Fowler St. Pier
Thurs., March 11, 1926
We had a most interesting experience today. The four of us ferried in a launch, about five miles out into the gulf, to Sanabel Island, fourteen miles long and undeveloped except for a few cottages, a small hotel, and a tanning factory for shark and porpoise skins. Mother W. wanted to see a friend there who she hoped might buy the houseboat.
On Sanabel beach, noted for its beautiful and unusual shells, there was no one around except two girls, one of whom knew all the shells by name--butterfly, angel wing, turkey wing, devil’s toe nail, etc. Besides a stunning orange seafan and a huge starfish, I found a big conch with a beastie inside, its foot used as a door to lock itself in.
As Bill and I played along the beach, a big ship hove in view, and after casting anchor, a motorboat shoved off towards the beach. Having heard rumors that Henry Ford had just arrived in Fort Myers, we guessed it was his yacht, and sure enough, when easing up the beach I recognized his lanky figure in straw katy and long flowing duster. The party of six, all equipped with baskets, was busily picking up shells, so the two girls and I helped them find unique ones. Mrs. Ford told us she wanted to find interesting shells for her friends, as they had never before been to the seashore.
Bill would not go near the Ford party, saying, “I won’t intrude on the Dall of all flivvers.” They were gracious and friendly, and when the girls and I gave them most of our collections, mentioning we were from New York, Henry smiled pleasantly, returned, “We are from Detroit.” (As if we hadn’t guessed.)
Later Bill ran into a man who said, “It must be very shallow for your yacht out there.” (His mistake is understandable, as Bill and Henry are both tall and lanky.)
After telegraphing Punta Russa for a boat, we sped across the bay just at sunset. Pelicans flying low in line were silhouetted against the sinking sun. The foam in the boat’s wake reflected a lovely shade of lavender, and the peaks of the waves were touched with orange. Although the folks did not sell the houseboat, it was a glorious day.
The mystery of Ford’s whereabouts is amusing to read about in the papers. “He and Mrs. Ford and his new treasurer and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Ives, left Punta Russa Monday night in the Ford yacht and none of their agents nor employees know where they went.” We could help them out. Edison sat near us at the movies one night, so we have hob-nobbed with celebrities while here.
A gusty wind this afternoon bounced the houseboat around so gayly on the choppy waves that Bill found discretion the better part of valor and did his reading in the motorcycle on the stable pier. This is the second time that the boat has given Willie the Willies.