In the beginning

Sea Scouts

TURNING THIRTEEN WAS a momentous time of my life. It gave me a new source of freedom from my father's abuse when shortly after that celebration, a school chum, Lindsey Fisher, invited me to join the Sea Scouts. I had been a Cub Scout and a Boy Scout, and only recently joined the Explorer Post when the invitation came. Although I had worn my brand new Explorer uniform but once, I was ready to hang it up for Sea Scouting as soon as I learned that it would take me on adventures almost every week, far from home.

I had never heard of the Sea Scouts and quickly learned that almost no one else had ever heard of them either. It was created when the first Boy Scouts outgrew the organization and wanted to continue with the organization. It so happened that one of the adult sponsors of the Boy Scouts in America had a sailing yacht and took these boys for a ride that has continued to this day, one hundred years later.

I rode my bike to Lindsey's home. He lived in a community named Stoneleigh, near the elementary school we had attended. From there we rode to the Skipper's house. Adult leaders of Sea Scout Ships are known by that familiar title. There, we squeezed into the Skipper's 1949 DeSoto with another boy of our age, Jim Urch. The older members of the crew – Terry Feelemyer, John White, Bob Cook, and Barry Monaco – piled into Barry's Jeep Wagoneer, and we traveled a confusing maze of highways and byways to Ethel's Boatyard. I couldn't see much hunkered down in the backseat of the DeSoto and felt very overwhelmed.

I suppose you may think that I am reading these names from a roster or looking at a picture of them. I'm not. That day and those boys are seared into my memory. Yes, it was that significant an event in my life those fifty-four years ago. 

Frog Mortar Creek Today

Ethel's was located on Frog Mortar Creek, a muddy tributary of Middle River near Essex, Maryland, near to the Martin Aircraft Plant. In case you missed it, the Martin's plant was an important contributor to America's war effort during WWII. It was so important that they camouflaged it covering the entire facility, including the massive parking lots with camouflage nets. Unfortunately, Middle River and the main line tracks of the Pennsylvania Railroad formed an arrowhead pointing directly to the plant's location and those landmarks couldn't be camouflaged. Even more unfortunately, the camouflage netting collapsed under the weight of snow during its first winter, and workers weren't able to remove their cars until the spring thaw. But, I digress...

Ethel was dredging the channel when we arrived. I didn't know her when I first spotted her struggling armpit-deep in the water, probably up to her hips in silt, dragging a large metal bucket with two three-foot long wooden handles out into the creek at the end of her railway boat ramp. When she was satisfied with its position, she waved to the operator on her antique Caterpillar tractor, and he began to drag Ethel and her dredge back to shore with a steel cable that joined them. Keep in mind that this was sometime in April and the water was just thawing from the winter freeze, and Ethel was wearing only coveralls, no footwear and no shirt. Imagine the sight it made for an unworldly fourteen year old boy from the suburbs of Baltimore.

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Gig approaching wreckage from left

“Our” boats, as I came to know them, included a 35' Captain's Gig, a 24' Seaplane Tender, and a 27' sloop, all wooden, all Navy Surplus. The Captain's Gig would be familiar to anyone who has ever looked at photos taken at Pearl Harbor just after the Japanese attack on December 7th. Boats like it can be seen hovering near the sunken and burning ships, their crews fishing injured sailors from the oil slick waters. The Seaplane Tender was an open personnel carrier with a bench seat along either side to carry passengers to and from float planes. The sloop was previously used at the United States Naval Academy to train midshipmen in the art of sailing. All were on loan to us from the Navy. They liked us in those days. Not so much after the Vietnam War. (I'll talk more of that in later postings.)  

Sea Scout Gig

Later in the day, after doing a little scrapping and painting, we took a ride to the Baltimore Yacht Club on Sue Creek, at the confluence of Middle River and the Chesapeake Bay, where our boats would join the rest of our “fleet.” Here I was introduced to our flagship, a 42' Crash Boat, used to retrieve downed fliers from the English Channel during WWII. Interestingly, while researching and writing Rebels on the Mountain, I learned that Fidel Castro had attempted to purchase a crash boat just like ours to transport his men from Mexico to Cuba. Unfortunately for him, he had to settle for the Granma, a vastly inferior, though slightly larger cabin cruiser.   

Sea Scout Crashboat

I will never forget that day and those people until my dying breath. It was the beginning of an adventure that taught me that I wasn't the lazy misanthrope and coward that my father claimed as my lot in life. It introduced me to men who became my surrogate fathers, who prized my efforts and accomplishments. It made me a member of a crew that included older boys who became my friends, upperclassmen who elevated my lowly status a peg above the other high school freshmen. It taught me skills that served me well all my life. Why else do you think I am writing this?