Part I: Mile Marker 17
From striped bass to stone crabs and the canyons to the flats, moving from Beach Haven, NJ was an adjustment to say the least. Pop ran a boat for Mr. Lloyd Good out of the Little Egg Harbor Yacht Club. Mr. Good adventured to Key West to tarpon fish in the early 70s and fell in love (as many do) with the charm, raw beauty, and wildness where the Gulf meets the Atlantic. He had found paradise. An opportunity arose to purchase a quaint lodge at mile marker 17. He returned home with the idea of a luxury resort and marina where you could play all day in this newfound, barely touched salty haven.
Mr. Good asked Pop if he would be willing to establish and run the marina, charters, and fishing side of his luxury tropical vision. So, in September of 1973, he and Grammy packed up their Long Beach Island home, rented out their tackle shop business (more on that later), and moved to Sugarloaf Key with my dad and uncle in tow (ages 7 + 11).
The Overseas Highway in the 1970s was rugged and not as easily accessible as the one we use today. Narrow roads, salt and storm worn bridges and constant road maintenance made the trek challenging. You squeezed the steering wheel tight as your side view mirrors became vulnerable when a semi-truck passed. The unreliability of cars presented constant break downs causing impassible traffic on the 7-Mile Bridge. Not to mention they were loaded up in a U-Haul towing a 28’ Cigarette inboard/outboard. It wasn’t until the late 70s - early 80s that the 113 miles of new bridges and expanded roads were completed and US-1 took shape into the more conquerable voyage we know today.
Sugarloaf Lodge has a long and rich history. These first few chapters are just a few of the early years of our family’s involvement. It’s a very small piece of the (key lime) pie. But the impact it made instilled a love for the one blinking stop light town that has carried over to the next three generations of our family.
Part II: Learning the Lay of the Land
At 30 years old, Pop was an established captain with a diverse resume ranging from charter fishing to marine salvaging, to being a tackle shop owner, and building/restoring boats. But nothing could have prepared him for the shallow Gulf back country with frisky coral heads appearing like iceberg tips eager to make you the next Titanic - or at least swipe your lower unit. The fleet of misfit vessels that ventured down with them from the northeast were no match. The 28’ Cigarette and 25’ Bertram drew entirely too much water and, with no local knowledge, he had his fair share of humbling trials and errors ahead of him. He eventually modified his personal Beach Haven salvage boat - a 16’ Woodson Trihull - into a custom flats boat. Any and all navigation was done by dead reckoning and using ranges to locate desired destinations.
Pop quickly learned the lay of the land from bone fishing off Marvin Key to dolphin and king fishing off American Shoal. Soon the winding mangrove channels were tattooed on his brain. They were immersed in a whole new world of shallow water habitat that included diving on casitas for lobster and setting stone crab traps.
Not only were Pop and Grammy responsible for two young adventurous boys but affluent guests were in tow to appease and entertain as well. Sugarloaf Lodge employees were required to wear stark white uniforms that really accentuated the splatter and smell of a long day of slinging Tarpon. But it was paradise.
Pop, my dad, and uncle all attribute their survival and reason for staying afloat (quite literally somedays) to Capt. Tim Carlile and his father Cliff. They had moved down 10 or so years prior and were a wealth of information. Timmy is one of the most knowledgeable guides in the industry and still runs charters out of Sugarloaf Marina today. Visit fishsugarloafkey.com to book.
At 30 years old, Pop was an established captain with a diverse resume ranging from charter fishing to marine salvaging, to being a tackle shop owner, and building/restoring boats. But nothing could have prepared him for the shallow Gulf back country with frisky coral heads appearing like iceberg tips eager to make you the next Titanic - or at least swipe your lower unit. The fleet of misfit vessels that ventured down with them from the northeast were no match. The 28’ Cigarette and 25’ Bertram drew entirely too much water and, with no local knowledge, he had his fair share of humbling trials and errors ahead of him. He eventually modified his personal Beach Haven salvage boat - a 16’ Woodson Trihull - into a custom flats boat. Any and all navigation was done by dead reckoning and using ranges to locate desired destinations.
Pop quickly learned the lay of the land from bone fishing off Marvin Key to dolphin and king fishing off American Shoal. Soon the winding mangrove channels were tattooed on his brain. They were immersed in a whole new world of shallow water habitat that included diving on casitas for lobster and setting stone crab traps.
Not only were Pop and Grammy responsible for two young adventurous boys but affluent guests were in tow to appease and entertain as well. Sugarloaf Lodge employees were required to wear stark white uniforms that really accentuated the splatter and smell of a long day of slinging Tarpon. But it was paradise.
Pop, my dad, and uncle all attribute their survival and reason for staying afloat (quite literally somedays) to Capt. Tim Carlile and his father Cliff. They had moved down 10 or so years prior and were a wealth of information. Timmy is one of the most knowledgeable guides in the industry and still runs charters out of Sugarloaf Marina today. Visit fishsugarloafkey.com to book.
Part III: The Lodge
The Sugarloaf Lodge was a saltwater jungle turned five star luxury resort in the 1970s. Grammy, Pop, my Uncle and Dad were lucky to have lived, worked, and played there in its glory days. With 20-25 efficiency rooms and 30 hotel rooms overlooking the bay, there were plenty of guests to entertain and grounds to upkeep. Two swimming pools, mini golf, tennis courts, a restaurant, and a private air strip all enticed northerners to escape to a little slice of paradise.
The main attraction was the ocean playground with private charters being run by Pop and a few other captains out of Sugarloaf Marina. Fishing was as good as you could ever imagine with little to no traffic and regulations. The lodge also had six 16’ trihull rental boats with 25 hp Johnson tiller motors that guests could rent for the day to go explore. However, they tested a lot of patience. Letting guests with no boating experience scoot around with no GPS or depth finders through winding mangroves was a chore. Grammy constantly sent Pop or the boys out to rescue people who were lost and overdue to return to the marina. Luckily, they always collected lodgers in one piece.
My Dad and Uncle were in heaven with as much entertainment as any 7 and 11 year old could handle. They confessed to stealing some room keys from the janitors closet from time to time and breaking into empty rooms to watch TV. They played man hunt with the other resident kids from all ends of the property, road bikes to the air strip and bat tower, and, of course, jumped in the swimming pools.
But Sugarloaf Lodge’s most notorious property residents were Sugar and Dolly – two bottlenose dolphins bursting with personality and playful disposition.
The Sugarloaf Lodge was a saltwater jungle turned five star luxury resort in the 1970s. Grammy, Pop, my Uncle and Dad were lucky to have lived, worked, and played there in its glory days. With 20-25 efficiency rooms and 30 hotel rooms overlooking the bay, there were plenty of guests to entertain and grounds to upkeep. Two swimming pools, mini golf, tennis courts, a restaurant, and a private air strip all enticed northerners to escape to a little slice of paradise.
The main attraction was the ocean playground with private charters being run by Pop and a few other captains out of Sugarloaf Marina. Fishing was as good as you could ever imagine with little to no traffic and regulations. The lodge also had six 16’ trihull rental boats with 25 hp Johnson tiller motors that guests could rent for the day to go explore. However, they tested a lot of patience. Letting guests with no boating experience scoot around with no GPS or depth finders through winding mangroves was a chore. Grammy constantly sent Pop or the boys out to rescue people who were lost and overdue to return to the marina. Luckily, they always collected lodgers in one piece.
My Dad and Uncle were in heaven with as much entertainment as any 7 and 11 year old could handle. They confessed to stealing some room keys from the janitors closet from time to time and breaking into empty rooms to watch TV. They played man hunt with the other resident kids from all ends of the property, road bikes to the air strip and bat tower, and, of course, jumped in the swimming pools.
But Sugarloaf Lodge’s most notorious property residents were Sugar and Dolly – two bottlenose dolphins bursting with personality and playful disposition.
Part IV: Sugar and Dolly
Two infamous residents of the Sugarloaf Lodge lived in the cove just below the restaurant overlooking the bay. Sugar and Dolly were two Atlantic bottlenose dolphins and very important lodge employees - performing for guests at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sugar was trained at the “Flipper’s Sea School” (yeah, that Flipper) and lived at the Lodge when the Good Family acquired the property. Dolly’s origin was more like the real-life character. She befriended a local woman named Mrs. Asbury and, just like the Flipper story, she followed her around in her Boston Whaler and lived under her dock. She eventually became acquainted with Sugar and joined her in the cove. Sugar had a feistier temperament while Dolly, though wild, was very protective and sweet.
My dad (who was 7 years old at the time) assisted the staff with the 3x daily dolphin feedings and vitamins. He recalls the dolphins spitting out their vitamins buried in a thick piece of Spanish mackerel just like a dog sneakily sputters out a pill through the side of their teeth. He and my uncle learned invaluable information studying such magnificent and smart animals from a front row seat that very few children get to experience, especially at such a young age.
Now this was decades before the documentary Blackfish and they were grandfathered into the Marine Mammal Protection Act. Right, wrong, or indifferent, Sugar and Dolly truly became a part of the family. They escaped on a few occasions only to stay just around the corner in the marina and return for the night to sleep in their cove.
When they were out and about, one of Pop’s most elaborate practical jokes for charter guests was betting them $5.00 that they could catch a 800lb fish from the dock. Not a goliath, not a shark. Something even more unique and you didn’t even need a hook. They would cast an egg sinker into the lagoon and the porpoise pair would have a blast picking the weight up off the bottom and spooling the reel in a matter of seconds. Pop smirked finishing up this part of the story and said, “I made quite a bit of money.”
Two infamous residents of the Sugarloaf Lodge lived in the cove just below the restaurant overlooking the bay. Sugar and Dolly were two Atlantic bottlenose dolphins and very important lodge employees - performing for guests at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sugar was trained at the “Flipper’s Sea School” (yeah, that Flipper) and lived at the Lodge when the Good Family acquired the property. Dolly’s origin was more like the real-life character. She befriended a local woman named Mrs. Asbury and, just like the Flipper story, she followed her around in her Boston Whaler and lived under her dock. She eventually became acquainted with Sugar and joined her in the cove. Sugar had a feistier temperament while Dolly, though wild, was very protective and sweet.
My dad (who was 7 years old at the time) assisted the staff with the 3x daily dolphin feedings and vitamins. He recalls the dolphins spitting out their vitamins buried in a thick piece of Spanish mackerel just like a dog sneakily sputters out a pill through the side of their teeth. He and my uncle learned invaluable information studying such magnificent and smart animals from a front row seat that very few children get to experience, especially at such a young age.
Now this was decades before the documentary Blackfish and they were grandfathered into the Marine Mammal Protection Act. Right, wrong, or indifferent, Sugar and Dolly truly became a part of the family. They escaped on a few occasions only to stay just around the corner in the marina and return for the night to sleep in their cove.
When they were out and about, one of Pop’s most elaborate practical jokes for charter guests was betting them $5.00 that they could catch a 800lb fish from the dock. Not a goliath, not a shark. Something even more unique and you didn’t even need a hook. They would cast an egg sinker into the lagoon and the porpoise pair would have a blast picking the weight up off the bottom and spooling the reel in a matter of seconds. Pop smirked finishing up this part of the story and said, “I made quite a bit of money.”
Sugar remained a beloved member of the Lodge until her death in 1997. When my parents and brother returned to Sugarloaf in the early 90s, she was still performing. It was a special moment for my Dad to introduce Sugar to his young son – the third generation to enjoy and learn the wonders of mile marker 17.
We’ve only scratched the surface of our Sugarloaf series. You’ll soon find in our stories and family history that Grammy and Pop had a heart for strays (animals + people too). And what could possibly make an island life even more exceptional when you live at a resort with dolphins and the flats as your back yard?
A pet racoon named Hitch.
We’ve only scratched the surface of our Sugarloaf series. You’ll soon find in our stories and family history that Grammy and Pop had a heart for strays (animals + people too). And what could possibly make an island life even more exceptional when you live at a resort with dolphins and the flats as your back yard?
A pet racoon named Hitch.
Sugarloaf Chapters - Part V: Hitch
You may have caught on that my grandparents have a heart for strays. Whether it be animals or people, their home is always welcome to the lost or weary. Hitch was one of those orphans. Now we all need to admit that at one point in our lives we’ve contemplated that trash pandas are pretty stinkin’ cute. At just a few weeks old, Hitch fell out of a palm tree near the marina. Gram and Pop bottle fed him with baby formula until grew strong and started eating real food.
Once his rehabilitation was complete, he became a well-adjusted member of the family. Litterbox trained and as curious as they come, he was fascinated with human ears and belly buttons. He loved chasing my dad and uncle around the house. They would run down the hallway in their home behind Sugarloaf Marina, take a sharp left into the bedroom and hear Hitch slide into the wall with a thump. They’d quickly jump under the covers as he recovered and he’d follow suit trying to pry his little thumbless hands under the sheets.
As he aged, he grew more and more independent and became an outside pet with an open cage policy. Playing between the marina and their house, he often gave guests a scare with his extroverted personality. His curiosity frequently got him in trouble – like the time his hands got stuck in a giant horse conch. The more Hitch tried to pull his hands out of the bright orange trap, the more the foot of the conch sucked in. As I write this sentence, I’m laughing. I imagine my dad walking into school the next day saying “Sorry my homework isn’t done. My pet racoon got his hands stuck in a live conch shell in my living room.” Although they weren’t born local – it doesn’t get any more conch than that.
You may have caught on that my grandparents have a heart for strays. Whether it be animals or people, their home is always welcome to the lost or weary. Hitch was one of those orphans. Now we all need to admit that at one point in our lives we’ve contemplated that trash pandas are pretty stinkin’ cute. At just a few weeks old, Hitch fell out of a palm tree near the marina. Gram and Pop bottle fed him with baby formula until grew strong and started eating real food.
Once his rehabilitation was complete, he became a well-adjusted member of the family. Litterbox trained and as curious as they come, he was fascinated with human ears and belly buttons. He loved chasing my dad and uncle around the house. They would run down the hallway in their home behind Sugarloaf Marina, take a sharp left into the bedroom and hear Hitch slide into the wall with a thump. They’d quickly jump under the covers as he recovered and he’d follow suit trying to pry his little thumbless hands under the sheets.
As he aged, he grew more and more independent and became an outside pet with an open cage policy. Playing between the marina and their house, he often gave guests a scare with his extroverted personality. His curiosity frequently got him in trouble – like the time his hands got stuck in a giant horse conch. The more Hitch tried to pull his hands out of the bright orange trap, the more the foot of the conch sucked in. As I write this sentence, I’m laughing. I imagine my dad walking into school the next day saying “Sorry my homework isn’t done. My pet racoon got his hands stuck in a live conch shell in my living room.” Although they weren’t born local – it doesn’t get any more conch than that.
My dad had a shell shop next to the marina where he would sell various sea treasures to lodge visitors. Back then, the flats were loaded with thousands of starfish, sand dollars, sea biscuits, mermaid’s purses, queen conchs, helmets, welks, coral clusters - you name it. You could have never imagined the flats and sandbars would be as wiped clean as they are today. Pop built him a 6’ x 8’ tiki hut right at the fuel dock where the daily charters loaded and unloaded. How could you resist 7 year old in a mini white Sugarloaf Lodge uniform hitting them up for $1 a shell? I believe that shell shop and his other various jobs around the resort laid the foundation for my dad’s ambitions to hustle and work hard.
Eventually, Hitch’s wild internal nature overpowered his peculiar housetraining. After nipping at Pop one day and resisting to come home, they decided it was time for him to return to his natural locale. They drove him to the very end of Sugarloaf Blvd and with teary eyes, released him into the mangroves. Fast forward 40 years, two new generations are spending time 1 mile from that little slice of paradise. With every masked, round-eared, and ring-tailed critter we come across at dusk, Cappy can share with his grandkids that they may be a descendent of a very important family member.
Eventually, Hitch’s wild internal nature overpowered his peculiar housetraining. After nipping at Pop one day and resisting to come home, they decided it was time for him to return to his natural locale. They drove him to the very end of Sugarloaf Blvd and with teary eyes, released him into the mangroves. Fast forward 40 years, two new generations are spending time 1 mile from that little slice of paradise. With every masked, round-eared, and ring-tailed critter we come across at dusk, Cappy can share with his grandkids that they may be a descendent of a very important family member.
Part Vl: Ocean Playground
Moving from the northeast to the Keys was a welcomed change of pace for my Grandparents, Dad, and Uncle. No harsh winters meant it was season all year round. The flats, Atlantic and Gulf provided a vast seascape to explore – especially for two water loving young boys. They set in quickly to a routine where everyone was involved in the day to day life at the resort. Pop oversaw all aspects of the marina while running the charter fleet and taking guests on fishing excursions while Grammy ran the marina desk and tackle shop. My Dad and Uncle had their own small stark white uniforms and were used to entertain guests too - from the shell shop, to dolphin training, mating for Pop on fishing charters, catching bait, taking guests water skiing, guiding canoe tours and doing their fair share of washing boats.
Their backyard was an ocean playground with a vast variety of activities. My Uncle Donnie, who was 11 at the time, ran around in an 18’ Atlantic trihull with a 85 hp Mercury. My Dad (age 7) had a 5’ Pram with no motor that leaked so bad he couldn’t make it from sea wall to sea wall in the marina. Every salty adventure was rooted in learning the value of hard work (and Pop having free labor haha). They would set small gill nets on the fish muds in Turkey Basin to catch mullet for tarpon bait and cut bait for bottom fishing to be sold in the marina. They set stone crab traps, dove for lobster, and commercially fished the Atlantic on days when charters weren’t booked. In the spring/summer when mahi fishing was off the charts, they commercially fished to sell to a local fish market called E-Fish - where Cudjo Sales Fisherman’s Warehouse is today. They could catch on average 200-800 lbs of mahi on a good day mostly 10-20 miles off the American Shoal Lighthouse. The Atlantic held grass patches that were the size of football fields. They also sold cobia, snapper, grouper, kingfish, lobsters, and stone crabs.
Moving from the northeast to the Keys was a welcomed change of pace for my Grandparents, Dad, and Uncle. No harsh winters meant it was season all year round. The flats, Atlantic and Gulf provided a vast seascape to explore – especially for two water loving young boys. They set in quickly to a routine where everyone was involved in the day to day life at the resort. Pop oversaw all aspects of the marina while running the charter fleet and taking guests on fishing excursions while Grammy ran the marina desk and tackle shop. My Dad and Uncle had their own small stark white uniforms and were used to entertain guests too - from the shell shop, to dolphin training, mating for Pop on fishing charters, catching bait, taking guests water skiing, guiding canoe tours and doing their fair share of washing boats.
Their backyard was an ocean playground with a vast variety of activities. My Uncle Donnie, who was 11 at the time, ran around in an 18’ Atlantic trihull with a 85 hp Mercury. My Dad (age 7) had a 5’ Pram with no motor that leaked so bad he couldn’t make it from sea wall to sea wall in the marina. Every salty adventure was rooted in learning the value of hard work (and Pop having free labor haha). They would set small gill nets on the fish muds in Turkey Basin to catch mullet for tarpon bait and cut bait for bottom fishing to be sold in the marina. They set stone crab traps, dove for lobster, and commercially fished the Atlantic on days when charters weren’t booked. In the spring/summer when mahi fishing was off the charts, they commercially fished to sell to a local fish market called E-Fish - where Cudjo Sales Fisherman’s Warehouse is today. They could catch on average 200-800 lbs of mahi on a good day mostly 10-20 miles off the American Shoal Lighthouse. The Atlantic held grass patches that were the size of football fields. They also sold cobia, snapper, grouper, kingfish, lobsters, and stone crabs.
Back then, there were very very few set regulations, permits, or seasons on fisheries. It was the wild wild southeast. They were able to dive on artificial structure and the bays were littered with casitas (lobster condos), ice keg molds, car hoods, and 55 gal drums. Anything that could provide critters with shelter was given a second chance at life and thrown in the ocean instead of the dump. Recycling at its finest. Most dive charters were brought to natural bottom and channels like Airboat, Johnsons, Snipe, Mud and the rocks off Marvin Key to keep the artificial structures bountiful.
As you can imagine, my Dad wasn’t a fan of school and he learned quickly how to manipulate the system. If he “missed the bus” to Sugarloaf Elementary his “punishment” was going to work with Pop. My Dad missed nearly 60 days of school by hiding in the sea grape hedge at the bus stop. Grammy would roll her eyes and send him on his way to work on the water.
There was just so much life back then. Large hammerheads patrolled the bays and the shark populations were healthy (but not too healthy) keeping the ecosystems in check while still allowing for generous harvests. Goliath groupers thumped so loudly under the mangrove islands the birds flew away. However, a 100+ pound tarpon was a major event. They weren’t protected and therefore didn’t grow as large as they do today. Pop caught a 111 lb trophy tarpon that made it into the Key West Gazette.
You could have never imagined putting a dent in any population or species. The Keys we know and love today are a far cry from the picture painted above. My family returned with the third generation of Ewers in the early 90s and again with the 4th in the 2010s. We’ve respected and enjoyed the Keys lifestyle and everything it has to offer for 50+ years.
As you can imagine, my Dad wasn’t a fan of school and he learned quickly how to manipulate the system. If he “missed the bus” to Sugarloaf Elementary his “punishment” was going to work with Pop. My Dad missed nearly 60 days of school by hiding in the sea grape hedge at the bus stop. Grammy would roll her eyes and send him on his way to work on the water.
There was just so much life back then. Large hammerheads patrolled the bays and the shark populations were healthy (but not too healthy) keeping the ecosystems in check while still allowing for generous harvests. Goliath groupers thumped so loudly under the mangrove islands the birds flew away. However, a 100+ pound tarpon was a major event. They weren’t protected and therefore didn’t grow as large as they do today. Pop caught a 111 lb trophy tarpon that made it into the Key West Gazette.
You could have never imagined putting a dent in any population or species. The Keys we know and love today are a far cry from the picture painted above. My family returned with the third generation of Ewers in the early 90s and again with the 4th in the 2010s. We’ve respected and enjoyed the Keys lifestyle and everything it has to offer for 50+ years.
To Be Continued....
(The rest of the Sugarloaf Chapters are still being written. Check back for updates.)