Vol. I: No. 3

Editor: Tom Sullivan (declares bankruptcy)

Contents

Breakers (big news)......................................................................hither & thither

Surf (small news)...................................................................................... "

Flotsam & Jetsam (very small news)....................................................... "

Spray (absurd news)................................................................................ "

White Water (editorials)..........................................................................."

The Bridge (Hauck's column).................................................................. "

Waves Dept. (calendar of events)............................................................ "

Breakers & Surf: from the Diary of Seaweed Sully (in the style of Mark Twain).

The night in question was blue and quiet. The kind, I've noticed, that seem soft...sort of cushioney. I reckoned it to be a bore... this night...but I was wrong. It wasn't a bore at all, it was a calamity, a genuine fiasco. But that was before I knew this man--Mr. Hauck--and before I joined his group, something called the Patton ABC's. I don't know why they call it "ABC's", unless it is a secret code, but at the time I allowed the "ABC's" was a writing club, and joined to improve my style, which as you can see is somewhat lacking. Well, as I was about to relate, I was on my way to this meeting of the ABC's and arrived under false notion of its purpose. The first thing I took note of was this barefoot sailor (I knew he was a sailor by his duck pants and open shirt and by his weather-beaten face) named Hawk. His hands were all gnarled (from hauling anchor chains I supposed) and his feet--why his feet were something to behold. A body couldn't look at them but he'd exclaim: "Darwin was right!" This Hawk turned out to be the Captain of the building, which had a lot of little rooms all clustered around a big room with a pond in the middle. But the room we were in (myself, the captain and a bunch of land-lubbers) was the galley and had an ice- box and cook-stove in this sort of cubicle off to the back. It wasn't long before the meeting began; the Captain sat at the fore with a few other officers, who, however, didn't look like sailors, while the rest of us sat facing them, munching donuts and drinking java-juice. First, a woman stood up and read a lot of times and dates from a paper. Then she sat down and a man stood up and read another parcel of numbers, concluding that a lot of people should pay him something at the end of the meeting for something they owed. Next the Captain gained his feet and asked me to introduce myself. So as to fit into his side of the picture, I owned that I was Seaweed Sully the Sailor. I could see by the way he chewed on his cigar that this answer satisfied him, and he sat down. It was only a minute,