In the presence of all this mahogany, we had to get rid of "Diamond Lil," a silver-flaked, James Bond piece of plastic whose ostentation would have blotted any TRW report. She was replaced with an extraordinarily beautiful, 1929, 26-foot, three-compartment HackerCraft which could carry nine people at 45-miles per hour. Rather "fast" with a substantial bustle and leather upholstery the color of dollar bills, she had to be called "Auntie Mame."

"Auntie Mame" and I made the tour of the lake twice each day to point out the camps of the families which had established Upper Saranac as the bastion of rustic pomp just after the turn of the century - "Main Line" Philadelphia at the north end, The Point in the middle, and damn near all of Wall Street at the south (Loebs, Bache, etc.).

For generations neither end would travel through "The Narrows" to the other... until I got there. There's more interesting snobbery than that sort of thing - like thinking and doing rather than just having and being. Here we are assembling at the dock.

Finally, we had "Cydilla" (it softens the "sea"), a well-behaved, 23-foot, Pearson sloop, plus a couple of sunfish sailboats, two canoes, an Adirondack Guideboat, some aluminum outboard fishing boats, and two jet-skis. Most folks sat on the barge and drank bloodies.