Tidewater Times February 2023

Tidewater Times

February 2023

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About the Cover Photographer

Julia Rogers Hillier

Being an artist and painting nature was inevitable. Growing up on the Eastern Shore of Chesapeake Bay has had a strong influence on me since childhood. I have an endless desire to paint, and over the years I have worked in several mediums.

I also paint a wide variety of subjects. It is important to expand and try new things and push into different areas.

Extensive travel is also documented in my portfolio. Many periods of growth in my paintings can be attributed to reference trips I have taken.

Wildlife has been very inspirational to my work and is my personal favorite. Seeing animals in their own environment and witnessing their natural behavior in person changed the way I paint.

"Morning Choir," 24x24 oil on linen is available at Troika Gallery

Dream Gets by Helen

Chappell

In the scribbling trades, snagging an interview with a famous or timely person is called a “get,” as in “I’ve got a session with Bob Dylan lined up! What a get!”

Gets have not loomed large in my career, even when I was working for a music magazine in the ’70s. I might have been feet away from David Bowie or one of the Stones, but that doesn’t mean I even got to speak to them, let alone probe them for profiles. Mostly, I

prefer people whose work or lifestyle interests me, and they’re mostly all local since I came home to the Shore in 1980.

From time to time, however, I do wonder about certain…well, creatures and how they feel about things and what their origins are. Two individuals whose backstory I’d really like to know are Count Dracula and Godzilla. Frankenstein is not so much of a get, as he explained himself in Mary Shel -

Dream Gets

ley’s book. And Godzilla’s people told me he was on location and couldn’t be reached, so I’d have to save him for later.

Most of the time, you see these… well, monsters sucking someone’s blood or stomping Tokyo to death, which may get them the publicity and notoriety that feeds their public image. But I started to wonder, what if I sat down with them over lunch and had a civilized interview? Learned their origin stories ~ probably far less melodramatic than those pumped out by Marvel and DC ~ and generally used my interest in the man behind the monster mask, not to mention my immodest charm, to really get to the soul of these characters?

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Dreaam Gets

I was able to start with the Count. He is resting between appearances and available. His background is pretty murky. We all know Bram Stoker based Dracula on medieval warlord Vlad “The Impaler” Tepes, about whom there’s a lot of story but little reliable source.

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Count Dracula, however, appears fully formed and dressed for a night at the opera when we first see him. For some reason, he wants to leave Transylvania and his castle full of black mold and ex-wives for the UK. He could have hired a cleaning crew and a lawyer to settle his divorces, but where he lives in Eastern Europe,

Dream Gets

they still have a thing about vampires and don’t hesitate to dig up their recently dead to stake them or burn their hearts.

Why none of the locals went down in his basement, where he sleeps in his coffin (because why?), and drove a stake through his heart to put an end to it for good neither the count nor I understand.

However, he did agree to meet me for dinner and answer my questions as best he could.

“I’m just glad someone wants to hear my side of the story,” he said. Happily, he’d forsworn his white tie and opera cape in favor of an Aloha shirt with a wild flower print, since he’d just come back from Hawaii and a visit with Madam Pele, volcano goddess. “That woman loves to gossip,” he

confided, but he wouldn’t tell me who or what they gossiped about. He wanted to talk about himself.

“It’s such a relief to get it all out there,” Dracula told me, sipping his Bloody Mary. “Especially when there are so many fake rumors going around. I know just how Harry and Meghan feel!”

Dracula didn’t set out to be a vampire, he tells me. He was the only son of his father, the late count, and was leading a pretty normal life in a tinpot kingdom surrounded by other tinpot countries where everyone fought with each other and united to fight the Ottoman Empire.

“It was just what you’d imagine. Seven hundred years ago, it was all mud, manure and dirt. No one bathed, and everyone had Transylvania Alzheimer’s ~ they could forget everything but a grudge. So instead of learning to read and write and do math beyond a gradeschool level, like every other kid, I learned to fight.”

He dug into his rare steak. I noted he eats European style to this day, even though he’s been in this country for a hundred-odd years. “So, everyone fought with everyone else. All the time. Just like an Errol Flynn movie, only with real blood and guts! Ha! Didn’t know I was a cineaste, did you? Yes, I love movies. I teach a night course at the New School on the history of film. Well, I have to make a living

Dream Gets

somehow. Those trips to the blood bank don’t pay for themselves. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Vampire.

“It’s a funny story,” he count continued. “You’d think with all the undead roaming around, I’d have gotten bitten by another vampire. Nope.”

He leaned forward. His breath smelled like Altoids, rather than the foul stench of the grave I’d expected. I also noted that he had a faint trace of Dior Pour L’Homme as his aftershave. And his manicure was perfect. No claws on this vampire, no. In fact, he was immaculately groomed.

“You wanna know what did me in?”

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I nodded my head.

“Fruitcake.”

“Fruitcake?”

“Fruitcake.” He nodded. “Caught the virus from fruitcake. Nasty stuff. You don’t know what’s in there! Some of that dried fruit can be deadly! Always thought one of my enemies would do me in, but it was Aunt Irina’s fruitcake!”

“Fruitcake.” I pondered. I had a lot more questions about fruitcake, but at that moment, the count’s phone buzzed.

“Excuse me, I gotta take this. It’s my agent,” he told me.

While he talked to Bernie, I pondered the deadliness of fruitcake. Somehow, it made a lot of sense, but looking back on it now, I can’t tell you why.

“Well,” Dracula said when he got off the phone. “Looks like Bernie’s got some work for me. Gonna have to take the red eye to the coast. Of course, I go in my coffin. I can sleep in the hold during the day and get into L.A. at dusk.”

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Dream Gets get an executive producer’s credit and enough money to afford a nice basement in Holmby Hills. Oh, and I collect Medicaid and Social Security since I got my citizenship. Not bad for 700 years, right?”

He slipped into his jacket, gave me a Hollywood air kiss and disappeared. It was only after he’d left that I realized I was stuck with the tab.

“What exactly do you do?” I asked.

Dracula dabbed a bit of salad off one of his fangs. “I’m a consultant. I’m a technical advisor on all these glurge teen vampire flicks and whatnot. Need an expert vampire? Gimme a call. I’m retired from in front of the cameras, but I

Helen Chappell is the creator of the Sam and Hollis mystery series and the Oysterback stories, as well as The Chesapeake Book of the Dead . Under her pen names, Rebecca Baldwin and Caroline Brooks, she has published a number of historical novels.

Great Lakes Adventures

Auroras, Beaches, Cherries and Ferries

by Bonna L. Nelson

All I can say is rich, aromatic and satisfying. I savored my Cherry Hard Cider, a blend of local tart Montmorency cherries and apples, at the Jolly Pumpkin Restaurant and Brewery as we toasted our arrival in Traverse City, Michigan. The upscale pub and brewery of oak-aged artisan ales is a local hotspot, rustic and comfy.

Being immersed for a day and night in Traverse City, the Cherry Capital of the World, I selected all things cherry for dinner at the pub on Old Mission Peninsula, north of the city. The cherry pecan salad in-

cluded smoked chicken breast with local dried cherries, blue cheese and candy pecans on a bed of local lettuces and topped with a dried cherry vinaigrette. Cherry pie and cherry jam, not to be missed while in Traverse City, were on the menu for tomorrow.

A narrow, 20-mile-long finger of land extending into the center of Grand Traverse Bay, Old Mission Peninsula is home to fields of grapevines and orchards of trees drooping with red cherries and apples. Wineries pop up here and there between glimpses of the deep

Traverse City National Cherry Festival

Cherries and Ferries

blue bay. Pinestead Reef Resort, our home for the night, graces a beach on the bay in Traverse City.

Just about an hour’s drive from Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore on Lake Michigan, which had been the first stop on our Great

Lakes adventure, we found the lovely Pinestead waterfront condo on Grand Traverse Bay to our liking. We walked the soft golden beach along with the seagulls and watched the denim-blue waves rolling in. The deep bay of Lake Michigan is one of many gouged by glaciers over two million years ago at the same time the Great Lakes were formed. The area is known as the northern lower peninsula of Michigan. The fall temperatures ranged between 60 and 70 degrees during this leg of the journey.

Culture was on our menu for the next day. Our destination was the Dennos Museum Center on the campus of Northwestern Michigan College, located in the Cherry Capital. Considered to be a premier cultural facility in northern Michigan, the museum offers exhibitions and programs in the visual arts, sciences and performing arts and a fascinating gift shop with handmade arts and crafts that include Inuit sculpture, carvings and prints.

According to the Dennos website,

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the museum’s signature collection is “Inuit art of the Canadian Arctic, one of the largest and most historically complete collections of these distinctive sculptures and prints in the United States.” Of the 3,000-item collection of photography, paintings, sculpture and other works of fine art, more than half of the Dennos’

Cherries and Ferries permanent collection includes pieces by indigenous people of the Great Lakes, Alaska, the Canadian Arctic and other regions of North America. We browsed the dynamic and stunning array of Inuit art: stone, whalebone and wood sculptures of animals and people; mounted animal specimens, including a muskox and a polar bear; woven textiles; stitchery and applique; original and stencil prints; lithographs; paintings ~ watercolors, oils and inks; and drawings. Pieces are rotated in and out throughout the year. The exhibit was accompanied not only by descriptions of each art piece, as would be expected, but by informative signage about the Inuits’ history, landscapes, lifestyles and artistic

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Cherries and Ferries Maryland and University of Boston. Her work focuses on contemporary life and human connection. The sculpture totally captures one of our modern primary connectors ~ the ubiquitous cellphone!

We ended our tour with an invitation to view a BBC video about the continuing Tibetan resistance against Chinese control and communism. An accompaniment to a new exhibit of Tibetan and Buddhist art that was opening soon, the docu-

inclinations and processes. We found it extremely thought provoking and inspiring.

In another exhibit room, we were amused by a modern felt, clay and mixed media sculpture called “Flock,” which depicted six teenagers standing in a group, dressed in fuzzy white wool hoodies and white pants and all looking at their cellphones. Coincidentally, it was created by American artist Pamela DeTuncq, who studied at the University of

Cherries and Ferries

mentary followed the 1950s Dalai Lama’s escape and destruction of Buddhist temples, as well as how the Tibetan resistance fighters were

supported by the U.S. via CIA training and arms. China still occupies Tibet, and U.S. support has cooled in order to improve relations with China. Tibetan resisters moved to Nepal, a sad story.

Cherries and Ferries

After purchasing a few items in the Dennos gift shop, including a pair of carved wood earrings shaped like snowflakes, we headed to lunch in downtown Traverse City. The Grand Traverse Pie Company was our destination for award-winning cherry pies, mouthwatering potpies and tasty quiches. My mouth is watering just writing about the scrumptious broccoli and cheddar quiche and another fresh green salad with dried cherries and cherry-based salad dressing that I enjoyed for lunch. We capped off the meal with slices of the Signature Pie of the National Cherry Festival (held annually in Traverse City), their famous Cherry Crumb Pie, both tart and sweet and tasting like “another slice, please.”

The two-hour drive to our next Great Lakes adventure in Mackinaw

City was marked by majestic views of Lake Michigan, quaint towns, marinas, resorts, residences, golf courses and forests ~ a pleasant drive. As cherries are to Traverse City, so is fudge to Mackinaw City and Mackinac Island. The main street of the town was bustling with tourists shopping, dining and buying expensive fudge. In addition to fudge shops, Huron Avenue is lined with candy factories, gift shops, T-shirt shops, taffy shops, etc., much like the boardwalk in Ocean City, Maryland,

only without delicious Thrasher’s fries soaked in vinegar and sprinkled with Old Bay.

Cherries and Ferries According to many sources, the northern lights are a rare and spectacular natural phenomenon tied to activity of the sun and solar wind. They evolve from electromagnetic storms on the sun. They can appear as soon as 30 to 45 minutes after sunset but are more likely to be seen during the darkest time of night, typically from midnight to 2 a.m., and are not out every night. When conditions are right, a low glow will rise, brighten and burst with ripples, pillars and waves of shimmering light.

Again we stayed on the water in Mackinaw, this time on Lake Huron at the Best Western Plus Dockside Waterfront Inn, with another beach just outside our door to walk and enjoy. I should explain now about the waterfront accommodations and my “aurora” search. Seeing the northern lights, or aurora borealis, has been one of my travel quests for a few years. It is on my bucket list. Whether in Michigan, Wisconsin, Alaska, Canada, Greenland, Iceland or the Nordic countries, it is my hope to see it one day.

As we were making arrangements for our Great Lakes exploration, the northern lights were visible in northern Michigan due to solar activity. I suggested that we book north-facing waterfront properties with hopes of seeing the aurora from our room rather than having to drive to a waterfront dark sky spot in the middle of the night when they are most visible. Thus, we reserved all waterfront properties with beautiful water and night sky views.

Unfortunately, aurora predictions usually come only a day or two in advance of their occurrence, so it is difficult to plan ahead or travel to see the lights. Spring and fall in northern areas of the world seem to provide

the best viewing opportunities. The northern lights have been seen over Traverse City and Mackinaw City. I was hopeful, but clouds, rain and weak solar activity doomed our chances at both locations.

To learn more about the phenomenon, we drove the next day to the nearby Headlands International Dark Sky Park, two miles west of

Cherries and Ferries

Mackinaw City. The 550-acre county park preserves over two miles of undeveloped shoreline on Lake Michigan and was designated an International Dark Sky Park in 2011, meaning an area of land protected from light pollution. The park’s hiking trails travel through woodlands and past lush ferns and beautiful wildflowers. Signage informs visitors about astronomy, dark sky protocols and Native Americans of Northern Michigan.

The Waterfront Event Center includes an information center where a knowledgeable specialist shared information about the Headlands programs, along with dark star-filled sky and aurora viewing opportuni-

ties. She shared two iPhone apps that predict where auroras can be viewed around the world and statistics on chances to view at the viewer’s location, which was practically zero for us. I appreciated accessing this information, which helped temper my expectations and hopes and will help with planning future trips. The apps are Space Weather Live and My Aurora Forecast and Alerts.

The park is open 24/7, and admission is free. This gem also includes an amphitheater in front of the center from which to view the night sky in comfort. We enjoyed a stroll along the Lake Michigan shoreline before returning to Mackinaw City for dinner at Dixie Saloon and Brewery and sipping a Michigan Cherry Wheat Ale while savoring Sriracha Chicken

with Bacon Mac ’n Cheese, spicy comfort food for a chilly, dreary day.

After watching magnificent fi reworks over Lake Huron from our room, we readied ourselves for the next day’s journey to Mackinac Island via Shepler’s Mackinac Island Ferry. We chose the longer “Mighty Mac” ferry ride of approximately 30 minutes, which includes traveling under the Mackinac Bridge and narration from the captain about the bridge and the island.

We carried weather protection aboard the enclosed ferry early in the morning, as more rain was predicted (and did occur). We learned that “Mackinac” and “Mackinaw” are both pronounced the same way, with the “ac” sound at the end.

The captain said that the five-mile suspension bridge, opened in 1957, is Michigan’s most iconic structure. It is the longest suspension bridge in the western hemisphere and the world’s fi fth largest. We would travel the bridge on the next leg of our trip from Michigan’s Lower Peninsula to St. Ignace on the Upper Peninsula.

We were ferrying through the turbulent area known as the Mackinac Straits, rich in maritime history and with a famous group of 22 lighthouses to stand watch all the way through. The straits over which the bridge “watches” is a channel connecting Lake Michigan (west) from Lake Huron (east), and it separates Michigan’s upper and lower peninsulas. Many a ship has been lost in

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Cherries and Ferries

the numerous shoals and shallows left behind in the straits when the glaciers retreated.

Called the “Jewel of the Great Lakes,” Mackinac Island has been receiving visitors for centuries. The national treasure is famous for its horse-drawn carriages, the only means of transportation besides bicycles on the island, cars having been banned since 1898. It is also home to Fort Mackinac (established in 1780), incredible natural landmarks, lovely accommodations, remarkable sunrises and sunsets, shopping, dining and, of course, fudge.

On our ride, we learned from the carriage driver’s narration that Mackinac Island was formed around 13,000 B.C. when the glaciers gouged, retreated and melted to form the Great Lakes. The island was the second national park to be established in the U.S., just three years after Yellowstone! The Grand Hotel has the world’s largest porch (660 feet), which non-guests can stroll for $10.

The island comprises 3.8 square miles of land, mostly of limestone, and an 8.2-mile “highway” used by carriages and bikes, including the roughly 1,500 bikes available for rent. Its airport is used year-round. Mackinac Island also imports 10 tons of sugar each week in season to make its famous and expensive fudge.

After disembarking, we strolled through town to our horse and carriage for an exploration of the island with several stops along the way. The rain limited the full, joyful experience, but we did see the iconic Grand Hotel and Fort Mackinac as well as the natural limestone wonder of Arch Rock. Frequent stops at carriage houses allowed for restroom, beverage, snack and shopping opportunities.

My husband, John, was interested to learn from our driver that the carriage drivers, horses and most shop employees are seasonal workers. Approximately 500 island residents and 600 draft horses transport visitors in season. In winter, the horses are ferried off the island to spend

their winter vacation in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula pastures. They work six months on, six months off. A few businesses and lodgings remain open in winter, and bikes are replaced with snowmobiles.

The rain had tapered off by the end of our carriage ride, so we wandered down the main street on

the way to the ferry dock. The ferry ride back to Mackinaw City was smooth, and we found an old-world Italian restaurant, Nonna Lisa’s, to celebrate our last night in the area. In an atmospheric rustic lodge with hand-carved fixtures that looked like trees, we relaxed with glasses of Malbec from a Traverse City winery and talked about our plans to cross the Mackinac Bridge to the Upper Peninsula the next day for more Great Lakes adventures.

a

Bonna L. Nelson is a Bay-area writer, columnist, photographer and world traveler. She resides in Easton with her husband, John.

Darryl Hill: The Russia Years

Part 3

by Michael Valliant

What do you do after becoming the first African American to play Division I college football south of the Mason-Dixon Line and then an entrepreneur and champion of minority-owned businesses in and around Washington, DC? Go to Russia, of course. Or that’s what you do if you’re Darryl Hill.

In the first two parts of Darryl’s story, we learned how he broke the color barrier in college football while at University of Maryland. The foot-

ball facility there is now named for him. He then went to work in Washington, DC, where he assisted and financed more than 2,500 minorityowned businesses during the 1970s, opened the first Black-owned fine dining establishment and helped save then-councilman Marion Barry’s life.

Darryl reached a point in running W.H. Bone and Company restaurant where the business was more fun than profitable. As a result, his

The Russia Years

entrepreneurial mind began to get restless and look for opportunities. In the 1980s, Darryl owned and operated Pacific Energy Corporation, the largest energy management company in California. And then the Iron Curtain came down.

“When the Iron Curtain came down, I wanted to go see what it was like in these communist countries before they got westernized,” Darryl said. “I had a friend who was a surgeon that I traveled with, and we flew into Berlin, saw the Brandenburg Gate ~ the wall was still there ~ then we went to Czechoslovakia, and we were going to drive down to the Balkan states when my friend suggested we go to Moscow. He said that next Tuesday was Mayday and we could be some of the first Americans on Red Square without a KGB escort.”

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In Russia, Darryl saw business opportunities everywhere.

“If it didn’t have to do with war, the Russians were way behind. Everything had to do with war, so their consumer products were poor ~ the communists just didn’t care about the regular population,” he said.

He bought an optical plant in

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The Russia Years

The meeting was with men who were sent by the vice president’s office. They represented American security interests, identified Darryl as the owner the Novosibirsk Optical Company and said that the Russians had developed some night vision technology that our defense department needed to have.

Novosibirsk: Novosibirsk Optical Company. The company made binoculars and telescopes, but its biggest-selling product was night vision equipment. The company did well, and things went smoothly until Darryl was asked to take a meeting at the George Town Club.

Darryl’s company didn’t own the technology, so he couldn’t help them. After the meeting, he went back to his office.

“One of our team members said, ‘There are some men upstairs in your office, waiting for you. You’d better go see them.’ I went in, and three guys from the KGB were sitting there. And they looked like

KGB ~ leather jackets, the whole nine yards. They said, ‘Mr. Hill did you read the agreement you signed to do business in Russia?’ ~ and threw the agreement across the table at me ~ ‘You’d better read that.’ And they walked out. They didn’t need to say anything else, they made their point. How did they know when I was coming back to the office? They knew right where I was all the time, they knew about the meeting I had just had. They had only been in my office for 10 minutes, they knew when I was getting back. I went right downstairs and got my Russian partners in the Novosibirsk company on the phone, and

The Russia Years I said, ‘I will sell you my interest in the company. I know you don’t have the money right now, pay me when you can. I am out.’”

That was the end of the optics business for Darryl. But it wasn’t the end of entrepreneurship in Russia. Next up was the timber business…in Siberia.

Russia had plenty of natural resources. Darryl was asked to fly to Ulan-Ude in the republic of Buryatia. Looking out of the airplane during a five hour-flight, all he saw were trees. Nothing but trees. And he was told that 70 percent of the world’s soft wood is in Russia.

When the plane landed, they toured timber fields and found rusted equipment everywhere ~

The Russia Years

cutters, grapplers, trucks, tractors, loading equipment.

“I said, what happened? They told me that under the communist government, they just followed orders. None of the various republics had money after the change in how the country was run. I asked them about exporting to other countries; they didn’t know how to sell to other countries. I said, I do!”

They formed a joint venture called NorthStar International. Darryl made a deal with the Buryat government that they would be 50/50 partners ~ he would provide the marketing and capital, and they would provide the manpower, trees and equipment.

The Buryats planned an international deal to bring in new technology and machines to do all the work.

“I said, the last thing you need is labor-saving devices because you have through-the-roof unemployment; people are sitting there who need work,” Darryl said. “Use the equipment that is there, that they know how to run. Buy chainsaws, and put people to work. And we did just that. We put them all back to work.”

Darryl became a hero of sorts in the middle of Siberia. They held a dinner in his honor that Boris Yeltsin sent a representative to attend.

But being the honored guest has its drawbacks.

“They brought out a sheep’s head ~ a delicacy reserved for the guest of honor,” Darryl said. “I learned early on when traveling that you should always try to eat people’s food the way they make it; it’s hospitality, and it’s important to them.”

But when the head came out, eyes and all, Darryl thought quickly and gave an impromptu speech, deciding to share the honor, and the head, with all the workers. The people loved it, and Darryl’s stomach rested easier.

An entrepreneurial mind always looks for opportunities, and Darryl’s life and career have been defined by seeing opportunities and knowing when and how to act. NorthStar was selling pulp to a pulp mill in China,

and the company was asked if it wanted to buy the mill.

One of NorthStar’s biggest customers was Ideal Packaging, the largest packaging manufacturer in China. They wanted to get into the U.S. market with their boxes ~ from cereal boxes to shoe boxes.

Darryl said that NorthStar would buy the mill, but in return he wanted exclusive distribution for Ideal’s products in North America. Ideal Packaging was interested but wanted to meet face to face.

He met the owner of the company in a city called Hangzhou (Hangchow), two hours south of Shanghai by car.

“They picked me up and took me to a frog restaurant. All they sold was frog ~ not frog legs, the whole frog ~ and I ate everything and enjoyed their hospitality” Darryl said. “The next day, they come and get me and take me to the big boss’s office. He said, ‘I heard you really enjoyed your meal. I am going to have my chef fix us a special lunch today, mud hen.’ It was a duck that lays its eggs in the mud. After lunch, he hands me a box and says, ‘By the way, here is your care package.’ In it was all the paperwork, all contracts signed, everything I asked for. I am convinced that that dinner and lunch had an impact on the owner’s attitude. He wanted to know who I was and how I would be to do business with.”

During his years focused on international business, Darryl became

the first American to enter the forestry business in Russia and the first American to establish a business venture in the Buryatia region of Siberia. He was the first African American to own a major business in Russia. And, in his joint venture with Ideal Packaging, he became one of the earliest small American businesses to form a partnership with a major Chinese enterprise.

What is Darryl doing now? Where did his entrepreneurial vision take him next, and how did he end up on the Eastern Shore? Next month’s issue will tell the final part of the story.

Michael Valliant is the Assistant for Adult Education and Newcomers Ministry at Christ Church Easton. He has worked for non-profit organizations throughout Talbot County, including the Oxford Community Center, Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum and Academy Art Museum.

Easton Map and History

The County Seat of Talbot County. Established around early religious settlements and a court of law, Historic Downtown Easton is today a centerpiece of fine specialty shops, business and cultural activities, unique restaurants, and architectural fascination. Treelined streets are graced with various period structures and remarkable homes, carefully preserved or restored. Because of its historical significance, historic Easton has earned distinction as the “Colonial Capitol of the Eastern Shore” and was honored as number eight in the book

“The 100 Best Small Towns in America.” With a population of over 16,500, Easton offers the best of many worlds including access to large metropolitan areas like Baltimore, Annapolis, Washington, and Wilmington. For a walking tour and more history visit https:// tidewatertimes.com/travel-tourism/easton-maryland/.

Too Many Skulls for Patty Cannon

by James Dawson

In two previous Tidewater Times articles (September and November 2022), I gave the history of Delmarva’s most notorious criminal, Patty Cannon, who, as the headline of an 1882 newspaper article put it, was “The Most Godless Female of the [19th] Century, Who Stole Free Colored People, Brained Their Infants, Murdered Negro Traders, Rode on Raids Astraddle Like a Man, Lost Her Chief Man by the Gallows, and Committed Suicide in Jail” [Cincinnati Enquirer, Feb. 7, 1882].

Patty Cannon and her gang operated an underground railroad in reverse, kidnapping slaves and free Blacks and selling them to plantations in the South. Three bodies were discovered in the field behind her house, and on the testimony of Cyrus James, who worked for Patty, she was arrested in early April 1829. This notice came soon after her arrest:

“At the Court of Quarter Sessions recently sitting in Sussex County, the Grand Jury found three indictments against Patty Cannon for murder, and one against each of the brothers, Joe Johnson and Ebenezer Johnson [Jr.], for the same crime: Patty Cannon is in custody, and will

be tried, we presume, at the Court of Oyer and Terminer, in October ~ and the others reside out of the State. – Journal” The Delaware Register, or Farmers, Manufacturers and Mechanics Advocate [Wilmington, Del., 16 May 1829]

Patty Cannon died in jail on May 11, 1829.

Just when it seemed that there was nothing left to find out about her, I discovered a number of interesting things, including more information about Patty Cannon’s skull, which ended up on display in

Fowler’s Phrenological Museum on Broadway.

In this long-forgotten account, George Alfred Townsend, or “Gath,” described his 1881 visit to see Cannon’s skull in Fowler’s Phrenological Museum while doing research for his famous novel “The Entailed Hat or Patty Cannon’s Times,” published in 1884.

Too Many Skulls and brought out a portion of a skull. It contained the bridge of the nose and the eye-sockets and the whole forehead and crest of the head, and the back of the head to the bones of the skull. The sides of the head, however, were gone. It was of a light walnut color, and the woman said that it had been in the grave some time when Mr. Fowler obtained it, and being probably buried without a coffin or any protection the earth had destroyed a portion of it.

PATTY’S SKULL

“On Tuesday, January 4, 1881, I called at Fowler & Wells’ Phrenological Museum on Broadway, New York, and after making a purchase asked a woman at the sales-counter if there was not in this museum the skull of Martha or “Patty” Cannon, a woman who died or committed suicide under sentence of death. She said there was, and took me to a case

“I took up the skull, and at once observed its extremely low forehead, the depressed, almost level line on the top of the head, and the extremely large posterior, which swelled toward the base of the brain to a perfect deformity, being a great bump or bone tumor, indicative certainly of sensuality if not of all the animal propensities. The saleswoman, who believed in

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Too Many Skulls

phrenology, said that it was strong in causation or causativeness, being a pretty broad skull at the forehead, although low, she said the organs of secretiveness were large; that it was the lowest forehead, perhaps, on a human being in the museum, and the cerebellum or lower back brain was a marvelous size. ‘Mr. Fowler, who is still living,’ said this woman, ‘at about seventy-five years of age lectured in a little town in Delaware one night over thirty years ago, said they told him that they would give him a certain skull if he would describe the character of its possessor. This was the skull, and they admitted that he had

determined the character well. He thinks a great deal of this trophy, and has another skull, belonging to Ebenezer Johnson, the guardian or pal of Patty Cannon and father of her son-in-law, which he also dug up and took to New York. Gath’” [Cincinnati Enquirer, Feb. 7, 1882].

Ebenezer Johnson Sr. had been shot and killed sometime during a shootout over a property dispute about 1814–1817. Patty Cannon died in jail while awaiting trial in 1829. The date or cause of her sister Betsy’s demise is not known.

Townsend had briefly mentioned in “The Entailed Hat” that he had seen Patty Cannon’s skull in Fowler’s museum, but he gave no details, so this recently uncovered account is most revealing.

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It is not known exactly how Patty Cannon died. She could have died a natural death in prison while awaiting trial, or possibly, as legend has it, by taking poison she had secreted in the hem of her dress. It is not known why she had the foresight to

Too Many Skulls

have poison with her, but perhaps it was part of her kidnapping/murder tool kit ~ and legend did have it that she poisoned her husband. Another legend has her escaping to Canada, but if that had happened, you would have thought that would have been big news! Or she could have died of natural causes due to age and disease.

Townsend wrote, “For a while Patty Cannon, by her affability and sorrow, had easy times in jail and was allowed to eat with the jailer’s family; but as the examination proceeded before the grand jury, and her menials hastened to throw their responsibility in so many crimes upon her alone, an outer opinion demanded that she be treated more harshly and some of the irons she had manacled upon her captives were riveted upon her own ankles. Very soon dropsy began to appear in her legs and feet, and, after it became evident to her that neither money nor friends were forthcoming in her defense, she fell into a passive despair…

“The result was hastened by Patty

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Too Many Skulls

Cannon’s death, which happened, to the great relief of many respectfully considered people in that region, who had feared from the first that she would make a minute confession, implicating everybody who had dealt with her band”

[Townsend: Entailed Hat, Tidewater Publishers, pps. 530–531].

Patty Cannon’s lawyer was Josiah Bayly of Cambridge, who was later the fifth Attorney General of Maryland.

Suicide or murder? Her depression could have led to suicide, or her death could have been from natural causes. The swelling of the limbs might have indicated a heart condition, and certainly the Georgetown jail in 1829 must not have been the healthiest place for anyone. But murder is another possibility, because slaves were valuable property, and since it was illegal in Delaware to sell slaves out of the state where they were worth more, you can bet that locals needing money availed themselves of the services of Patty Cannon and Company to dispose of their human property for some quick cash. Therefore, some prominent citizens might have been nervous about what Patty might reveal on the witness stand. It is at least possible (or at least not impossible) that her death was murder and not suicide.

But die she did, from whatever

cause it was, before her trial, and there is general agreement that she was buried in the northeast corner of the county jail yard.

Fowler the phrenologist was lecturing in Georgetown in February 1840 when he was presented with Patty Cannon’s skull, which was later displayed in his phrenological museum in New York City until the museum closed in the early 1900s. It is not known what became of the approximately 1,500 human skulls and plaster casts on display there.

It has been assumed that the Patty Cannon skull lately in the possession of the Dover Public Library in Dover, Del., was the skull that the Fowlers had, but recently discovered descriptions of the Fowler skull disprove that.

However, some apparently were not aware of that fact and still thought that her skull and accompanying skeleton were still in the jail yard, as evidenced by this startling article from 1881:

PATTY CANNON

A MONUMENT TO BE ERECTED TO HER MEMORY.

A STRANGE LIFE FITLY ENDING IN SUICIDE, AND A BURIAL IN A NEGLECTED CORNER OF THE PRISON YARD IN GEORGETOWN.

“A movement has been started in

Too Many Skulls [Georgetown (Del.) Correspondent]

Georgetown to solicit subscriptions for a monument to be erected over the grave of Patty Cannon. It is not to be built for the perpetuation of any virtue, but on the contrary, it is to be erected so that the burial place of one of the most remarkable, and at the same time the most bloodthirsty woman of her age, may not be entirely obliterated” [Democratic Messenger (Snow Hill, Md.), 12 Nov. 1881; p. 3].

However, this article published in 1882 explains that the so-called monument was actually an equipment shed:

WICKED PATTY CANNON

“Fifty yards from where I write stands the monument over the grave of Patty Cannon. Patty died while under sentence of death, and was buried in one corner of the jail lot in this town. There are a few who are of the opinion that she bribed the sheriff and escaped while some one else’s remains were interred at the spot mentioned as a ruse to cover her flight. The monument over her grave is nothing more than a small shanty built to cover the new road machine bought by the town, but the town fathers once selected and marked the spot as the site of Patty’s grave, and since then the mark has gone by the name of “Patty’s monu-

Melissa Grimes-Guy Photography

Too Many Skulls

ment” [St. Paul Globe, Oct. 9, 1882].

Of course, an equipment shed being Patty Cannon’s monument was a joke.

At some point, due to remodeling and expansion of the Georgetown jail, at least two or three bodies that were buried there were exhumed by then-Deputy Sheriff James Marsh and reinterred in the Potter’s field cemetery behind the Almshouse.

And in 1902, another Patty Cannon skull was found.

FOUND PATTY CANNON’S SKULL

Georgetown, Del. July 31

“While excavating in the east

corner of the Sussex county jail lot this afternoon, some prisoners unearthed the skull and a number of bones which are said to be those of Patty Cannon, the notorious slave trader, whose home was located on the Delaware-Maryland line at Johnson’s Cross Roads in this county…

“The skull and bones are on exhibition at James A. Marsh’s law office, and scores of persons are attracted there to see them. There seems to be no doubt of the bones being those of Patty Cannon, as the oldest citizens say no one was ever buried there except her” [Morning News, Wilmington, Del., Aug. 1, 1902].

That said, the article was incor -

Too Many Skulls

rect that only Patty Cannon was buried there, because several bodies had already been disinterred and moved to the nearby Sussex County Potter’s field for paupers and indigent people, now on the grounds of the Shockley Center in Georgetown. It is still in use.

Obviously, no one knew, or else had forgotten, that Fowler had gotten Patty’s skull in 1840, but presumably the rest of her was still there. The fate of Fowler’s Patty Cannon skull is unknown, but it is rather unlikely that it was later reburied in the Sussex jail lot, as that area was slated for a courthouse expansion project.

When James Marsh moved to Denver about 1907, he gave his Patty Cannon skull to Charles Joseph of Sussex County, and that skull hung on a nail in a rafter of his barn, then was moved to his attic. It was finally given by Joseph’s son Alfred to the Dover Library in 1961, where it was stored in a red hat box until it was loaned to Dr. Douglass Owsley of the Smithsonian, who has it now. Plans are that it be part of an exhibition on Chesapeake Bay culture.

While I have not examined the Dover Patty Cannon skull myself, author Hal Roth remarked that the most common remark by those who have seen it is that it seems

too small to be hers. It should be noted that the old accounts describe Patty Cannon as a large and powerful woman, and Fowler said that she had a large skull, which matched descriptions of her physique. Townsend wrote that Patty Cannon was a thick-set, largebreasted, powerful-necked athlete of a woman, and Hal Roth noted in his book on Patty Cannon, The Monster’s Handsome Face, that the skull in the Dover Library appears to be too small and delicate to be Patty Cannon’s. She was reported to be stronger than most men, able to lift a 300-pound barrel of flour or wrestle a man to the ground. When the Delaware historian the late Bill Frank saw the Dover Patty Cannon skull, he wrote that it was “oh so small.”

It has been assumed that Fowler’s Patty Cannon skull somehow made it to Dover after Fowler’s museum closed, but the problems with that are that the Dover Patty Cannon skull was actually exhumed in Georgetown, Del., in 1902 and did not come from Fowler’s museum, which was apparently still open until at least about 1909.

No one knows what happened to any of the hundreds of skulls there after it closed.

Both skulls were damaged, and both are missing their lower jaws. However, some sections missing in the Fowler skull are present in the Dover skull, and some areas dam -

Too Many Skulls

certainly did not have two heads.

Of course, it’s possible that neither of the skulls is Patty’s, but, as Roth noted, the Fowler skull has a much better chance of being genuine than the Dover skull.

But, as if two Patty Cannon skulls were not enough, George Alfred Townsend “Gath” said that he saw Patty Cannon’s skull at the Fowler Museum in New York at the same time the skull was reported to be in Georgetown. It is possible that one of these was a plaster cast, as Fowler was known to have for sale a set of plaster casts of notable and notorious skulls for phrenological purposes.

aged in the Dover skull are present in the Fowler skull, so they cannot be a match. In both 1840 woodcuts of Patty’s skull, there is so much damage to the nasal and upper jaw part of the skull below the eye sockets that the skull had to be propped up for it to sit level, while photos of the Dover Patty Cannon skull show it sitting upright without a prop. The left eye socket is damaged in the Dover skull, while the Fowler skull had both eye sockets. Also, Fowler said the skull he had was large, matching all the descriptions of Patty Cannon’s physique, while the Dover skull seems to be too small. There are clearly two skulls here, not one, so while Patty Cannon may have been a monster, she

“All the casts that were made directly from skulls, on the other hand, illustrated oddities, deficiencies, or exemplary examples of phrenological composition. Among the latter were Patty Cannon, Murderess (“All the moral organs small…”) [Scientific American Invention, Technology, and National Identity by Susan Branson, p. 150].

Apparently, Fowler also offered for sale sets of plaster casts of abnormal skulls, including Patty Cannon’s. It would be great to find one of them on eBay!

Too many skulls!

Note: The Patty Cannon drawings are from The Illustrated Version of the Life and Death of the “Wretched” Patty Cannon by Daniel G. Coston, Jr.; Sussex Prints;

Georgetown, DE., 1976 and used with permission.

Update on the theory that Patty Cannon’s sister Betsy may have been buried in the Twiford family graveyard because she married Bartholomew Twiford. Probably not. Twiford died, and then she married John Gillis, who dumped her when he found out her unsavory connections with the Cannon gang. Then she “took up” with someone named Bill Russell and vanished from the record. So, where could Betsy and Ebenezer Johnson have been buried so that Fowler the phrenologist could have easily dug them up from a place that no one cared about to display in his

museum? I think the logical place was the Georgetown potter’s field, which was behind the Alms House. Ebenezer was a known felon and Betsy was definitely a disreputable character, so they may well have ended up there.

Unlike the graves in Easton’s potter’s field, which were not marked or recorded, the pauper graves in Georgetown were marked and recorded. Unfortunately, the records only go back to 1847, too late to have listed Betsy or Ebenezer, who died about 1815. Barring any new discoveries, that will likely remain a mystery.

James Dawson is the owner of Unicorn Bookshop in Trappe.

TRAIL BLAZING O P E N F O R

Discover Caroline County, MD – a region brimming with outdoor adventures!

Caroline’s 8,000+ acres of wildlife sanctuaries, nature preserves and parks provide trails and waterways perfect for exploring year-round. Be open for adventures! Go to VisitCaroline.org.

Guided walk at Adkins Arboretum

Caroline County – A Perspective

Caroline County is the very definition of a rural community. For more than 300 years, the county’s economy has been based on “market” agriculture.

Caroline County was created in 1773 from Dorchester and Queen Anne’s counties. The county was named for Lady Caroline Eden, the wife of Maryland’s last colonial governor, Robert Eden (1741-1784).

Denton, the county seat, was situated on a point between two ferry boat landings. Much of the business district in Denton was wiped out by the fire of 1863.

Following the Civil War, Denton’s location about fifty miles up the Choptank River from the Chesapeake Bay enabled it to become an important shipping point for agricultural products. Denton became a regular port-ofcall for Baltimore-based steamer lines in the latter half of the 19th century.

Preston was the site of three Underground Railroad stations during the 1840s and 1850s. One of those stations was operated by Harriet Tubman’s parents, Benjamin and Harriet Ross. When Tubman’s parents were exposed by a traitor, she smuggled them to safety in Wilmington, Delaware.

Linchester Mill, just east of Preston, can be traced back to 1681, and possibly as early as 1670. The mill is the last of 26 water-powered mills to operate in Caroline County and is currently being restored. The long-term goals include rebuilding the millpond, rehabilitating the mill equipment, restoring the miller’s dwelling, and opening the historic mill on a scheduled basis.

Federalsburg is located on Marshyhope Creek in the southern-most part of Caroline County. Agriculture is still a major portion of the industry in the area; however, Federalsburg is rapidly being discovered and there is a noticeable influx of people, expansion and development. Ridgely has found a niche as the “Strawberry Capital of the World.” The present streetscape, lined with stately Victorian homes, reflects the transient prosperity during the countywide canning boom (1895-1919). Hanover Foods, formerly an enterprise of Saulsbury Bros. Inc., for more than 100 years, is the last of more than 250 food processors that once operated in the Caroline County region.

Points of interest in Caroline County include the Museum of Rural Life in Denton, Adkins Arboretum near Ridgely, and the Mason-Dixon Crown Stone in Marydel. To contact the Caroline County Office of Tourism, call 410-479-0655 or visit their website at www.tourcaroline.com .

Dorchester Map and History

Dorchester County is known as the Heart of the Chesapeake. It is rich in Chesapeake Bay history, folklore and tradition. With 1,700 miles of shoreline (more than any other Maryland county), marshlands, working boats, quaint waterfront towns and villages among fertile farm fields – much still exists of what is the authentic Eastern Shore landscape and traditional way of life along the Chesapeake.

For more information about Dorchester County visit https://tidewatertimes.com/travel-tourism/dorchester/.

TIDEWATER GARDENING

by K. Marc Teffeau, Ph.D.

February Activities

If you can motivate yourself, there are gardening activities to be done both inside and outside the house on some of the milder February days. While it is too early to seed vegetables in the garden, there are other activities in the landscape.

This month, watch for signs of growth in early spring bulbs.

Gradually start removing mulch when foliage reaches one inch high. Cloudy days are best for the initial exposure of leaves to strong sunlight, which can burn tender foliage. Pinch off early buds from developing pansies to encourage plants to branch and form more buds.

Don’t be in a hurry to remove

mulch from perennials. A warm day may make you think spring is almost here, but colder weather will return. Also remember to

avoid walking on frozen grass and groundcovers during winter. Ajuga is especially sensitive, and large portions can die back if walked on, leaving bare spots in spring. The frozen leaves are brittle and easily damaged.

Even though there might be rain or snow, the soil against a house dries out under the eaves where rain rarely reaches. Be sure to water well during a thaw to prevent loss of plants. Remember that plants require water during winter to replace moisture lost to wind desiccation and lack of precipitation.

My favorite small fruits to grow are red raspberries and blackberries. I do not discourage home

Tidewater Gardening

gardeners from growing tree fruit, but brambles are a lot easier and less work. If you grow tree fruit on the Shore, you will have to commit yourself to a spray schedule to get quality fruit.

This two-year growth pattern is typical of all brambles, except for fall-fruiting raspberries such as Heritage. In fall-fruiting red raspberries, the cane flowers in late July, begins fruiting in August and finishes fruiting with the first frost.

Heritage is the most popular cultivar of fall-fruiting red raspberries, but other red primocane cultivars are also recommended for Maryland. The University of Maryland Extension Home and Garden Information center website lists the following additional red cultivars: Amity, Autumn Britten, Caroline, Jaclyn and Josephine. Caroline, Jaclyn and Josephine are all University of Maryland releases.

February is a good time to do some pruning on bramble plantings. Red, black and purple raspberries and both thorny and thornless blackberries are referred to as brambles. To understand the pruning practices for your brambles, it is first necessary to understand their growth habits.

Brambles have perennial crowns and roots with only biennial canes (which live for two growing seasons). The vegetative shoots that come from the crowns are called primocanes during their first growing season. In late summer, flower buds form on the primocanes and remain dormant through winter. During the second growing season, these buds flower, fruit and then die.

After fall-fruiting raspberries have finished fruiting, you can cut out all the canes because they will produce new fruiting primocanes in spring. For the regular brambles, carefully prune out the dead canes in the plants now and leave the fruiting canes for this year’s production.

If you are like me, you have a varied supply of vegetable seeds that date back a couple of years. Most vegetable seeds have a short life and usually will not be viable after a year or two, especially if they have been stored in a shed or garage. Seeds that fall into this category include sweet corn, onions, okra, beans, parsnips and peppers. I have also found that both garden peas and “sugar” peas lose their viability after about three years. I had some older sugar snap peas that I mixed with fresh pea seed and planted last year. The older ones did not germinate, or if they did, they succumbed very quickly to damping-off disease. The best advice is to use vegetable seed packed for the 2023 season and

toss any seed that is two or more years old. It is also important to handle seed packets carefully. Rubbing the outside of the packet to determine how many seeds are inside can break the protective seed coats. This will result in a reduced rate of germination.

If you did not get it done earlier, you can prune hybrid tea roses now, removing old canes and lowering the plants to a height of 12–15 inches. Apply a drop of white glue or place a thumb tack at the end of the fresh-cut canes to prevent borers from laying their eggs on the cut. Also apply a dormant spray of lime-sulfur and dormant oil before active growth appears. Clean up rose beds, discard old foliage and

Packaged for 2023

pieces of canes, and remove old mulch with weeds. Re-apply a fresh layer of mulch to the rose beds.

This is also an ideal time to prune clumps of ornamental grasses before new growth appears. Tie the large clumps with rope and cut them to the correct height with a hedge trimmer. If you use hay and manure in the garden, one way to make old hay and manure free of weeds is to spread it on the soil in late winter, water well and cover with black plastic. The weed seeds will sprout after a few days of warm weather and will be killed by frost and lack of daylight.

If you use clay pots for container gardening, February is a good time to clean and disinfect them by soaking in a solution of one part liquid bleach and 10 parts water.

Wear plastic gloves, and scrub the pots with a stiff brush. Rinse thoroughly to remove all the bleach residue. Doing this now will have them ready to be planted with spring annuals. While you are cleaning the pots, conduct a review of your other outside containers and consider replacing any that have been cracked or otherwise damaged. Now is also a good time to hang or clean out bluebird houses before the birds start looking for a home.

I always recommend that you do not reuse potting soil left in containers but rather start the gardening season with fresh growing medium. If you are growing vegetables in raised beds, the soil from the container plants can be recycled into the bed, assuming there were no soil disease problems in the containers. You can also add this soil to a compost pile.

If there is no snow on the ground

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Tidewater Gardening

in February, you can lime the lawn and garden if you didn’t get to it last fall. Apply the correct amount of lime based on your soil test results. If the ground dries out a bit, you can still take soil samples and send them to a commercial soil test lab, though the results will be

a little slower getting back to you because of testing backup this time of year.

In the January “Tidewater Gardening” article, I briefly mentioned the Maryland state flower,

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Tidewater Gardening

the Black-Eyed Susan. Well, The 2023 PERENNIAL PLANT OF THE YEAR® Award from the Perennial Plant Association goes to Rudbeckia ‘American Gold Rush’ PP28498 Black-Eyed Susan. According to the Perennial Plant Association, “‘American Gold Rush’ is a stunning focal point in perennial borders and meadows and is brilliant when massed in public or corporate landscapes.

Butterflies caper over the blooms and songbirds feast on the plentiful seed long after the flowers have passed ~ the seedheads provide winter interest too. Garden companions are many, including alliums, asters,

sages, and native grasses such as little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) and prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis).”

‘American Gold Rush’ is a compact plant that grows 22–27 inches tall with a width of up to 40 inches. It produces a prolific number of 3-inch yellow flowers and is resistant to “Septoria leaf spot ~ a debilitating fungal disease that causes unsightly black spotting and premature seasonal decline on some black-eyed Susans.”

In addition to being named the 2023 Perennial Plant of the Year®, ‘American Gold Rush’ was a 2020 All American Selection (AAS) National Winner, and the National Garden Bureau has named 2023

Tidewater Gardening

the Year of Rudbeckia in its perennial class. Kind of like a plant trifecta. Be a proud Marylander and plant ‘American Gold Rush’ in your perennial flower bed this year.

February weather can be pretty gloomy and somber. How would you like to get a jump in spring? You can brighten your winter home by forcing a number of springblooming shrub branches. Generally, it takes two or three weeks to bring to blossom such items as pussy willow, forsythia, Japanese quince, flowering almond, azalea, magnolia, European birch and red maple. Cut some of these flowering branches and bring them inside.

Keep them in a cool area and they will flower out. Happy Gardening!!

Marc Teffeau retired as Director of Research and Regulatory Affairs at the American Nursery and Landscape Association in Washington, D.C. He now lives in Georgia with his wife, Linda.

St. Michaels Map and History

On the broad Miles River, with its picturesque tree-lined streets and beautiful harbor, St. Michaels has been a haven for boats plying the Chesapeake and its inlets since the earliest days. Here, some of the handsomest models of the Bay craft, such as canoes, bugeyes, pungys and some famous Baltimore Clippers, were designed and built. The Church, named “St. Michael’s,” was the first building erected (about 1677) and around it clustered the town that took its name.

For a walking tour and more history of the St. Michaels area visit https://tidewatertimes.com/travel-tourism/st-michaels-maryland/.

Ouray Collection

For more than a decade, Lancaster Legacy has been creating quality hardwood furniture in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. As a family-owned business, we take special pride in every piece we build, and we continuously strive to bring our customers the nest handcra ed furniture available.

Shipwrecks and Rescues

by A.M. Foley

A modern hazard to navigation was exposed last March when a huge container ship grounded just shy of the Bay Bridge. The State of Maryland had outlawed drivers texting or using handheld cells on the road but had neglected to include pilots guiding container ships on the Chesapeake. After due consideration, in January the Maryland Board of Pilots barred on-duty pilots from similar distractions.

According to witnesses, the pilot directing the Ever Forward

was distracted for much of the trip from Baltimore by personal phone calls that appeared to be disturbing. Coast Guard investigators found the 1,095-foot ship missed a bend in the shipping channel and ran aground at full speed as its pilot typed an email on his personal phone.

An overly diplomatic third officer, senior on the bridge while the captain was at dinner, tried to cue the pilot to take his eyes from his cellphone but failed to get his attention. With no change of course

Shipwrecks and Rescues saw relaunch of Ever Forward forward, and the natives enjoying the spectacle from the shore were friendly. A senior Coast Guard officer described the task of freeing a 117,000-ton weight from bottom mud as “historic in scope.” Once upon a time, seamen in similar fixes were not assured of such a congenial reception and outcome.

ordered, the ironically named Ever Forward grounded off Sandy Point State Park. The park gave voyeurs a good vantage point for the five-week struggle to refloat the behemoth and its mountain of 4,964 containers.

Fortunately, no innocent humans were harmed by the fiasco, the Coast Guard eventually over -

When groundings and wrecks were quite common, those sailing the seven seas heard horrific tales of what might await them should they survive running aground or sinking off a rocky coast. Maurice O’Sullivan, a native of the Blasket Islands, witnessed the cargo ship Quebra , which foundered one foggy night in the rocky Atlan-

Simpatico Wine & Chocolate Tasting Event

In Association with the St. Michaels ChocolateFest

March 4th, 2023, 12 to 5 PM

Enjoy tastings of up to 16 Italian wines and fabulous Italian chocolates!

To purchase tickets or for info www.simpaticostmichaels.com/events

Check-In at our Courtyard, Tastings in Both Buildings on Site.

Celebrate “All Things Italian” with our unique selection of wines, foods, ceramics and more!

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Oxford Map and History

Oxford is one of the oldest towns in Maryland. Although already settled for perhaps 20 years, Oxford marks the year 1683 as its official founding, for in that year Oxford was first named by the Maryland General Assembly as a seaport and was laid out as a town. In 1694, Oxford and a new town called Anne Arundel (now Annapolis) were selected the only ports of entry for the entire Maryland province. Until the American Revolution, Oxford enjoyed prominence as an international shipping center surrounded by wealthy tobacco plantations.

Today, Oxford is a charming tree-lined and waterbound village with a population of just over 700 and is still important in boat building and yachting. It has a protected harbor for watermen who harvest oysters, crabs, clams and fish, and for sailors from all over the Bay. For a walking tour and more history visit https://tidewatertimes. com/travel-tourism/oxford-maryland/.

Shipwrecks and Rescues

tic west of Ireland’s coast. In his memoir Twenty-Years A-Growing, O’Sullivan described the relief of the rescued captain.

Bound from New York to Liverpool in 1916, the Quebra ’s captain had changed course after a German U-boat was sighted. Around 3 a.m., Quebra grazed one rock, then struck another directly and began to sink. The captain launched his crew into two lifeboats and then took a third boat himself, along with his mate and the lone-remaining crewman. At daybreak, isolated Great Blasket Island came into view. The three men searched along cliffs for a possible landing.

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“We thought then that it was some backward country with no one alive in it,” the captain related. “There was a great, sweeping swell on the rocks.”

Likely he and his companions were leery of the reception they might encounter if the strange island were populated. Searching half an hour for a safe landing, they had ample time to mull over old tales of “wreckers” who historically threatened survivors in the region. Some such villains even made a living by tricking ships onto a beach. The Quebra had set out from New York, where old tales recalled Long Island wreckers. Farther south, the name Nag’s Head was said to derive from wreckers on the Outer Banks

who hung a lantern from a pony’s neck. As the pony was led along the shore at night, the swaying lantern suggested a ship sailing to shore ahead of the intended victim, who would be lulled into false security and run aground.

This well-recorded trick had reputedly crossed the Atlantic from England, not far from the Quebra survivors’ location. Formerly, salvaging a wreck’s cargo was legal only if all aboard were dead. Along with cargo and wreckage, looting the quick and the dead was said to have been common. As they rowed around the forbidding cliffs, the Atlantic pounding ceaselessly against the rocks, they must have felt akin to historic seamen in peril from more than the sea.

Meanwhile, Blasket fishermen, who eked a living from the surrounding waters, watched from atop the cliffs. They saw the sink-

ing cargo ship and watched the first two lifeboats head off toward Dunquin harbor on the Irish coast. Knowing where the captain’s circling lifeboat would find a safe island landing, they descended to the strand to wait.

When the seamen were safely ashore, locals assisted the injured crewman up to their village for attention. The captain told the assembled group of the nighttime foundering and how they sighted the island and groped for a landing, wondering if the island were inhabited. O’Sullivan quotes the captain, relieved at the kindness of the fishermen awaiting him: “Upon my word, you are here ~ fine, well-favoured people, man -

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nerly, intelligent, generous, and hospitable.”

The village leader said, “I promise you, since the war began, it is many a sailor has been saved here from the sea. And as for attending them well, they get what we have. But you must be cold and wet standing there. Come up into the village.”

For months afterwards, every north wind brought riches to be salvaged from the tide. As O’Sullivan said, “From that out there was plenty and abundance in the Island ~ food of all sorts, clothes from head to heel, every man, woman, and child with a watch in their pockets; not a penny leaving home; everything a mouth could ask for coming in with the tide from day to day ~ all except the sugar which melted as soon as it touched water.”

(Being a youngster at the time, he lamented this loss.)

A bedtime prayer among the impoverished children of England’s coast was, “God bless father and mother and send a ship t’shore ’fore morning.”

Back on our side of the Atlantic, no known evidence indicates that ruthless wreckers ever prowled Delmarva’s coast. In 1903, Scribner’s Monthly interviewed the Hog Island, Virginia, lighthouse keeper. Of fishermen living amid those shifting sands, the keeper said, “It’s never been charged against the natives of Hog Island that they ever lured vessels to their destruction by false lights and signals, as did the wreckers of Nag’s Head, nor did they decoy them in the shallows like the natives of Roanoke Island.”

Above Delmarva, a New Jersey islander defending his reputation testifying in the 1800s, “Them stories is injust. The men as is called Barnegat pirates are not us fishermen…never were. They’re from the mainland and such…as come down to a wreck…. We do our share of stealing, I’ll confess, but from Sandy Hook to Cape May, it’s innocent to what’s done on Long Island. No man or woman was ever robbed on this beach till they was dead. Of course, I don’t mean their trunks and such, but not the body. The Long Islanders cut off fingers of living people for rings, but the Barnegat men never

Oxford Business Association February 2023 Calendar

2/8 - Beginner Chalk Mineral Paint Class – Learn how to use Dixie Belle chalk mineral paint and sealers to paint furniture, picture frames, home décor items too! You will be painting practice boards, applying paints, glazes & sealers. $45, all materials provided. 10 a.m. - 1 p.m. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info or sign up, go to www.treasurechestoxford.com or call 410-924-8817

2/10 – Sac au Lait – Jazz Concert with optional Jambalaya dinner “Baltimore’s Finest in Dixieland”. Oxfordcc.org for more information and tickets.

2/11 – Cooking Demo at the Robert Morris Inn - Wild Bay Rockfish, 10 a.m. More info and registration at: https://www.robertmorrisinn.com/cook-school.aspx

2/13 – Maryland Food Bank at Oxford Community Center, noon – 2 p.m.

2/14 or 28 – It’s All Greek to Me: An Adventure in Cooking – Chesapeake Forum at Oxford Community Center. More info and registration at chesapeakeforum.org.

2/16 - Bring Your Own Piece Furniture Painting Class – Bring a small piece such as a small table, plant stand, footstool, picture frame, bread box and learn how to paint it with Chalk Mineral paint. $65, includes 4 oz. jar of paint.5-8 p.m. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info or sign up, go to www.treasurechestoxford.com or call 410-924-8817.

2/16 – 26 – Tred Avon Players present Time Stands Still – Thur.-Sat., Sun. matinee, Oxford Community Center. For info and tickets go to: www.tredavonplayers.org .

2/24 – SILK All-in-One Chalk Paint Demo – 5-6 p.m., $10. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info or sign up, go to www.treasurechestoxford.com or call 410-924-8817.

2/24 or 25 – Burn’s Night at the Robert Morris Inn – 6 p.m. Info and reservations at: www.robertmorrisinn.com/special-dinners.aspx .

Check restaurant and shop websites or facebook for current days/hours.

Shipwrecks and Rescues

touch the body till it’s dead. No sir.”

The Hog Island lightkeeper reflected similarly on how islanders sustained themselves with flotsam from wrecks: “There were no markets for fish or game in those days, but the natives obtained the luxuries of life just the same. Old ocean, so merciless and cruel to men, yet was a bountiful provider to her children within the sound of her voice; for many a wreck has she tossed up on the island shores, and at times the natives reaped a rich harvest…. There are in many homes on the Eastern Shore, queer things of a by-gone day, that could tell strange tales….”

Shipwrecks were once so common the federal government established a system to attempt rescuing survivors from stormdriven groundings. The Coast Guard assisting Ever Forward evolved largely from that U.S. Life-Saving Service, which established a system of 19 stations on

the Eastern Shore in 1875 to house “surfmen” who constantly patrolled Delmarva’s coast for ships in distress.

The late George and Suzanne Hurley were instrumental in preserving Ocean City’s Life-Saving Service Station and creating the museum now housed there. Their tribute to the surfmen who manned Delmarva’s stations, Shipwrecks and Rescues: Along the Barrier Islands of Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia, documents 300 vessels totally wrecked on the islands between 1875 and 1914. With the coming of two World Wars, German U-boats prowled Delmarva’s coast, sow -

ing mines and torpedoing allied shipping. The Hurleys list a dozen tanker and cargo ships sunk just in the opening spring of WW II.

Groundings and founderings are much rarer today, despite the evidence of the Ever Forward and its parent company’s Ever Given , which halted global trade one year earlier by jamming crosswise in the Suez Canal. Modern communication and navigation systems are readily available now, which should prevent, not cause, grounding or foundering.

Visits to Ocean City are not always conducive to contemplation. In the summer, it’s difficult to fully appreciate the museum in the old Life-Saving Station, which stands where the Boardwalk glitz

trails off at the Inlet. The museum houses primitive equipment used since 1875 under difficult conditions, in superhuman efforts to rescue survivors. From November until April, when the museum opens on bleak winter weekends, one can more fully appreciate the valor once extended by the station’s surfmen.

Forty-some years ago, A.M. Foley swapped the Washington, D.C. business scene for a writing life on Elliott Island, Maryland. Tidewater Times kindly publishes Foley’s musings on regional history and life in general. Published works are described at www.HollandIslandBook.com .

The Real Dish

Winter’s chill doesn’t stand a chance against the three C’s: comfort, coziness and casserole.

That last word, “casserole,” conjures up certain images for everyone. They warm us in winter, comfort us when grieving and make us smile when they show up on the table.

They are the first things to go at potluck suppers and show off what

we can do with just a few ingredients. But remember this: a casserole is only as good as the ingredients you put into it.

Casseroles have been around since human beings created their first earthenware pots. They were common pots with everyone eating from them.

The word “casserole” is French,

meaning a saucepan, and that word has Latin origins. The first written recipe for a casserole comes from the 13th or 14th century, from a French cookbook, and it describes an early form of lasagna—strips of pasta layered with cheese. When people use the term casserole today, they are referring to a onedish meal that’s baked in the oven.

There’s a reason why casseroles have recently become popular again. They offer effortless meals that you can quickly prep ahead of time, making the perfect dinner solution for our busier-than-ever weeknights.

I’m not offering lasagna here,

but a few recipes with favorite ingredients: squash, apples, corn, bacon, chicken and, yes, green beans! They are easy and flavorful! You can prepare these casseroles a day ahead and then bake them. Enjoy!

Butternut Squash and Apple Casserole

You will love the contrast of squash and tart apples in this super-easy dish! Cook the squash in the microwave for 3 minutes on high to make peeling and slicing easier.

1 butternut squash, about 2 lbs., peeled and cut into ½-inch slices

3 medium tart apples, peeled and thinly sliced

1/3 cup (or less) brown sugar

1-1/2 t. flour

1/2 t. cinnamon

2 T. butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Coat a 9 x 13-inch baking dish with cooking spray.

Layer squash and apples. Mix brown sugar, flour and cinna -

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mon; sprinkle over top. Drizzle with melted butter. Bake, covered with foil, until squash and apples are tender, 45–55 minutes. Serves 6–8.

1/3 c. Parmesan cheese, grated

3 T. dry breadcrumbs

1/2 t. paprika

1/4 t. onion powder

Coat a 9 x 9-inch baking dish with cooking spray.

Healthy

Fresh Green Bean Casserole

I think the original green bean casserole came from the back of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup! All I know is it’s a favorite side dish that I think needed a serious makeover. There are no canned beans, soup or onion rings in this recipe, and I promise you won’t miss them!

1 lb. fresh green beans, ends snapped

4 T. extra virgin olive oil

4 T. butter

1 large onion, chopped

8 oz. cremini or bella mushrooms, sliced

3 cloves garlic, minced

2-1/2 c. milk

1/2 t. sea salt

1/2 t. freshly ground pepper

2 T. flour

In a large skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. Add chopped onion and cook until tender, 5 minutes, stirring often. Add mushrooms and cook for 4 minutes longer. Stir in garlic and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Transfer mixture to a bowl.

Using the same skillet over medium heat, add butter and flour and mix quickly with a whisk so no lumps form. Let cook, stirring often, for 1–2 minutes. Stir in milk, salt and pepper. Cook for 4 minutes until mixture thickens.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Bring a large pot of water to a boil and cook green beans for 7 minutes. Drain.

Add onion-mushroom mixture to cream sauce and stir. Add green beans and stir to mix well. Transfer into the prepared baking dish and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese and breadcrumb mixture. Bake for 25 minutes until bubbly. Serves 4.

Goat Cheese

Scalloped Potatoes

This is a great make-ahead dish! It can be assembled a day ahead, covered with plastic wrap and chilled. Bring to room temperature

Tidewater Kitchen

before baking. Make sure the potatoes are completely covered with the sauce before chilling.

3–4 lbs. potatoes

2 shallots, chopped

2 T. butter

1 c. cream

1 c. milk

8 oz. soft mild goat cheese

1 t. freshly ground black pepper

Sea salt to taste

Fresh chives, chopped

2 cloves garlic

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Peel potatoes and cut into 1/8inch slices. Keep slices in cold wa-

ter while making sauce. Cook shallots in butter in a small skillet over medium heat, stirring until softened. Transfer to a blender and puree with milk, cream, cheese, salt, pepper and garlic.

Drain potatoes and pat dry. Arrange in a greased 9 x 13-inch casserole in 3 layers, pouring some of the sauce over each layer and ending with sauce.

Cover with foil and bake. Remove foil after 30 minutes and continue to bake until potatoes are tender, 30 minutes more. Top with chives. Serves 8.

Corn Casserole With Bacon

6 bacon strips

1 medium onion, chopped

2 T. flour

2 garlic cloves, minced

1/2 t. sea salt

1/2 t. freshly ground pepper

1 c. sour cream

1 small can mild diced green chilies

3-1/2 c. fresh or frozen corn kernels

1 T. fresh parsley

1 T. minced chives

Preheat oven to 350°F. In a large skillet, cook bacon until crisp. Drain, reserving 2 T. of drippings. Crumble bacon and set aside.

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Sauté onion in bacon drippings until tender. Add flour, garlic, salt and pepper and cook, stirring, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in sour cream until smooth. Add corn, green chilies, parsley and half the bacon. Mix well. This is a thick, rich mixture that will coat all the corn. Spoon into a 1-quart baking dish. Sprinkle with remaining bacon. Bake, uncovered, for 25 minutes, or until heated through. Sprinkle with chives and serve. This recipe can be doubled easily. Serves 4–6.

Southwestern Chicken

If you keep all of the ingredients on hand, you’ll never have to worry about entertaining a last-minute guest. You can assemble this dish in a matter of minutes and have a delicious dinner. It is my “go-to” dinner for just such an occasion!

6–8 chicken breasts

2 cans black beans, drained and rinsed

16-oz. jar mild salsa

12-oz. bag grated Mexican cheese mix

Place chicken breasts in the bottom of a 9 x 13-inch pan. Cover chicken with black beans and salsa. Sprinkle all of the cheese over the salsa. Bake for 35–45 minutes (depending on thickness of the chicken breasts) at 350°F.

Variation: If you use 4 breasts, use 2 cans of black beans, a 12oz. jar of salsa and an 8-oz. bag of grated Mexican cheese. Serves 4–8 people.

Shrimp and Cheese Casserole

An all-time favorite. Serve this at your next party and you will agree!

6 slices white bread, buttered and cubed

1 lb. shrimp, cooked and peeled

2 c. sharp cheddar cheese, grated

1/2 t. dry mustard

1/2 t. sea salt

1/2 t. freshly ground pepper

3 eggs, beaten

2 c. milk

Arrange shrimp, bread and cheese in several layers in an 8 x 8-inch greased baking dish. Beat eggs, add mustard, salt, pepper

and milk and mix together. Pour over ingredients in the casserole. Cover with plastic wrap and let stand overnight in the refrigerator. Remove plastic wrap and bake at 350°F for one hour, covered with

aluminum foil. Serves 4.

Gnocchi

This is a really impressive, fluffy and smooth side dish for any roast. It can be served with gravy or just butter.

2 c. milk, heated but not boiling

1/2 c. Cream of Wheat

1 t. salt

1/4 c. butter, cut into small pieces

Dash of cayenne

1 c. cheddar cheese, grated

1 egg, beaten with a fork

Place warm milk, Cream of Wheat, salt, butter and cayenne in double boiler and heat thoroughly until butter is all melted. Stir of-

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ten. Remove from the burner and add grated cheese.

Add the egg (I add 1 tablespoon of the warm mixture to the egg and stir lightly. Then another tablespoon and stir. Do this 5 times, then add egg mixture to the whole warm mixture). Place in a greased casserole and let stand at room temperature.

Bake at 350°F for 1 hour until nice and brown on top. Serves 4.

A longtime resident of Oxford, Pamela Meredith, formerly Denver’s NBC Channel 9 Children’s Chef, has taught both adult and children’s cooking classes. She currently resides in Easton.

For more of Pam’s recipes, visit the Story Archive tab at tidewatertimes.com.

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When Life Hands You Lemons

Part III a multi-part series by Dan Hoyt

The Three Month Wait

The time between leaving the hospital and returning for my stem cell transplant was around three months. During that period, a lot happened to prepare me mentally and physically for the best possible outcome.

Returning home was surreal. It had only been 36 days, but so many things seemed different. I wasn’t the same person that had left just over a month before. I was down 20 pounds, was so much weaker, had no hair and still had a lot of

brain fog, but I was so happy to be home. When we pulled into the driveway, I was welcomed with an amazing yard sign welcoming me. It was such a surprise, and seeing our puppy Nellie again made me so happy. My daughter Logan and her husband, Nick, came over to see me. I remember wanting to go out back on our patio since it was such a beautiful day, but they insisted we sit out front. At that point, I learned why. They had a welcome home parade arranged for me, and one by one cars drove by our home

Lemons - Part III

with family and friends honking their horns as they passed. I was completely surprised and really thrown back by just how many took time out of their day to welcome me home. It was a tearjerker moment if ever there was one.

I remember how happy I was to no longer be in the hospital, but with that came danger of infections. My hospital room was so clean and had state-of-the-art air purification systems with hepa fil -

ters in the ceiling and a cleaning crew twice a day.

Nellie, who was then 15 weeks old, was so good 90 percent of the time, but she would get these crazy eyes going and what we called the zoomers. She still had razor-sharp puppy teeth and would jump at me with claws out. It made me laugh but was dangerous for a guy with white blood cell counts below 1. I remember it not seeming like a big deal ~ I’d wash my hands immediately after ~ but when I showed my nurses the marks and nicks Nellie had left on my hands, they

were concerned, added additional antibiotics to my many meds and scolded me to be more careful. Eventually we calmed little Nellie down, and I had far fewer encounters with those sharp teeth.

Over the next three months, I had bloodwork twice a week locally in the Quad Cities and received blood transfusions at the local hospital when needed. I was home for barely a week, and they planned for another bone marrow biopsy and the start of my third round of chemo. I remember even then wanting to go back to work. My brain was motivated and ready, but my body just didn’t respond the way it needed to, so it had to wait.

During my first 36 days in the

hospital, my weight fluctuated by more than 40 pounds. During one portion of the treatment, I was getting an increased amount of steroids to help fight my fevers and other complications. With that, I

Lemons - Part III

retained over 20 pounds of water weight.

By the end, I lost all of that plus another 20 pounds. It was hard on my body to fluctuate this much in such a short period of time. I lost so much after those two rough rounds of chemo. I not only lost a lot of weight and hair, but I lost my taste for most things, though that didn’t help on the weight loss front. I remember grading things on how they tasted with percentages: something would taste 60 percent like it should, but for the most part the taste was not good. Sweet things tasted like they should, so

that was nice, but not great for a diabetic. I had to continually reduce the sweet stuff to keep my blood sugar in check.

During that time, I was experiencing fevers and chills almost nightly. Taking two Tylenol always brought the fever back down, but my doctors and nurses wanted to make sure I didn’t have an infection, so they asked me not to take the Tylenol. The order was if my fever stayed at 100.4 or higher for over an hour to call the oncall doctors in Iowa City for guidance. Not taking the Tylenol did the trick, my fever stayed high, we called Iowa City and they told me to go to the local ER. This was June

Lemons - Part III

of 2021, and COVID was starting to get ugly again. We checked in to the ER and explained my current low blood counts to the staff, and they were able to get me to my own room quickly. The doctor had to continually call my doctors in Iowa City for instruction on what to do.

After a few hours, they decided to load me into an ambulance and ship me off to them. That was my first and hopefully last ride in an ambulance. It was loud, cold and bumpy. I was strapped in tightly and remember looking out the back window. They must have had the lights on, but no sirens. We were passing so many cars, it was crazy.

Is your bike ready to ride?

Lemons - Part III

You could see a few of them line up behind us, keeping up and catching that low aerodynamic resistance; it was a trip.

They admitted me to the hospital thinking I had an infection somewhere, so I spent four additional days in Iowa City until they let me go back home on heavy antibiotics.

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During my time in the hospital, I received two visits from my new transplant team. One was from a transplant coordinator who had the hard job of explaining the risks of getting a transplant. Not all survive, and there was a chance I would lose my life in the process. We had always been so positive about every step to that date, but it made us realize a positive attitude

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Lemons - Part III

could only get us so far and gave us our first dose of reality.

We also met my transplant doctor, Dr. Margarida Silverman, for the first time. She is the head of the blood and marrow transplant program at the University of Iowa. When we spoke to her, she was much more positive. She reassured us that my younger age, my attitude and an almost perfect match from my potential donor gave us a great chance of success. That left us feeling a bit better, but from that point forward, we were going into the situation with eyes wide open.

We did learn a little about my selected lifesaving donor. From the

19 possible donors, they narrowed down the search to three that had the best chance for a match. Each of those three had additional blood and tissue samples taken, and one final person had been chosen. I didn’t learn a lot about my future live saver, but I knew he had my same blood type, was a 35-year-old male and lived in Europe. Outside of that, all we knew was that he was the best match of the 19 and that his stem cells were going to save my life.

Over the next few months, a lot happened. I received two additional rounds of chemo, five in total, to get me ready for my transplant. Our sixth grandbaby, Ren, was born; she is Logan and Nick’s first

baby. It was so nice having them so close. I had many visitors during that time from all over the country to see me and wish me well. My

brother and sister-in-law, Pat and Toni, came for a visit from Plano, Texas. A great friend, Bill, from the Philadelphia area and his riding partners stopped on their Harleys for a visit. It was a huge surprise and made my week. One of his riding partners, Jessica, heard my story and signed up the next week on BeTheMatch.org to get on the donor list. She found out months later she was a match for someone and is still waiting on the final test results. Wouldn’t that be something? Out of this chance meeting during one of my patio visits, a stranger at the time heard my story, donated a sample of her DNA and now has a chance to save someone’s life like mine was saved. That

Lemons - Part III

family and friends from Dubuque, Iowa, the Chicagoland area and all over the Quad Cities took time to hang with us when the weather permitted. It meant a lot, and I will cherish those visits for many years to come.

is so special to me. Jessica is now a good Facebook friend, and I love following her story. Tim Dailing, my best friend from high school now living in Florida, stopped for a visit with his parents. Many other

On August 27, 2021, I entered the hospital to start my transplant treatments. I had nothing but faith in my doctors and nurses and remained positive throughout the journey. The next 30 days were going to be rough; I just didn’t realize how rough and how difficult they were going to be.

Next month - Is it good news?

Changes: Coming Again A novel in progress

by Roger Vaughan

Chapter 17: Miami

“No question it was Isha.” It was Becky on the phone. “Looks very different. Blonde. Short hair. But I’d recognize that body anywhere. And the guy with her, RD. I’m sure, although I only saw him once that day you fired him, but it had to be him.”

“Did they see you?” Andy was on the satellite phone.

“No. I’m certain. And a young girl. Maybe sixteen or eighteen, the three of them getting in a taxi.”

“I’ll be damned. Bad pennies. What in hell are they doing in Miami?”

“The girl had a Balenciaga tote bag.”

“A what?”

“Those things cost at least three grand.”

“Hmm. Isha found some money.”

“My guess.”

“Isha doesn’t go anywhere without reason. But she and RD together, ho boy…how in hell?”

“Where are you?”

Andy barely heard the question. His mind was racing. Isha and RD. And money. Has to be a plan. Isha’s

plan. She’s craftier than RD. Must have sought him out. Not hard. Mitch’s guy. She’d have to know that. What do they have in common? Me. She should be in jail because of me. RD got fired off the boat, by me. But he got off easy. Mitch’s thug. Could have had him busted and he knew it. He wouldn’t cause trouble. But he could have been reeled in. By Isha. RD is a pushover for Isha. Now they happen to be in Miami just a day or so before we are set to arrive there. No coincidence. Revenge? My God. Are they coming after me? Maybe going after the boat? RD could get that done. He knows Lauderdale’s seamy side. No, wait…it wasn’t just sex driving RD. It was money. Mitch had bought him. Money! Andy felt a bad chill sweep over him.

“Andy…you there?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re a day or so out. Maybe eleven or midnight tomorrow. Listen, call Grady. You’ve got his number.”

“Yes.”

“He’s in Miami. Waiting for us. He tracks our GPS. Describe our friends. Tell him we may be having

Coming Again

company. See if you can find them. God knows what name Isha is using, but I’ll guarantee RD is RD: Roger Davis. If they have money, they’ll be in one of the good hotels.”

Isha, Jodi and RD were sitting at a pub that had been set up in Bicentennial Park, where the boats from The Race would soon be docking. It was their third day in Miami, and it was beginning to look like they had ventured down a blind alley. Jodi hadn’t encountered any resistance when she had told her grandparents that she and Isha wanted to meet RD and Orion in Miami and watch the finish of a leg of The Race.

Club. The club is located on the small island of Fisher at the entrance to Government Cut, a long channel into the city front past Dodge Island, where cruise ships berth. The Cut ends at Bicentennial Park. Isha and Jodi were transported by the club’s launch, water being the only way to access the island. Orion had arrived at Fisher early that morning. RD had already commandeered Mark’s RIB, which the club used when the boss wasn’t in residence. In the RIB, the park was a ten-minute run.

Since Nina’s arrival, Jodi had become a much more reasonable, manageable person.

Mark had been pleased that Jodi was starting to take an interest in boats. It was a given that Nina, her companion, would go with her. The two women seemed inseparable. Since Nina’s arrival on the scene, Jodi had become a much more reasonable, manageable person. The Creightons’ gratitude was boundless. And Mark had been thoroughly enjoying Nina’s ministrations. When he had told them to hurry back as they were leaving for the airport, he wasn’t kidding.

In Miami, the two women had moved into the Creightons’ apartment at the exclusive Fisher Island

Time was running short. The Race headquarters in the park indicated that All American had a sizable lead and was predicted to finish in the next thirty hours. Isha and RD had scoured the waterfront, called on all RD’s connections, and had failed to come up with any reference to “Grady.” The mood at the table was not good. Jodi was irritable, bored. She wanted to go to Parrot Jungle. Isha was just as irritable, eager to put a hit on Andy. The frustration of waiting was catching up with her, making her wonder what the hell she was doing wasting her time with this little bitch, flying around in stupid planes to ridiculous places like Mustique and now Fisher Island, for God’s sake. She’d learned membership there was $250,000. To join a freaking club? She was feeling sick.

Coming Again

Becky had been busy. She’d struck out with the hotels, but she’d gotten lucky with RD. It hadn’t taken her long to connect him with Orion, which quickly led to the Creightons, and she identified Jodi as the teenager she’d seen with the Balenciaga bag. She had tracked the Creightons to Mustique, and the boat to Fisher Island. Hidden behind a dark wig, big sunglasses, a Miami T-shirt and cutoff jeans, Becky had hung out at Bicentennial Park, figuring that was where she’d find Isha and company. She was right. She’d taken a nearby table, where she opened her computer and sipped iced tea long enough to hear the word “Grady” spoken several times, and to conclude that these campers weren’t too happy.

Grady was incensed when Becky told him his name was being mentioned. He was also puzzled until Becky mentioned Mustique. “There’s a guy there named Jocko,” he said. “Diamonds, very big player, goes both ways because it amuses him. Dangerous. The ones at the top are the dangerous ones. They feel disconnected, above it all, untouchable. They can let things slip.”

“What should we do?”

“‘We’?”

“I hate it, but yes, of course.” Grady laughed quietly. “Okay.

Hang at the park. I’ve got someone. Let’s whip them up a little for openers. My guy is husky. He’ll be wearing a very tired Mount Gay hat. You can point him in the right direction.” * Martin looked the part, hat and all. Everything about him looked salty: the frayed shorts, the old polo shirt, the worn boating shoes. He looked like he was born to crank a coffee-grinder winch. Or maybe play rugby. Becky saw him right away. They grabbed a table some distance from RD and Isha, ordered sandwiches. Then Martin made his move, walking past RD’s table, making eye contact, stopping… “Hey, RD, right?”

ones.

“Hey,” RD said, unsure but wanting to be open.

“Australia, 1982, Sydney Hobart, Muscle Bound. Right? Blew out two jibs the second night out. Did okay.”

Martin was right. RD had sailed the Sydney Hobart Race in 1982 on Muscle Bound, an eighty-footer ~ Grady had provided that background ~ and when you sail with a crew of twenty, sometimes you don’t even recognize guys from the opposite watch in the bar afterward. It can be embarrassing.

“Yeah!” RD said. “Hell of a race.”

“Neville,” Martin said. “Richard.”

“Right, hey, Richard, grab a seat,

The ones at the top are the dangerous

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have a drink; this is Nina and Jodi.”

By the second beer, RD and Richard had replayed every sail change of the 1982 race, taking Isha and Jodi to the edge of consummate boredom. Finally RD was able to get to it.

“Dick, you’re an Aussie ~ Sydney, by any chance?”

“My town, mate.”

“I’ve been trying to locate a dude named Grady. My owner is talking about a charter down there next year, and people tell me Grady is the guy to see.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Grady. Sure. I can get a number for you. He’s in Miami right now, actually. He’s got a boy driving one of the race boats.”

armed thugs coming aboard to unscrew the fucking keel…damn! Andy was finding it difficult to whisper and yell at the same time.

“Not gonna happen,” Grady said. “That would alert the whole crew to something very fishy going on. Then they’d have to kill everybody, and I don’t think that’s what they want to do. No worries. I figure they’ll strike when you hit the dock at the park. First boat in, makes it easy. Well done, by the way. I hear Ram died in the Doldrums. Nearly two days. Poor bastards. Better them than you. Okay, here’s what I want you to do…”

Andy was finding it difficult to whisper and yell at the same time.

Isha had a mouthful of beer. When she heard this, she nearly blew it all over the table.

“No kidding?” RD said. “Yeah, that would be great. What boat?”

“All American. They’re doing well. Could win it.”

“You’re nuts!” Andy said to his father after hearing that he’d sent Martin to bullshit RD and tell him Grady was Andy’s father, give him Grady’s phone…Jesus! And also what the hell! The next thing he could expect was a RIB full of

After their bout with the whale, All American had negotiated Mona Passage without incident. The wind had decreased, as predicted, but they’d maintained enough headway to handle the nasty chop. They had finally broken free. The easterly had freshened as they’d approached the north side of Puerto Rico. From there, it was a cakewalk around the Bahamas until they turned left for Miami at Spanish Wells. From there, the sixty miles to the finish a mile off the entrance to Government Cut was a joyride. The boys used the time to get the boat organized so no chores would prevent them from jumping ashore when they landed. The gun as they crossed the finish line confirmed

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they’d won the leg, which triggered a celebration on board. Good old Sargent produced a bottle of twelveyear-old El Dorado and passed it around. It was close to midnight. Only a few spectator boats were out. The engine was started. Sails were struck, fl aked and furled.

Andy got Grady’s phone call less than a minute after they’d fi nished. He went below, as instructed, went to his bunk, which was located aft, under the cockpit, and lifted a corner of the mattress. There, as Grady had said, he’d found a small line he’d never noticed emerging from the bulkhead. Pull it carefully until you see the red mark, Grady had instructed. Andy did. Shortly thereafter, the engine began running very rough. Andy would fi nd out later that he’d pulled a simple baffle partway across the engine’s air-intake pipe. The device had been installed by Martin at the same time he’d buried the tube of jewels in the keel. Grady had thought of everything.

ed to Sargent. “We don’t want to get into the park and lose the bloody engine. He’s out here. He’ll have Martin with him.”

He removed the fake bolt top, pulled out the container of jewels.

Within minutes, Grady had brought his RIB alongside. He and Martin, with a tool bag, jumped on board. Grady gave Andy a hug. “Only one to go,” he said. “Looking good.” Grady and Martin went below. Having chased Dave Zimmer and Pete Damaris on deck, they raised the companionway steps in order to access the engine. Even though the passage was now blocked by the steps, they used fl ashlights, keeping the lights off below so those on deck wouldn’t be blinded. Martin worked fast and efficiently. He removed the fake bolt top, pulled out the container of jewels. A new bolt had been threaded inside a steel tube that made up the half inch he’d widened the hole. He coated it with fast-curing steel epoxy and tapped it gently into the hole. He added a drop of solder. Ten minutes later, the engine suddenly smoothed out.

Andy went back on deck. Eric, who was also the boat’s engine guy, went below. He was back on deck shortly, shrugging his shoulders. “It sounds like it’s not getting sufficient air,” he said. “But there’s nothing I can see causing the problem.”

“Let’s call Grady,” Andy suggest-

“What did you do?” Eric Menici asked them as they came back on deck.

“Magic,” Martin said with a smile as he and Grady jumped into the RIB and slipped into the night.

All American hadn’t been tied up at the park for more than ten

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minutes before three customs officials arrived by RIB. They were friendly, welcome to Miami and all that, saying they knew the crew was eager to experience dry land after such a long leg, so let’s get everyone checked in and get it done. They asked for all the crew to step ashore and line up with their passports. One officer handled that duty while the other two went below for an inspection. It seemed to take forever. After what must have been close to half an hour, the two men inspecting the boat came back on deck. They exchanged glances with the passport inspector, said all was good, and in short order the customs team completed its work and was gone.

said. “I’ll have the keel checked before the next leg.”

“I think those customs guys were bullshit,” Andy said. “Anything missing? You keep emergency cash, right?”

Sargent went to his bunk, rummaged around, found his toilet bag, opened it. “Son of a bitch. Gone. You’re right.”

“How much?”

“Thousand. In hundreds mostly. A few twenties.”

“Grady’s out there. He’ll track them.” Andy picked up the radio.

RD, Isha and Jodi had the TV on in the Creightons’

“I think those customs guys were bullshit,” Andy said.

“Anything missing?

As their RIB departed, Andy stepped on board All American and used the radio to send Grady a signal. He saw that the cabin sole had been disturbed. He hailed Sargent, who came below.

“They pulled up the sole. Must have been looking for drugs.”

“Look here,” Sargent said. “Every solder drop on the keel bolts has been broken. See the cracks?”

“That’s amazing,” Andy said, peering at the bolts. “Must have happened when we hit that container.”

“Or maybe the whale,” Sargent

Fisher Island apartment and were well into their second bottle of champagne. It was meant to be a celebration, or so they hoped. The air was thick with the smell of Piton Pure. But no amount of distraction could combat the nervous state they were in. Sending RD’s three crewmen to All American posing as customs agents was a mad idea. Isha’s idea. She was convinced that a packet of gems would be found on that boat. It had finally come together for her: Captain Jerome confirming that private yachts were used as carriers. His mention of an Australian group that favored hiding them in the keel. And this man Grady, whose name she’d gotten from Sonny, who’d ex-

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tracted it from Jocko ~ Grady, who had turned out to be Andy’s father. That part was a stunner. She’d never known. It explained a lot about Mitch, and Deedee, Andy’s mother. No wonder Andy had been such a mess and that Deedee had lost her mind before she’d lost her life. But this smuggling business was all too coincidental, definitely worth a shot. And there was really nothing to lose.

RD didn’t like it. But Jodi was all for anything that sounded exciting, and the two women had prevailed. RD didn’t have many cards. He worked for Jodi’s grandfather, after all. Jodi could easily trash that gig if she wanted to, and it was Jodi who was basically underwriting this game. Still, it had taken some seductive cajoling on their part, with promises of intimate activities implied. In that department, RD was no match for the two women. Passable customs uniforms had been created, and the RIB had been dispatched shortly after All American had finished. Now they were waiting, pacing around the apartment, getting high to calm their nerves ~ always a bad reason ~ and paying little attention to latenight television. Jodi had dozed off on the couch.

like a thunderbolt. It was Bob, Orion’s mate. He stood there while RD and Isha stared at him.

“Well?” RD said.

“Nothing,” Bob said.

“You checked everywhere.”

“Everywhere. Spent half an hour below, just Alan and me while Bruce checked passports.”

“The bolts?”

“Every one of them in place. Nothing. But I have to say we pulled it off. No questions asked.” Bob stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Bob from customs.” He grinned.

“That’s just great, Bob,” Isha said, disgusted.

“Thanks, Bob, good job,” RD said. “See you tomorrow.”

The quiet knock on the door was like a thunderbolt. It was Bob, Orion’s mate.

Dismissed, Bob left.

RD went to Isha, put an arm around her. “Hey, we gave it our best shot. Could have been right. What say we have a little celebration anyway?”

“In your dreams.” Isha spun away, went into her room and slammed the door, waking Jodi. “Wow, what happened?” Jodi asked.

The quiet knock on the door was

Grady and Martin entered the Fisher Island marina an hour before dawn. They had the RIB at dead idle, moving very slowly, quietly. Another RIB was tied up alongside Orion, a RIB that matched Andy’s description of the one used by the customs officers ~ orange with a

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tow bar and a Yamaha 250. They cut the engine, coasted up next to the other RIB and slipped onto Orion. They went below directly because their weight was going to move the boat enough to alert the occupants and they wanted this meeting to be below. A nightlight gave them their bearings. Three very sleepy-looking crewmen peered at them warily from their bunks.

“Oops, party’s over. Wrong boat,” one said.

“Don’t think so,” Martin replied. “Who’s in charge?”

“That would be me,” Bob said, leaning up on one elbow.

Martin sat on Bob’s bunk. He grabbed Bob’s forearm in one hand and Bob’s hand in the other, bending the hand until Bob gasped in pain.

I meant it. Or very painful for Bob. No one needs to talk. Just get the envelope and hand it gently to my friend here, and we’re all good.”

“Do it!” Bob gasped.

One of them got up, grabbed a manila envelope off a shelf above his bunk and handed it to Grady.

“All there?” Martin asked.

Grady counted, taking his time, and nodded to Martin.

“Okay,” Martin said. “Good visit.” Martin released Bob and stood up.

“Okay,” Martin said. “Good visit.” Martin released Bob and stood up.

“This is gonna be simple,” Martin said. “Give me the envelope with the cash you took off All American last night, and Bob won’t have to have his hand replaced.” Martin added a bit of pressure on Bob’s hand to confirm his intention. Bob’s body twisted. He choked in pain.

All three sailors were fully awake at this point. One of them started to speak. Bob let out a shriek that silenced him.

“Sorry, Bob,” Martin said, “but I said this was gonna be simple, and

Grady started for the companionway stairs with Martin behind him. Bob had collapsed back on his bunk with relief, in pain, rubbing his wrist. The crewman who had given the envelope to Grady was still standing. As Martin passed him in the close quarters, he took a swing at Martin. Martin was ready. He spun and caught the man’s fist in his hand, squeezing and twisting as the crewman howled in pain and fell to his knees.

“You should all go back to bed now,” Martin said.

Martin and Grady got on their RIB and motored sedately out of the Fisher Island marina. RD, who had heard the motor start, had grabbed binoculars, but the bright stern light on Grady’s RIB made identification of the boat or the occupants impossible. RD had no idea his “customs agents” had decided to relieve All American of its jukebox money.

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Chapter 18. Ink

Andy and Becky were lying in bed in their hotel room, replaying the past thirty-six hectic hours since All American had finished, winning the leg. They’d eaten a quick dinner downstairs in the interest of getting to bed early. Neither had had much sleep.

“I can’t believe they would send fake customs guys to search the boat,” Becky said. “And then they stole money!” She laughed, shook her head.

“Martin paid them a visit.”

“That must have been something. Martin, what a character. Frightening. I wouldn’t want him mad at me. He’s the guy who ‘tested’ you, right?”

ter, who has made the news a few times. Jodi. A handful. Isha must be connected there somehow, but don’t know how.” She paused. “I am so tired.”

“Me, too. Suddenly feel like I’m gonna crash. Very odd. Hope it’s not food poisoning. I don’t feel right.”

Becky shut her eyes and pulled the blanket up around her neck. Soon both of them were fast asleep.

You seem to have a tattoo on your butt. I’m not kidding.

“Yeah. Still have bad dreams.”

“He removed the ‘package’ right after you finished?”

“We faked an engine problem. He and Grady came aboard. Ten minutes later, done. Amazing dude. Package is gone, thank heavens. But how’d you figure the young girl they had with them?”

“It was easy once I dug into RD. I probably found him the same way Isha did. I started looking in the big East Coast sailing centers, made some calls. He popped up. Got him connected to Orion , the Creightons and their granddaugh -

Becky woke up first. It was late. The sun was lighting up the room. Her head hurt. She looked at the clock ~ ten a.m. Damn. How could that be? It struck her as odd that Andy was sleeping on his stomach. He was a side sleeper. She put a hand on his shoulder, gave him a little shake. He stirred.

“My head,” he mumbled. “I didn’t even have a beer last night. What hit me?”

“Whatever hit you also hit me,” Becky said.

Andy rolled out of bed, aiming for the bathroom. That was when Becky saw the thing on Andy’s buttocks.

“My God!!”

Andy stopped, alarmed by Becky’s tone. He turned. Becky looked very shocked, partially hiding her eyes behind her fingers.

“What?!”

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She peeked through her fingers, aghast.

“You seem to have a tattoo on your butt. Seriously. I’m not kidding.”

“Huh?” Andy went to the bathroom, craned his neck to see it in the mirror.

“I see something, and yeah, it burns a bit. What the hell…what is it?”

Becky was taking a long look.

“Well?”

“I can’t believe this. It says, in quite large letters, ‘FOREVER,’ and there’s a heart, and a signature: ‘Isha.’”

Andy and Becky stared at each

other, dumbfounded.

“That girl who served dessert,” Andy said. “She wasn’t our usual waitress. What the hell, Becky? You’re laughing.”

“It’s either that or cry.”

Chapters 1-16 can be found at www.tidewatertimes.com

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