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The NEW BERN
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VOLUME 16
NEW BERN, N. C. 28560, FRIDAY, MAY 4, 1973
NUMBER 8
We’ll have to admit that
writing in rather com*
plimentary fashion about one’s
own Un folks is probably in bad
taste. And, when the subject
you’re writing about happens to
be the uncle you were named
for, it could be doubly so.
Running that risk b^ause it’s
a story worth the teUing, we’re
thinking today of Capuin Joe
Gaskill. He was a familiar
figire here for many years
before moving to North
Wilkesboro with his daughter,
Mrs. Will Carron, to spend his
last days amid a wealth of
mellow memories.
Captain Joe hailed from
Portsmouth, that little island
along North Carolina’s outer
banks where the ravages of
hurricane-swept seas have all
but obliterated a community of
hardy, ocean-loving people.
Once hundreds called it home,
and dreamed of it fondly after
they left. Today it’s shores have
dwindled from the lashings of
a raging surf, and only a mere
handful of souls cling stub
bornly to its unprotected stretch
of sand.
They were brave and ad
venturous souls, those Ports
mouth Islanders of old. ’They
asked no quarter from nature’s
violence, though long
association with the sea taught
them to respect it.
They knew what is was to see
a passing vessel fight a losing
fi^t against the elements, and
come to rest in broken pieces at
thier very doorsteps. *^ey saw
men die with courageous
dignity, and accepted their grief
with deep inner faith when their
own lov^ ones went down to the
sea in ships and never returned.
Captain Joe was part an
parcel of their breed. At 17 he
was skipper of a sailing vessel.
Among his ports of call were the
islands in the West Indies. It
was hazardous business, but he
loved it. So did all the others of
sturdy English stock who
shared the storms and churning
foam with him.
It took not only fortitude but a
keen sense of humor to brave
the tempest as a way of life. You
had to learn how to shrug off
adversity, and laugh at
misfortune.
We’re not Just indulging in
family pride when we say that
Captmn Joe Gaskill was a man
of remarkable wit. Up until his
death at the age of 85, he could
top any wisecrack you tossed in
his Erection, and he could make
your favorite pun seem
ridiculously flimsy with an
imix'omptu pun of his own.
Above all, he was a gentle and
kindly man—the typical old salt
with a pipe in his mouth and a
twinide in his eye. Probably the
meanest thing he ever did was
unintentional. The victim was
an unsuspecting pig.
In his younger days, Joe was
a member of the crew on a
sailing vessel that had to exist
solely on beans. That’s all the
cook served—beans and more
beans. Having to eat them for
weeks on end got to be
monotonous.
One day Joe and other men on
board decided to dump a huge
batd) of soda in the bean pot, to
(Continued on page 8)
MADE IT possible:—Most of US must be content
with building castles in the air, but the late Maude
Moore Latham, a native of New Bern, did
something more tangible. She provided millions of
dollars for ma^ficent restoration of Tryon
Palace, and her daughter and son in law, the John
Kellenbergers, who like Mrs. Latham were
residents of Greensboro, have since given ad
ditional support. Ironically, thousands of local
citizens have never visited the restoration,
although many outsiders travel great distances to
see it.