July 2009

July 2009
Dear friends,
It is early in the morning before everyone else shows up at the shop. I thought this is a good time to write. A few weeks back, I drove down from Beaufort, N.C. to Charleston on Route 17. It meanders through small towns and I like that. It was around lunch time and I was really hungry. I saw a sign for the Buckshot Restaurant. The name alone was intriguing. Maybe the cook personally hunted the daily meals. I figured at least there was a story behind the name and I love stories. When I entered the restaurant, I found a soul food restaurant to beat all. The food was Southern cooking at its finest. Fresh collards, fried okra, catfish, Southern style fried chicken and chicken fried steak, which for you Yankees out there does not in any way involve poultry. I had a little of everything, a real belt-busting lunch. I think it was the best soul food I’ve ever eaten.
When I went to pay, my curiosity got the best of me as I asked the cashier the origin of the restaurant’s name. The elderly lady said, “Sit awhile and I’ll tell you.” I did. There’s no use trying to rush a Southern story teller. “Back in the day, there was a hunting camp here and those men that hunted, my Daddy would cook their ducks and whatever else they shot. Daddy was a good cook but not too good at getting the buck shots out all the time. So we made a sign, ‘Beware of Buckshots.’
A hurricane destroyed the old place and the restaurant moved up the road to Route 17. When they asked their old clients what they should name the restaurant, all of them said what they’ve been calling the place all along for years, “The Buckshot.” Hence the name.
After lunch, I headed on towards Charleston, feeling a little sleepy. Woods lined the road with a couple of houses along the way. I came across a series of roadside stands covered in straws baskets. They looked pretty much the same until I ran across one that was multicolored and I stopped. An aged black woman sat in the back of the stand, with the woods just behind her. She was weaving and shooing flies at the same time. Her hands were moving with machine-like precision, weaving and shooing. Sweat rolled down her face. I asked her who made all those baskets. She looked me in the eyes and then looked down at her hands as if I was none too bright. “All of them,” I asked, incredulous. We’re talking a lot of baskets. “Yes,” she said. I bought a small basket for Stephanie and headed on.
Coming over the grand bridge to Charleston, the view is amazing. You can see everything. I get the same feeling every time I cross it. It turned out to be the Spoleto art and music festival. It had been a year almost to the date of my last visit. The previous year, I had come up for the re-commissioning ceremony of Innisfail. I met with Capt. Eric on the Innisfail again and he mentioned that he heard Wishing Star might be coming. After our meeting, I wandered around the city marina. As I was walking around, Wishing Star appeared out of the blue and proceeded to tie up at the docks. This was just like my trip the year before. It was good to see Capt. Bret and Roberta Todd. They stopped for a while and brought me up to date. They had spent most of the winter in Key West. Wishing Star has new owners, Tom Baker and friends. They are from Charleston so if you are passing through, you might see her there. As we stood on the dock, I asked Capt. Bret if he had caulked the port hold shut. With a devilish smile, he said, “No, I found a company that makes porthole gaskets in white.” The company is H.S. White, 954-788-1660 in Fort Lauderdale. Capt. Bret used the 3/8 x 3/8 extruded vinyl. His instructions are to cut length to fit. Don’t stretch the gasket. You won’t need glue because the gasket will stay in place. Just tap in with a wooden mallet.
Leaving Charleston, I pretty much went straight to Beaufort and the airport and then home to Florida. It had been almost month away and it was great to be home again. But it was not going to last. Five days later, I hopped in a car to drive to North Carolina to pick up Nathan Smith and we drove to Reading, Pa., where Nate and I went to gyro school. The next three days, all we did was eat, sleep and learn about gyro stabilizing systems. Through the years, I’ve seen five boats sink after clipping or running around or the just the tide going out and poking a hole through the bottom. On wooden boats, I’ve seen broken ribs pulled away from the hull. Like other problems that we have encountered, such as electrolysis, ventilation to air purification, it was just another issue to solve. It is good to see American innovation at work. I will not bore you with school talk so I have enclosed some info on gyros and on the web, go to Seakeeper.com. They have a great video you can watch online.
It was a long drive getting back to Beaufort. Nate and Bernard Smith, our paint chief, had hauled out a Huckins, the Moveable Feast, and it was the first project in the 100 feet JDW Building. We are painting the hull. The owner, after seeing how Nate and Bernard worked, has decided we are now his “go-to” boat yard.
In Florida, the offices are almost done. The shop has a Stephen Kneipp original mural, a portrait of Windrush painted where an old window used to be, photo included.
Now, I am going to fast forward two weeks since I started this letter. Our shop Florida is now finished. The final touches were being performed when I left for Mystic, Conn. Stephanie came up with some great ideas and they got done in our offices. There were metal bar dividers that have been turned into solid bead board walls and wainscoting. We put in tongue and groove on the ceiling in my office, etc. But the neatest thing was the wallpaper. Over the years, we’ve collected a lot of blueprints from various projects. We’ve turned duplicates into wallpaper, Trumpy yachts, Consolidateds, and an Alden schooner are all prominently featured.
We have sent our south crew to North Carolina to help with the Chesapeake project. She needs ribs, shaft log, planking etc. Judy Currier, MMYC’s business manager, was laughing the other day that all of sudden she is surrounded by Chesapeakes. We have the Trumpy and we have new clients for paint work with a dead-rise style boat and a Burger all named Chesapeake.
Nate just launched the 60-foot Huckins, the Moveable Feast, built in 1961. She is headed to Mystic for the summer. He sea trialed her and sent her on her way. The owner, Rob Mooney, was ecstatic after Bernard finished the paint job. He had been hauled out another boat yard where they had been working on her for four years and still weren’t done. Nate had given him a time frame of two and half weeks for paint work and she was launched on time even with more work added. He was one happy owner.
The Trumpy Stately Lady is in Beaufort for the summer, which is outside the insurance company’s hurricane strike zone. We have arranged dockage at Olde Towne Yacht Club, which also offers a swimming pool, satellite TV, a private beach, fitness room, etc.
I spent some time in Mystic for the Wooden Boat Show and it was great. I have to say it’s the best show I’ve attended this year. I was a guest of Mr. Ted Conklin, the owner of America, Contract 420, built in 1965 for James L. Knight, the newspaper magnate. It was a great pleasure with Ted showing me around Mystic. He’s a wonderful host. America and Enticer were rafted together, two Trumpy houseboats from two different eras. Lady Catherine, another houseboat from the 1950s, was also there. Trumpy yachts were well represented at the show. There were lots of boats there from a Rybovich to an Elf to a 1888 cutter. It was very inspiring. From Mystic, I head north to Bristol, Ct., where my son Alexandre, Heather and their three sons live. Alexandre works for ESPN there. They bought their first house and wanted to show Dad. The best part was playing with my grandsons, Julian, Marcus and baby Aric. The baby just fell in love with me and vice versa. He grabbed my hands with his tight little fists every chance he could, smiled at me each time our eyes crossed paths. He’s 17 months old so I know it’s not just gas. We even took a nap together. I never saw myself as a grandpa but I like it. A lot.
Heading south to Newport, I ran into Earl McMillin. He was busy organizing the final touches on Freedom, Contract181, built in 1926 for Albert G. Fay of Lowell, Ma. The best part was Enticer was rafted alongside, see photo. I could see the pace of 20 plus men working so I didn’t stay long.
In Newport, I met with Jonathan Chapman. Within minutes, we were in a launch, cruising the harbor and admiring all the great wood boats from an old wooden 12 meter to Ticonderoga, a L. Francis Herreshoff masterpiece to the schooner Winter Wood laying on her moorings. We continued on to the New York Yacht Club. After typing up the launch, we climbed the grand hill of Harbour Court and met up with Earl. We sat on the aft deck chairs facing the harbor, sipping cocktails, with the best views you can find in Newport of a spectacular summer sunset. Life is grand and you have to savor these moments.
The next day, I started driving south. What a long road. I was torn between staying on to visit more friends or going but my need to be with my family for the Fourth of July pulled me to Beaufort, where Stephanie and our son, James, were headed up for the summer. From here, I’m headed back to Florida while my family spends a month in Beaufort. James is in sailing camp and Stephanie looks forward to spending time gardening and relaxing in the country.
I’ll miss them but I get to go away all the time. It’s their turn.

Until next time,

Jim Moores