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Willin'

Willin'

Super Anarchist
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The Burg, Maine
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Reminds me of the best dive bar on the west coast, the Rudder Room, in Channel Islands Harbor. I first hit it about 1977 sailing up to SF Bay from Newport. Smokey, sticky carpet, 2 scuffed up pool tables, an outdoor patio and a couple of volleyball nets with 100 yds of pure white sand to the ocean, right at the entrance of CI Harbor with awesome sunsets over Ana Capa and Santa Cruz Islands. Back then it was full of hot chicks and cool dudes. Unfortunately, last time I went back, everyone was my age.
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Bump-n-Grind

Bump-n-Grind

Get off my lawn.
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MauiPunter said:
My mom threw out my Mad Magazine collection. I had a complete set 1980 - 1992. :( No idea if they would ever be worth anything but so many memories gone. She thought I had "outgrown" them. lol.
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Mine chucked the Mads, Playboys, several stacks of Zaps and boxes of superhero and army based comic books I brought back to the states when we moved back from Germany in 65... the comics would be worth something. every time we went to the PX or Commisary I'd get a handful. had subs to Mad and Playboy all through high school.
 
V

Ventucky Red

Super Anarchist
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Willin' said:
Reminds me of the best dive bar on the west coast, the Rudder Room, in Channel Islands Harbor. I first hit it about 1977 sailing up to SF Bay from Newport. Smokey, sticky carpet, 2 scuffed up pool tables, an outdoor patio and a couple of volleyball nets with 100 yds of pure white sand to the ocean, right at the entrance of CI Harbor with awesome sunsets over Ana Capa and Santa Cruz Islands. Back then it was full of hot chicks and cool dudes. Unfortunately, last time I went back, everyone was my age.

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Back then, you could be sitting next to a millionair, or some Hollywood notable, and every one was having a great time.. And the hot chicks.. it was a hunting ground, and sometime I got the feeling I was the prey.

I used to tend a bar at a place right around the corner at the Whale's Tail restaurant. There were a couple of regulars I would have to "86" (cut off because they were too drunk) from time to time. My approach was I would give them a "fiver" and tell them I would meet them at "The Ruds" later as the first beer was on me. This tact usually got me a nod and a "I get it, this is a classy place, no room for us millionaire drunks" look.

There was one guy that used to come in nicknamed "Punchy Pete" who was always making like he was a boxer of some sort; and I had the honor to cut off one night. All I remember from the exchange was him grabbing me and one of my regulars intervening with Punchy Pete ending up on the floor. We never saw Punchy Pete after that.

A few of us started a song sung to the tune from the Ballad of the Green Beret.

Killer waves and tasty buds,
We can hang down at the Ruds
Chasing split tail all day long
It is the core of our drinking song

It has turned into a biker bar now; that is Yuppie Scum bonding with their machines.
 
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boomer

boomer

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Ventucky Red said:
Back then, you could be sitting next to a millionair, or some Hollywood notable, and every one was having a great time.. And the hot chicks.. it was a hunting ground, and sometime I got the feeling I was the prey.

I used to tend a bar at a place right around the corner at the Whale's Tail restaurant. There were a couple of regulars I would have to "86" (cut off because they were too drunk) from time to time. My approach was I would give them a "fiver" and tell them I would meet them at "The Ruds" later as the first beer was on me. This tact usually got me a nod and a "I get it, this is a classy place, no room for us millionaire drunks" look.

There was one guy that used to come in nicknamed "Punchy Pete" who was always making like he was a boxer of some sort; and I had the honor to cut off one night. All I remember from the exchange was him grabbing me and one of my regulars intervening with Punchy Pete ending up on the floor. We never saw Punchy Pete after that.

A few of us started a song sung to the tune from the Ballad of the Green Beret.

Killer waves and tasty buds,
We can hang down at the Ruds
Chasing split tail all day long
It is the core of our drinking song

It has turned into a biker bar now; that is Yuppie Scum bonding with their machines.
Click to expand...

A busy place inside and out with two fisted Olympic style power drinking back in '71 and '72 at the Rudder Room, which was way beyond my simple couple of beers limit. A young lady picked me up there, and took me home. The next morning I found out "home" was her Mom's place - and she had two kids - it took me the better part of a Saturday morning, to extract myself. After that I stuck to after sailing drinking, at the Channel Islands Yacht Club, a much safer haven drinking with the local sailors - though a few of those sailors could put it away, including my skipper, who wanted to drink all night! Not me, preferring to return to base through the main gate - not all schitt faced.
 
boomer

boomer

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Chuck Paine painting titled, "1000 miles from Land"

Yacht designer Chuck Paine who closed his design office in 2008, when signed contracts he forgave due to the recession, was forced to lay off his staff and subsequently retire.

Chuck had this to say more recently, "after the initial shock I enjoyed my forced retirement. I’ve traveled the world and spent much of my time drawing and painting, and wrote two books on yacht design. I teach painting occasionally, and even manage to sell my artwork - which most artists don’t - and make an income of perhaps one-tenth what I did as chief designer of a yacht design firm, which is enough."

"Recently, though, the old itch has returned. I see as-yet unborn yachts in my sleep, crying “let me out.” And a few of my old boatbuilder friends have asked me to design “just one more.” And fool that I am, I have said yes. The York 18 and 19, Paine 14 and Levant 15 and Bella Luna are the results, and I’ve just been asked to do another. I was hired by an enthusiastic new owner to redesign the mast and sailplan of a ten-year old Paine 25 Pentimento, and felt obliged to accept. More recently I was contacted by the new owner of a 45-year old, owner-completed Frances 26, and am assisting him with conversion of his old and suspect fractional aluminum-masted sailplan to a shorter, 15/16 carbon fiber mast and roller furling genoa rig. And in a classic example of role reversal, I am working as a draftsman for my former right-hand man, Mark Fitzgerald, helping him design a 56-foot sailboat."

"I’m 78 years old and who knows which breath might be my last? As long as my health cooperates I will remain active providing expert advice to anyone contemplating building or restoring a sailing yacht, through my email at [email protected]."

"Or if you hanker for something designed by Chuck Paine, buy one of my paintings which you’ll enjoy year-round—unlike your boat—and it’ll cost you a lot less money. You can view some of them at www.painefineart.com. "

The painting below, It’s a large (30” x 40”) oil painted from memory of one of the most unforgettable moments in Chuck's life. Chuck said, " I celebrated my graduation from college by spending the summer of 1966 living aboard BURGOO, a Bill Tripp, Jr. Invicta Design, a 37-foot ocean racing yacht designed in 1960. We sailed her from Newport to Bermuda where we started the Transatlantic Ocean Race bound for Copenhagen. One evening 1000 miles from the nearest land the wind came on to blow and we made the fateful decision to reef the main and press on overnight under our largest spinnaker, expecting the wind would abate after dark. Instead it blew harder and somewhere around midnight we were hit by a blast that spun us into the wind and hove her down with the spreaders under water. In the pitch black we called “all hands” and spent a very uncomfortable hour slashing away up to our waists in the cold Atlantic to try to relieve the strain of a huge sail full of tons of water. By morning our beautiful nylon number one spinnaker was no more, but we were upright and once again on our way towards Europe."
https://www.chuckpaine.com/about-chuck-paine-yacht-design/
https://www.chuckpaine.com/blog/

1000 miles.jpg
 
V

Ventucky Red

Super Anarchist
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boomer said:
A busy place inside and out with two fisted Olympic style power drinking back in '71 and '72 at the Rudder Room, which was way beyond my simple couple of beers limit. A young lady picked me up there, and took me home. The next morning I found out "home" was her Mom's place - and she had two kids - it took me the better part of a Saturday morning, to extract myself. After that I stuck to after sailing drinking, at the Channel Islands Yacht Club, a much safer haven drinking with the local sailors - though a few of those sailors could put it away, including my skipper, who wanted to drink all night! Not me, preferring to return to base through the main gate - not all schitt faced.
Click to expand...

Much to my chagrin, there were a few times from the Rudder Room where chewing off my arm and slithering out the window in the cover of darkeness would have been the better option.
 
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