Chapter 11

The Antler has a Wall of Fame these days. Photos of the famous and infamous denizens of the best little bar on the west coast ... of Michigan.

Right in the very middle is a black framed picture of Albert Fromm, Husband, Father and Engineer, over an original Jean Fromm oil portrait of the Edmond Fitzgerald. That portrait was surrounded by twenty-eight photos of the officers and crewmen ... lost eleven years ago this coming November just short of Whitefish Bay on the Big Lake.

There are photos of Pro Football players, Princes, Olympic Gold Medal Sailors, Authors and convicts. The winter lake is heavily featured with the ice coated storm wave buried piers ... water flung up and frozen in mid fling.

Pictures of the swing bridge and the Lake Freighter Anna C. Minch sitting on the bottom a few miles off the end of the Lighthouse. Photos of years of Rowing Lifeboat Guardsmen and the beginning of the Power Cutter. Fishermen who went out and didn't come back and their boats ... somewhere 'out there'.

Articles about the death as a Mill town and the recovery of Pentwater as a summer resort from the National Geographic.

Poems about Pentwater, songs about Pentwater, books about Pentwater, Archaeology, both underwater and land based excavations. Men who went to war and didn't come back and those who did.

A mini history of the town, the mill, the dunes and the beach.

In the back corner, almost behind the coke machine, is a very faded 1928 front page from the Milwaukee Herald with a picture of mom in her imitation snowman outfit, CAPTAIN's hat perched on her head, sticking a Colt .45 in her purse. The title?

'The Moll and her Handbag Weapon'

You were expecting something else?

Near it is another picture, a bad poster of our sailboat and an almost unrecognizable drawing of our faces. 'Missing. Presumed Lost in The September Cyclone of 1928. ' My five seconds of fame.

We had a great meal, even if the Five Star from the Twenties didn't survive the 'Crash of Twenty-Nine.' The Wendy heads the Burger List. Five Dollars with Fries.

Frank is Junior Frank. Ernie is Ernest. Ernest and Junior swap days; one day Junior cooks and Ernest runs the tap and the next day Junior tends bar and Ernest cooks. If you didn't know who was working the front you'd never know which one was cooking.

Frank senior and Ernie? That's them over in the corner at the window card table. The game? High Stakes Euchre. The other two players? His Honor, Judge Charles Austin and his wife Vera. Grandma Austin has her Hoyle at her elbow because Frank and Ernie cheat. When and if confronted they both readily admit to it.

Grandma and Grandpa are here to watch the Coast Guard test me for my Captains Certification. Evidently that's tomorrow. At FIVE AM? The examiner will be here at 5:30. I have to take him back to Ludington because the Guard Station here was abandoned in 1955.

School starts in two weeks and the family has the house, boathouse and both apartment houses 'til the end of the season. Someone, in their infinite wisdom, has had a three meter springboard installed next to the boathouse so the quay cannot be used for boats. Brilliant!

What has the family told the 'Waterfolk' about mother's and my whereabouts for the summer? Simple. We bought a sailboat in Chicago and spent the summer teaching me to sail. As far as it goes ... it's the truth ... as far as it goes.

And what of Teddy and his contents? The crate was returned over to the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Action Committee of the Federal Bureau of Investigations ... the case is ongoing. No one in the Chicago crime syndicate knew about the contents of Teddy as they were copies. The man who lost the boat? He didn't live long enough to go to trial ... suicide in jail while awaiting a bail hearing. Suicide? Hmm?

Mom and David have missed each other ... the headboard banged against ti paneling all night long. I DID NOT need that reminder that I itched.

Five Am comes early ... so did the examiner. I sported him to breakfast at the Antler. After that we walked down to the Marina and I had to explain every single hull fitting ... where it went ... what it did and what emergency measures could be taken if I suddenly found myself standing in water in the cabin.

"Fothering a sail?"...

"Stranding lengths of rope yarn and threading it through a piece of canvas to cover a hole in the hull," I said.

That got a real look.

"I read it in a Hornblower novel."

"How long does it take for a quick drying fiberglass patch to dry under water?"...

"What brand?" I asked.

"West Marine."

"No idea, I use Gougeon Brothers WEST SYSTEM Epoxy. It's a Michigan brand. 25 minutes."

He had to look at a can for that. I was right.

We walked back to the Yacht Club.

"Where are we?" he asked and handed me a sextant and a Bowditch's American Practical Navigator.

"I need a horizon to be really accurate but if you give me a few minutes..."

He nodded.

I guestimated the time, shot the horizon out the channel and the angle of the north star ... because it was 'too fucking early for man or beast to be out and about.' Fiddled with a pencil for a little bit and said, "43° 46′ 49″ N, 86° 25′ 48″ W," and grinned at him. He was still trying to get his GPS to work.

"Let's get to your boat," he said and started to look for it at the club, "Which one is your dad's?"

"I don't think Daddy has a boat ... but he might. Mine is over there." I pointed at the 50 foot one year old shiny white sailboat backed into the slip at the dock in front of our boathouse.

He got this look ... fuck!

"Set you up, did they?" I said.

"Yes. I was told to belittle your pretensions."

"Well, that's her. You ready?" I grinned, "Come on. I'll make coffee. The Judge and his wife will be along presently."

One block north and half a block west and then down the long slope to the dock. His boots were soaked.

"Hold on ... you're not wearing those on my clean decks. What size shoe?"

Informed, I fetched a new pair from the boathouse and brought out a pair for me. There's a bench just for changing shoes on the dock. We both switched. I boarded ... he was hesitant.

"This is yours? Not your Mom or Dads?"

"Title in my name ... trust fund kid."