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The
Gentle Beast of Westport |
by Curtis C. Ebbesmeyer
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The Gentle Beast of Westport
looks to the sea . . .
the sea that flung him
into clutchings
of treacherous sifting sands.
The Gentle Beast of Westport
yearns for the sea . . .
the sea that frolicked him
robustly in time . . .
roughly too, but
gently in time . . .
soothingly too.
The Gentle Beast of Westport
continues to look to the sea
(years gone by),
inexorably tugged by
deadly serious sands into
a final gasping grasp,
denying him
his vision of the sea.
Garnet N. Kaiyala, 1999
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Garnet N. Kaiyala photo
Driftwood may capture the heart. About six years ago
(1993) at Westport, the coastal Washington hamlet once nationally famous
for its charter salmon boats, a huge stump riveted Garnet N. Kaiyala’s
gaze. Retired in 1981, Garnet taught instrumental music throughout
Seattle Public Schools, inspiring students to such a degree that peers
elected him to the Washington Music Educators’ Hall of Fame.
As if an animal on four legs frozen in the distance,
closer up it seemed a soul transfixed, to represent life “with
its ups and downs, its hopes and disillusionments . . . its realities,” Garnet
wrote. An enlarged photo graces his living room and millennium Christmas
card. Inside, I read Garnet’s ode to The Gentle Beast.
For some six years, the sands of Westport gripped the
Gentle Beast. Coastal erosion may soon set him free to move the hearts
of distant beachcombers. |
Last Will on a Log
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by Curtis C. Ebbesmeyer
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Seeking reports of epic sea drifts, I
manned my Alert booth in the Cocoa Beach Public Library, Florida
at the Fourth
(October 1999) Annual Sea Bean Symposium, one of three large beachcomber
gatherings held annually in the U.S. It’s no coincidence they
occur where flotsam collects: Oregon and Washington along the eastern
Pacific and Florida facing the western Atlantic.
What’s a sea bean? Tropical plants grow a hundred-plus species
able to float thousands of sea miles. In Florida, a dozen bean species
polish into fine jewelry. This year the Symposium attracted 400 avid
beaners.
The most intriguing story came encrypted on a 7-foot crooked
log lugged to the Symposium by Cocoa Beach’s newly elected mayor
Janice Scott (illustration). In 1964, long-time
Cocoa Beacher Mary
Lund found it bobbing in the surf off South 13th Street.
Half-inch high capital block letters laborously burned into the log,
read: “Whereas
I now lay near starvation and perish, I Morris A. Taylor of
Overland, Missouri, USA do establish this as my last will and testament.
To my
brother Roy D. Taylor I leave and bequeath $10,000. The entire remainder
of my estate I leave to my beloved
wife Karen Houseman Ta[y]lor [exhausted,
Morris misspelled his name].” |
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Florida historian Don Argo filled in
fascinating details. “In the late-1830s, one
Jacob Houseman [probably Karen
Houseman’s father] settled on Indian Key,
a 12-acre island about a mile offshore from
Islamorada [off Florida’s southern tip]. He
had a hotel and a large warehouse to store
the salvage he took from shipwrecks.” On
August 7, 1840, Seminole Chief Chaikaka raided Indian Key, killing 13 settlers. Next
year, Jacob died in a boating accident and
was buried on Indian Key. Karen and husband
Morris remained there or on nearby
small islands.
As to Morris’ fate, “Maybe he was
caught in a storm and made his way to a
nearby key,” Don speculated. “There, facing
death, he carved his will, which lay
many years till the storm surge of a hurricane
floated it into the Gulf Stream and up
to Cocoa Beach.” At the time Mary found it, U.S. Coast Guardsmen
estimated that, despite this age, the
log had washed ashore several months after a severe hurricane. |
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Hurricane tracks for 1964
show that on August 27, the eye of Cleo passed over Indian Key. Three
months later, during December Mary discovered Morris’ log will.
Cleo, the 24th most destructive hurricane in 70 years, caused extensive
rainfall-induced flooding ($2.4 billion; 1925-1995). Amongst the
debris, Morris’ will finally floated free. What happened to
Morris’ fortune? (Thanks Mary Lund and Janice
Scott for
recalling this story. Additional information and Don Argo quotes
from Milt
Salamon, Florida Today, November 4 & 8, 1999. Hurricane information
from U.S. Department of Commerce “North Atlantic Hurricane
Tracks,” 1964).
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