US 98: Tales of Carrabelle

By Paul Dean Moore

US 98: Tales of Carrabelle is the story of 4 generations of a family living in the small village of Carrabelle, Florida, on the Gulf of Mexico. The story begins with World War Two amphibious training in 1943 and proceeds to its ending in 2019. Think nothing happens in a tiny fishing village, think again. You may fall in love with Florida's Forgotten Coast.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Nov 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781684713479

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MOORE

Copyright © 2019 Paul Dean Moore.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-6847-1348-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6847-1347-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019918279

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, Living Bible Version®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date:  11/15/2019

Heroes don’t have the need to be known as heroes, they just do what heroes do because it is right and it must be done.

—Shannon A. Thompson

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PROLOGUE

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H e crouched behind the door of a guest room. Third time in the mansion. Patience , he reminded himself. Dark and silent, no moon tonight. Two years ago, he agreed to take this job: $50,000 upfront and $150,000 following. Too much money to walk away. Use the assets given: stealth and deception.

He went over his mental checklist one last time: box cutter, knives, screwdriver, gloves, apron.

The discussion with his mentor had been helpful: Do your homework. Leave nothing to chance. Have a solid entry plan. Have an exit strategy with three backups.

He did intelligence gathering on the mansion, owner, and staff for more than a year. The owner was an old man and the target.

In the next room, there was movement, followed by noise in the bathroom. Gloves and apron on. Time to move. After opening the door of his hiding place, he took four steps to the master bedroom, opened the door, and slipped inside. Get down and wait.

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CHAPTER 1

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W orld War II was past. James Long and family—his wife, Mary Ruth, and son, Enos James—moved from Upstate New York to the village of Carrabelle, Florida.

Corporal Long’s military service had brought him to Camp Gordon Johnston in 1943. The beach east of Carrabelle mimicked the French coastline. Twenty-five thousand soldiers practiced amphibious landings in preparation for D-Day. As a member of the 336 Harbor Craft Company, Long learned to pilot a landing craft and prepared for the day his skills would take him to Utah Beach. Lesser-known invasions followed.

Weekend liberty gave time to experience the fishing village of Carrabelle and its eight hundred residents. In letters to his wife and son, he spoke of the beauty of the area and the wonderful people in the little community. He even wrote, After the war is over, I’d like to live here.

Following military separation, James Long found employment closing Camp Gordon Johnston. It, thank God, was no longer needed. James hoped all wars would end.

Mary Ruth and fourteen-year-old Enos James were not excited about leaving New York. They heard hurricanes visited Florida often. They arrived in November when winter was starting in New York and hurricane season was past.

***

Enos James’s first look at the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico was appealing. Boats going out of the harbor to fish or check the oyster beds mesmerized him. His young mind imagined a day when he could be out on the water. It was a dream he would pursue. Along the way, he saw and became smitten with Betty Helen Schwartz. When he first noticed her at Carrabelle High School, she was a junior. He was a sophomore. He thought, Betty is pretty. No, she’s beautiful. Perfect. She reminds me of the actress Linda Darnell: dark eyes, dark hair, and flawless skin. Someday, she’ll notice me. Goal number two for the kid from New York was to learn everything he could about Betty. The fulfillment of the two life goals would happen but not today.

During his senior year, he found part-time work on Millan’s oyster boat. The water made Enos feel alive. He became tanned and taller with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and curly brown hair. Mr. Millan shared his pleasure with other boat captains at the marina. In such a small town, everyone watched this kid from up north grow up, grow handsome, and work very hard.

Enos began going by the name of Jim. Things were progressing when Millan suggested a future of Jim owning a boat. Mr. Millan now owned and operated four fishing craft. Oysters were in great demand around the country. His knowledge of the various oyster beds was outstanding. It was normal for each boat to bring in ten to twelve baskets of seafood daily. And Big Jim was not a laborer. He was learning the business.

Camp Gordan Johnston closed, and James and Mary Ruth Long decided to return to New York.

Mary Ruth said, Your father and I would like you to come with us. There are not enough jobs here for him. He doesn’t want to be on a boat. Our chances are better back in New York.

Young Jim, now twenty-one, was adamant in his desire to remain in Florida. Mother, when Dad was my age, he left home to fight in the war. My future is here, not with you in New York.

With the Buick packed, the family had one last group hug. Ruth could not hold back the tears. The family car left Carrabelle via US 98, the same road that brought them into Franklin County.

A week later, the Franklin County sheriff came down to the docks as the fishing fleet was returning for the night. Spotting the Millan boats, he walked down the pier and asked for Mr. Millan. Millan pointed out Jim, and the sheriff made his way over.

Enos Long? the sheriff asked.

Yes, sir.

Are you the son of James and Mary Ruth Long?

Yes, sir. They left Carrabelle last week.

Son, I’m sorry to tell you—they’re both dead. They died in a one-car automobile crash near Newark, New Jersey. They died at the scene of the accident. The sheriff handed Long a piece of paper. This is the contact information for the New Jersey State Police. They can give you more details. Please call as soon as possible. Big Jim felt the bottom fall from of his world. As he turned away from the sheriff, tears began to flow.

Mr. Millan, standing nearby, said, Come on, Jim. Let me drive you home.

It was 1953, and without warning, the joy of life left the only child of Mary Ruth and James Long. He felt all alone. He had no parents, no siblings, no aunts, no uncles, and no grandparents. Arrangements for his parents’ funerals and estate needed to be made. He took a bus to New Jersey. Thanks to a helpful attorney in New Jersey, the tasks were completed. Jim returned to Carrabelle with an empty heart and a modest inheritance. A bus brought a damaged man back to Carrabelle, to the sea, and to a young woman who still did not know Enos Long existed.

He was able to remain in the rented house he shared with his parents. But he would need to find cheaper lodging soon.

The first morning back on Millan’s boat, he stopped his work for a moment and looked out across the waters. There was a reason for him to be here, and the sea was calling. He took a deep breath, renewed his determination, and went to work. The future was waiting, and he wanted to be ready.

Big Jim walked to St. Anne’s Episcopal Church each Sunday. Mary Ruth had raised her boy to be God-fearing, so he attended church. He found the members to be friendly and compassionate. He needed both over the next couple years. His spirit needed healing.

***

Betty Schwartz needed a job. Dick, her father, offered to help. She was hired as an aide at Carrabelle School. Assigned to assist with the younger elementary students, she helped wherever needed. She monitored the playground and the lunchroom. She stood in for teachers who needed to be away from the classroom for short periods. On occasion, she filled in for the librarian, watching students to make sure they were quiet. Betty considered teaching, but the aide position was enough for now while she waited. She expected to marry one day soon, but no one was asking. She felt like a mannequin in a window. Men looked, but no one made an offer, so she kept working with the children.

Betty and her parents were members of the same church. Each Sunday, Jim would enter the sanctuary after the Schwartz family. He would take a seat where he could glance at Betty without being too obvious. The last thing he wanted to do was scare any of them. His second goal, having Betty in his life, was still only a dream. He would wait for his opportunity.

During those years, Big Jim felt empty, even though work kept him busy. On good-weather days, he was on the water from five in the morning until sundown. When the weather was not cooperating, the boats were out less, or Jim might be working on the boats in the harbor. He had a good relationship with the other men on the boats and with Mr. Millan, but his social life was dismal—until the evening a mongrel dog followed him home from the docks. Jim had seen the dog by the docks a few evenings. Fishermen were throwing him bits of food, and the dog kept checking the trash can for morsels. As the dog followed, Jim tried hard to ignore it, but the dog kept following. When he reached his room, Jim unlocked the door and stepped inside without looking back.

Jim turned on the overhead light. The refrigerator held modest possibilities: eggs, butter, root beer, chicken salad, and bread. Crackers and a can of soup were the total provisions in his pantry. He wished his mom had taught him more about cooking. Then he heard, outside the door, a scratching. Then a little whine.

Darn dog, Jim muttered. He went to the door and opened it a crack.

There was a wet black nose near Jim’s knee, pushing its way inside.

No, you don’t, Jim said as he closed the door.

The rest of the evening was a continuous replay of scratching and whining. But Jim held firm and did not open the door. He feasted on chicken salad and a root beer before bed.

When his alarm clock rang at 4:30 a.m., Jim got ready to leave for work. He opened the door, stepped out, and locked it. No dog. But as he walked toward the docks, the mutt came bounding around the house with its tail whipping in circles. Jim said nothing, and the dog stopped, sat, and looked at him. It took five minutes to walk to the docks, with the dog trotting behind. As Jim peeked back, he could have sworn the dog had a smile on its face.

When his workday was complete, the boat returned to the harbor. Jim remembered he needed to check the engine oil before going home. As he pulled up the engine hatch, he heard a bark. More of a loud woof. Jim looked over the gun rail to the end of the dock. There was the dog: seated, patient, and wagging its tail.

Jim’s walk home was a repeat of the previous night, as were his supper and the interplay with the dog. The night was very warm with little breeze, so Jim decided to take his kitchen chair outside and sit. It was dark, humid with no moon. As he sat relaxing, he saw movement across the street between houses. The motion stopped. It started again. The dog was creeping closer, ever closer, but only a few feet at a time and then would either sit or lie down. Jim started to chuckle. Fifteen minutes later, the dog crossed the street and was six feet away from Big Jim. The dog’s eyes locked on Jim’s face. Even as a car went by, the dog remained focused on its mission. Finally, Jim surrendered. Come here, and he patted his leg. The dog approached slowly and cautiously and laid his head on Jim’s leg.

Some type of retriever/hound mix—who knew? Skinny, male, brown and white face, floppy ears, black feet, red brown coat, no collar. But the feature that caught Jim’s attention—the eyes. There was an intensity in those brown eyes Jim had only seen once before—his mother. Those were her eyes. How could it be possible? he wondered. Jim started to pet the dog’s head and rub the floppy ears. The dog enjoyed the attention.

Jim left the dog to get a bowl of water and the final leftovers of chicken salad. He spent the next hour trying out names and seeking a reaction. Angus, Bernie, Chuck, Everett, and Fido got no reaction. Buster, Clem, and Dufus—nothing. Frustrated, he said Arvid. He thought, My old make-believe friend from kindergarten in New York. Arvid! The dog started chasing his tail. Who would believe it? whispered Jim. They became man and best buddy.

***

Dick and Tina Schwartz thanked God every day for their daughter, Betty. She was lovely, joyful, and helpful, but beneath the surface, she was getting restless. She prayed every night the same request: Lord, please send me a husband who will love me and who I can love in return. She had a few dates with Tom Bonner, but something was amiss in the relationship. It wasn’t conversation or his physical appearance. He seemed to have a plan for his life and was working for a car dealer as a mechanic. What’s missing? she asked herself. She wondered, is it me?

Over the next four years, Big Jim proved to be a patient man. He worked on the boat, saved his money, spent evenings with Arvid, and went to church. He learned much about the fishing/oyster business and began piloting one of Millan’s boats. He bought a used car. Arvid became a patient with the local veterinarian. Jim listened for any news or gossip about all things Betty, and he learned to pray. He had to talk with someone other than Arvid.

Jim thought of hundreds of ways to place himself in Betty’s line of sight. But he needed her to notice him. He was growing impatient. He had learned where Betty and her parents lived. He took Arvid on treks past their home. He discovered where Betty worked. He met her friends. He greeted her parents at church. On occasion, he walked across her field of vision.

Jim’s opportunity arrived following a potluck dinner at the Episcopal church. Jim knew the potluck meant better food than he could prepare for himself. Food finished, Jim gave himself a brief pep talk, rose from his seat, and walked straight to Betty’s seat. He whispered in her ear, Can you come outside with me for a moment? I need to speak with you. Sitting on a bench around the side of the church, Jim shared his heart with Betty. He started, Betty, I have loved you from the first time I saw you in high school.

I don’t remember you in high school. I’m sorry, she said.

I was a grade behind you, and I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. I wanted to tell you then, but I figured you would brush me off since I was a scrawny kid.

Betty turned her eyes to his handsome face. She had noticed him before, but for the first time, she was paying attention.

Betty, I’m not a kid anymore. And I want to ask you, will you marry me? Before you answer, I know you date Tom Bonner, and I will understand if you would rather be with him, but I love you. I have since I first saw you. I know you work as an aide at the elementary school. I admire your dedication to the town’s children.

She was shocked but did not want Jim to know. How had this happened? she wondered. He knows all this about me, and I don’t know him at all. She stood up, looked him in the eye, and said, Jim, this is not what I expected when you asked me out here tonight. I thought you wanted to know how to join the choir or something. One week from tonight, if you want to hear my answer, I will give it to you, right here beside the church. She turned and walked back inside to the dinner.

Jim left and walked the three blocks home. He wished he knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling, but he would have to wait. I should have asked her out on a date first. Too late now, he thought.

Betty was almost shaking as she took her seat next to her mother. Her mind was racing. She had been seeing Tom since high school. His parents were pillars of Carrabelle. He was always polite and friendly to her and to her parents, but there was no passion, no spark. She was twenty-seven, with married friends, and some had children. She dreamed things between her and Tom would heat up, but so far nothing. Betty’s mother, Tina, reached over and touched her arm. You okay?

Betty answered, I don’t know. I can’t believe what happened outside, glancing at the door.

Something going on between you and Jim Long? I heard him ask you to step outside with him.

Returning home, Betty told her parents word for word what happened outside the church. They listened without interruption and afterward processed the information for a few moments. They watched their only child’s face, trying to see into her heart. Finally, Tina said, Darling, what are you thinking?

I’m not sure, Mom. I’m numb. I don’t know what to think. I have imagined this day since I was in high school, but never like this—and never from Jim. I thought it would be Tom.

Dick said. Honey, did he seem nervous to you?

Betty shook her head.

I remember Long as a student in high school. Nice kid, quiet, not a lot of friends, but he seemed to be a decent guy. When a man declares his love to a woman out of the blue, he has been thinking about it a long time and wants her to know his heart. Or he wants something from her. My gut tells me that’s what is happening here. I have seen him walk past our house in the late evenings with his dog. Seems to happen about once a week. He’s been walking past the house trying to catch a glimpse of you. He paused. Why did you tell him you would give him an answer in a week?

I didn’t know what else to say, Betty replied. She hid her face behind her hands.

It has to be your decision, Dick said, but I can tell you Mr. Millan says he is a fine young man. Millan told me Jim is a hard worker and will make some woman a wonderful husband someday. He paused. Why not you?

Oh, Dick, you make our daughter sound desperate the way you said it, said Tina.

No, Tina. I don’t think Betty’s desperate at all. She might be one of the blessed ones. Pretty girl, solid character. The good Lord looking down sends her a special gift in the form of a good man. You know, not everyone has to date for two years before they get married. My great-grandparents met one week and married at the courthouse two weeks later. And think about all the soldiers who married girls before they went to war.

I don’t want our baby to get hurt. We don’t know this young man, stated Tina.

I realize this isn’t the usual way things happen. I don’t want her hurt either. But life does not follow some preset plan.

Betty went to bed. Dick’s statement resounded: The good Lord looking down sends her a special gift in the form of a good man.

Enos James Long and Betty Helen Schwartz courted four months. The school aide fell in love with the fisherman. The highlights were dinners, long talks on the porch swing, holding hands, and tender kisses. On a warm Saturday in May 1959, they wed outside the Episcopal church in Carrabelle. It was a joyous occasion with friends and a dog named Arvid. Tina and Dick Schwartz embraced their new son.

Jim and Betty resided in a second-floor apartment near the city hall in Carrabelle. Mr. Millan sold Jim one of his older boats. He still needed nets, oyster cages, ropes, and anchors to fish and harvest. Millan gave the equipment as a wedding gift. Betty continued working for the school. She handled the bookkeeping and records for Jim’s fishing business. Jim took the boat out and gathered seafood to sell. They shared responsibilities in caring for their roommate, Arvid. They had everything necessary for their life together. Their love grew daily.

John Kennedy and Richard Nixon debated in September 1960. As they watched, Betty noticed she was feeling a bit sick. Every time she ate, she was nauseous. She was tired, and her breasts were sore. The appointment was with a doctor in Apalachicola in western Franklin County. She took her mother, Tina, along for the ride. Tina announced, I’m going with you. You are not going alone. It’s twenty-three miles to Apalachicola. I’m your mother!

The decade of the 1960s would prove to be eventful for the Long family of Carrabelle, Florida. Jim’s commercial fishing operation was successful enough for Jim to hire a second part-time mate. He tried to take Arvid along, but it proved to be a mistake, as the dog got seasick. Jim hoped one day he might have a fleet of boats like his mentor, Mr. Millan.

When Betty returned from her trip to Apalachicola, she gave Jim a happy report. I’m going to have a baby, Jim.

An excited Jim said, Oh, Betty, that’s terrific! I have wanted to be a dad for a long time. You know, this settles things for me. I was thinking about buying a second boat. Let’s use the money to put a down payment on a house for us and Little Jim. His smile went from ear to ear.

Betty asked, What if it’s a little girl?

Jim’s face froze, and then his smile grew bigger. If she looks like her mother, she will be beautiful! I could live with two gorgeous women! I am the luckiest man in the world. He scooped up his bride of fifteen months and gave her a great big kiss and a hug, warming Betty’s soul. Arvid watched and wagged his tail. Arvid became Betty’s bodyguard. Whenever possible, he placed his head on the baby bump. Instinctively, he knew this child would become special.

Betty was approaching her due date in mid spring 1961. She spent increasing amounts of time at her parents’ home while Jim was on his boat. The bond between mother and daughter had always been strong. Tina was dealing with a sick husband. Dick had congestive heart failure.

Dick, a fifty-five-year-old high school teacher, could no longer work. He no longer had any energy. Sitting in the living room, he did not read or watch television; he sat and looked out the window. Sometimes he turned on the radio; other days, he didn’t. He seemed to be waiting to die like his father and his father’s father. He had inherited a bad heart. But he did look forward to seeing his only child, Betty as she came to visit. They all knew what was coming but did not know which would come first, new life or death.

The answer arrived on Friday, February 24, 1961. Betty was in her seventh month of pregnancy. She had decided to wait until after lunch to visit her parents’ house. While doing laundry, the phone rang. Her heart paused. Hello. Mom, is it you? Are you all right? I can’t understand you. Is it Daddy? Betty dropped the phone and ran the five blocks to her parents’ home. She heard the siren as she ran. Please God! was the only prayer in her mind.

She got to the front door as the ambulance pulled to a stop in front of the house. She shivered as she walked in the front room. There on the floor was Dick. Tina sat on the floor holding his head in her lap. His skin tone was gray, mouth open, eyes rolled back. Tina sat and cried. His heart had stopped. An answer was received to Betty’s prayer.

There was an incident at the funeral of Dick Schwartz. It would cause his family to leave the Episcopal Church. Tina’s grief was very deep, and she was having trouble sleeping the night before the funeral. She thought, I’ve forgotten something. What is it? The viewing was at the funeral home, with the service at the church. Congregation members came to support the family and to say farewell to their friend.

Normal funeral protocol dictated the family sit on the right side of the center aisle. Primary mourner, the heartbroken widow, Tina. Next to her, the grieving pregnant daughter, Betty. Finally, Big Jim looking very somber in his new black suit. On the opposite side of the aisle sat the six men who had agreed to be pallbearers for their former teacher and friend.

Dick’s pine casket looked impressive. It was placed at the end of the center aisle, surrounded by floral displays. Dick was loved by many. Reverend Benjamin Smythe prepared to read scriptures as a voice made the pronouncement. Well, Dick’s family must not have loved him very much. They did not even bother to buy a flower spray for the casket.

After the statement, the family heard nothing else. The readings, the songs, the message no longer mattered. The damage was complete. The Schwartz family would never enter those sacred doors again. The family buried Dick’s remains in Evergreen Cemetery. Forever he would abide among the residents of Carrabelle. A life well lived, gone too soon.

***

Two months later, Big Jim Long could not decide whether to stand and pace or to sit and worry. Betty was in labor down the hall from him at the Apalachicola Hospital. All Jim knew was he was alone in the small waiting room. No one came to tell him anything. He felt useless! He promised Tina and Mr. Millan a call as soon as there was news. Betty’s pregnancy had no complications. Every sign pointed to a healthy delivery. It was all he heard from both Betty and Tina after each visit to the doctor. Jim didn’t feel he could sacrifice time on the water to go to Betty’s appointments. Jim thought, I can wait for hours fishing, no problem. This is different. This would be his son or daughter. He became panicky. This responsibility scared him unlike anything before. Who could he could tell besides the dog?

Jim was about to sit down again when a nurse came into the waiting room. Mr. Long, congratulations, it’s a girl. Everything is fine. The baby is doing well, and so is your wife. In about an hour, you should be able to see your wife. We need a little time to get her into a room. When the doctor finishes checking the baby, she will go to the nursery, and you will be able to see her there. Do you have any questions?

That big smile reappeared on Jim’s face, and he sighed with relief as he shook his head. Thank you, Nurse. Thank you.

He stood in the waiting room all alone and began to speak to himself. Father, Dad, you’re a dad. Wow. I can’t believe it. Oh, I better go to the lobby and make those phone calls. And off he went. Before leaving the room, he stopped, closed his eyes, and whispered a prayer. "Lord, thank you for life and thank you for bringing Betty through this—and the baby too. I don’t understand why you love me, but thanks. Oh, could you let my