Jumping to the point on this one!
The Sea Chest Summer 2023 Issue
I’m happy to report that the Summer 2023 issue of The Sea Chest magazine, of which I’m the editor, has been shipped from the printer on time this week. Subscribers should be receiving their copies soon.
This issue is my second as editor and it’s a great lineup. Olympia, Washington-based historian Shanna Olsen brings us a comprehensive story of the history and future of the storied tugboat PARTHIA. Nathaniel Howe writes of the life, imminent demise, and heroic historical preservation efforts of EQUATOR—the decks of which Robert Lewis Stevenson stood. Additionally, there is a firsthand account from US Navy veteran submariners of the days when MOHAI was a military facility and diesel submarines like the USS RAZORBACK called Lake Union home. We also republished an excerpt from local giant of the past “Shipwreck” Jim Gibbs’ 1968 book West Coast Windjammers about the jinxed life of the windjammer NOTTINGHAM with all its salacious knife fights, strandings, and crews fleeing into breadfruit forests.
A quick note for the uninitiated. The Sea Chest is the official tri-annual publication of Puget Sound Maritime (PSM), formerly the Puget Sound Maritime Historical Society. This legacy nonprofit organization has been around in one form or another since 1948 and is a constant in the region’s sea salty culture. They manage an exhibit in the MOHAI building on South Lake Union and a large collection of artifacts and documents in their climate controlled warehouse archive. PSM also facilitates the Youth Maritime Training Association (YMTA) scholarship for high schoolers who are interested in careers aquatic. They’ve been supporting local young mariners waaay before it was trendy.
What’s more, PSM is a great community comprising of many maritime industry professionals who are passionate about Cascadian nautical history, culture, and values. Sounds great, right?! Well, we could use your help… PITCH ALERT!
Like many local organizations post pandemic and smaller print publications, we’re evolving to thrive in the challenging (and often, horrifying) modern environment. When it comes to The Sea Chest, every subscriber helps to keep everything PSM afloat. There are many levels of becoming a PSM member and The Sea Chest subscriber, starting at $30/year. The info is below. We’re pretty old school still, no dystopian personal data mining app downloads required.
Think on it! We’d love to have you. If you're into sea salty stuff, The Sea Chest subscription alone is worth the price of admission. Side effects may include lowered blood pressure, interested “hmmm!”s, dad and/or grandpa chortles, killer trivia knowledge, and an unexpected feeling of inner peace.
Europe Bound, Teaching in France?!
I’ll be hitting the old dusty trail for the next few weeks. What started as a self contained Pittsburgh wedding trip has ballooned into a classic “visit friend’s newborn in Amsterdam and enjoy the place” scenario. I’ve never been and was considering bopping down to France for a few days as I’ve never been there either. It’s odd to think I’ve been to places like Mongolia and Peru and Rwanda, but not Amsterdam or France. Huh!
Anyway, I reached out to fellow MilSpeak author and academic Jen Orth-Veillon who lives in France. We met last year as part of a MilSpeak author book tour from Atlanta to Norfolk. That whole tribe is quite close now. Jen’s book Beyond Their Limits of Longing is an epic WWI anthology with works from over 60 writers, many of whom are veterans themselves.
Long story short, I’m now dropping in as part of a college course on writing for Georgia Tech’s French campus in Metz. The students are on a sort of abroad program and here I am, an award winning author who penned a memoir about the start of a Gap Year. I imagine them quite as I was, bright eyed and eager for the promise of adulthood while also hopelessly disoriented and increasingly aggravated at the world in general. Fantastic!
Wish me a bon chance. I’d love to do more teachy/workshopy things, so if you or someone you know in that world think I’d be a fit for an organization, feel free to ping me. At this point in my newbie career, I’m a cheap date and just happy to be there.
Norris Reads: West Coast Windjammers In Story and Pictures by Jim Gibbes (1968)
I mentioned “Shipwreck” Jim Gibbs earlier and his book West Coast Windjammers In Story and Pictures (1968). I was lent the book for the purposes of The Sea Chest, but found it quite an enjoyable and quick read. The windjammers explored were a generation of wooden sailboats largely built on the East Coast and Europe that are hailed as key to the building of the American West.
These iconic and intrepid schooners and barkentines each lived epic—and sometimes tragic—working lives doing whatever had to be done to get western civilization roaring. Gibbs writes these windjammer profiles in casual yet informative and engaging vignettes while tying in the macro level picture. Critically, he also explores the human beings and their sea salty lives. There are probably a dozen awesome, movie-worthy true stories within these covers. The amazing era photography of these ships is the icing on the cake.
Below is a taste of the “wretched” and “jinxed” WILLIAM NOTTINGHAM highlight from the book, knife fight and all. The full story from Gibbs is in the upcoming issue of The Sea Chest:
“Other than seagulls, visitors are few to the wretched remains of the old four-masted schooner WILLIAM NOTTINGHAM, lying abandoned on the mudflats at the mouth of the Nisqually River in upper Puget Sound.
The colorful old windjammer, a 1902 product of a Ballard, Washington, shipyard was built for the Globe Navigation Co. She ended her days with stumped masts in the role of a cable barge for the Puget Sound Power and Light Company. Having outlived her usefulness she was lastly acquired by the Foss Launch & Tug Company who promptly ran her aground as part of a breakwater.
Her ghostly remains tell of the glorious past when she spread her sails before the wind on world voyages including some reputable roundings of timeless Cape Horn. During her career, the NOTTINGHAM served under both the Norwegian and American flags.
In the summer of 1906 in her fourth year of service she was preparing to weigh anchor at Port Townsend harbor. Laden with a load of fir logs the vessel was destined for Boston. The voyage promised to be a challenge, as many of the logs were over 100 feet in length. The schooner was short-handed and to fill out her complement some rather unorthodox recruiting of crewmen was undertaken. After some underhanded negotiations, crimps came out to the vessel in the dark of night and delivered some inebriated and drugged human forms. They were dumped in a heap on the deck, products of Port Townsend’s Little Barbary Coast. Among the unwilling recruits was one extra large sailor. No sooner had the crimps received their blood money than the knock out drops began to wear off this individual. Shaking off the stupor before the anchor could be hoisted, he stoutly refused to sign any papers. The skipper was just as determined that he was going to remain aboard. An argument ensued between the two and the words flew hot and heavy. The air turned blue with profanity. Fists were clenched. The unwilling hand had no intention of rounding the Horn on a windjammer with a cargo of logs. He’d rather swim the frigid waters of the bay than to sail before the mast on such a vessel.
The ship’s crew closed in as the two men stared daggers at each other. Suddenly, like one having taken leave of his senses, the big fellow leaped at the captain wielding a rusty knife removed from inside his shirt. Before the skipper could strike out with his fists, the knife plunged into his back, once, twice, three times. His legs became weak and he sank to the deck in a pool of blood.
The mate grabbed a belaying pin and brought it down on the attacker’s head. Down he went prostrate on the deck.
A doctor was immediately summoned to treat the wounded captain, and the knifer was placed in irons until the town sheriff arrived to haul him off to the city jail. He offered no resistance, pleased to trade a cell for the dank fo’c’s’le of the windjammer.
The unfortunate episode seemed to cast an evil spell on the voyage before it got started. The schooner finally was towed out of the harbor by the venerable old steam tug WANDERER. The bandaged master was on restricted duty…”