Finally the instigators realized that they had not
heard anything from inside the house for a while.
Someone opened the front door and looked in.
“No one home” he said.
Just then someone hollered, “The back door is
open.”
J.N. and R had fl own the coup. The hunt was on.
About half of the crowd joined in the hunt and
the rest gave up and went home. I stayed with
the “hunt” group, along with my brother Dave,
Billy Langford, Skipper Harrison and Paul Dolan. A
few of the group went toward the beach, and The
Gasparilla Inn bath houses. Most of us just started
walking down Gilchrist Avenue. We weren’t even
looking for J.N. and R. at this point. Paul Dolan
had a pack of cigarettes which he shared and that
was good enough reason to be out at midnight.
Shortly after midnight my dad came trucking
along in his 1934 Ford pick-up and that was good
night for the Lane boys. My dad didn’t much go
for that kind of French Catholic goings on. He
was a conservative Baptist.
The rest of this is from all the talk on the next
day. Seems that most of the folks enjoyed the
evening. A couple of guys didn’t make it back
farther than the train station and were found
passed out the next morning.
Now, the rest of the story. The next morning
the town was abuzz with stories of the Chivaree
and no two persons had the same story. But, they
were all good ones. Which direction did they
go? North there was nothing until Sharp’s estate.
East, across the Railroad tracks … no, too many
people on that side of the house. West, two short
blocks to the Gulf. So, south it was.
About 20 hunters were still in the chase. South
on Gilchrist they went, still banging on pots and
pans, hollering and yelling, “Come out, come out,
where ever you are.”
Finally the posse ( I changed it to posse
because it sounds better) ran them to earth
at the Crowninshield house. J.N. and R were
backed up to the swimming pool and circled by
the posse. Ha, what to do? R., realizing that they
were going to be thrown into the pool regardless
of their pleading, turned and with a defi ant yell
jumped into the pool. Then they all heard R. loud
and clear.
“Come on in, boys, the water’s fi ne.”
Soon they were all in the pool, laughing and
giggling, splashing and dunking each other. They
were all playing Marco Polo. What a bunch of
nerds!
Marco Polo didn’t last too long because there
suddenly appeared a large imposing fi gure at the
side of the pool and in a loud, stentorian voice it
said, “EVERYBODY OUT OF THE POOL.”
Now here’s where the story diverges. Some say
it was so and so, others disagreed, but most of
them said it was Johns Knight Sr. The posse was
soon on the way back to where ever they came
from, a sodden bedraggled bunch of revelers.
So ends the story of the Grand Chivaree.
Townsfolk laughed and talked about it for years.
J.N and R had a long and happy marriage and
may still be at it for all I know. This is, of course,
from memory and is true to the best of my
memory.
It was a fun time and a fun place to live in those
days. I can hear the noise and see the faces in
my mind’s eye as if it was yesterday. I hope that I
always shall.