12x16
oil on linen
SOLD
Another plein air attempt with the most appreciated guidance of Fred Saunders. Fred and I struck out the other day for the Speller Farm which sits on the banks of the Roanoke River just south of Windsor. One of the farm's owners, Sis Hall, gave us the go ahead to go out and give it a go. Sis, a well known artist living in Nags Head, has a wonderful piece on display at the Red Drum Taphouse. It is a painting of several surf fishermen in early Twentieth Century attire holding their surf rods.
Fred and I drove around the many buildings on the Speller Farm and settled for these two old barns that originally served to cure tobacco in the old days. One now serves as office, library, headquarters, hideout, etc. etc. for Sis's brother and co-owner, Rascoe Bond Gillam. As Fred and I were rounding the dirt path to these two structures, I noticed Rascoe Bond's legendary boat parked under a nearby shelter. This boat looks as though it was built strictly for speed with a pointed bow and a monster outboard overshadowing the slender transom that it is attached to. I had always heard growing up about the many things you don't do around here and one was never get in that boat with Rascoe Bond. This warning stemmed from a story that I had always heard but never was able to confirm as either true or a spiced up drinking story. As we were in the early stage of our painting, Rascoe Bond drove up to see how we were coming along, and I couldn't resist asking if the old tale about that boat was actually true. Rascoe Bond laughed and said, "Hell yes. I did that many times."
(Fred Saunders painting at the Speller Farm)
Several years ago after returning home from serving overseas in the 82nd Airborne, Rascoe Bond was trolling along the Cashie River near the bridge at the south end of King St. in Windsor. He was not trolling for fish but for another type of prey. The Cashie River Bridge connects the northern and southern banks of the river at it's narrowest spot in that part of town, and back then Todd's Boat Shop and Hoggard's Service Station used to sit across from one another at the bridge's two ends . The banks here are so close to one another that one has to be careful not to cast his or her lure in the trees of the opposite banks or hit another fisherman. It is literally a big ditch at this point. The bridge, in addition to naturally being very short in length, also sits very low off of the river, requiring most boaters traveling under it to duck their heads while slowly navigating between its rugged and crooked cement pilings.
(Trying to Keep Up)
This particular day folks were shad and herring fishing along the banks, and being close to either Todd's or Hoggard's where some of the area's coldest beer was sold, many were feeling quite good on a nice warm late winter day. One frisky feeling fisherman in particular piped up as Rascoe Bond was passing by and asked how fast that boat would go. This was the prey that he had been trolling for. A brief round of verbal volley ball ensued and ended with an acceptance of an invitation to jump in the boat and see for himself just how fast the boat was. As the naive fisherman stepped on the boat and denied a life jacket, many "veterans" to this routine quietly reeled their lines in and several folks drinkng beer in the two establishments started to filter out to watch the spectacle that was about to occur. Rascoe Bond took his new passenger a good distance up the river and then turned around to open this boat up and opened it up he did heading straight for the bridge. The now remorseful and completely mortified passenger was literally hanging on the outboard motor for dear life and screaming at the top of his lungs as Rascoe Bond split the pilings under the bridge at over seventy mph. When the death ride was finally over and miraculously no one had been decapitated, Rascoe Bond slowed the boat down to trolling speed again. The stone white fisherman jumped out cursing, yelling, and swimming for his truck never to be seen fishing on the Cashie in Windsor again.
(Fred's Painting)
