My first experience in Beaufort was cold and wet. I had come down on spring break from college to see a girl (Mary, now my wife.) We had dated a couple of times, and she had invited me to go sailing. My god, I thought ... she's beautiful and rich ... she has a sailboat.

We struck off in her sunfish from the old downtown ramp that late-March Saturday afternoon. The wind was howling and it was chilly, but we were young and in love. As we were ending our adventure, she asked me to step overboard approaching the ramp and catch the boat so the oyster shells wouldn't scratch her hull. Over I went, as soon as I was told ... into 12 feet of water. Resurfacing, I crawled up the ramp to the feet of a distinguished looking fellow who asked me if the water was cold. I responded with some colorful expletives. He smiled and walked away. Later, Mary told me he was Mils Kinghorn, deacon of the Baptist Church.