Boating; O'Malley 4
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| Merry Christmas |
Estuary Beach was a late developing area. The first snowbirds were Ohioans and Michiganites that followed the Interstate 75 ribbon of concrete all the way to Venice Florida where 75 ended. A two lane road brought them further south looking for less expensive winter accommodations. Eventually, tourists from Miami and the Gold Coast came in the summer; they vacationed on Estuary Beach to get away from the compression of people the East coast of Florida.
As Paul leaned back and stared at the stars, the tallest structure was the Sky bridge. He didn't remember the old swing bridge that connected the mainland to the island. It was replaced in the early '60's with the 'Sky Bridge.' This improvement allowed unimpeded auto traffic on and off the island while high aspect vessels like Shrimp boats and Sailboats could travel beneath the bridge. The easy access brought the first real estate speculators and the beach began to sprout high-rise building in the late 1960's.
Without restrictions on signs or colors of buildings, the roundabout at the bottom of the 'Sky Bridge' became a wild and commercially crass area. The crowded three blocks still sport bars, tee shirt shops, souvenir stands and tattoo parlors. North of the bridge was high-rise condos. South of the commercial area, in the middle of the island were beach cottages. The south end of the beach was late to the condo game but they had sprouted like winter wheat in the eighties.
The major industry on Estuary Beach became tourism. It was neat and clean and more profitable to more people. The working fishing port was ignored but highly coveted. Only strict zoning restrictions saved the commercial waterfront property on the mainland side of the sound. Some residents argued that the fishing boats brought character to the area but the developers were dead set against allowing the industrial fishing area to remain. They only saw condos.
The commercial land was surrounded by cheap manufactured homes and small cottages owned by the snowbirds. It didn't matter to those part time winter residents who their neighbors were, as long as they were semi-peaceful. The community leaders were intent on taxing the mobile homes out of the area but they needed to get rid of the port first. They blamed the fishing port for slowing the progress towards the gentrification of their island and the subsequent increase in property value.
The Estuary Beach Chamber of Commerce were mostly recent arrival and hypocrites, the old timers felt. They encourage the blessing of the fleet and subsequent Shrimp festival every December right after Christmas which just happened to be the beginning of tourist snowbird and season. In the past it was April in anticipation of hurricane season but for monetary reasons the dates were changed. All the promoters needed lunar calendar to predict the full moon.
The huge festival attracted pale faced, white haired snowbirds. The promoters served them Vietnamese shrimp which were much cheaper than the locally caught shrimp but the signs all depicted fresh caught.
"Who cares," said most shrimpers who partied on their boats or on Fisherman's Wharf. The Gulf of Mexico hadn't become safer in recent times but today it's all about tourist dollars. The shrimp boat owners are encouraged to decorate their boats and parade them along the beach for the pleasure of the shrimp eating tourists.
On their final pass, a Bishop blesses the shrimp fleet and prays for their continued success. Some of the shrimp boats Captains make it a family day while others use it as an excuse to party around the clock. The beaches police boat races among the shrimp fleet warning the revelers to keep their female guests under control. Some of the tourists don't mind seeing a real bare breasted woman hanging off the bow but others howl with indignation.
The Shrimpers are encouraged to have their party on their other side of the Back Bay. The really good time is on the mainland fishing docks or at O'Malley's Alley on the beach, away from the gentile tourists who dine at the County Park.
That was where Paul longed to be on that moon lit night, O'Malley's Alley. It is the last bastion of the working fishermen and woman on Estuary Beach. Paul wanted to be among the working people and the homeless people and the live-aboard people but mostly close to the plump manager. He knew there was plenty of rowdy fun happening at that very moment but it would have to wait another 12 hours before he could join in.
He even wondered about last season's homeless snowbirds, who came back and who couldn't. He liked a few. Every Fall the mangrove swamps and woods came alive. Lean-to shelters reminiscent of the hobo camps of the 1930's popped up as the hobos moved in. Intermingled with the cripples and the drunks were the mentally deranged. Some were violent and the unfriendly welcome of the hobo's could mean trouble for the lone traveler.
Violence often ended most disputes between mangrove dwellers.A couple of corpses were discovered every Spring when the law swept the woods. Every stranger not wearing designer beachwear was under suspicion of being homeless drifter.
This blog/column is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Do not read while operating a vehicle or heavy machinery. Keep sending those great questions and comments! (Contact) boatguied@aol.com
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