Article by Capt. Franky Pettolina
When my father first bought the “Last Call” and brought it to Ocean City in 1983 it looked markedly different than it does now. First, the boat did not have a tower. We did not add that until several seasons later. What it did have was a radar arch. And that radar arch was mounted facing forward, rather than the traditional aft facing arch that was the industry norm back then, just as it is today.
Another odd feature about the boat was the fly bridge enclosure. Unlike the sporty, and temperature friendly, white canvas that was surrounding most boats’ isinglass panels, ours was brown. Not trendy now, definitely not trendy back then. Lastly we had a bright red inflatable tender mounted on the bow. The old girl had a unique look to her back in her youth, and that is putting it mildly. But she was beautiful in my Dad’s eyes and he couldn’t wait to head on up to the bar at the White Marlin Marina and admire his new baby and celebrate her arrival in Ocean City with a cold cocktail.
Upon arriving at the bar, Dad took a seat and soaked in his new surroundings. There were a couple of guys already sitting at the bar. Fishing folk have always been a chatty bunch and Dad figured that the best way to fit in to the new scene was to eavesdrop a bit and then join in the conversation. It was a really solid plan until Dad caught the gist of the conversation. The guys had already had a few libations under their belt and it turns out that they too were “admiring” the new addition to the marina fleet! Dad quickly learned that the other guys in the marina had already nicknamed the “Last Call” the “Conestoga Wagon” and they were all trying to figure out who in their right mind would mount a radar arch backwards! So Dad finished his drink and decided that he would be better suited to enjoy his new (to him at least) boat from the privacy of her own cockpit.
A little while later a couple of the guys from the bar returned to their own boats. Sure enough they were tied up just a couple slips over from the “Last Call”. It turns out that the one fellow, his name was Elmer, owned a boat that was the same make as the “Last Call”. His boat was called the “Gail IV”, and his buddy was a guy named Tom, whose boat was a little smaller and called the “Tomar”. In addition to being a chatty bunch, Dad soon learned that a good natured ribbing was par for the course around the marina. A conversation was struck up and Dad became fast friends with Elmer and Tom.
Over the course of that summer I watched my father adapt to fishing out of Maryland (we had migrated south from New Jersey). My 10-year-old eyes and ears worked overtime to learn all that I could. Dad picked up on the local vernacular and figured out that what we called certain fish in New Jersey was not what you would call them in Maryland (weakies became trout, stripers became rock, etc.). I made friends with the other dock kids, including Tom’s son Greg, and Dad became one of “the boys” on the dock. Cocktails behind the “Gail IV” and the “Tomar” were a common occurrence and it always seemed like a party at the end of the day when Elmer and Tom got in from fishing. I will never forget one day when Elmer and the crew caught a sailfish, which was a really rare occurrence back in those days (even more so than today). They were celebrating extra hard that night and Tom made the comment that when they wound it in, they saw what it was and let it back out because it didn’t jump enough! It’s funny the things that stick in a 10-year-old’s mind, but I can still picture Tom saying that.
I have heard it said many times that every summer moves faster than the one before it, and the older I get the more that rings true. After that first summer at the White Marlin Marina things moved very quickly. The restaurant was torn down and the marina took the shape of the Condominium Marina that it is today. The “Last Call” moved west to Shanty Town Marina (now the Ocean City Fishing Center) and later north to Bahia Marina and then back to the Fishing Center. Tom and Elmer stayed at the White Marlin Marina and fished on the “Gail IV” or the “Tomar” for a few more years. Tom moved up to a boat similar to the “Gail IV” and named it “Kingfisher”. Eventually Tom bought an even bigger boat and kept the name “Kingfisher”. My Dad stayed friends with both of them and we all caught up when we could. Especially around the White Marlin Open.
In the mid 90s (I want to say it was 1996 or so), I ran into Tom at the Reel Inn on the Saturday before the White Marlin Open. It was late, and we both had consumed more than a few cocktails. Due to a booking mix-up I was supposed to fish the next day (we usually block the day off as a prep day for the tournament). We were scheduled to leave the dock at 3:30 AM so we could be back at the dock around 3:00 in the afternoon and head to the tournament sign-ups. By this point in history Tom was known by the nickname “Kingbone”. Our conversation went something like this…
Kingbone (in his raspy voice, which was always a little raspier later in the evenings): “Franky! Franky! Get over here! (changing direction towards the bartender) Give us a bottle!”
Me: “Kingbone! (faking fear and acting like I didn’t want it but reaching out anyway) I can’t drink that. I have to fish tomorrow!”
Kingbone: “C’mere you little $#@$!& Your father and I have been friends since the 70s!”
Me: (doing math in my head, and remembering that my Dad didn’t meet him until the 80s) “Ok. Ok. I will have one”
The rest of the evening was more than a blur. Tom and I finished the bottle. I don’t remember parting company that night and I wish I could. I do remember fishing the next day. And I wish I didn’t! The tunas were biting, but man it was rough. Not the seas. Just me. Rough. But that is another story for another time…
A year or two later I was working on a boat in Mexico. Tom and Elmer flew in with their wives for vacation and chartered me for a couple days of sailfishing during their stay. While we were out fishing I watched Tom and Elmer interact with each other. And by interact I mean pick on one another relentlessly. I remembered back to that first day in the White Marlin Marina a decade and a half prior. They weren’t being mean at all when they were picking on Dad’s boat. They were welcoming it into the fold. Fishing was good those two days Tom and Elmer were on the boat, but the company was what made the trip. We may have also had a few cocktails when we got back to the dock!
Every summer moves faster than the last. I have many fond memories of Tom and Elmer. A few years ago we had to say goodbye to Elmer. And now, just last week Tom left us too. I found out about Tom’s passing right about the same time my article was due for this season’s first issue of the Coastal Fisherman. Larry offered to give me a little extra time so I could write a tribute to Kingbone. I declined and said I wanted to take the time to do it properly. As I sit here writing these few little quips from a lifetime of friendship I am realizing a couple of things. I have many Kingbone stories. All of them involve boats, fishing and some alcohol. Most of them include Elmer. I am also realizing that there is no way to write a proper tribute. Some things can’t be written. So I texted Kingbone’s son, Greg while I was writing this. I am going to meet him for a drink this weekend. I may coax him into more than one. Undoubtedly, there will be other people nearby that were friends with Kingbone (just about any fisherman-friendly gathering in OC will have plenty). I will coax them into joining us too. I will do my best to imitate Tom’s voice. I will say one of his favorite sayings (which is not really fit to put in this family friendly publication) and we will have a fitting tribute to my friend. Rest easy Kingbone. And give Elmer a hard time for me….
Capt Franky Pettolina is Co-Captain of the charter boat, “Last Call”, owner of Pettolina Marine Surveying, Inc. and multi-term President of the Ocean City Marlin Club.