Finding Grandpa's Boat
Freeport Historic Photographs, Freeport Historical Society, Freeport Historic Photographs,
Freeport Historical Society & Museum, 2008-08-20. “Verity & Van Nostrand Sea Food Shack”
https://cdm16694.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/p15281coll12/id/2471/rec/29
The fish store pictured above speaks volumes about the reach and influence the Verity family
had on the local economy, a quiet but lasting fingerprint on the community they helped shape.
Confession to my ancestors: I still hate smoked eels.
The fish store above indicates the reach and involvement the Verity family had the local economy.
For over five decades, one dream quietly refused to let me go, finding my grandfather's last Verity skiff. Time, however, was not on my side. Running a corporation leaves little room for passion projects, and I knew, deep down, that I had the energy for just one more full, multi-year boat restoration. I often joke that I am a forty-year-old spirit stubbornly housed in a 62-year-old body.
The search became something of an obsession. I haunted boating forums and old boat listing sites, walked marina boneyards in every weather, and ran my hands along the hulls of forgotten boats, each had a past, a story to tell, always hoping the next one might be "her." I dug through yellowed newspaper classified ads, assembling a picture from the handful of clues I had inherited. Those old classifieds unexpectedly became letters to my history, a window into 114 years of skiff design, power, and craftsmanship. The oldest thread I pulled led me all the way back to a 1910 issue of Motor Boat magazine.
My father should have been my greatest source. But his stories, wonderful as they were, had a habit of growing taller with every telling. It was my godfather, William Wright, a precise and methodical aviation engineer, who gave me something solid to hold onto. Together, we narrowed our search to a 24-footer: helm steering on the port side, dual forward portholes, and an engine built to dominate the water. Her transmission and propeller configuration would be that of a work hourse.
One skiff haunted me above all others. A Seaford Channel Raider. She appeared regularly on the forums, though sellers insisted on calling her a "Jersey Skiff." She wore a nameplate that read WILLIAMS MARINA, which sent a chill down my spine. But the most sobering clue of all? Grandpa had been gone for three years before that boat ever surfaced.
The 1964 24-foot Jersey Sea Skiff had the unmistakable DNA of Verity craftsmanship. From the graceful sweep of her keel to the proud curve of her hull, every line told a familiar story. Her layout, her proportions, all of it was unmistakably, Verity.
The ever-growing availability of online data began working in my favor. My years of college research — long hours hunched over microfiche readers — had trained me well for the digital age. The internet proved to be an extraordinary resource. I hold subscriptions to maritime data centers, Mystic Seaport, and most Long Island museums, but it was the New York State Historic Newspapers project that turned out to be a true gold mine.
Through its pages, I was able to track the sales of Verity skiffs across the decades. In those days, if you were a respected boat builder, companies were proud to advertise that your family used their products — and the old newspapers were happy to tell the world. Those papers read like a gossip column. I learned who came to dinner, who was injured, who went on vacation. I even discovered that my grandfather once "borrowed" an outboard motor from a woman's property. The very next issue cleared his name entirely — she owed him ten times what the motor was worth, and all charges were dropped.
Google's access to historical magazines opened yet another door. It was there, during a late-night search, that everything finally fell into place. A period advertisement in Motor Boat magazine connected the dots — the oversized windshields, the name change, the nagging little clues that had never quite added up. The boat could not have been sold under the Verity name. To do so would have revealed exactly why she had disappeared.
In the above January, 1962 Motor Boating magazine ad showed the 1964 boat which put the Channel Raider's real age in question.
These advertisements always stated "Refined by the same builders for over 50 years".
The team at Woodies Restoration, replaced her gas lines and tank. They also made sure she was well soaked before moving the skiff. We did not want loose fasteners moving around for the 8- hour drive home.
The video below is of a cold engine start.
Once we had her home we found her build plate.
She is a Verity Skiff, built in 1961. The L stands for Louis, my Grandpa. Hull number LV6124. If I did not need it in the boat it would be on my office wall.