Here is an article by Ivan Misner, founder of BNI. Ivan is a great business man and mentor to others. But what I admire most about Ivan is his ability to tell a good story. Here is his latest.

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Get outside the cave, and into a network.
By Dr. Ivan Misner

A colleague of mine works in a profession—writing and editing—which entails minimal day-to-day interaction with others. He handles a limited number of projects, usually no more than two or three books at a time, and works long hours and days in isolation; he occasionally surfaces to communicate with an author or publisher about details. You might say he works in a cave with only a few air holes.

How does a cave dweller build social capital?

One day, this particular editor, feeling his isolation, crawled out of his cave to look for company. He joined a small band of writers and formed a professional writers’ organization. Energized, he joined their efforts to build the organization, attract new members, publish a newsletter, schedule presentations and speakers, arrange conferences with editors and agents, and even throw a few parties to lure other writers out of their caves, too.

All of this work was done by volunteers who were excited to build a service organization that would help writers network with one another and achieve success.

The organization grew and became the largest writers’ networking organization in the nation. While this was happening, my friend the editor made several new friends among the organization’s founding members. One of them told him of a job opening that turned into a 12-year position; this gave him steady income to support his family.

Another friend, a low-volume publisher of high-quality books, gave him several editing projects and, after his salaried job ended, gave him a full schedule of freelance work.

Many of the authors this publisher referred to the editor returned repeatedly with more projects. I was one of these authors, and have since worked on over a dozen books with the cave-dwelling editor.

Although the editor didn’t know it when he began this low-key form of networking, he was building social capital when he thought he was only having fun. Over the years, this social capital began flowing back to him in many different forms, with no direct connection to the benefits he had helped provide to other writers.

Relationships Are Currency

How many times have you seen an entrepreneur (maybe even yourself) go to a networking event, meet a bunch of people, then leave and never talk to them again?

Too often, right?

And it’s not because he doesn’t like them or ever want to see them again, but because he’s a busy—busy—person with so much going on that he can’t even remember what he had for breakfast, let alone reconnect with individuals he just met.

It’s a shame, because such new contacts are where future business is born. Don’t be misled; it’s not the number of contacts you make that’s important—it’s the ones you turn into lasting relationships. There’s quite a difference. Try making ten cold calls and introducing yourself. How well did that go?

Now call five people you already know and tell them you’re putting together a marketing plan for the coming year and you would appreciate any help they could provide, in the form of either a referral or new business.

Better results behind Door #2, right? Of course. You already had a relationship with these folks, and depending on how deep it was, most of them would be glad to help you.

So here’s the question: How can you deepen the relationships with people you already know to the point where they might be willing to help you out in the future? Here are four quick steps to get you moving in the right direction.

Give your clients a personal call. Find out how things went with the project you were involved in. Ask if there’s anything else you can do to help. Important: Do not ask for a referral at this point.

Make personal calls to all the people who have helped you or referred business to you. Ask them how things are going. Try to learn more about their current activities so you can refer business to them.

Put together a hit list of 50 people you’d like to stay in touch with this year. Include anyone who has given you business in the last 12 months (from steps 1 and 2) as well as any other prospects you’ve connected with recently. Send them cards on the next holiday.

Two weeks after you’ve sent them cards, call them and see what’s going on. If they’re past clients or people you’ve talked to before, now is the perfect time to ask for a referral. If they’re prospects, perhaps you can set up an appointment to have coffee and find out if their plans might include using your services.

See how easy that was? After a few weeks, you’ll have more than enough social capital to tap into the rest of the year.

Social capital is the international currency of networking, especially business networking. If you take as much care in raising and investing your social capital as you do your financial capital, you’ll find that the benefits that flow from these intangible investments not only will be rewarding in themselves but will multiply your material returns many times over.

Called the “father of modern networking” by CNN, Dr. Ivan Misner is a New York Times bestselling author. He is the Founder and Chairman of BNI, the world’s largest business networking organization. For more writing by Dr. Misner, visit his blog at www.BusinessNetworking.com.

From the St. Petersburg Times: You might have heard about a new offshore water park, the first of its kind in Florida, opening at the TradeWinds Resort on St. Pete Beach. The Splash Island Park features giant inflatable seesaws, slides, trampolines and lounges that float in a roped-off area of the gulf. It’s scheduled to be open from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. We know what you’re thinking: What’s the water temperature, because mayyyybe you’ll go if it’s not too cold. We checked with the National Oceanographic Data Center, and a reading taken Wednesday put the gulf at 72.5 degrees. By comparison, August temps average about 86, and January temps are 62. We say as long as the air temperature is warm, you should brace yourself and just do it. And about parking: You have to use public parking because the spaces there are for resort guests only.

San Diego had a wealth of talented cartoonists in 1982 when I published an article in the Communicating Arts Group newsletter by Betty Abell Jurus titled “Different Strokes, Different Folks.” The article featured interviews with seven cartoonists: Tom Voss, Sherman Goodrich, Rick Geary, Mark Zingarelli, Everett Peck, Mark Kingsley Brown, and Gary Radke.

Cover for Communicating Arts Group newsletter with theme, "different strokes" about San Diego cartoonists.

“Different Strokes, Different Folks” by Betty Abell Jurus

The seven of them love toys. Four fly model airplanes from the ceiling in their work area. The fifth owns a blimp. A sixth has a picture with a plane on it. The seventh collects Eisenhower memorabilia. Six know one or two of the others on sight. Only one had met the other six, but they all know each others’ work. They are defined in one dictionary as “a noun.” Who are these guys?

Find out involves laughter, questions, studios rioting with color and toys, lightning-sitted men with eyes that dance and sparkle with wild notions, and laughing some more.

Their names are Mark Kingsley Brown, Everett Peck, Tom Voss, Mark Zingarelli, Gary Radke, Rick Geary and Sherman Goodrich. They comprise seven of a select group — the cartoonists of San Diego. They also plead guilty to doing illustrations, animation, design, and happily caricatures.

“Cartooning,” smiles Everett Peck, admiring his red and yellow toy car, “is like being a standup comedian, only instead of doing it on stage, we do it on paper.

Sherman Goodrich, Mark Zingarelli, and Mark Kingsley Brown, not content with paper alone, have literally done standup comedy. Sherman went further still. “I once caught the Ellmer Gantry syndrome,” he says, “and went jout as an evangelist, too.”

They love their work. Says Rick Geary, “I’m doing what I like to do. I will always draw.”

“Sketching,” says Everett Peck, “is one of my favorite things to do.

“It’s most satisfying to produce a good ad. That’s beautiful,” claims a happy Tom Voss. I always felt cartooning wasn’t a legitimate career because it was fun. I laugh at my own stuff when I’m drawing.”

Mark Zingarelli grins and adds, “I like bizarre and seedy things … diners and back alleys.”

“My problem,” admits Mark Kingsley Brown, “is that I love cartooning so much I’d do it for free if there weren’t rent and other payments to make.”

The seven generally agree that cartoonists fall into three categories: gag cartoonists (it’s all there in one frame), humorous illustrators (drawings for articles, ads, stories), and comic strip artists. Doing caricatures is a special talent not all share. “I’m a draw-er,” Everett Peck said, and with that, spoke for them all.

Everett doesn’t “remember a time when I wasn’t drawing.

“At age 12 or 13, Mark Zingarelli recalls, I took a mail order, thirty-three lesson cartoon course.”

“As a youngster,” Rick Geary smiles, “I’d create my own little world in cartoons.”

“How long?” laughs Mark Kingsley Brown. “Forever.”

In spite of their pleasure in what they do, they agree it’s not easy to find success. Everett Peck says flatly, “There are no child prodigies in cartooning.” His reaction to a determined student: “Are you sure there isn’t something else…have you considered…?”

“Cartooning,” he believes, “can’t be taught. Drawing can be. There is an innate point of view developed within those who haven’t been in the ‘mainstream’ of life and it comes out of their slightly warped point of view. To be a good cartoonist, point of view is very important. A cartoonist must have the ability to intellectualize his feelings and translate them into a drawing. One must have good hand skills, and needs a certain amount of assessed knowledge and observations, an acute understanding of the human condition, and interaction before beginning to get at least a narrow point of view. Minimum age? Usually, 17 or 18.”

“As a cartoonist,” Tom Voss comments, “concept is the most important thing. More important than the execution of the idea. Chuck Vaden is a gag cartoonist. In a single frame, he says it all.”

“To be a successful cartoonist,” says Gary Radke, “one must have a reasonable drawing skill and a reasonable market for the drawings. Cartoonists see things in an episodic way. It’s the relating of related phenomena, a look at the world sideways. A reasonably friendly look. One can be taught to cartoon, probably, but to make money? Doubtful.”

Rick Geary smiles. “Humor depends on style. I try for the understated. Statement comes out jof personal viewpoint. Mine is whimsical. I feel there’s only one way to teach cartooning. Give them a chance to do it. Watch their progress, help them get feedback, learn self-examination, self-knowledge, and knowledge of the exterior world.”

An amused Sherman Goodrich says, “Cartooning is an esoteric  business. To do either animated or still cartoons, one needs the innate ability to mentally see-slash-feel motion. My criteria is for a good cartoon is a character standing still, yet looking as though he’s just about to do something. There’s energy in this character. It’s an intangible feeling. Gary Radke captures this.”

His criteria for himself? A couple of years ago, feeling unsure about his skills as a gag cartoonist, he sent out two batches of cartoons to separate markets. Each bought. Satisfied, he hasn’t sent any out since. “I am,” he laughs, “blessed with talent and cursed with laziness.”

Mark Kingsley Brown, recently notified of his inclusion in the 14th edition of Who’s Who in California, shared his thoughts on how students become professionals: “Be versatile. Have a thorough grasp of printing techniques. Know how the art will be used. A problem for art directors is that less experienced people don’t know what it takes to produce and ad. Knowing gives the artist more strength. Learn graphics, production, illustration. In school, get involved with the student publication. It’s a great way to get practical experience.”

He thought a moment. “Once a beginner gets versatility going, the portfolio should represent the work you’re strongest in and the type of illustration you’re most comfortable with. The art director will see the artist’s strengths. Those going professional, basically, have good talent. What separates successful from non-suscessful is that “certain look.’ Your unique strengths.”

“The advertising agencies here are open to new talent. With the present quality of art directors, San Diego is becoming more progressive, more willing to take chances with new talent. San Diego is the market of the future. Now is the time to begin establishing yourself.” His airplane hangs above a model of the Titanic.

Getting schooled, started and established happens in odd ways. A young Everett Peck loved the animated cartoons of the 30s and 40s. This led to graduation from Long Beach State and his becoming a freelance humorous illustrator who also teaches at Palomar College and Otis Parsons in Los Angeles. His airplane is bright yellow.

Tom Voss, an art director at Kaufman Lansky Baker, and graduate of Arizona State, bot his start when an article he’d illustrated in cartoon style caught the eye of an art director who encouraged him. “I freelanced for a time,” he says, “but every morning I’d hear the ‘thunk’ of my neighbors’ car doors closing as they went off to work and there I was. I felt left behind. I felt that I should be out there on the freeway, going to work too. Being an art director is fun.” His airplane is red.

Gary Radke, an art director at Lane & Huff, came in from Detroit. His work much praised, but without formal training in art, Gary says that of his various skills “cartooning is the most natural.” His airplane flies in a picture.

At college, Pennsylvanian Mark Zingarelli went to art school first. Then, “I decided I didn’t want to be an artist, so I changed my major to communication.” We wrote comedy for a local radio show, acted in dinner theater, and did standup comedy. Finally, his freelancing career began with animation. He was persuaded west to attend a wedding, and by the promise of a job in a TV production. “Neither came to be,” he laughs. And, he wrote a book entitled, The Ball of Anunset and the Great Pharoah’s Curse, a book that would be “read to a small child, but it’s really for adults.” His airplane flies high.

Rick Geary, freelancer from Wichita, Kansas, graduated from the University of Kansas with a degree in commercial art. He “likes to go do the laundry at the laundromat at 11 at night, and read.” He’s done some workshops, but “it’s uncomfortable being the one who’s expected to stand up there and talk.” He’d rather his work talk for him in publications such as The National Lampoon. Sans airplane, he collects Eisenhower memorabilia.

Sherman Goodrich came from Ohio by way of Scottsdale, Phoenix, and Las Vegas. His is a tale of beginnings. His life as a freelancer began as a caricaturist at the Centerville Ox Roast outside Dayton, Ohio. He drew such a crowd that a photo and story appeared in the Dayton newspaper’s Sunday supplement. Thus armed, he advanced to nightclubs. That went so well, he breached the Playboy Club in Cincinnati. There disaster struck. “The manager,” he relates, “decided the caricaturist should be a ‘bunny.’ I looked wretched in a tu-tu, so I offered to disguise myself as a carrot.”

Failing, he hastened to George E. Rudin’s Polish Restaurant with Circumcised Idols. There, Rudin’s share of Sherman’s earnings was 25%, a situation doomed.

“Lured to Phoenix by friends who sent propaganda, Arizona Highways, for instance,” he settled in the French Quarter, a lounge at Scottsdale’s Executive House. There Paul Shanks took 10%. On Sherman’s first night, he earned $350. Shanks growled, “You’re making too much money. From now on, I get 20%.”

The next night, Goodrich began at Joe Hunt’s, across the street. He stayed there 8 years, and in 1969 caricatured Elvis Presley in Las Vegas for the president of the Sahara, Don Rickles.

Eventually, 450 caricatures of regular customers hung on one restaurant’s walls, and 100 more hung on another’s Not enough. He yearned to do animated cartoons, but had no training. Persuaded to try anyway, he bought a book, Animation in Commercial Art, by Eli Levitor. “I read it. It looked easy. It was.” He produced a ten-second spot film.

Still doing caricatures in clubs, but armed with his film strip, he covered the agencies “promoting animation like a banshee.” He found success, but moved to California.

Bonita is home “because that’s where I found office space.” For 18 months thereafter, no business. It took time to get established, and he is not fond of cocktail parties. “They are uncontrolled situations where people are liable to do anything. This bothers me.” He grins. Eventually, Chuck Vaden and Steve Irwin persuaded him to present himself. When he did, business did too. Above his board, a silver “Goodrich” blimp floats.

From such myriad experiences do cartoonists evolve. “But,” says Mark Kingsley Brown to aspiring cartoonists, “don’t say you’re a cartoonist unless you’re dead serious about the profession. It’s real bad to take up an art director’s time with ‘backyard’ cartooning. They don’t want copying. They want concept. The only way to be a professional is to be able to come up with concepts as well as the ability to illustrate that concept.” He smiles. “One of the big thrills in my life was ordering new business cards. Under my name, for the first time, was ‘Cartoonist.’ At that moment, I was committed.”

His grin widened, a faraway look in his eyes. “Cartoonists. Our view of the world is included in the price.”

I had a full day orientation of the TradeWinds Resorts on Wednesday, and was given a “Code of Service” card covering the expectations of every employee.

It included the “Three Steps of Service” for our hotel guests and fellow employees: 1. Greet our guests warmly and sincerely. Use our guest’s name when possible. 2. Deliver prompt, personalized service. Anticipate  the guest’s needs for that “Just Let Go” experience. And 3. Say good-bye and invite our guest to return. Use our guest’s name when possible.

TradeWinds have come up with 20 “basics” of delivering uncompromising service for our guests. They include:

1. Know, own and follow the vision, mission and guiding principles. Our vision is to realize the maximum potential of our company for the benefit of guests, employees and investors who trust us to fulfill an important need in their lives. Our mission is to provide superior services which consistently result in pleasing and memorable experiences, an exceptionally support environment, and a high return on the funds entrusted to us by our investors. Guiding Principles include: safety without exception; integrity; respect for guests and fellow employees; service creating a “Just Let Go” experience; teamwork with open communication; effective financial decisions; and creating innovations in our work together.

2. Honor our Motto: “We are hospitality professionals serving our guests and each other.”

3. We practice “Three Steps of Service” with every guest.

4. We practice uncompromising levels of cleanliness.

5. We create a positive work environment.

6. We smile, as we are always on stage.

7. We are each ambassadors of our company on and off the property.

8. We know the needs of our internal and external customers.

9. We escort guests whenever possible.

10. We own any guest complaint received until it is resolved.

11. We ensure instant guest satisfaction.

12. We empower employees to resolve guest dissatisfaction.

13. We take personal responsibility for the safety of our guests.

14. We protect the assets of the company by practicing conservation, and proper maintenance and repair of company property.

15. Our dress meets all professional standards appropriate for the resort.

16. We answer the phone within three rings using proper etiquette.

17. We know our role during an emergency, and are aware of proper fire and life safety responses.

18. We know when our retail and food outlets are open and always recommend them prior to outside facilities.

19. We make effective financial decisions.

20. We know and exercise these “basics.”

I have not committed these “Basics” to memory yet, but I am thoroughly impressed with the genuine care and attention that our “employee partners” provide to one another and the guests at TradeWinds Resorts. In my first few days on the job I have produced a number of advertisements which each addressed specific marketing objectives, with a multitude of changes as our objectives changed or were better understood. I have worked with Food and Beverage managers on producing and improving their menus. I have attended a photo session where we showcase our guests’ children getting temporary “tattoos” by the artful Devren Wilson (who also was one of our property tour guides during the orientation), and worked on a wedding planner book which promotes the resort’s many wonderful settings and services for an ideal wedding service. I realize this is just “scratching the surface” of what my job will entail. It is no wonder that this resort has established itself as the largest and best resort on Florida’s west coast. I am going to like working here.

Sal Randazzo, the “passionate creative director,” posted the question on the LinkedIn Communication Arts forum, “What typefaces do you think are overlooked and under-appreciated today?”

It is fun to revisit Souvenir and Korinna, two over-used fonts from the 70s, for an informal message. Univers and Avant Garde can still be excellent workhorses for a contemporary message. Univers has the broadest array of condensed faces, which I find extremely valuable for technical information.

Using Avant Garde, I often replaced the “0″ (zero) with a full rounded capital “O” for a more stylish numeral, and the typeface featured a good variety of ligatures of capitals for logos and fancy headlines.

Slab serif typefaces such as Memphis, Rockwell, and Stymie are not used much, but I like the look of Caecilia with the rounded slab serifs.

A very attractive serif text font is Legacy Serif, as is its sans-serif sister, Legacy Sans. Legacy Sans has a nostalgic 1920s flavor, but is still quite nice for contemporary projects. Legacy Serif has become my favorite font overall. It can usually be used in place of Times, Bookman, Caslon, Century, Galliard, Goudy and Garamond for an elegant publication text. I love it.

Restaurant menus are designed to make you eat more and spend more. Diners spend an average of 109 seconds reading the menu before deciding what to order. Tests by restaurant marketing researchers have identified five sure-fire ways to get the diner to choose the more profitable items on the menu.

1) Tempting descriptions and photos. “Hall of Fame Burger” sounds much better than “Hamburger,” right? Elaborate descriptions, particularly those that trigger nostalgia, can boost sales by 27%, according to Cornell University researchers. The more tantalizing the description, the better the item sells.

2) High profit zones. If you’ve ever memorized a vocabulary list, you know that the first and last words are the easiest to remember. Same goes for menus, so restaurants often put the highest profit items at the top and bottom of each section, and those items sell 25% better than the ones in the middle.

3) Bold type. When items are bolded with fancy type, perhaps printed in a different color, they can draw more attention and increase sales by 10%. “Bold typefaces are instant attention-getters designed to lure you to big-ticket items,” says David Pavesic, professor of hospitality management at Georgia State University.

4) Staggered prices. Menus laid out with ragged-right text and the prices “hidden” at the end of elaborate descriptions rather than in a column make it difficult for the diner to compare item prices, and find similar items which are priced lower. Kevin Moll, CEO of Denver’s National Restaurant Consultants, says staggering the prices on a menu leads to a 10% increase in sales.

5) Missing dollar signs. The dollar symbol is missing on many menus for a good reason. That little character ($) reminds us that we’re paying with money. When restaurants in one 2008 Cornell University study left dollar signs off the menu, the average check went up $5.55.

Take note next time you are out  to eat. Tempting descriptions, high profit zones, bold and fancy type, staggered prices and missing dollar signs are signs of profitability in the hospitality industry.

Fort De Soto Beach at dusk at the north end was enshrouded in fog, but at the south end the sky was clear, and provided this colorful display on Tampa Bay.

The ranger was routing us out of the park at 6 p.m., closing time, at Fort De Soto beach. I was able to get one last shot with the moon rising, and the spit of land which forms the causeway for I-275, and the Sunshine Skyway bridge farther to the south, forms a thin horizon line in the distance. A goose offshore a dozen yards is assessing my intentions.

By John Oldenkamp
This article originally titled “But Will It Float?” for Waterlog (1982)

“Soybeans? Well, they ain’t nothin’. Stick ‘em in and hope it rains. Not much fer eatin’, but the hogs, they loves ‘em, by god.” – Jim Mort, farmer, Peru, Indiana, 1947

If you were lucky and masochistic enough, you found yourself among the employed at General Dynamics Astronautics during the late fifties and early sixties in the so-called Communications Group, an umbrella term that covered art, motion pictures and television, editorial, still photography, a massive slide library, and the technical/reproduction services. Public relations were also part of this network. Your personal mission: to “wordspeak” what is now called “high tech” to the public, the stockholders, and indirectly perhaps the Russians, about things new and wonderful in missilry, intercontinental destruction, space exploration, zero-G, and some other frightening concepts being frontiered and merchandised as part of one remarkable corporate outreach.

There were, consequently, horrible deadlines, thousands of projects on-stream, an unconscionable number of meetings, presentations, conflicts, joys, and depressions as we pursued the sort of excellence that our leader and house whip, Charles T. Newton, envisioned. This was an elite and very much goal-oriented group. We pulled down a number of awards, including a near sweep of the New York Art Director’s show. Time did a cover story on this innovative corporate whispering-out-loud. We were fat and sassy, brash, but prideful.

You were thrown in with a bunch of over-achieving, interesting, and sometimes nasty folk. For my money, they were and are the birthing and the backbone of the current San Diego communication business. A litany of characters: San Diego city manager Ray Blair, designer-art director Stanley B. Hodge, Burton Brockett, Ernest Boldrick, illustrator John Sentovic, Tom Chapman, John Hynd, Leonard Parker, Tom Suzuki, Don Wright, Ole Olsen, J. Lee Anderson, the late Eugene Keefer, et. al. This was indeed the MGM of corporate talk.

There was, of course, a bullpen. We were the unscrubbed strivers, the possessed, driven types. We saved the company every day, or so it seemed, but since our own needs were generally unmet, we reveled in being truculent, upstart, and disarrayed.

We had some reason to be out of control. We were out of control. We were forever putting out twenty-pound ideas on hundred-and-forty-pound stock. We therefore had dire need for outlet. We had napkin-wetting contests wherein beer was the medium. It became necessary to discover and prove how big a ball of rubber cement one could manufacture in eight hours. We cadged free food and drinks at post-presentation presentations. We also jiggered the time clocks, wrote brilliant things on the toilet walls, flirted in the hallways, and occasionally went off-site and got mischievously smashed. Dope was unknown.

One of the inmates of the pen became my semi-confidante, gadfly, mentor, and comforter/co-culprit. His major talent at the time was to unfailingly stick a pushpin properly in any surface from a distance of twelve yards as his wan little arms preternaturally so designated. If you were there, you knew this early vintage Don McQuiston well.

Somehow, we have to connect this pin-throwing phenom to soybeans, communications, and the sea. We have to get a skinny barefoot kid selling Pepsi on the streets of Fresno to the here-and-now. Fact: In the interval between General Dynamics and the associated high jinks, freelancing, later becoming principal to at least two advertising agencies, then freelancing again, this man has become a master designer, typographer, and art director worth touting anywhere. His awards list is pure heavy metal.

He grows a lot of trees. And cats. Has a delightful home-built studio. Is an inveterate fisherperson, and vociferous naturalist. Is overworked. And like many, has mellowed with time.

Is he a mariner? More clearly put, we need to know what would cause an otherwise sturdy and normal adult to spend ten years handcrafting a Baltimore Clipper sailboat replica in the bean-field boonies of Del Mar. It may be pure desire to match hand and eye on whatever seems faraway, commanding his personal mood and fortune on waters ripe for discovery, to relax at fifty, having rubbed spurs on fence posts enough.

Whatever. Space does not permit full chronicle, but memory serves to remind of a 1966 McQuiston phone call, the general excitement of which was an invitation to come help win the Newport-Ensenada race as crew. A certain Earl Schultz had this brand new 65-foot bug-eye sloop, and wanted a seasoned group to whiz her down to Mexico in victory.

I had been sailing the Great Lakes and inland waters for twenty years or better, and had actually been in the Olympic trials in 1957, missing out just barely owing to the slight corpulence of my forward crew person, whose ballast was overly negative. A day sailor, I knew nothing of navigation or ocean racing.

Long stories hopefully get shorter. Suffice to say that we did indeed agree to participate and inaugurated our winning cruise in barging the starting line by at least ten minutes, had to go around thereby giving up another half hour to our competitors, hailing out of Newport Roads somewhat less than gloriously, as planned. It also happened that the owner had cross-wired all the batteries, so that we unknowingly bereft of binnacle, running lights, and diesel engine capability. The rest of the crew, some ten of them, included a famous screen actor; two cops from West L.A.; a builder; and assorted “laid-backs” who had absolutely no idea of what was supposed to happen so spent the first part of the race partying.  Most went to bed sans dinner.

Around midnight, it was evident that we were somewhere between San Diego and Cathay, and the rest of inner space.  McQuiston had out his “charts.” I wondered where the hell he had gotten these specious scraps, inasmuch as I was in charge, fresh hangover notwithstanding. It began to rain. It was very dark. An unfortunate jibe occurred after a strong gust of wind, sending our champion craft suddenly and terminally astray. Miraculously, though, we saw lights on the unknown horizon.

“Aah, Ensenada!” I cried. “Crap, looks like we are the first here! Let’s go below and get those rummies up, and ram the port,” I said with tremendous enthusiasm and authority.

My conviction lasted all of thirty seconds. We were about to beach dead-stick on the old fuel dump some six miles south of Tijuana!  “Pooh,” I said. “No point in waking up those jerks.”

We proceed. We finish last out of 595 entries. We enter the harbor in Ensenada at ten in the morning. Since the diesel is out, we have to swing this big pile of logs quite smartly in order to avoid crashing into the rest of the fleet. They award a spittoon-like device as trophy. I am crestfallen.

McQuiston announces that he has “told us so.” We rent a bumboat and go to the Bahia to play hero. The famous screen actor becomes grumpy and unmanageable. I put him in a sedan bound for the border. The remaining crew dissipates. My girlfriend calls to tell me to stay where I am. She has found something else to do.

Conceivably, the genesis of the McQuiston Baltimore Clipper, as presented here, could have resulted from our infamous and embarrassing Newport-Ensenada Regatta attempt, but probably not. The devil always does his homework. Now, please, back to Del Mar.

Memories of the foregoing flashing like an old movie, I go aboard Don’s still-landlocked vessel to witness a most carefully researched and deliberate effort underway. If the replication is not totally accurate, let us admit and admire the preservation of style as it should exist. The decking, of well-aged teak, is carefully and lovingly in place. There are dovetails, peg joints, and nicely lofted dimensional reductions in great abundance. Below decks, spaces to sustain and sleep eight or ten, take shape under the gloom of a temporary canopy. A bit of brass and stainless gleam in the passageways. A sturdy British diesel motor perches comfortably in the sultry loins of the still-dry bilge. A door here and a dresser or counter there, each beautifully shaped in mahogany, installed and rubbed out to a fine luster, suggest future warmth. A Belgian woodstove will live soon on an oakwood throne backed by tediously laid-on ceramic tiles in the motif of Flemish gentry. The aspect is of impeccable craft and continuity. To cruise and bed down here would be yet another extension of an already brilliant career. One hears the freeboards pounding. The subtle lines of the foredeck risers are noted, as is the delicate airiness of the deckhouse. Solid bronze porthole castings await some labor of love final rubbing out. Looking aft, we spy a gaping hole where the tiller mechanism will soon be installed.

Outside and overhead, there is a shading of elderly and stately mimosa. The soybeans are playing out there adolescence less than fifty feet away. A dog is about. There are legions of squatting spiders. A soiled blueprint or two dominate an otherwise unoccupied and scrupulously neat worktable. The trashcans are empty. It is early on a to-be warm day.

Don McQuiston scratches a non-existent bit deep inside his left armpit. My camera sits ready in the non-shade. A hurried picture or two are committed, but I must leave. I have an appointment God only knows where. I need oil for my car. Non-marine concerns unhappily override.

A Miramar jet scrambles vertically, screwing out my brain. I am no longer at sea, but cruising Sorrento Valley, bound for the office, city and work.

The Baltimore Clipper was forty-five feet on the waterline, about sixty-five from bowsprit to tiller, with a team of fourteen-odd. Very seaworthy. Excellent weather helm. As good off Madagascar as she was in Rhode Island. A distant alluvial event has brought beans and boat together just as that unwarranted jibe on the way to Ensenada proved convincing enough to guarantee the risk we see fulfilling here. God bless us all. There will be ten years’ water under this Lady at Thanksgiving.

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John Oldenkamp was the proprietor of a photography studio located on Adams Avenue in San Diego for many years. His clients included major advertising agencies, graphic designers, and local celebrities including television news anchors, business people and politicians. John was part of the crop of creatives employed at San Diego’s largest private-sector employer in the early 1960s, General Dynamic Astronautics, a company that designed and manufactured aircraft, missiles and space vehicles (specifically the Atlas and Centaur electronically-guided weapons missiles) for the cold war effort. John contributed this article to me in 1982 for a newsletter I edited for the Communicating Arts Group of San Diego. The theme of this particular newsletter issue was “Waterlog,” a specious but fun nautical-themed publication for graphic communicators.  –  Jim Hance

At the 2011 Detroit Auto Show, Toyota is taking a poll to determine what the plural of “Prius” should be. It’s all part of their “Prius goes plural” ad campaign, as they unveil three new Prius models. The Detroit Free Press consulted with some experts, including Visual Thesaurus editor Ben Zimmer, to get their take on how to pluralize the Latin-sounding car name.