And then there was the time--I think we must have been around nine years old because Lewis Williamson was still running Barnacle Bills Fishing Pier. Well, Yogi and I strolled out onto the end of the pier and decided we were going to throw one of the big hoop nets over the side. But no sooner than we did, we saw ol’ Lewis beating it out toward us and we knew we were in trouble, so we ran. We were almost home free when he snagged Yogi by the scruff of the neck. I jumped over the side of the pier into the sand where Yogi had thrown his flip flops.
“Hey, Carol! Yogi calls to me. “Throw my flip flops up here.” I did, and doing so, hit Lewis in the face. Boy, was he mad.
Long story short-I don’t recall what happened to Yogi, neither does he. But my daddy took me to Lewis and made me apologize. Had to pay my allowance too.
That’s just one story. Yogi has a ton and he had a much more interesting and adventurous life on Topsail Island, than myself. He’s famous for being one of the first and best surfers around. He’s also renowned as one of the best chefs on the island too. His parents owned and operated the Pirates Den in Surf City for 25 years. Yogi learned to create some of the finest culinary cuisine while working there. But one thing you can say about Yogi is that he is a personality, no fake BS from him, his is real. And man, has he got some stories. Here are some recollections from my dear friend Yogi Paliotti:
Back then, before all the “progress,” it was eat, surf, swim, fish, hang out on the beach until the street lights came on. There wasn’t anything else to do except get in trouble and that wasn’t hard to find. We kids gave our local police a run for their money on both ends of the island. They didn’t have much else to do then either. Back in the day, the fishing piers tried to ban us from hanging out and surfing. We were just kids having a good time. Hey, it was fun too, giving tourists wrong directions when they asked.
We kids would ride our bikes from one end of the island to the other and the police would call each other up to warn them we were coming. We were barred from some places and welcomed at others. We didn’t care; we were having the ime of our lives. We were job security for Chief Chicken Carter and his partner, whom we called Jingles. He was named so because of the huge ring of keys he wore, which jingled when he would try to sneak up on us. He actually went undercover one time as a Hippie with a long hair wig on his head. This big guy, called Jingles, was trying to buy some grass from us when we were at the Sand Piper (Buddy’s now). That was really funny.
The Sand Piper was where it all went down. It was where everybody hung out, the hippies, the Marines, the rednecks, and they were all laid back. Man, they were at the beach, just enjoying being at the beach. Back then, (the 60s and 70s) the Sand Piper was run by Big John, a gangster-type from up north. Big John ran a tight ship and when he told you to leave, you had better do so.
I was standing behind him one night when he told a biker to leave, and the biker picked up a pool stick and Big John reached in his back pocket and pulled out his 38 and shot him in the leg. Well, he never had anymore trouble out of that guy.
We had two fishing piers, (out of the nine on the island) that were the hub of entertainment for the whole family. Barnacle Bills and the Scotch Bonnet stayed open 24 hours a day. Both had a grill, and ocean front dining rooms with ocean views. Both had arcades for all ages and parents could drop off their kids knowing they were safe and secure there. They had everything, it was truly a family beach back then. Surf City Pier had a grill too. They had the best waves. It wasn’t crowded then like it is now. So, between the three piers we had a blast.
I guess you can call me lucky that I was able to grow up on this sandbar, back in a magical time decades before the world finally found us. We all knew they would eventually. Looking at the progress, or destruction-as I see it, it’s hard to believe that we had such a perfect place.
Would you believe that we had a maritime forest that stretched from the IGA to the ends of the island. I can remember counting less than 20 houses on the sound side. It was sad seeing them destroy the oaks and twisted cedars, sculpted by the wind and salt spray. Now, its palm trees brought up from Florida, subdivisions and cookie cutter houses that are running our wild life out and killing them.
It’s unbelievable how much the beach has changed in the last twenty or so years. I think back to our beautiful maritime forest and huge dunes that are now gone forever, replaced by house after house.
All I can say is that we had the best of it. The best, when Topsail wasn’t crowded and life was easy and the sand dunes were real. The traffic was less congested and everybody wasn’t in such a hurry. Why’s everybody in such a hurry, anyway? Relax, you’re at the beach.
