usician Jim Dugan grabs a Seagull acoustic guitar from his Ford F-250 diesel pickup in the gravel parking lot at Shorty’s Place, ready to play his standing Sunday gig at the new location of the wood-frame bar that has been a local institution in Port Aransas for almost eight decades. He chats with loyalists who gather on its deck, shielded from the bright afternoon sun by a mesh awning. They sip cheap bottles of Lone Star or partake of the bar’s signature “Golf Shot”—an invigorating concoction of whiskey, coconut rum, banana liqueur, and Red Bull. Without a formal introduction, Dugan launches into “Bloody Mary Morning,” substituting “Port Aransas” for “Houston” in the lyrics
