the office opened and Bill came in to greet me.  He refreshed my glass of bourbon from his private bar, and then we got down to the business of discussing Mr. Snow.

“I met the Snowman on the set of Smokey and the Bandit,” Bill told me.  “I was trying out for the part of Sheriff Buford T. Justice, but they went with Gleason… said I didn’t have a good enough southern accent.  Just because I was born in Montreal doesn’t mean I can’t do a mean southern accent.”

I nod, never realizing Shatner was actually Canadian.  From Montreal, no less.  That explains… well, nothing, really.

“Anyway,” Bill continued, “I’m hanging around the set, really hoping they would find a part for me.  I was getting a lot of TV movie work at that time, but I really longed for the big screen.  One night, I’m having a few beers with Joe Klecko.  We’re at this dive of a bar somewhere down in Mississippi, and in comes this scrawny kid… blue jeans, has a basset hound with him.  And he comes over and sits down with Joe and me.  And he commences to telling Joe about Joe’s part, and how they are going to shoot the scene, yadda, yadda.  So I’m wondering, who the hell is this guy?  So I ask him, who the hell are you?

“Darndest thing,” said Bill.  “Turns out this kid is who they are making the movie about.  Well, sort of, anyway.  The movie makes Bandit out to be the hero, but we all know who drove the truck.”  Bill laughed at his own words, then continued.  “Well, Snowman, he just wants to get the movie shoot over so he can get back on the road.  Doesn’t much care for all the Hollywood stuff.

“So me and Snowman, we became pretty good friends that night over a few dozen beers.  He’s just a good ole boy, loves doing what he does.  But he’s no country bumpkin.”  Bill paused.  “Don’t let appearances fool you,” he continued.  “He might drive a truck, he might act a little different, but he knows where every dime he’s ever made is.

“Now, whenever I need something moved and it needs to be moved in a big truck,” Bill tells me, “I call the Snowman.  He picks up my bourbon from the distillery once or twice a year and delivers it wherever I need it.”

I interrupted Bill long enough to inquire as to whether the Snowman would be joining us.  I was really interested in interviewing the legendary Snowman, new owner of the Calzones.

“He will be here shortly,” Bill informed me, “but there’s some things you oughta know before you talk to the Snowman.  First, he talks just a bit differently, and he only agreed to do the interview over the CB.  He’ll be here to deliver some bourbon to my cellar and he has agreed to chat you up while he’s unloading.  Now,” he said as he reached onto the desk for some papers, handing them to me, “you’ll need these cheat sheets if you’re going to understand what he says.  My advice: Just write it all down and decipher it later.”

I look at the papers with phrases like chicken coop, choke-n-puke and suicide jockey on them, along with their meanings.  I nod in agreement at Bill’s last recommendation.

“You’re gonna need a handle to talk on the CB,” Bill tells me.  “I’ve already told Snowman that your handle is ‘Fishwrap’.”

“‘Fishwrap’?” I asked Bill.

“Just go with it,” Bill says laughingly.  “He knows you’re from a newspaper, and he calls newspapers ‘fishwrap’.”

“Ok,” I told him, still somewhat taken aback by such a moniker.

“And whatever you do, don’t use the term ‘good buddy’ or he’s likely to come up in here and kick your behind,” came Bill’s final instruction.  “Use the terms ‘driver’, ‘big truck’, or his handle, Snowman, when speaking at him.  The term ‘good buddy’ will get you in a world of hurt.”

“Good to know,” I replied.

Bill opened a cabinet on the far wall.  For some reason I thought he was going for more bourbon, but it turns out the cabinet contained a CB radio base station.  Bill turned on the CB, keyed the mike.

“Breaker 1-9 for the Snowman.  Snowman, you got your ears on?” Bill said into the mic.

Snowman answered almost immediately.  “You got the one and only Snowman here.  Is that you on the squawk box, Frenchie?”

“That’s an affirmative there, Snowman.  What’s your twenty?” Bill replied

“I’m just passing the 34-yardline.  I’ll be at your crib in about 15,” Snowman replied.

“What’s the holdup today, Snowman?” Bill asked.  “I was expecting you an hour ago.  You need to drop the hammer.”

“I got pulled into the chicken coup and Doctor Coldfinger wanted to inspect my swindle sheets.  And your local wildlife has been fairly active this afternoon,” came the Snowman’s reply.  “The bears are wall to wall and they are a-takin’ pictures.”

“That’s a 10-4, Snowman.  I’m gonna turn it over to Fishwrap now.  Be safe and keep the greasy side down.  Frenchie out.”  Bill signed off and handed the mic to me.

I took the mic from Bill and began to hesitatingly talk into it.

“Snowman, this is the Fishwrap.  I’m just wanting to learn a little about your purchase of the Calzones.”

“Well son, not much to tell.  Frenchie told me those boys with eyeliner wanted to sell.  I talked it over with Fred and he thought it was a good idea, so we threw down the Benjamins and bought the team.”

I looked at Bill.  “Who is Fred?”

“His basset hound and financial advisor,” came Bill’s reply.

“His financial advisor?” I asked.

“Don’t go there.  He plays bumpkin.  Just go with it,” Bill answered.

“Snowman, what was the reason behind your decision to purchase the Calzones?” I asked him.

“I already told you, son.  Fred thought it was a good idea.  You need to clean out those ears and use them for something other than decoration,” was the Snowman’s reply.

Bill chuckled as he poured himself another bourbon.  I signaled that I would like another as well while I scribbled notes.

“Snowman, with as successful as your investments have been over the years, why do you still continue to drive a truck?” I asked.

“What else am I gonna do?  Sit around and watch grass grow?  Diesel is in my blood,” came the reply.

“What do you think of Calzones GM Matt Higgins?  Do you plan to keep him onboard as the team’s general manager?” was the next questioned I posed.

“Well, that boy has a little Secret Squirrel in him, if you know what I mean, but he has a passion for what he’s doing, and I like that.  I’ll give him a chance to show me he can do the job.  But he needs to git-r-done,” Snowman answered.

“What do you mean by ‘get it done’?” I asked

“Git-r-done!” Snowman bellowed into the radio.  “I’ve explained to that boy what git-r-done means; now he has a job to do.  Git-r-DONE!”

I wanted to ask him to explain further, but thought better of it.

“With the Calzones hemorrhaging cash and a frustrated fan base that is not buying tickets, what plans do you have to increase interest in the Calzones?” I asked.

“We’re gonna start by having a tribute to the Duck?” he replied

“The ‘Duck’?” I asked.  At the same time, I saw Bill cringe.

“Yes, the Duck!” the Snowman bellowed back at me.

Bill mouthed, “Don’t go there,” at me.  I figured I should heed the advice.

I looked over my notes, and not understanding most of what I had been told already, I skipped down to the final questions on my list.  “What do you think is the biggest threat to the Calzones future success?” I asked.

“We all know that everyone’s biggest threat is bears,” he replied.

”Where do you go from here, Snowman?” I asked.

“After I get some go-go juice and stuff some grub down my neck, I’ll be eastbound and down,” came Snowman’s reply.

“Anything you want to tell the Calzones fans before I sign off here, Snowman?” I asked.

“Keep the bugs off your glass and the bears off your… Snowman gone,” came the reply.

And with that, one of the strangest interviews I have ever done concluded.