I once had a job that didn't allow me to tell folks what I did. Had to lie about it. When it ended, I had to sign a paper swearing I'd continue to lie about the work for 15 years. Under penalty of prison.
The job was on Marco Island. Back then--the early 60's-- there was no bridge by the Isles of Capri. You drove down US 41 to Royal Palm Hammock, turned right on CR 92, and went over the swing bridge at Goodland to get to Marco Island. A long haul.
At the bridge there was an entire frame house roosting in the trees on a small island. It had been blown over there by Hurricane Donna. Took it years to rot and disintegrate.
On the other side of the bridge was a small blue and white motel where tourist fisher-people stayed. Johnny Unitas and other Baltimore Colts loved to stay there. Some said Johnny actually owned the motel. I don't know but he sure spent a lotta time there.
The fishing then was like no where else on earth. It was impossible not to catch something--many times one worth sending to the taxidermist. There was a 10' wide channel next to Caxambas that, each spring, was the highway for tarpon heading further north along the Gulf coast. They went by for several days, a solid silver highway. We used to wade out to the center--it was only about 4' deep--and stand in the middle of the stream. The tarpon ignored us, just making a wider path to get around. They would neither stop or eat. There were thousands. An old Cracker who'd lived on Marco all his life (he'd never been further North than Ft. Myers) said they'd done it each year for as long as he could remember.
To finally get to work, we'd drive to the Caxambas Pass where the government had bought the entire point and fenced it in. There was a guard at the gate. Several buildings had been constructed, one with two huge radar dishes on the roof. And there was a 300' communications tower. We'd go inside the buildings and prepare for our day's work.
We were working on the first man-space program, Project Mercury. The one where they put Sam Shepard and all those brave folks into orbit in an Atlas missile. That's what we told folks, anyway. And it was partially true, we did do that--about every 90 days. It was what we did the other 89 days we had to lie about.
Since it's not a secret now, we'll talk about it next time.
At the bridge there was an entire frame house roosting in the trees on a small island. It had been blown over there by Hurricane Donna. Took it years to rot and disintegrate.
On the other side of the bridge was a small blue and white motel where tourist fisher-people stayed. Johnny Unitas and other Baltimore Colts loved to stay there. Some said Johnny actually owned the motel. I don't know but he sure spent a lotta time there.
The fishing then was like no where else on earth. It was impossible not to catch something--many times one worth sending to the taxidermist. There was a 10' wide channel next to Caxambas that, each spring, was the highway for tarpon heading further north along the Gulf coast. They went by for several days, a solid silver highway. We used to wade out to the center--it was only about 4' deep--and stand in the middle of the stream. The tarpon ignored us, just making a wider path to get around. They would neither stop or eat. There were thousands. An old Cracker who'd lived on Marco all his life (he'd never been further North than Ft. Myers) said they'd done it each year for as long as he could remember.
To finally get to work, we'd drive to the Caxambas Pass where the government had bought the entire point and fenced it in. There was a guard at the gate. Several buildings had been constructed, one with two huge radar dishes on the roof. And there was a 300' communications tower. We'd go inside the buildings and prepare for our day's work.
We were working on the first man-space program, Project Mercury. The one where they put Sam Shepard and all those brave folks into orbit in an Atlas missile. That's what we told folks, anyway. And it was partially true, we did do that--about every 90 days. It was what we did the other 89 days we had to lie about.
Since it's not a secret now, we'll talk about it next time.
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