Chester Keene reminds us of this one. Just like today, in the 60's, when you worked as a cop, there was never enough money to make ends meet. And every time you got close, some SOB moved the ends. So most of us took extra jobs, many in security, guarding construction sites on the North side of Doctor's Pass. This was due to trouble they were having, at the time, with unions trying to cause work stoppages. Then there were the material thefts always attendant on construction sites.
There was also a problem with turtle poachers on the beach. These a-holes would cruise the Gulf at night, close to the shoreline, using a spot light to identify turtle drag trails from the water to the weeds. Knowing the turtle would eventually return to the water after laying and burying her eggs, the scumbags would lay in wait, butchering the tired and near-helpless female at water's edge, leaving no evidence.
The Marine Patrol took countermeasures. They modified a patrol car, with a monster Ford Interceptor engine, by enlarging the wheel wells. Then they installed high-flotation airplane tires so they could navigate the soft sugar sand without getting sucked in. With this vehicle they could patrol the beach and outrun any puke they encountered in a jeep or 4-wheel drive.
One night, when Chester was finished with his extra security job, one of the Marine Officers named Blanco asked him if he'd like to take a ride in the souped-up beach buggy up to Clam Pass and back. Chester said he would and they took off through the sugar sand, the wide, half-inflated tires doing a perfect job.
About a quarter-mile north of the Seagate Beach Club, they came upon what looked like the remains of a sand castle someone had built. Blanco said, "look at this," and ran right over it. They were shocked when a loud scream resonated from the sand pile.
Chester and Blanco, quickly stopped and exited the vehicle where they found a young man crawling out of the pile. Amazingly, the man--obviously a Hippie--wasn't hurt. In fact, he said he barely felt it, but the surprise and engine noise "scared the hell" outta him. When asked what he was doing there he said his companions were camped over in the mangrove area that is now Pelican Bay. He'd gotten tired, but the crowd was so noisy he went to the beach to get some sleep. There, he covered himself with beach sand to keep the no-see-ums off him.
Insuring the Hippie was unhurt, Blanco told him to get on the front fender and he'd return him to his camp. There, the Hippies were so disappointed at seeing the police, the party ended, they struck their tents, and headed for always sleeze-bag friendly Ft. Myers Beach.
No poachers were caught that night but the Pelican Bay area was cleansed of the dreaded Hippies so that, cherished amenities intact, it would be fit for the future exclusive use of the rich and shameless.
The Marine Patrol took countermeasures. They modified a patrol car, with a monster Ford Interceptor engine, by enlarging the wheel wells. Then they installed high-flotation airplane tires so they could navigate the soft sugar sand without getting sucked in. With this vehicle they could patrol the beach and outrun any puke they encountered in a jeep or 4-wheel drive.
One night, when Chester was finished with his extra security job, one of the Marine Officers named Blanco asked him if he'd like to take a ride in the souped-up beach buggy up to Clam Pass and back. Chester said he would and they took off through the sugar sand, the wide, half-inflated tires doing a perfect job.
About a quarter-mile north of the Seagate Beach Club, they came upon what looked like the remains of a sand castle someone had built. Blanco said, "look at this," and ran right over it. They were shocked when a loud scream resonated from the sand pile.
Chester and Blanco, quickly stopped and exited the vehicle where they found a young man crawling out of the pile. Amazingly, the man--obviously a Hippie--wasn't hurt. In fact, he said he barely felt it, but the surprise and engine noise "scared the hell" outta him. When asked what he was doing there he said his companions were camped over in the mangrove area that is now Pelican Bay. He'd gotten tired, but the crowd was so noisy he went to the beach to get some sleep. There, he covered himself with beach sand to keep the no-see-ums off him.
Insuring the Hippie was unhurt, Blanco told him to get on the front fender and he'd return him to his camp. There, the Hippies were so disappointed at seeing the police, the party ended, they struck their tents, and headed for always sleeze-bag friendly Ft. Myers Beach.
No poachers were caught that night but the Pelican Bay area was cleansed of the dreaded Hippies so that, cherished amenities intact, it would be fit for the future exclusive use of the rich and shameless.
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