A Certain Vintage

If you’ve never had the chance to make it to Vintage Weekend at the Ocean Reef Club, well, let’s just say it’s unlike any other gathering you’re likely to attend. No event manages to combine a more impressive collection of restored planes, cars and boats in one place than Vintage Weekend, and the 2024 show was a standout. In addition to what appears to have been the largest, and arguably the most jaw-dropping collection of Packard automobiles ever assembled, the Ocean Reef bulkhead hosted a gorgeous array of yachts. Three in particular—one aluminum, one wood and one fiberglass—stole the show. The King and I, Somerset and Hope and Glory were all beautiful, but their histories and salvations were all the more fascinating and inspiring.

The King and I

Determining the provenance of a yacht isn’t always easy. At Vintage Weekend, no less than two visitors aboard Ed Cox’s stunning 1970 Burger 68 said the yacht had once been owned by Deborah Kerr. “The woman who played in The King and I movie,” said Cox. “The original.” 

The Oscar-winning Kerr was also forever famous for her 1953 make-out scene in the pounding surf with Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity. Kerr passed away in 2007, and Cox and his captain Terry Harris have heard conflicting reports since Cox bought her 6 years ago—there’s even an 80-foot Burger with the same name. But what does seem evident is that this yacht was originally christened Sunny Bea III—and she appears to have been renamed no fewer than seven times. In 2004, an owner whose last name was King changed her name from Miss Daisy to The King and I. When she became available, Cox and Harris knew this two- (and a half) cabin, aluminum-hulled beauty was special. Cox is the owner of Streblow Custom Boats, a Wisconsin builder of high-end, classic wooden runabouts. Harris was an experienced captain who’d overseen numerous restorations. Yes, Sunny Bea III needed work, but she was also a time capsule from the late Apollo era. The pair reckoned they were up to a restoration, especially given how original, and frankly unbelievable The King and I already was. 

“I’m a Wisconsin guy,” said Cox. “And I have always heard that a Burger is the Rolls-Royce of yachts, especially in this vintage; this era of boat; the best of the best. And seeing everyone come through this boat here today kind of reinforces that.”

Cox’s friend James Peck chimed in: “You also said, when you were growing up, your dad always said, ‘I wish I owned a Burger.’” 

Cox nodded. “We lived on the Intracoastal in Ft. Lauderdale, and he’d see these go by, and he would actually stop what he was doing, walk outside by the pier and watch. And that’s what he would say. So ever since I was a kid, you know, that name always kind of stuck in the back of my mind. So, when I was old enough and I was able to, I decided [I’d buy one], because I’m a sucker for old boats, vintage boats. I just love the lines of this boat. This one just hit me like a ton of bricks.”

Captain Harris had actually seen the boat for several years, moored up in Ft. Lauderdale across from the spot where he worked for Sunseeker. He had always been smitten with her. 

Cox pointed to the furniture at the stern quarter: “That’s the original wicker that came with the boat.” He then showed off the gorgeous wooden bar just forward of the wicker, and just forward of that, the spectacular pilothouse. Aside from replacing rotting framing around the front windshields, “All that woodwork is all original,” said Cox. “Nothing has changed in there whatsoever.” 

When Harris and Cox launched the restoration four years ago, they both appreciated the stellar craftsmanship that went into the yacht and wanted her to become a slightly modernized, functional, livable original. “We both voiced love for the boat,” said Harris. “We wanted the boat as it was supposed to be, as authentic as it could be.” 

In the pilothouse, the phalanx of original analog gauges and even the air-driven pneumatic controls were still in place—and still worked. So, the goal was to make sure they would reliably continue to function and tell a captain what he needed to know. A new Garmin autopilot was installed, but the vintage Furuno radar and depth sounder still worked, so they were left in place. “And the older stuff, it works better,” said Harris. “I mean, you get all the new computerized stuff. Yeah, it’s all Bluetooth and all this other kind of crap. But this—it’s all hardwired. It’s all simple. It’s all there. You can trace a problem.”

When the leaks were fixed and the pressure was dialed up via a new compressor, the pneumatic controls shifted everything perfectly (though the transmissions would ultimately need a rebuild). The twin 450-horsepower two-stroke Detroit Diesel 12V71s were of an early ‘80s vintage, but ran fine. “There was a guy who came on board a little earlier today who actually put these motors in the boat,” said Harris. “He said, the originals were Caterpillars and they replaced them because one of them had exploded.” 

One change that was made, though, was a reroute of the exhaust to the sides of the boat, so you don’t inhale diesel while lounging in the cockpit. 

On the deck, the white paint glistens and the wooden railings and brightwork bear a deep and blinding sheen. At foot level, the original teak had borne so much traffic and sandpaper that it was paper thin. Screws were sticking out and water was leaking through them into the cabin. “So, it was taken down to bare aluminum and all replaced,” said Cox. That meant new fiberglass on the deck, followed by a layer of marine ply beneath a coating of new teak. The job was not cheap. But the results are spectacular. 

Belowdecks, a pair of comfy rotating chairs (picked out by Harris’s wife) face a broad leather sofa in a richly wood-walled and parquet-floored main salon. It’s easy to envision Deborah Kerr sharing drinks with Burt Lancaster, Yul Brenner and maybe Dinah Shore or Johnny Carson. “Everything has a purpose,” says Harris. “Rolls-Royces are really nice cars, but everything has a purpose and they’re designed for longevity. It’s same with same with this boat.” 

Aft of the salon, the three staterooms are a tour de force. You first encounter a small guest room with pull-down bunks. It’s designed exactly like a vintage Pullman train cabin. Across, the VIP stateroom bears a pair of twin beds, and a ribbed, diamond-patterned wallpaper straight out of a set from the Merv Griffin show. “We believe it’s original,” says Harris. “It’s old.”

Altogether, The King and I is a 1970s period piece the likes of which you’re unlikely to find unless you have access to a time machine. “In my opinion, this is the nicest Burger on the East Coast,” said Cox. “I’m sure there are other Burgers out there, but I’m very, very biased on this boat.” 

Somerset

To say that Bill Morong has yachting in his DNA would be an understatement. Growing up on New England waters, Morong went on to study at the Maine Maritime Academy and skipper yachts for a dozen years. Eventually, he launched a company called Yachting Solutions, which became a sort of pioneering concierge service for folks in need of captains, crew and repairs. “We grew it over the course of the decade into a very large boatyard,” he said. 

A self-proclaimed “car guy,” Morong also got very into resto-modding boats, including Northern Spy, the first IPS repower ever done, and to add insult to injury, it was installed in a wooden boat. Then there was Avocette, a 1931 Huckins—the oldest in existence. 

The couple sold the yard at the end of 2020, but they didn’t get out of yachting—far from it. Today, they charter their stunning 1971 Trumpy Somerset out of the Ocean Reef Club. She’s something exceedingly rare: a vintage, wooden-hulled 58-footer that you can not only gawk at from the dock, but enjoy with your friends and family. 

Somerset’s journey to Ocean Reef began back at the dawn of the 1970s when she was commissioned in Annapolis, Maryland by textile magnate Gerrish Milliken Jr. After decades of service to the family along the Maine and Florida coastlines, Milliken donated her to the Maine Maritime Academy. Up to the time they closed up shop in 1973, Trumpy never built hulls of fiberglass and though she was still cosmetically beautiful, Somerset’s amazing cosmetic condition though, concealed a fatal flaw. Her hull had been electrically bonded with a copper strap along the keel that turned the boat, effectively, into a big battery. “It rotted the top of the keel and the floors,” said Morong.

When the Trumpy was hauled out for the winter, her rotten hull sagged and hogged so badly up on the blocks that she couldn’t even be refloated. “It was a soggy, soggy bottom,” said Morong. The Academy asked Morong to get involved. Thankfully, a benefactor he had lined up stepped up to the plate for restoration. To get the 40,000-pound yacht from Camden to the Rockport yard where she’d hopefully be repaired, they chainsawed notches into her keel so she’d fit on the trailer and under wires and bridges. To support her hull for a rebuild, Morong and his crew ran 8×8 timbers through the portlights and suspended her in midair. “It was a three-year project,” he said. “We literally tortured her back into place with blocking jacks. We put a whole new bottom on her. Purple Heart and White Oak were used in her structure with Iroko planking.”

“We didn’t really change any of the aesthetics,” he said.

The idea was to improve what was there—redo all the wiring with proper tinned gauge, add new panels and controls, systems, fresh joinery in her guest accommodations and freshen up the twin 400-horsepower Cummins turbodiesels. “And that’s what the heart of restomod is,” Morong said. “Any sort of old car, you’re typically putting on a new chassis, right? A modern chassis, modern brakes, suspension and electrical. And that’s what makes the car safe and enjoyable to drive.”

Three years and a few million dollars later, and the boat is breathtaking. Ceilings are perfectly smooth planks of Butternut throughout. They’re trimmed in the same deeply-grained, thickly varnished wood that saturates every square inch of her. The salon is set off with a sumptuous pair of super-comfortable custom white sofas. 

In the cockpit, the helm is pure restomod with mirror-finished wood and a one-of-a-kind brushed, engine-turned stainless-steel panel housing with old-school gauges centered by a Simrad MFD. Her original restored Tag Hauer chronometers are installed as if they were in their original positions and purpose. It’s understated, extremely elegant and perfectly functional. The forward windshield assembly is remarkable too. It raises on a stainless-steel motorized assembly that looks like it was built in the 1920s and immaculately stored until installation in the 2020s. 

And though she’s gorgeous, Morong says he knows he’ll never completely be through with this restomod. “I’ve got a very obsessive-compulsive personality,” he said. “So, I could take this boat to my friends at Brooklin Boat Yard, and I could spend a million dollars on it tomorrow without even trying hard. It’s trying to balance what’s important, with some logic, instead of just wanting to have it be perfect. That’s probably the hardest thing for me, because I like keeping a boat perfect, and with a boat like this, it’s just always something.”

Hope and Glory 

When Nancy and Russell Bourne were in the midst of the pandemic, a few facts became clear. First, they wanted a boat for overnight cruising. Second, Russell was about to retire from psychiatry with the Jupiter Medical Center while Nancy was still an “active duty,” award-winning public school teacher—so by most folks’ definition, they were not rich. Third, if they were going to get a cruiser, they wanted something small, comfortable, cool and efficient, which they could run for long weekends out of their home in Jupiter, Florida along the Intracoastal, down to the Keys—and beyond. As the owner of a classic Lowell wooden runabout, Russell had a thing for old wooden boats, but didn’t think he’d find something classic and practical for longer cruising. That is, until he stumbled on a listing for a boat up in Orange Beach, Alabama. She was quite unlike anything the pair had ever seen, let alone imagined owning. 

The Fairchild Scout 30 was the brainchild of brilliant San Diego Naval Architect Ben Ostlund. Originally, he was commissioned to design a raised-deck, fiberglass boat that despite modern construction, paid serious tribute to the gorgeous, plumb-bowed wooden cruisers of the gilded age. A North American run of less than 20 were ultimately built into the early ‘80s that included at least three motorsailers. Ostlund took his inspiration “From the Mathews and Elcos and the Lake Union Dream Boats out of Seattle,” said Russell. 

“There’s an article in Nautical Quarterly,” added Nancy. “The writer says that it’s bordering on being too pretty.” 

The couple rented a car one-way and drove up to check out a boat called Emily. “The owner had had a heart attack while on the boat,” said Nancy. “And so, I think he had also a little PTSD. He just was like, ‘I do not want to get [back] on this boat. I don’t want the boat anymore. I just want to not have that in my life.’” 

“He couldn’t keep it up,” added Russell. “The woodwork was horrible. The hull hadn’t been washed.” 

But the boat ran well and seemed solid. She offered a huge rear deck and a helm with vast windows. She had originally been outfitted with a Perkins diesel, but previous owners had installed a 35-horsepower Beta Marine diesel in 2013. This marine-converted, analog, normally aspirated Kubota was hyper-efficient. It could propel the boat to 10 knots, but at a 7- to 8-knot cruise, she consumed a mere gallon of fuel an hour. 

“The owner said, ‘Do you want to spend the night on it and just see what it’s like?’” added Nancy. “And we said, yeah. So, we spent the night on the boat.”

“I loved the lines,” said Russell. “And, down below­—don’t you feel nice down here? And then when you’re at the helm, you’re outside. I’m not in a pilothouse, I’m outside. So, we went all around, and we said, yeah, we’ll buy the boat. And then we said, okay, well, we’re gonna now go back to Jupiter, Florida by way of water.”

It was Summer. The pair had never run the Gulf of Mexico’s Carrabelle to Steinhatchee passage. An alternator breakdown before the passage in Panama City, and a 2-day wait for a replacement only increased the anxiety. A good Samaritan named Marie got them to Detroit Diesel where the alternator could be sent from Tennessee. “And we stayed with her for 2 nights,” said Nancy. “Our next port was Apalachicola, then Carrabelle, then waiting for a weather window.”

The wind and waves on the 10-hour passage from Carrabelle to were heavier than expected and proved quite a test for the little cruiser, but she made it. When they rolled up to the Sea Hag Marina exhausted at the end of a hot August day, scallop season meant that there were no slips available. Now tropical storm Isaias entered the picture in the open Atlantic. With an uncertain track and the possible need to batten down at home, the pair lucked into a transporter who could trailer Emily home before the storm raked the coast. So when it came time to name the boat, “I can’t tell you how many times I said, ‘I hope we get home,’” said Nancy. “So, hope’s pretty good. And then Marie—she could tell we needed help. So, it really was one of those glory of God things. It can sound corny, and people can think it’s weird but we named her Hope and Glory.” 

Later that season, the marina at Orange Beach was slammed by Hurricane Sally and her 90-knot winds. Over 800 boats were damaged or destroyed. “We saved the boat,” said Nancy. 

When they got her home, they got to work refinishing the interior and tasking talented Florida Marine Engineer David Dunn with updating mechanical elements—fuel polisher, 2,000-watt inverter, triple-battery setup and a hidden 120-volt air conditioner. The wood was freshened up, and the now jaw-dropping little cruiser has proven supremely reliable and easy to service. She’s carried the Bournes on plenty of overnighters as far as the 10,000 Islands in Florida Bay and trekked through the Keys, where her 2.5-foot draft comes in handy. Then there’s just cruising up the Intracoastal to socialize and spend the night at a friend’s dock. “We’ve enjoyed taking it on little adventures,” said Nancy. “We took it from Jupiter to Fernandina in the spring, and you know, to come here to Ocean Reef was just such a treat. We’ve loved this little boat.”

This article originally appeared in the March 2025 issue of Power & Motoryacht magazine.

---