In 1954, "Three Feet," a simple gated path to the harbor diagonally across the street from our house at 114 Bayview Avenue, provided an opportunity for us to become accomplished swimmers at an early age. It was also the home port of JIB, our first family rowboat that Dad bought from Emerson Boat Shop on 25A, near Reservoir Avenue.
Mr. Emerson told Dad in his down-eastern brogue that the boat just "weeped a little" but was a "dahn good buy fah fifty bucks!" He then sweetened the deal by throwing in a set of oars. Dad bought Emerson's charm and the boat which he dubbed JIB, his own initials. Our little family boat more than "weeped a little" as it spent the entire summer of 1954, swamped to the gunwales. Undaunted, we continued to use it each day and bailed with a bucket, and a steel coffee can.
Hurricane Carole in the fall of that year struck a blow, but not to worry, Emerson Boat shop was there to make the repairs (for fifty bucks). Dad was now experiencing "the boat...hole in the water syndrome" (literally), but the following year, we were back on the water, merrily bailing and rowing. We had to be careful of barnacles on the inside of the boat though, an inconvenience we shrugged off as standard operating procedure. Mom joined us nearly every day that summer, rowing all over Northport Harbor and we took turns at the oars yelling the senseless phrase, "Aye, Matey! Nothing but carrots aboard!"
1955 marked the appearance of a Mississippi Delta "steamboat" style dredge that excavated Northport Harbor mud all summer long, 24/7. Across the water on those hot summer nights, you could see the dredge profile, the upper and lower deck lights and hear the churning of machinery. Occasionally, steam whistle sounds pierced the darkness with great authority, adding to the drama of the operation. It was the hottest summer I could remember in Northport and we actually became quite proficient as junior mariners. We had no personal flotation devices and they were not in common consumer use. If you fell overboard, you just swam. If you didn't know how to swim, you had no business being in the boat; it was that simple.
In our tenure at "Three Feet," we would witness the actual eye of Hurricane Carol, news of Russia's orbiting satellite "Sputnik," TV coverage of the Andrea Doria demise and the launch of an obscure entertainer from Tupelo, MS who was introduced to us on the Dorsey Brothers "Stage Show" as "Elvis Prez-ley."
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We were part of a lifestyle that is now ancient history, content with the simple things enjoying the thrill of innocent discovery. Soon, we would be trading in those oars for the outboard motor and the Harbor Patrol would be standing by to enforce the speed limit. Chief Percy Erwin might even put in a word or two. Oh, how they always seemed to show up at the wrong time.
