“no-no” these days.)
As most of the guides lived in
Boca Grande with their families
there was an atmosphere of
friendly competition, which
sparked lots of good-natured
kidding back and forth. They even
designated a “38th parallel” midway
between the row of slips
around 1952 (near the end of the
Korean War) to echo the news
from North and South Korea at
the time.
“Putting the birds to bed”
began to be a popular way of
spending the cocktail hour
around this time. Sometimes
several boats would get together,
complete with ice chests,
hors d’oeuvres and drinks, and
motor out to the best birdroosting
spots. The guides would
always anchor so that the
breeze was not in your face –
for obvious reasons!
As daylight began to fade, it
was exciting to witness the great
numbers and varieties of sea
birds flying low over the waters
of Charlotte Harbor. Brown pelicans,
cormorants, ibis, little blue
herons, great blue herons, snowy
and American egrets; each new
arrival had to work out his or
her place to land. As more and
more birds came in sight, the
rookery looked and sounded
like a large gathering of Boca
Granders attending an important
meeting of the Gasparilla
Island Conservation and
Improvement Association in the
Community Center Auditorium
- rudely pushing and shoving
one another trying to find a
place to sit.
The air filled with splendid
guttural noises as darkness settled
in. I often wondered, “What
do the varied inhabitants of
those crowded branches think,
after listening to the increasingly animated chitchat of the boat
people?” The roosting sounds slowly quieted down, and the birds
became the people-watchers of the bird-watchers!
My favorite bird story concerns a group of ladies from the Massachusetts
Audubon Society who chartered the boat of one of the
old-time Boca Grande guides for a bird-watching trip. It was most
successful - they saw lots of sea birds. One of the ladies, gushing with
enthusiasm, inquired of their guide, “Which bird do you like best?”
The guide, in his best old “Cracker” accent replied, “They all eat
good, but I like the ibis best.”
Pink Elephant
By 1950, the goings-on at Delmar Fugate’s Pink Elephant were in
full swing. With its location just across the street from all the charter
fishing boats, it was a natural gathering place not only for the guides,
but also for their clientele. The bar was on the second floor and,
although it was quite large, it always seemed to be crowded – lots of
expanding fish stories mingled with cigarette smoke and laughter.
The whole atmosphere of the place reflected Delmar and his wife
Margaret’s style – relaxed and simple, but lots of fun. There were two
distinct sounds that will always remind me of those happy days. You
could hear Delmar’s characteristic wheezy laughter emanating from
somewhere in the Pink, and the syncopating rhythms of the most
popular jukebox selection of the day, “The Salty-Dog Rag.”
The dining area was downstairs. Hoke Harrison was the chef, and
his wife, Ernestine, managed the front of the house. She decorated
the restaurant with pussy willows sent down from Maine when she
could get them. One of our pleasantest memories was returning from
fishing - it could be quite late - and walking across the street to enjoy
dinner at the Pink. It wasn’t necessary to go home and change.
Hoke was not only a talented cook, he also was a low-handicap
golfer, and frequently in demand for a game. I often smiled to myself
because of the names above two of the adjoining lockers in the men’s
locker room of the “hard-to-get-into” golf club – Hoke Harrison and
Alfred G. Vanderbilt!