I may have helped send Frankie Laine to an early grave

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Frankie Laine: High Noon

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Today singer Frankie Laine died and I feel terrible. I think I may have had something to do with his  untimely death.

When I was 16, my first job was as a gas jockey at a marine fueling station.  Mr. Laine had a large yacht with two huge diesel engines. I can't remember what his yacht was called, but he was a keen deep ocean sports fisherman.

The owners of the fueling dock were so proud  that Mr. Laine was their customer, and were insistant that everything we did was perfect. We had special white rags that we used to mop up even the fingerprints we left on the chromed fuel cap.

It was kind of nerve-wracking to fill up his boat with fuel.

His yacht used diesel engines. So why did I, perhaps in my anxiety, on a fine weekend day 40 years ago, fill his tanks up with gasoline?

It's something I will never know. But the terrible secret that I have been harbouring for all these years can now be told. I cost him a fishing trip. The tanks had to be scoured out.

Mr. Laine was very angry. Very angry. He turned red. The sort of anger that might cause vascular illness, perhaps an untimely end. He missed his trip and perhaps a chance to catch the largest swordfish ever.

Yes, Mr. Laine was 93 when he died yesterday. Some would say that's a ripe old age. And he lived a fine, successful life, and caught a lot of fish. But only God knows how much longer he might have lived, or how many more fish he might have caught.