Abandoned by his parents because, in their words, "he smelled fishy," Dan was raised by a close-knit community of deep sea fisherman and merchant marines. He had his sea legs before he even learned to crawl; his first word was a swear word.

As a teen, while taking a break from repairing nets, Dan wandered into a pier-side dive that would have had to tidy up quite a bit just to be called "seedy". He'd been thinking maybe there was another life he was meant for - maybe something in commodities. People said he looked good in a suit.

But there, in that sub-seedy dive, playing on a tinny AM radio, he heard "Louie Louie" for the first time. He cried, wiping his eyes on his long plaid sleeves. Dan knew that he could never leave the sea.

So he moved to Salt Lake City. Wait a minute, I hear you cry. Salt Lake City, Utah is a far cry from the shores Dan loved. Why did he leave the sea - his one true love?

Why else? For the love of a good woman. Her name was Julie and she was a mermaid-thin slip of a gal who made his heart rock like the deck of a schooner in a Force 4 gale.

To stay true to his salty upbringing, Dan became a purveyor of fish for Royal Alaska. He plied his trade throughout the Salt Lake Valley, supplying the freshest fish to restaurants, caterers and upscale clientele.

After learning all he could about the fish trade, and seeing that truly fresh fish was mighty hard to come by in Salt Lake, he decided to open his own little fish market. You see, he cared - cared about people and cared about fish.

Of course, the fact that mermaid-thin gals don't paddle away when you've got a pocket full of clams may have also held some sway in the decision - if you get my drift.

Come on in, talk to Dan; no need to flounder - you'll see that he knows his stuff. And if a sea shanty comes on the radio, and Dan seems to go all teary-eyed, lend him your sleeve and know that you've found the genuine article.