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NEWS LETTER
Season of "89"
The continuing short
story (serial) about the observations and adventures of a mans private passion
with his ocean racer. He was raised by the water, got bigger, but
somehow never grew up.
POST RACE PRE-SEASON STARTING GATE ACTIVITIES
The new year starts early in
January with the usual feeling of spiritual bankruptcy, but I perk up to the
call of the mall and I feel myself being drawn to the annual boat show. I
manage to slosh through the slush from the brick bungalows of Bridgeport to
Mccormick Place 5 minutes away. It's nice to have the mayor as my
neighbor here in Bridgeport, instead of getting bound in bureaucratic barbed
wire down at city hall.
The January boat show was great this year and maybe I'm wrong, but it seems to
me as if everybody there is trying to sell something. Some couples go to
spend one months salary on a yacht, while others go to see just one more thing
that they will never have. Such contrast between the needy & the
greedy. And if you've got the money, you don't have the time for a
boat. If you've got the time, you don't have the money!
I further suspect that marine stuff is marked up. There were marine
baseball hats and of all things, marine toilet paper? But don't panic if
you forgot to get it at the boat show, Port Supply on Michigan Avenue stocks
marine toilet paper all year round.
Now it's the time of year that if you hear the ringing of bells, feel light
headed, and have a funny feeling down inside-you probably just had a
stroke...or else it's the holidays. It still feels about the same even
though Santa's Workshop has been sold to Sony in a corporate takeover.
The 80's are over and a new decade is right around the corner. In this
day of 20th century hi-technology communication it's time to face the fax.
WHAT A SEASON
It was almost a Cinderella
Summer. 1989 started with a record breaking 65 degrees on Jan 31.
OK, I'm ready! From May 8th until May 16 for eight straight days
there were strong Northerly winds and record cold temperatures. But the
season officially starts May 15th and I aim Fast Forward toward the open seas,
straight as a string with catlike quickness. Whether the water surface is
mirror-like or choppy as broken glass, it's pedal to the metal as Fast Forward
passes the sailboats at mock #1.
The boat isn't exactly as quiet as a mouse peeing on cotton, but I figure that
anything worth doing is worth overdoing. If I'm asked what the damn hurry
is, I reply "I don't want to be late for the Humidity Festival--follow
me." When the water is flat without a breeze and I pass the skippers
of sail boats, they usually mutter words questioning my ancestry with explicit
adjectives not deleted. A sailor with no wind in the Windy City is
like meeting the Devil in the City of Angels.
LOWRIDERS OF THE SEA
There is an infamous blue ocean racer named "Fidelity" on the East
coast whose owner has been burning gas and raising hell since 1973 when the
boat was purchased new from Cigarette. Fidelity is painted on both sides
with large letters in true sport boat fashion and the owner goes out every
chance he gets to hammer the throttles, blow out the spiders, and just be a
typical ocean racer nuisance in general. Because of the owners
risky chosen vocation, Fidelity is usually joined by other fast boats on these
weekend outings for protection.
The Cigarette belongs to President Bush. There goes the
neighborhood! There ought to be a law.
NO RADAR-NO SPEED LIMIT-NO
BRAKES
In this day when hi-tech is so
low-key, trying to navigate in the pre-periodic Sea of Babes can be
difficult. It's even harder to use good judgement with distractions like
the beauties with biceps and gender benders. In some cases suburban
sleeze have more plastic than a Hi-performance boat featuring an exceptional
exterior with an inferior interior. They might be your Sexual Santa Claus
but after giving a summation to a jury, any defeated litigant would give a
whole new meaning to the word "courting."
This approach also applies to the matrimonial mercenaries, and those trying to
create their immediate families might be called fetal factories. It's
almost akin to riverboat gambling when you take a chance in a genetic crap-shoot
as to whether it will be a boy or a girl. In my opinion these extreme
sport jockette's could use a couth coach! There are even four legged
water canine which look like nervous little bug eyed river rat dogs, I think
they call them Chiwawas.
I may be skinny, but I did it all without steroids. Conversely are the
genetic bouillabaise of overweight folks tipping the Toledo's at around 300
pounds, not to mention the serious listing problems with their boats.
This actually questions the physics of physics. If anybody were holding
their breath for the Obese Police to pick them up, it wouldn't blow out a
birthday candle on a knats birthday cake. This is America!
You can legally go as fast as the engines and throttles will take you, and you
can eat until you explode.
This year there was a eviction case where the delinquent tenant was 1200
pounds, never went out, and wouldn't fit through any doorway. Heavy
equipment was brought in to knock a large enough opening in the wall, then a
crane had to lift him out and haul him to the street. This true story
could only happen in America. It's equally as hard to believe that
sometimes there's not quite enough here in the Land of Plenty.
The best delicious diet on the water is feasting on the hot sun with tanning
butter. For now, we'll just call the overweight dingy sinkers a shrine to
swine..................................................and sow it goes.
ALIVE
& WELL & RAISING HELL
I think that all boaters are more
than just extras in the movie of life. Aren't we all related?
Alcohol related!! The freedom to be allowed to water ski drunk or
just roam alone is another facet of the American dream. With all the
alcohol abuse, it's obvious to me that the only way to make peace with our
bio-chemestry is to use our brains.
All season I was happier than a drunken dog in a fire hydrant factory, even
though according to EPA standards for industry I suppose I could be cited for
discharging waste products into the lake.
JULY
The weekend of the 4th
was fantastic with the promise of rain that never came. By the weekends
end I couldn't eat, sleep, or drink anymore. The only problem with doing
nothing, is that you never know when you are finished! I just sit
there all day and wait for dewpoint. Each morning I would lay out on the
sundeck marking time by using the radar arch over my head as a Roman sundial.
I try to guess the exact time as the shadow moved up my body, sort of like a
Carnie on the midway at the amusement park.
Appreciating this precious time I realized that you can't stay at the fair
forever. Even a blind man can tell when he's lying in the sun. I
take it a step further by using the same natural body sensations to guess the
speed I am achieving by the sound of the wind going over my ears.
July 10th was the first day over 100 degrees and the sunshine that
bounced off beautiful blonds hair was blinding. Putting a little latitude
in my attitude it was so hot I wasn't sure which side of the equator I was
on. Then came several days of rain in July. This added up to
savings of tons of money by not having to buy sunblock. It also made it
very easy to find a parking space in the usually overcrowded yacht club parking
lot.
Sometimes after spending many days on the boat without setting foot on land, I
would be totally marine oriented. Soon after that while making a turn in
my truck one day during rush hour, I caught myself signaling a port
turn while I cautiously allowed for wind and current.
I woke up Monday morning on July 31 and looked out the cabin door. There
were 3 aggressive looking men with guns in holsters looking into my van.
Being groggy but concerned, I stepped out on deck with my hair looking like the
Forest People from the old Flash Gordon movies. There were many Chicago
Police boats in the harbor with their emergency lights on and I was advised
"not to go anywhere". I put my hands up equal to a scene
directly from Miami Vice. Looking around further I saw many more unmarked
cars on the shore and even men on the roof of Meigs Airport looking my way with
binoculars.
Lake Shore Drive was blocked off with a cavalcade of Police cars followed by a
long black limousine going around them. Getting more confused by the
second I finally asked what the hell is going on. Is Michael Jackson on
tour or something? The officer laughed and said that the President was
leaving Chicago this morning and they didn't want any movement in the harbor at
all. I then assumed he was referring to the President of the Park
District and couldn't imagine why he needed so much security. I quickly
realized it was that damn Cigarette boat owner being a coast to coast pest even
when he's working, The President of the United States. Starstruck, we all
just stood there and watched the military helicopters disappear one by one into
the sky.
AUGUST
Sleeping in the boat during the
night of the storm on August 4 was twin to riding in a Pullman Coach on a
train. The water had rails. When the lake goes from flat to furious
it becomes VICTORY AT SEA, and all the sailboats in the harbor start a song
with their halliyards ringing like gigantic wind chimes. I sit there
writing my own lunkhead lyrics to the beat. Most folks find the forces of
nature psychologically unsettling, but I enjoy and respect them. It makes
each moment a real adventure.
Waking to the morning with much air traffic at Meigs on manic Monday became
melodic. At times during August, the fog was decapitating buildings, or
at worst there was 0 visibility, (not to be confused with 0-tolerance).
History was made in August when Voyager sent back picture post cards from the
heavens, and then shot off into oblivion.
SEPTEMBER
For me Labor day has a standing
tradition of either being bad weather or I break something big time on the
boat. This year it was a broken crank shaft on Labor day. I don't
know how one breaks a crankshaft, but I managed to do it. Driving the
boat back into the harbor with only one motor is equivalent to shopping with
one of those grocery carts that need a front end alignment. The difference
is that instead of just knocking over a stack of can goods you could crunch the
yacht next to you. All because the homeless take the good carts.
My mechanic Randy did a fantastic job getting the old engine out and replacing
it with a brand new L6 Hi-performance Chevy motor in only 2 DAYS!!! They
said it couldn't be done, but I was back on the water terrorizing innocent
civilians by the next weekend. Blood,
sweat, & gears shows that you don't have to be a farmer to be at the top of
your field.
Hurricane Hugo stalled the weather pattern and gave us beautiful weather for
eight straight days during the week of Sept 18th. Simultaneously, the
inhabitants of the Carolinas were not exactly in a party spirit as they put up
hurricane decorations with duct tape on their plate glass windows.
At the end of the month Fernand Marcos dies and we quickly realize that when
Imelda goes, nobody will ever be able to fill her shoes.
OCTOBER
Falling fast to the frosty 40s for
the first two weeks of fickle October was the word when the temperature was 8
degrees below normal. Because of this, most of the boats seemed to
evacuate a little early this year into winter hibernation. Approximating
to what W.C. Fields said (wiggling his fingers and speaking out of the side of
his mouth) when his drinking buddy John Barrimore died, "Ah
yes,........................ the ranks are thinning".
Nature is always full of surprises. On October 17th we watched sports
newscasters with their wind tunnel tested hairdos become natural disaster
emcee's on live TV for the earthquake in California at "Wiggly"
Field. Then on October 20th, morning slush hour traffic had up to 4"
of snow. Conversely in the true Chicago unpredictability, it was almost
80 degrees for the week of Oct 23rd. Then Zsa Zsa goes to jail jail and
Jim Baker is locked up with a lawyer for his cellmate. Just imagine the
new and improved scams they will be able to come up with collectively in the
next 45 years.
In November the Japanese announce plans to put up a 500 story building
and the Berlin Wall comes tumbling down. Currently the Sears Tower is the
worlds tallest building at 100 stories. In the event of a power failure,
imagine carrying a couple bags of groceries up 500 flights of stairs!
MYSTERIOUS EVENTS BEYOND
RATIONAL EXPLANATION
While sleeping on the boat for
several nights in a row I heard what sounded like what might be a piece of
tinfoil (or something), gently blowing very slowly over the bow above me.
It would stop and then start again, each time getting a little closer to the
end of the bow, then disappearing into dead silence.
On the third night it continued, stopped, then started a tapping sound
on my exhaust fan. I was down below watching Freddy's Nightmares on TV
and I knew I was alone on the stardock, so I hesitated to go on deck to see
what it was. I've always wanted to be a hero by catching a thief in
progress in the harbor, so maybe this was my big chance!
In a nervous burst of bravery I grabbed a set of channel locks, went up on
deck, aggressively looked over the windshield, and saw Mr. and Mrs. Duck
looking at me as if to say, "what are you doing in my
area"? What a cute couple they made. They left at their
leisure, but not before leaving their little calling card on top of the deck.
ROCK & ROLL
REMINISCENT OF THE SUMMER OF 1989 There are always scholastic classics like School
Days by Chuck Berry. With such a diverse choice of new music these
days I play rock and roll, not rock of ages in my prime of senility.
Sometimes when I think back and fossilize, I realize that it wasn't like this
when I didn't go to school.
FROM THE
GALLY
There are 23,000 restaurants in
Chicago and only 2 on the lakefront. Rockys Shrimp & Dicks on the
river at North Pier. It seems to me that those figures are
disproportionate for boaters. The city should consider more restaurants
accessible by boat in their ultimate wisdom. The $10 an hour parking
charge at the North Pier for boats seems just a little steep. Are they
trying to keep out the kind of riff-raff that pull up in six figure boats?
There's more than enough alcohol on the water, but I think a few more
places to tie up would be a plus for the entire Chicago land area. Or at
least a place to buy some of those new smokeless cigarettes for right after
those times you didn't have sex.
BILLYS BOATING TIPS
*On your boat
cover stencil or sew "IN CASE OF EMERGENCY CALL--(YOUR PHONE
NUMBER)". That way if your sinking or something, and nobody knows
who to call, it's right there. Remember, the phone number is only
displayed when you're not on board. If you're like me you may sleep a
little easier.
*If you haven't already figured it out, always use Ivory soap because it
floats.
*A product called "Lock-tight" will keep any threaded screw or bolt
from vibrating out-forever.
*Use bleach instead of "marine teak wood brightener". The only
difference is that bleach is about 10 times less expensive than the marine stuff.
*If you have a spotlight on the bow, leave it turned around (backwards) so that
you can see if it's left on accidently at the end of the day. A spotlight
left on will kill the batteries real fast!
*Geoff, at performance marine has invented a neat little stereo headset that
everybody can wear while underway. There is a little microphone attached
in place, and if you want to say something, all you do is start talking and the
music automatically goes off and you can communicate with everyone in the boat
speaking in a normal manner. As soon as there is no more talking, the
music comes back on. If you've ever tried to yell to the person next to
you at high speeds, you know how difficult this can be. For more
info dial 708-689-"BOAT".
* If your automatic bilge pump goes on and you see it pumping out pure
gasoline, you have a big problem.
LAST
CHANCE
It's time now once again to put aside the obscenely expensive multi-motored
mammoths and get some work done to justify this frivolity. Watching the
boats progressively disappear in the harbors as the end of the season
approaches nearer, is like seeing someone familiar have another tooth missing
each day. It's hard to get used to something so familiar that starts changing
all of a sudden just because of the weather.
THE FINAL CHAPTER
Finally the time arrives when some fair weather friends disappear
simultaneously with the boats into winter hibernation again. Watching the
season fade is a little like watching a child grow up. At some point you
just have to surrender and finally let go. At the end of the season, at
the end of each day when I lie in the sun after I wake up, my clothes get
bulkier and bulkier. From a Speedo swim suit to sweaters on
sweaters. Finally at the very end it looks totally ridiculous, like an
exercise in a childs Weekly Reader asking "can you tell what's wrong in
this picture?"
The Harbor Master and I discuss the below normal temperatures and he informs me
that the party definitely is over. I agree and I take my final ride
alone and sadly watch the Westerly sun melting into the darkness. In 35
MPH cross-winds on October 16th, I guide the boat onto the trailer seeming as
difficult as getting Pavarotti into a wet suit. Now it's time to put the
beast to sleep again so I abandon it at the speed shop/mortician. They
giveth life, and they takeith it away.
Later that day the barber cuts out the last remaining blond ends as I watch
them fall to the floor parallel to a childs first haircut. The
symbolism is killing me! With this dose of changes, I also apply
for a transfer to one of the 40' N stalls at the North end of Burnham.
The Park District promises me a minimum wait of 3 years, which should
coincide with the purchase of a new 3 engine 40' monster.
REMINISCING
As a child I was always sort of the slum lord of the Monopoly board.
With my real estate goals I'm half way up the tree. My performing show
business career is still the best kept secret in the industry..........but it's
still great therapy. The dirt circuit is fun as well as putting things
into perspective, but if dirt were dollars I'd be filthy rich.
The glory of strictly being a bar
star is fading so in the spring we'll be converting the act to a classy 60's
revival band with full sound, lights, management, road crew and so on.
This will allow us to play the outdoor summer festivals along the lake as well
as many other opportunities and venues. Most of all it will give us a new
sober audience instead of the usual bar scene, which from a business standpoint
(live musical services) has been progressively deteriorating over the last
years.
<<FAST
FORWARD TO NEXT SEASON
Flying fast forward and being into
video, I guess that makes me a videot! The toys for next year will be an
updated stereo (about 300 watts) and those ominous looking docking lights just
like a little Cary "50".
The season was long and full of joy. In essence it has all become a part
of our life which we will carry forever and nobody can take away from us.
We must, however, think of it humbly and positively because considering the
grand scheme of things, a mortal season is only a blink of an eye in eternity.
It's the set of the sail (not the gale) that determines which way we will
go and without a destination, no winds are favorable. If it wasn't
for the lighthouse, where would this ship be?
HAPPY HOLIDAYS
BILLY
Disclaimer
Not guilty your honor! At any and all times the vessel is used within
the perimeters of its design and is operated safely, responsibly, and well
within the law. I take boating very seriously and graduated the
United States Coast Guard Auxiliary "Boating Skills & Seamanship
Course" at the top of the class passing all electives on May 9, 1984 under
the supervision of flotilla commander John J. Olivet. I support and
promote boating safety and at no time mean to express or imply anything to the
contrary. I highly recommend this course and if you would like to attend,
simply call 1-800-336-BOAT. It could very well save your life and the
insurance companies know it. When you successfully complete the course,
you get a substantial "safe boating" discount for the rest of your
life.
This document may not be reproduced in any way without prior written
permission. If you'd like a written transcript of the preceding
newsletter, send a brand new 42' Cigarette to: Newsletter/2826 South
Wallace/Chicago, Ill 60616
P.S. (Smell the coffee, you just got a written transcript! If you want a
verbal rendition then call me.