Fred Hoctor 1930-2001 |
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WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS BAJA EDITOR FRED HOCTOR
By Gene Kira, July 27, 2001, as published in Western Outdoor News:
Fred could readily quote passages from John Donne, Socrates, Descartes, Melville and a host of others, whatever the occasion called for, but he usually did so only privately, and the great breadth and depth of his intellect was rarely revealed in the public writings by which he was known. One of his favorite novels was Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy, which he re-read every few years.
"It was the summer of '51...just before my senior year. I was chasing after a shapely Minnesota girl in the chorus line with Holiday on Ice and toward the end of the summer tending bar in the Bamboo Room, just off the tropical garden at the posh Roney Plaza in Miami Beach. Part of my job was watching Meyer Schine's (G. David "McCarthy Hearing" Schine's father and owner of the Ambassador Hotel in LA) matched Amazon parrots to be sure they were not stolen off their perch. That is another story. Batista was still in power, but Miami was crawling with wealthy Cuban refugees dancing every night and waiting to see how the wind blew. God, could they dance. In the next year or so, Castro was in power and was throwing chicken bones out of his hotel window in NY ... remember that? In any case, after the parrots were stolen from under my nose, I had to go to work for a widow on her yacht, cruising to Cuba. I was a dopey kid. When we got to Havana, she sent me for a bottle of rum. When I got back to the dock, the boat was gone. I took the rum, wandered down Obispo Blvd to the Hotel Nacional and plunked myself down behind a potted palm in the lobby, where I began to furtively drink it. There was a little fountain in the lobby that was full of pure pineapple juice. It had a spigot, and there was a Dixie Cup dispenser, so people would walk up and sample the juice. It was perfect with the rum. The night manager finally caught me and threw me out. I slept in the park. The next day, fiercely hung over, I rented a scooter and went off looking for Hemingway's house somewhere off in the hills outside of town. I remember it was at the top of a cobblestone street, and I peered through the gate to see if I could get a glimpse of the master. The caretaker shooed me away twice. I was just about to leave of my own volition when a little door next to the iron gate opened and out came a big dog that chased me down the hill, nipping at me and tugging at my pant leg as I bumped along on my Lambretta. I don't think that it really drew any blood but scared the hell out of me. I have a scar on my leg which I got when I became entangled in a barstool at the Windjammer and broke my leg. I always refer to it as "My Hemingway scar."
(Related Baja California, Mexico, articles and reports may be found at Mexfish.com's main Baja California information page. See weekly fishing news, photos, and reports from the major sportfishing vacation areas of Mexico including the Baja California area in "Mexico Fishing News.") |
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