Dear Mr. Goldspink
Buried under a mountain of rejection, he comes up laughing.
By JAY CRIDLIN
Published April 16, 2007
BELLEAIR BLUFFS - The letters all start the same: Dear Mr. Goldspink. Then the real fun starts. Thank you for your recent letter addressed to the Prime Minister, inviting him to your 70th Birthday party, one reads. Unfortunately, Mr. Blair's many commitments make it impossible for him to attend. Or: The Archbishop has asked me to write and thank you for your kind invitation to him to your retirement party on 23 September. Sadly his diary is already committed on that day. Or: We refer to your letter in which you expressed an interest in applying for the position of Head Coach to the England football team. "They turned me down!" Ron Goldspink cries in mock indignation, nursing a Bud Light at his favorite bar in the world, the one at Cody's Original Roadhouse in Belleair Bluffs. How dare they.
Goldspink, 76, has a grocery bag full of these rejection letters, and countless more just like them back at home in Bilton, England. For 15 years, he has mailed tongue-in-cheek party invitations and job applications to monarchs, politicians, religious leaders and clueless corporations. Just for laughs. Just to see if they'd write back.
Almost all of them did.
Goldspink and his wife, Jean, spend their springs and autumns in Belleair Bluffs, where their daughter and grandchildren live. They own a condo a couple of blocks from Cody's, where they know everyone and everyone knows them. "Friendliest bar I've ever been in," Ron says. And that's saying something.
A former petrol truck driver and deep sea fisherman who spent time in the Merchant Navy, Goldspink is a self-professed prankster with a bone-dry wit. When a Scottish buddy gave him the nickname "MacRonald," he ran with it and decided to open a greasy spoon diner by that name.
Guess which multinational fast food corporation failed to see the humor in that.
McDonald's served MacRonald's with a string of complaints insisting he had no right to sell hamburgers, fish fillets and other foods that might confuse customers. Goldspink responded by hiring a promotional clown named Donald MacRonald and hanging posters around town that read: "This is the real MacRonald's - not to be confused with anybody trading under a similar name."
That same cheekiness propelled Goldspink, 15 years ago, to write a letter to the king of Norway, who each year sends Queen Elizabeth the enormous Christmas tree that stands in Trafalgar Square.
Goldspink, at the time, ran a branch of the Royal British Legion, Britain's version of the American Legion. He thought a nice Norwegian spruce would look right at home in the clubhouse. So he wrote a letter to King Harald V, asking for a tree just like the queen's.
To his surprise, he got a reply.
"Dear Mr. Goldspink," it read. "HM the King has instructed me to acknowlede (sic) your letter and to inform you that it is not possible to comply with your request to send a Christmas Tree. I am further instructed to send the members of the club His Majesty's best Seasonal Greetings." It was signed by King Harald's private secretary.
Each year, Goldspink invites notables like George Bush, Tony Blair and the queen to his birthday party. He has applied to coach teams like Manchester United and Liverpool FC. He invited Tom Jones and Shirley Bassey to perform at his Legion club. He asked the London Palladium to book a concert by his musically disinclined brother-in-law, who knew the words to but one tune, On Mother Kelly's Doorstep Down Paradise Row.
It is, if nothing else, a cheap way to see some very nice stationery.
Thank you for your recent letter expressing interest in employment within Downing Street as a butler. There are no plans for the Prime Minister to have a personal butler.
Before the Buccaneers hired Jon Gruden, Goldspink applied to be the team's head coach. The Bucs remain the only organization that never sent a reply. (Even the White House was kind enough to say it would keep his application for the head chef's job on file for future reference.)
The letters are always good for a laugh down at the club. Their unmistakably British civility is charming, especially when, for example, Prime Minister John Major sounds genuinely pained that he and his wife cannot accompany the Goldspinks to Bilton's annual Easter Bonnet Parade:
They would like to have been able to do so but, alas, they are already committed to engagements on this day which cannot now be altered. . . . They are so sorry but know you will understand the pressures which exist upon their diaries and which mean that specific dates can be filled many months in advance.
And then there was the time someone took Goldspink's invitation seriously.
He had asked John Prescott, England's deputy prime minister, to swing by an upcoming birthday party. Lo and behold, Prescott actually appeared with a card and a bottle of whiskey from the House of Commons. "Caused a commotion in the club, him arriving with armed guards," he says.
Goldspink still mails out the occasional letter. He recently invited Charles and Camilla to pop into Cody's for a drink if they're ever in Pinellas County. And he's thinking about applying for the recently vacated Largo city manager's job.
"I also want to write and see if I can join the FBI," he says. "But I don't know the address yet."
Then again, he's not sure he'll ever top the time he heard from the pope. Goldspink had invited Pope John Paul II to his 74th birthday party, and though His Holiness regrettably could not attend, he did mail back an RSVP that said . . .
Oh, Goldspink can tell you the rest. Frankly, he'd love nothing more. He'll be at Cody's (2890 W Bay Drive, Belleair Bluffs) most evenings after 5 p.m. through May, if you want to come say hi.
Just go to the bar and ask for dear Mr. Goldspink.
Jay Cridlin can be reached at (727) 893-8336 or cridlin@tampabay.com.