GARGOZO MANUSCRIPT

Munson and I had sailed to the center of Moro Bay just as the offshore wind began to howl.  We were staying at the Umbeck’s in Los Osos and had taken out their sabot, an eight-foot-long sailing dinghy.  The sabot is a tiny craft intended for single-handed sailing by youngsters.   photo from Duckworks Magazine We were both over six feet tall which along with the ice chest we loaded aboard made for cramped quarters.  Between the ice chest and the two of us, the little boat would be asked to maneuver while hauling nearly 500 pounds.  Neither of us had ever been sailing before but after a twenty-minute laurel-and-Hardy routine that dealt with tacking and coming about, we were all set.  We had made use of a steady but gentle breeze to take us out into the bay where we now sat working our way through the beer in the ice chest.  At first the occasional gusts went unnoticed but as white caps appeared and the wind neared gale-force lev...

The documents below were found in a dumpster outside Frank Gehry’s Los Angeles offices.

I was fortunate to be around Stephen Murrell Peters in the mid 1960s before he was stricken with a severe form of maturity.  I've written about Peters before and since no one else is recording his deeds, I feel it is my duty as well as a privilege to put down a few more words about the man. Someone we knew (Tut Wynn as I recall) was attending Occidental College and was on the cheerleading squad.  Peters not only had nothing to do with cheerleading he wasn't even going to school.  However, we all hung around together and Peters happened to get wind of an invitation put forth to the Oxy cheerleaders to participate in a Los Angeles City High School cheerleading camp.  Peters also discovered that none of the Oxy cheerleaders were going to attend as none of them wanted to blow a Saturday with a bunch of high school kids.  Peters talked Tut in to letting him borrow the Oxy cheerleading outfits so he, Cummins and Chaffee could go as imposters...

Photo – historicengland.org.uk England 1862, Wednesday early afternoon - the postman has delivered a parcel to an estate just outside London .  The box has been taken up to the study on the second floor and placed on a large table.  The head of the household has returned from his midday walk and is making his way up the stairs.  His full whitish-grey beard and poor posture make him seem older than his age of fifty-three.  His movements are slow and he requires the use of a walking stick.  He pauses in the hall for a pinch of snuff before entering his study and taking a seat at the table.  He notices the parcel on the table and sees that it’s from James Bateman a horticulturist.  He had requested specimens from Bateman to use in his work on the insect pollination of orchids.  Using his penknife he carefully removes the twine and paper and opens the box.  This time Bateman has included something truly unique - Angraecum sesquipe...