I couldn't talk about my life on Catalina without paying tribute to Beth Oxnard. Beth was my fourth grade teacher at the island elementary school. When I first met her, she had just turned sixty years of age. She reminded me so much of my grand ma Lula that I couldn't help but love her. She had moved to Catalina after losing her husband to cancer in nineteen forty six. She had grown up and lived most of her adult life in Brooklyn and Bronx area of New York city. No better or loyal New York Yankees fan ever drew a breath. I loved to hear Beth talk. She had that Bronx accent that you really had to hear to believe. Try as she might it was there to stay. Could have been one of the reasons she was such a great teacher. She had to spend extra time just explaining herself to the class. She would joke with me about her and I learning to speak English. I had a pretty bad "Down Home" drawl that some folks couldn't quite follow at times. I asked her why she wasn't a Dodgers fan and she just replied that I should never ask her age or ask about them Dodger "Bums". I took that as a no. 

Beth was a big woman, not fat but down right imposing. Lots of white hair and a slightly crooked noise, the result of being hit by a ball during a "stick" ball game when she was a kid. She was a natural teacher. Born to the calling as the saying goes. Every child that crossed the "portal" into her class room became one of Mrs. Oxnards kids. The atmosphere was such that each student felt special and cared about. Everyone excelled because anything less meant failing Beth's expectations. There was no feeling of pressure or dread, just the desire to please the teacher. 

Among the many items that adorned the walls of her class room was several eight by ten posters that stated different "little" rules to live by or something to that effect. The one I've always remembered read "I had no shoes and was sad until I met a man who had no feet". And of course there was a few autographed Yankees pictures including one of the Babe. If you don't know who the Babe was I aint telling you! Beth was a sweet and gracious woman. An Angel now I'm sure.

One on going business in Avalon was a little shop that made dolls. I think I've already mentioned the place. Me and Lowell and Danny had worked there on occasion helping to pack the dolls for shipment. The old man that owned the business had tried his hand at producing items to sell to the tourist. Of course that approach meant dealing with a seasonal market. What do you do during your slack periods? In this instance the business owner sold the "SafeWay" super market chain on the idea of buying several thousand dolls that were offered to the customers as collectibles. There was a total of ten dolls in the collection. The first was free to the customer. The rest of the collection would cost the customer about sixty five cents per doll. The dolls were a  big success. The Avalon shop hummed and actually had ten full time employee's. The owner  was a talented old man and had designed and built his own machinery to make his own dolls. The dolls main purpose was to act as a platform to show off the different costumes. The costumes were all hand cut and sewn at the tiny factory. The dolls themselves were almost an "after thought". The real beauty of the doll was the process that the old man had devised to produce them. The small size of the doll and the different costumes caught on. The little doll itself would turn out to become the Barbie doll. The rest is history. 

Al Hanson was well liked by many people among which there was several that would become well known in later years. One of his friends was a publisher of a magazine called Argosy. The man was a island regular. Had one "Hell" of a nice boat. Big enough to live on in complete comfort. The magazine had featured Al in several articles and used his services in several more. One particular article dealt with hunting wild pigs on the island. Al wasn't part of the piece but was asked to come along on the hunt as a friend. Al arranged for me and his son to also go on the hunt. As I mentioned earlier, Al and Johnny weren't real close. I think Johnny held his dad responsible for the divorce from Johnny's mom. Al was forever trying to make it up to him. 

The hunt kinda took on the appearance of a safari. Four Jeeps loaded with people and camera gear. Johnny and me rode with a young quite guy and a bunch of gun cases. We drove high up into the island interior until we reached the "Orchard" area. A neat surprise was when my dad and Mexican Joe showed up to oversee what was going on. Mr. White, my dads boss, didn't care for the magazine people. He said that they were messy and didn't show much respect for the game or the land. Mr George White answered only to the Wrigley family in such matters. He had complete authority. I guess you'd say he was the law west of the Pecos.

The hunt kinda turned out to be a bust. The pigs laid low but it was a beautiful day. Everybody just relaxed and set around. My dad and the man I had rode with got to talking about hunting and guns. The fella perked right up. Turns out he was a gunsmith fresh out of the military with lots of hope to become successful in his trade.  Told us his name was Roy Weatherby. Turns out that Roy did do very well in his chosen trade. His name is known world wide by big game hunters and collectors of fine hunting rifles. Roy built some of the finest hunting rifles in the world.

This would be the summer that many fame seekers would choose to try and swim the channel between Catalina and the main land. The swim was kind of a "Folk Lore" thing on the island. No one except the Duke had ever dared attempt it. The rest of us just talked about it. This summer for some reason would see a real attempt to do it. What the heck, if someone can swim the English channel why can't someone swim across this one? Sort of like us kids and the Eagles nest. Sooner or later someone had to do it.

Duke had made several attempts to swim the twenty three or so miles. He had never really organized a true effort. Now that there was so much attention focused on the channel swim, Duke found that he had lots of support if he'd like to take a shot at the channel. Everyone on the island seemed to want to take part. Duke was local hero to most of us islanders. We rallied behind him.

The date of the channel swim was set for July the fourth. The city fathers figured to cash in on the event. They even came up with a thousand dollar prize for the winner and sent out a call for anyone that wanted to try to come on over. KTLA would send over a television crew to cover the start and another crew to meet the winner on the mainland. Avalon was going to throw one heck of a party. Everyone was invited.

The event "Snow Balled" into something bordering on "Major". The hotels and other lodgings were booked solid. People showed up in "Droves". The only down side was the number of people wanting to swim the channel. The powers that be figured maybe twenty serious contenders. Oops, how about one hundred more or less. Lots of these people were not any where close to being in physical condition for the swim. Avalon was going to be hard pressed to provide everything needed to insure the safety of all the "Wanna Be" channel swimmers.

The folks and planners in Avalon got together and came up with a plan and had it in place when the time came to have the first annual Avalon to Wilmington channel swim as it was now called. The main concern was having boats and people that could aid swimmers in distress. Every sea going boat on the island was "Pressed" into service. Both of Al Hanson's boats, the Jeanie Too and the Flying Dutchman, would take part. That meant I would get a chance to be part of the event. I would crew on the Jeanie.

The channel swim was a great success with a couple of exceptions. All the fear about the number of swimmers turned out to be for nothing. Many would be contestants opted not to even make an attempt. Many more wore themselves out within the first three miles. All of these were safely "Plucked" from the sea and returned to Avalon where Hector and the other businessmen took good care of them.

The number of swimmers dwindled down to eighteen after six miles of swimming and fighting the blue Pacific. A twenty three mile swim is an undertaking that separates the swimmers from the
"Rubber Ducky" crowd.

Duke had to give it up at about the halfway point. He was at twelve miles when he developed a bad leg cramp. We convinced him to play it safe and give it up. He was very reluctant but there was really no other choice. As it turned out, nobody completed the swim. It would be another two years before anyone swam the channel.

This was turning out to be the best summer of my life. Unknown to me it would also be my last summer on the island. Fate was setting me up for some drastic changes.