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John Vogel
I grew up in Red Wing, Minnesota during the 50's. Our family consisted of
four children, two foster sisters, mom and dad. I've never been on a summer
vacation or any road trip with my family, but I always had a boat available
from mid April through the end of October. Instead of going to the cabin,
Yellowstone, or the Black hills, I went on an adventure every weekend aboard
the Nellie Bly. Nellie Bly is our family houseboat built in 1936 for my
parent's wedding present by my Mother's father, Stanley Gray. It has been
the center of our family recreation for over 60 years. Our family and our
friends have spent many summer days aboard Nellie Bly.
Each of my brothers and sister
would, as they were in high school, bring a bunch of their friends along for
a weekend on the boat. Stan, the eldest, would often have just one or two
pals come along. They were usually pretty quiet and would do puzzles if they
weren't in one of the little boats. When Mary, eight years older than I,
would bring her herd of friends, a lot of other boats would show up because
of all the bathing beauties sunning on the top deck. It was fun watching the
girls then, as today. My brother George usually brought several of the guys
from the football team. Being five years younger than these jocks, I always
tried to get in on what the big boys were doing. But I didn't fit in with
them any better than Beaver Cleaver with his older brother's friends; like
Eddie Haskell. Therefore, I would spend most of the afternoons in the little
boat, which we carried astern on davits or later towed. There are many
things that can be done with and in an outboard-powered boat - whether it is
a 12 foot Pen Yan cartop with an 8½ horse Champion or the 14 foot Larson
outboard special. We were also able to create excitement with a variety of
canoes, water skis, and assorted watertoys. My older brothers and sister
showed me how to do many of the fun things with a boat. BUT my job, I felt,
was to come up with new and even more exciting things to do with this
equipment. More on that later.
The first boat I was allowed to
take out on my own, was the 12 foot Pen Yan. This little cartop beauty was a
lightweight cedar strip with a canvas skin which was painted so that it kept
the water out. The theory was that this was a transportable boat that
wouldn't have to soak up to be watertight. With an 8½ horsepower Champion
outboard on it, a center deck we made to accommodate the steering wheel and
a cushion for my knees, I was as free in that boat as most people are when
they get their first bike. The Champion outboards we had always seemed very
fast. They were hard to start, but once they fired, look out. My
grandfather, Stanley Gray, owned some or all of Champion outboards at the
time. I didn't know it at the time, but each Fall my dad was asked to take
the motor back to the factory so the testing guys could see how it held up
that summer. They figured that if we ran about 100 gallons of gas through
it, that was better than any lab test they could do. After all, do you know
how long it would take to burn that much fuel? Since those motors seemed to
be either off or full throttle, I was happy to keep the pistons polished.
The second boat I loved dearly was the Larson Outboard
Special. I don't know how we came to own this boat ,but my Dad was as happy
in this boat than I can ever remember him being. We could fish, ski, jump
barge wakes, and do almost any thing else we wanted to do in this boat.
Powered at first by a 15 horse Evinrude sport twin, I think we had to design
and put in a half-center console and then got our first remote controls.
 As
George and I got bigger, we needed more power for water skiing. A 25 horse
Johnson would be just the ticket for pulling George and me around. We would
both be on skis, then I would climb onto his shoulders, much to the delight
of the aforementioned bathing beauties. That was, to me, the essence of
boating - more power and bathing beauties.
On the Mississippi, there is quite a lot of commercial
traffic. Back then, there were towboats both with propellers and stern
paddle wheels. The paddle wheels were disappearing as the steam locomotives
were replaced with diesels. The diesel tows with screw props were faster,
more maneuverable, and more efficient. But the paddle wheels would set up a
string of roller wakes a half mile long and up to eight feet high. The
Larson was very narrow with a sharp prow. This was ideal for surfing the
rollers. The 25 could let us climb the waves from behind or come into the
string from the side. We would then ride the crest of the wave using the
power to keep us at the crest, or to start us down the curl. If you would
over accelerate down into the trough of the wave, this boat would cut the
next wave and send a solid wall of water up at a sixty degree angle. We came
close, but never sunk any of the boats we jumped barge wakes with.
My mother was less than enthusiastic about my prowess at
timing barge wakes, so I learned that for peace and harmony, the barge wake
maneuvers would best be practiced out of her eyesight. One little addition
Dad made to the hull of the Larson was a pair of "Tail Winds". These were
fixed extensions to the transom that were non-adjustable trim tabs. They
were supposed to enhance stability, so said Dad, but I think they made the
boat go faster.
 We both won.
In the spring of 1960, about the middle of March, one day my dad said
"Lets go for a ride, I've something to show you." We went to the showroom at the
Red Wing Marine Showroom. We knew everyone there since I had worked on the gas dock and
Mom had worked with Bill King designing the interior layouts for the Casa Cruiser line of
houseboats. There before our eyes was something that we didn't know existed: a brand new
boat. It was wrapped in burlap like in its own cocoon. My Dad told George and me to unwrap
it to see what it was. We didn't realize we were unwrapping our brand new Pen Yan 14 foot
with mahogany front deck and a windshield! From then on that spring, we couldn't wait for
the ice to go out of the bay. We moved up from the 25 Johnson to a 30 Evinrude with
electric start for a couple years. Then after a couple years, I was finally able to talk
Dad into a 45 Mercury and I was set for the rest of my high school years.
Another craft which provided adventure in Junior high, was a canoe that
we cut the stern off of and converted into a motor canoe. My closest pal and hunting buddy
Randy and I were exploring the backwaters of the Cannon River one Saturday in May in
search of the elusive carp. Between the spring currents and high water, the river was
treacherous, and we were over confident after a reasonably successful carp hunt. After
standing in the bow of the canoe most of the day with spear or bow and arrow, he stood up
while we were in the channel. I was at the tiller of the Johnson 5 horse when Randy lost
his balance. I over corrected for the imbalance, and the canoe plowed over to one side and
capsized. With our gear, boots, cushions and lunches floating past in the current, we
madly grabbed for as much of our stuff as we could. It was a long walk back to the nearest
house so we could call for help. The parents were not impressed with our adventure after
we told them exactly what happened. Of all the fun we had with the little boats, I still
have to devote the final paragraphs to the Queen of the Fleet, the Nellie Bly.
As I went through high school, I was allowed to take some of my buddies
out for over-nights. Although we thought a lot about taking girls with us, that was not
allowed, nor was it done. We may, however, have taken a beer or two with us. These
evenings were usually spent at anchor so that no one would get off the boat and/or get
into trouble. We were there all night and would be back in the morning; with the boat
cleaned and spotless so the parents had no reason to prohibit us from going out again.
Before we were married, Peggy, my bride to be, my best friend Robert,
and my yellow Lab Barney, were coming back from an overnight when Barney became fascinated
with the way the light from the rising sun danced across the water. Being a dog of very
little brain, although polite, he stood on the bow of the houseboat and struck a point
position. He'd never done this before so I watched him as he got more and more agitated
with the glittering reflections in the water. About ten seconds later, he leaped off the
bow of the boat right into the path of 17 tons of cypress-hulled Nellie Bly, traveling at
the nominal speed of current plus. This boat has a 12 foot beam, is 38 feet at the water
line, and has a flat bottom. When I saw the dog leap, the first thing I did was hit the
key to kill the motor with it still in gear to stop the prop prior to the arrival of the
dog. I hollered to Peg and Rob that Barney had jumped in front of the boat. We listened
and heard him bounce four times under the hull before he popped to the surface, aft. Now
we had to pick him up, but think what the dog was thinking as I fired the motor, came
about and tried to get close enough to grab his collar from the catwalk. He didn't like
the concept of driving the boat at him, so I had to chase him down as he was swimming away
from the boat. With Rob at the helm and following my directions, we were able to get
within reach of Barney and pull him out of the river and onto the deck. Barney wasn't much
of a swimmer after that but he would lie in the water up to his chest and sniff. He
reminded me of Ferdinand the Bull after that; he'd rather smell the flowers.
These are some of the sweet aromas of the flowers of the first half of
my life in, on, and around boats. To paraphrase the water rat in The Wind in the Willows,
"There is nothing better than simply messing about in boats."
John W. Vogel
River Rat |
