Charles Teetor

The Nettle Creek Story Charles Teetor

It all began one a hot, August, Sunday afternoon in 1949 at a dock in New York City's nearby yachting center, City Island. My father had just arrived from Florida on his elderly but classic Elco motor yacht and I had come out from the city on the subway to meet him. As we sat on the kapok upholstered chairs of his back deck, looking out over the sweltering harbor and talking about the pleasures of boating, it was impossible not to notice the unfortunate odor of mildew that seemed to swell up each time someone moved in their seat. This led to the platitude that one could always tell by the smell, those boats that had spent the winter in Florida.