Building a Boat for Bill

I’d been away that day. Got back to the shop late. “Sandy” Bridges, our secretary and receptionist at Wilbur Yachts, stopped me as I came through the door. Reeled off my messages and said that a Mr. Joel had called and wanted to come to Manset and see the shop, perhaps talk about having a boat built. She also told me the date. Had not a clue who this Mr. Joel was or if I’d ever met him before. Perhaps at a boat show where a lot of people talk boats and seldom buy. I soon realized I had a prior meeting down the coast and wouldn’t be around the day Mr. Joel wanted to be there. Asked Sandy to show him around, talk to some of the crew, and get an idea of what he’d like for a boat. Perhaps take out some plans for ideas.

So I’m away. Had not even a clue who Mr. William Joel was. If I’d heard his nickname, it probably still wouldn’t have registered, as busy and working as I was at that time. I’ve always enjoyed a wide range of music, but even today, ask me who sang or played most arrangements and I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Almost embarrassed when a musical group will ask for “favorites.” DNA, I guess. Again I get back to the shop that day just before closing (we were working four 10-hour days till 5:30) and the place is buzzing.

“What is going on here?”

Stan Ward comes up to me and says, “Did you know who was coming today?”

“Yauh,” I replied. “Man by the name of Joel. Didn’t know who else was coming with him.”

Sandy and Stan couldn’t wait for the other to tell me who else showed up with Mr. Joel and what had happened.

“First, Mr. Joel is ‘Billy Joel,’ the singer, and he came with his wife, Christie Brinkley. We didn’t get much work done here today. David Kief just about fell off the bow pulpit of the 34 and there wasn’t a soul left on any of the boats in the back buildings. Phones started ringing and we had all kinds of visitors. No idea how they found out, unless someone called from the airport. After lunch it was even worse.”

“Hold on, hold on. One at a time. Slow down. I’ve heard of Christie Brinkley. You mean she’s married to Billy Joel and that’s who was here today? What was I doing meeting with a bunch of other boatbuilders?”

Over the course of the next few months, crew would ask wide-eyed if we were really building a boat for Billy and Christie. I talked and met with Bill to finally arrive at what he’d like to have. Bill’s idea and Christie’s idea, as I later found out, varied somewhat. Bill wanted something not too fancy and Christie liked teak finish. So they compromised. Simple but sweet profile. Downeast-style outside, teak finish inside. For the speed requirement we settled on a Raymond Hunt designed 38-foot hull for which North End Marine in Rockland could get a mold. Hunt Associates in Boston would do the drafting for balance and layout. North End would marry up our Wilbur 38 superstructure to the Hunt hull.

Looking back, it was a great experience. Not so terribly long at boatbuilding and doing a boat for two famous people. Working primarily with Bill, I found him to be one of the nicest, down-to-earth people I’d ever dealt with. Generous. My daughter Ingrid and I flew down to New York to meet with him. Went to the New York Boat Show together at the old Coliseum. Took us out for a great Italian lunch and my first experience with exceptional Montepulciano wine. Then to his and Christie’s new apartment, where she was talking with interior decorators about final details.

Later, Eric White, president of North End Marine: Bill Legge, boatbuilder friend of Eric’s; and I left Rockland early one morning for Rhode Island with, shall we say, a well-used and, later to find, under-sized flatbed trailer. We would pick up the 38 mold and try to be back in Rockland that night. Got there late morning. I took one look at this mold, then at Eric and Bill, thinking this will never work. Plywood framework was falling off the mold itself, skids were 6x6s worn to 2x6s. Finish on the mold itself was dull with a white sheen.

As the crane, which would lift this wreckage onto the trailer, rumbled into the yard, Eric, trying to allay my concerns, says, “Not to worry. We’ve dealt with a lot worse. Let’s get this on the trailer and tied down. I want to be back in Rockland tonight.”

One or two flat tires later, several stops to readjust the tie-downs as wood peeled away, me driving lead escort, Bill bringing up rear escort and collecting the fallen scrap, we pulled into Rockland as the sun was just pulling its nightly disappearing act. We’d not seen a police car, let alone been stopped as a menace to all and any drivers.

Month or so later, Southwest Harbor’s own Nick Moody, “Southwest Transport,” delivers a shiny new black hull to the shop. Probably the first-ever Hunt Hull with a “Downeast Lobsterboat” sheer. We went straightaway to work. Knew it would be at least a nine-month project. Twin Caterpillar V8 diesels. Flybridge. Liveaboard capable. Finest joinery work. Project the crew could really get into. Went quite well. Bill and Christie would visit from time to time. Check on the project. Finally, the name “Sea Major” was gold leafed on the stern. She was ready for launch.

The big day arrived. For the Joels’ sake, we tried to keep the launching as quiet as possible. Impossible. Crew’s families (invited) all came. They invited friends. Newspaper reporters. My parents were there. Word was out, but thankfully everyone was respectful. The Joels signed autographs. Cameras snapped as Christie, gorgeous Prell-shampoo’d blonde hair flying, smashed a bottle of champagne through the flower-circled bow rail. Much cheering as “Sea Major” settled into the water.

I have never since, nor ever hope to be again, as sick to my stomach and embarrassed as I was at that moment. “Sea Major” was so “bow down” that I knew immediately that even filling the stern tanks would never make her look “right.” Water wouldn’t even run out the cockpit scuppers. We quickly ran over to Beal’s Wharf and filled her aft fuel tanks. Put whatever we could for weight against the transom, brought the stern down to just livable and went out for sea trials. She ran quite well. We hit the speed requirements and she was gorgeous underway.

I told Bill, “Take her for the summer. Have fun, but I want her back this fall. We’ll make some weight adjustments, make a fine boat out of her.”

We brought her back that fall. Moved the batteries aft where they should have been in the first place, glassed in some lead pigs and finally got the water to drain out the scuppers. Looked a whole lot better. I could row out to her temporary mooring facing her. A year or so later, Bill called me back and ordered a 46-foot sportfisherman on a Newman hull and named her “Alexa Ray.” The water ran easily out the scuppers.

I have a lot of fun reading old cookbooks, looking for that special recipe I can show off to friends, just do for AJ and I, or send out to you. I don’t think Editor Crowe tries them too often. Tonight while looking for a once-upon-a-summer-season rhubarb pie recipe, I took out my mother’s old “Gleaner’s Hall Women’s Recipes” cookbook. Reminisced on some of the handwritten recipes she had tucked therein, and came across a couple of Bessie Noyes recipes. Now Bessie was quite parsimonious with details, as you see from these two.

• R E C I P E S •

Rhubarb Pie

2 c. rhubarb, cut finely

1c. sugar

1 egg, beaten

2 Tbsp. flour

Raisins or dates

Butter

Nutmeg

Good!

Bessie’s Pumpkin Pie

2 c. pumpkin

¼ tsp. salt

2 egg yolks

½ c. milk

1 tsp. cinnamon

1 heaping Tbsp. melted butter

1 c. sugar

Stir these together. Beat whites of eggs together and fold in 1 teaspoonful of vanilla. Good!

Bessie worked for years in the prescription section of Phil Carroll’s drug store in Southwest Harbor. Always and proudly wore her large registered nurse pin for all to see. An institution.