Radio-TV mirror (July-Dec 1954)

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That makes two Annettes and there are three all told. The first mentioned is twenty-two feet long, and that is the boat. The second and most important is wife Annette, about five-foot-six high, brunette and very pretty. The third is daughter Annette, about "five-year-old high," brunette and very pretty. All the Parkses, including the boat and eight-year-old twins Joel and Jeff, live together on the lower seaside of Connecticut. But Bert, a Georgia boy born and raised in Atlanta, hadn't the faintest notion of buying a boat when they moved out of Manhattan. "All of our neighbors, all of the townspeople— the grocer, the police, the cleaner — everyone talked boats," Bert says. "You would hear of people buying a boat before they got a home." After all, New England was once the heart of American shipping and so there the tradition of going-to-sea still lives. And New Englanders have special conveniences. They don't have to seek adventure on the high seas. Their immediate coastline boasts most of the largest rocks in the world. "I have made the acquaintance of a rock," says Bert, "and it was a very humiliating experience." The day Bert figuratively wrote his name on one of the rocks was quite beautiful and the rocks were there to be seen, but Bert was making a chart run. After all, he had studied last winter with the Stamford Power Squadron, where he learned to read a chart, manipulate a protractor and run by compass. So it happened that, this day, he was running "blind." "I was skidding along, feeling no pain," he recalls, "and suddenly people in other boats began to wave at me. Some waved kind of frantically and I thought they were fishermen complaining about my scaring fish away. I was sorry about scaring the fish, but my course was plotted and I couldn't go off it." They weren't fishermen at all. They were alarmed boatmen trying to scare Bert away from the rocks. Suddenly, there was a wham, bang and crunch. "It was the crunch I minded most," Bert says. "No one was chewing toast." The crunch was merely the skeg and rudder being chewed up by a hungry rock. And a boat without a rudder is like an automobile without a steering wheel. But Bert, although he had a ship-to-shore radio and could have phoned for a tow, managed to get ashore all by himself. This he did by riding the tide and turning on full power when he was headed right. And, although he was heckled a little by the waterfront boys for hitting the rock, none of them hid their admiration for his ingenuity. "Afterwards I discovered the compass was off," Bert says, "and if I hadn't hit the rock I'd have wound up in Philadelphia." But, to go back to the beginning, Bert recalls, "I used to feel like a freak when everyone began to talk boats, so I bought myself a fifteen-foot outboard motor." Then a friend got Bert aside and said, "You've got to look proud, man. You've got to get a captain's cap." So Bert went down to Abercrombie & Fitch, a sportsmen's store where you can be completely outfitted for an African safari or an expedition to the South Pole. They had a hat which fit Bert nicely. "That will be six dollars," the salesman said. But the cap looked expressionless. "Shouldn't there be some kind of insignia there?" Bert asked. "Thought you had it," said the salesman and pulled out an emblem made of gold thread. The emblem cost twice as much as the cap. "I began to feel ill then," Bert recalls. "I got a pain in my hip pocket where I carry my wallet, but I was shamed into it and so bought it." The moral of that story is that, when the cap wore out, it was retired to a closet and was never replaced. "And then I needed a small boat to get out to the big boat," Bert recalls. "It's like buying a car first. Then you build a garage and then you have to build a house to go with the garage." There was a do-it-yourself kit for building a dinghy. "I first saw it in a magazine," Bert says. "There was a picture of a couple building the boat and they looked kind of thin and anemic. I figured if they could do it, so could I." And the salesman was most encouraging. He told Bert of two elderly spinsters who bought the kit and put the boat together in less time than it takes to knit a sock. And he said his own nephew, a mere Cub Scout, had made the craft in one weekend, after taking time out for football, Sunday school and meals. "So I took the kit home and, on a Saturday morning, I opened the kit in th» garage and decided to concentrate and get it over in a hurry like the Scout and two old ladies." Bert pauses for a grin and deep breath. "I worked and worked, and three months later, it was finished. Brother, you never saw so many screws in one life." But the outboard was mostly for speed and, more frequently than not, Bert would go out alone. When the children and Annette joined him, they would take a leisurely ride with a food basket and then stop somewhere for a picnic. It was the second summer Bert had the outboard that he began thinking about a larger boat. He began talking about it, too, and Annette thought it was a fine idea. Fall of last year Bert went into the big boat show which is held annually in Manhattan. There you can see everything from an eight-foot pram to a gold-trimmed yacht. Bert was accompanied by his fiveyear-old daughter Annette, who is generally called Pet. "This was strategic thinking," Bert explains. "At her age, I figured she would have nothing to say." He was so wrong. Pet found herself naturally attracted by yachts selling at $100,000 and up. She climbed aboard these and into the bunks and Bert was kept busy hauling her out of portholes. "It was fantastic," Bert says. "At home, she won't take a nap if you get down on your knees and beg, but at the show she kept making for bunks." Bert, being an intelligent man, immediately turned Pet's obsession to his advantage. He sighted the boat he had been thinking about, plunked Pet into one of the bunks and sat down with a salesman for a leisurely discussion. "It was just right for me," Bert says. "Large enough for comfort and safety but small enough for one man to run." Bert left the show with nothing but an image to carry him through the winter. The boat wouldn't be delivered till spring. "Winter nights, I'd see him lying awake when he should have been sleeping," Annette recalls. "At first, I worried that he was worried about, something. Then I