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“Skipjack
Sunday” … the Story
by
Bill Peterson
This story began thirty-five years ago. An
idea burning bright to film the Deal Island Skipjack race, and a
brand new Arriflex film camera (itching for exciting subjects to
film), took a younger me to the Eastern Shore of Maryland.
Or … maybe the exhibit’s story
begins as a battered film can, dusted in light surface rust, still
sealed with a band of yellowed brittle tape, pops back in front of
me most of a career later. I could still make out the faded
magic marker title, “Skipjacks, Deal Island Ekta original.”
Why
did that old can get a smile and a remark, “here was a good idea
that never got made?” I wonder. It was in the wrong pile and
it certainly wasn’t germane to the vault search that was underway.
Now if you know Julie, (the “nose” as she’s fondly
known) then you know she has a strong need to know … everything.
So a half-hour of questions ensued, about Skipjacks, the film, her
recollections of my talking about Skipjacks over the years … and
that, I thought, was that.
I should have recognized that Julie look. Several days later,
a faded photo paper box in hand and a look-what-I’ve-got
grin, here she was with several rolls of negatives.
“That’s right,” I suddenly remembered, “I shot stills
too.” The poorly marked, half crushed little red box was
something she just happened to recall, from poking around
in my not quite discarded collection of things I’m holding on to.
By
chance, the week before any of this
occurred, a new scanner arrived that could scan two and a quarter
negatives, so it just so happened that we had a way to look at the
images. While practically none of this could be proven truly
serendipitous, consider this chain of events, all within a couple of
weeks of the film can's appearance.
My best pal-sailor-artist-writer-machinist extraordinaire, upon my
mention of the discoveries, told me his daughter rented an apartment
from some folks much interested in Skipjacks. She’d become
friends with her landlady whose husband, Angus, turned out to be the
Director of the Reedville Fishermen’s Museum, and the Museum had
just restored a Skipjack. My pal Doug mentions our find to his
daughter Tina, who mentions it to her landlady friend, who mentions
it to her husband who was… well, interested! After
all, Skipjacks are the last working boats in
North America
under sail.
This sort of thing happens I know. Still the near perfect
timing of all these chance happenings remains, plus a couple of more
things. Angus just happened to be planning a summer exhibit on
Skipjacks at the Museum and proposed displaying and later touring
the still photographs. The
two and a quarter negatives and transparencies were digitally
restorable and I now had the ability to do the digital
restoration, which wouldn’t have been the case even a few months
before.
(Incidentally,
the three and a half decades old 16mm Ektachrome film also turned
out to be in near prefect condition, getting us all excited about
the chance of editing a show from it someday).
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