| TRAVELS OF DURSMIRG VOLUME IV THE ROGUES OF ST. AUGUSTINE AND OTHER SOCIAL MISFITS Chapter 38 |
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CITY YACHT PIER AND ITS CRAFTY CREW
In the 1970s the City Yacht Pier, located downtown just south of the Bridge of Lions was a friendly place to the
anchored out boaters and transient yachters.
It was not only a place to tie your dinghy and park your bicycle and fill up your water tank but also be welcomed to
this one-of-a-kind oldest city.
Frank Helm was a retired military officer and he just couldn’t quit marching and standing at attention everywhere he
went.
Jane and I got to know this soldier man when he took a dock attendant job at the City Yacht Pier.
Rigid spit and polish Frank took many a year to get to know because he was discharged physically but mentally was
still snapped to attention so this guy was business and protocol only.
Frank went by the book on everything and was psychologically
programmed not to crack a smile.
Frank’s young wife was a local girl who happened to be the sister to our friend David Pacitti the local self made
television evangelist.
Frank’s family roots went way back in St. Augustine’s history, and his father had been in the barber shop business
with his own place for many years over on King Street across from the old slave market.
If there is someone to be held up as a contrast to all of the rogues and social misfits of St. Augustine this is your
man.
Charlie Knight; Chain smoking beer drinking fun loving Charliehad a job as a dock attendant at the City Yacht Pier.
I will never forget that whenever we would see blurry-eyed Charlieearly in the morning down on the docks of the City
Yacht Pier he would always say to me, “John, there is no sense in you going down town looking for any beer today, I
got it all last night”.
Chain smoking Charli ehad a chain smoking wife named Betty and they started a small bare-bones mom and pop
restaurant business over on Vilano Beach. Starting from humble beginnings and working hard with the minimum of
investment they put together a rustic no-frills eating establishment they called the “Clam Shell”.
Frank was the natural PR man, Betty was the cashier and Charlies dear old mother ran the kitchen. The restaurant
was started as a home style operation featuring liberal portions of the freshest of sea food at very reasonable prices
and lots of affordable beer served by the pitcher into generous sized glasses.
The amenities were rustic to the extreme. No frills furnishings consisted of homemade rough hewn lumber planking
tables and the walls were rough-cut slab wood.
Whatever they did they did it right because in no time the entire place was packed to overflowing with a waiting line
out the door to the street.
The waiting line was made fun by the director of PR, Charlie who made sure that all the clients in line had full
pitchers of fresh tap beer and glasses that were perpetually kept topped off. This was a job that Charlie was
especially good at…he loved to drink beer and party and this was the best of the best for this natural party animal.
The business thrived and was one of the all time biggest success stories in the restaurant business of St. Augustine.
Everyone that came to town was told by word of mouth about the Clam Shell and the eager clientele was soon
coming from distant cities to enjoy the special atmosphere that Charlie and Betty were naturals at.
They were so good at what they did that it wasn’t long and someone bought them out. The magic that Frank and
Betty put into the business couldn’t be transferred to new owners because it was Charlie and Betty not the location
or motif that made the business what it was.
By and by Charlie’s chain smoking finally got him and I will never forget early one morning when I ran into Charlie
walking the streets of St. Augustine. We chatted and Charlietold me that he had contracted lung cancer and only
had about six months left.
I felt sick and offered my most sincere condolences but Charlie just shrugged and said; “John everybody has to die
sometime”.
We do dearly miss that very special rogue that lit up our lives and filled our memories with happy reminiscences.
Friendly Charlie and business lady Betty helped make the world a better place and we do miss these honest social
misfits.
Jerry Cole, one of the dock attendants was the model of a southern gentleman and was a highly regarded
respectable man that did his job with genteel, polished and friendly sincerity.
Jerry diplomatically dealt with all of the Yacht Pier patrons from the largest gleaming yachts loading thousands of
gallons of fuel down to the rattiest little fishing scows topping off their gasoline tanks with their pocket change
equally and in the same friendly way.
At slack times Jerry indulged himself in his favorite sport of bow and arrow hunting and with special equipment shot
many a fish from under the dock and his results proved that he was good at it.
Passing the afternoon, the inner circle of street strolling old cronies gathered out at the end of the City Yacht Pier
on benches for congenial confabulations.
Here is a look at that crew;
The retired glib tongued outspoken Irish lawyer down from New York, Patrick Ryan was in competition in the
company of this more Irish than most Irishmen limping John O’ Sullivan with his daily dose of one-liner jokes. Still
clinging to his roots like the rest of the old-timers group was this old German guy with the his dip-net that caught
shrimp along the sea-wall at high tide mostly to feed his cats. These three men were the regulars to be counted
upon like clock- work.
The Old City’s old-country bicycle riders made it on a regular basis with Swedish sea captain Dick Janson and his
side-kick buddy only known as the “Swede” who were more at home near the water than most.
Interestingly these old-timers all identified themselves by their old country of origin because they were all first
generation immigrants and still colored their speech with the brogues of their roots.
When the wind, weather and tide were right you would always find tied under the City Yacht Pier building in their little
bateaus a special breed of fisherman. These were the
sheephead fisherman.
These fishermen were using a special technique known as chumming with broken off barnacles scraped fresh from
the pier pilings while angling from their small open fishing skiffs.
The fishermen that were good at this technique collected a bonanza of fish, but the talent required was incredible…it
looked so very easy.
(Barnacles rapidly grew in astronomical quantities on anything submerged in these prolific waters along with oysters.
The sheephead fisherman merely used a boat scrapper resembling a garden hoe that was straightened out so that
the sharp edge faced away from the handle end to send copious quantities of shredded barnacles down from the
pilings to entice the sheephead up and get them in a feeding frenzy. Actually the sheephead are finicky eaters and
this is where the talent of actually hooking them came in.)
We had our distinctively different dinghy stolen three times from the City Yacht Pier; Our vessel’s name Dursmirg
was painted in foot tall letters on each side.
I am at the fuel dock at the Yacht Pier in my little home build and designed Bingy Dinghy with the Bridge
of Lions in the background. 1973, our Bingy Dinghy was rigged to sail, row or power and served us for
fun fishing and was our water taxi.
Bingy Dinghy in motion leaves the City Yacht Pier under power. In the above photo you will see the end
section of the pier with the offices in the left building and the shower and laundry in the right. Behind
these two structures was located the open area with numerous park benches where many a pleasant
satisfying and amusing hour was passed visiting the regulars and transient tourists alike.
A note about the bathroom and shower facilities at the pier; more than once enterprising down-and-outers in the
cold of winter commandeered the shower room, locked themselves in, propped a broom against the hot air hand
dryer switch and spent a warm night.
From left a harbor view in 1973; Atlantic Bank building, Santa Maria restaurant, Dursmirg with Jane on
board, City Yacht Pier and Bridge of Lions
next chapter
In the 1970s the City Yacht Pier, located downtown just south of the Bridge of Lions was a friendly place to the
anchored out boaters and transient yachters.
It was not only a place to tie your dinghy and park your bicycle and fill up your water tank but also be welcomed to
this one-of-a-kind oldest city.
Frank Helm was a retired military officer and he just couldn’t quit marching and standing at attention everywhere he
went.
Jane and I got to know this soldier man when he took a dock attendant job at the City Yacht Pier.
Rigid spit and polish Frank took many a year to get to know because he was discharged physically but mentally was
still snapped to attention so this guy was business and protocol only.
Frank went by the book on everything and was psychologically
programmed not to crack a smile.
Frank’s young wife was a local girl who happened to be the sister to our friend David Pacitti the local self made
television evangelist.
Frank’s family roots went way back in St. Augustine’s history, and his father had been in the barber shop business
with his own place for many years over on King Street across from the old slave market.
If there is someone to be held up as a contrast to all of the rogues and social misfits of St. Augustine this is your
man.
Charlie Knight; Chain smoking beer drinking fun loving Charliehad a job as a dock attendant at the City Yacht Pier.
I will never forget that whenever we would see blurry-eyed Charlieearly in the morning down on the docks of the City
Yacht Pier he would always say to me, “John, there is no sense in you going down town looking for any beer today, I
got it all last night”.
Chain smoking Charli ehad a chain smoking wife named Betty and they started a small bare-bones mom and pop
restaurant business over on Vilano Beach. Starting from humble beginnings and working hard with the minimum of
investment they put together a rustic no-frills eating establishment they called the “Clam Shell”.
Frank was the natural PR man, Betty was the cashier and Charlies dear old mother ran the kitchen. The restaurant
was started as a home style operation featuring liberal portions of the freshest of sea food at very reasonable prices
and lots of affordable beer served by the pitcher into generous sized glasses.
The amenities were rustic to the extreme. No frills furnishings consisted of homemade rough hewn lumber planking
tables and the walls were rough-cut slab wood.
Whatever they did they did it right because in no time the entire place was packed to overflowing with a waiting line
out the door to the street.
The waiting line was made fun by the director of PR, Charlie who made sure that all the clients in line had full
pitchers of fresh tap beer and glasses that were perpetually kept topped off. This was a job that Charlie was
especially good at…he loved to drink beer and party and this was the best of the best for this natural party animal.
The business thrived and was one of the all time biggest success stories in the restaurant business of St. Augustine.
Everyone that came to town was told by word of mouth about the Clam Shell and the eager clientele was soon
coming from distant cities to enjoy the special atmosphere that Charlie and Betty were naturals at.
They were so good at what they did that it wasn’t long and someone bought them out. The magic that Frank and
Betty put into the business couldn’t be transferred to new owners because it was Charlie and Betty not the location
or motif that made the business what it was.
By and by Charlie’s chain smoking finally got him and I will never forget early one morning when I ran into Charlie
walking the streets of St. Augustine. We chatted and Charlietold me that he had contracted lung cancer and only
had about six months left.
I felt sick and offered my most sincere condolences but Charlie just shrugged and said; “John everybody has to die
sometime”.
We do dearly miss that very special rogue that lit up our lives and filled our memories with happy reminiscences.
Friendly Charlie and business lady Betty helped make the world a better place and we do miss these honest social
misfits.
Jerry Cole, one of the dock attendants was the model of a southern gentleman and was a highly regarded
respectable man that did his job with genteel, polished and friendly sincerity.
Jerry diplomatically dealt with all of the Yacht Pier patrons from the largest gleaming yachts loading thousands of
gallons of fuel down to the rattiest little fishing scows topping off their gasoline tanks with their pocket change
equally and in the same friendly way.
At slack times Jerry indulged himself in his favorite sport of bow and arrow hunting and with special equipment shot
many a fish from under the dock and his results proved that he was good at it.
Passing the afternoon, the inner circle of street strolling old cronies gathered out at the end of the City Yacht Pier
on benches for congenial confabulations.
Here is a look at that crew;
The retired glib tongued outspoken Irish lawyer down from New York, Patrick Ryan was in competition in the
company of this more Irish than most Irishmen limping John O’ Sullivan with his daily dose of one-liner jokes. Still
clinging to his roots like the rest of the old-timers group was this old German guy with the his dip-net that caught
shrimp along the sea-wall at high tide mostly to feed his cats. These three men were the regulars to be counted
upon like clock- work.
The Old City’s old-country bicycle riders made it on a regular basis with Swedish sea captain Dick Janson and his
side-kick buddy only known as the “Swede” who were more at home near the water than most.
Interestingly these old-timers all identified themselves by their old country of origin because they were all first
generation immigrants and still colored their speech with the brogues of their roots.
When the wind, weather and tide were right you would always find tied under the City Yacht Pier building in their little
bateaus a special breed of fisherman. These were the
sheephead fisherman.
These fishermen were using a special technique known as chumming with broken off barnacles scraped fresh from
the pier pilings while angling from their small open fishing skiffs.
The fishermen that were good at this technique collected a bonanza of fish, but the talent required was incredible…it
looked so very easy.
(Barnacles rapidly grew in astronomical quantities on anything submerged in these prolific waters along with oysters.
The sheephead fisherman merely used a boat scrapper resembling a garden hoe that was straightened out so that
the sharp edge faced away from the handle end to send copious quantities of shredded barnacles down from the
pilings to entice the sheephead up and get them in a feeding frenzy. Actually the sheephead are finicky eaters and
this is where the talent of actually hooking them came in.)
We had our distinctively different dinghy stolen three times from the City Yacht Pier; Our vessel’s name Dursmirg
was painted in foot tall letters on each side.
I am at the fuel dock at the Yacht Pier in my little home build and designed Bingy Dinghy with the Bridge
of Lions in the background. 1973, our Bingy Dinghy was rigged to sail, row or power and served us for
fun fishing and was our water taxi.
Bingy Dinghy in motion leaves the City Yacht Pier under power. In the above photo you will see the end
section of the pier with the offices in the left building and the shower and laundry in the right. Behind
these two structures was located the open area with numerous park benches where many a pleasant
satisfying and amusing hour was passed visiting the regulars and transient tourists alike.
A note about the bathroom and shower facilities at the pier; more than once enterprising down-and-outers in the
cold of winter commandeered the shower room, locked themselves in, propped a broom against the hot air hand
dryer switch and spent a warm night.
From left a harbor view in 1973; Atlantic Bank building, Santa Maria restaurant, Dursmirg with Jane on
board, City Yacht Pier and Bridge of Lions
next chapter
On a cold winters
north Florida morning
Jane and I ware warm
and cozy aboard our
well insulated
Dursmirg here at
anchor. We were the
only area boaters with
a real fireplace
onboard our vessel
and made lots of use
of it, not only to keep
warm and dry but also
we used it as a smoke
oven and even for
popping popcorn.
north Florida morning
Jane and I ware warm
and cozy aboard our
well insulated
Dursmirg here at
anchor. We were the
only area boaters with
a real fireplace
onboard our vessel
and made lots of use
of it, not only to keep
warm and dry but also
we used it as a smoke
oven and even for
popping popcorn.