Dockless Yacht Club Sails Anyway.

   For years I have stood back from the yacht clubs of Tampa
Bay, watching, weighing, waiting for the one that would
be exactly right for me.
   This week I found it, at last. It's the Commodores Yacht Club,
down a deceptively modest road, behind a shopping strip in Dunedin.
   It is absolutely the best yacht club a $15.00 a-year yacht club can be.
  Unlike all those socially insecure yacht clubs, Commodores doesn't
have, and doesn't need a marina or even a waterfront, unless you call
the two or three huge puddles in the roadway in front of the club
a waterfront.
   Inside, the club is cool and shadowy and mostly a big comfortable
saloon.
   It has a pool table rather than a pool; no tennis court but a
felt covered poker table.
   The bar is 30 feet long, darkly paneled. On the wall above
it stand models of sailing ships. Next to them, a glum-looking stuffed bird,
vaguely nautical in appearance, glares down at the customers.
    It is noon and there are about a dozen people at the bar and the tables.
The crowds will be along later. By 4 p.m. the place will be jammed
with many of the clubs 250 members.
   There is a controversy about their average age. "You won't see anybody
under 60," says member Ched Smiley.
   "Sure you will," says club owner Larry Willoughby. "There's a
girl 23 years old comes in here sometimes."
   Regardless, Willoughby says, there will be a lot of people
having a lot of fun. "You might see Dan Kelly, a guy about 5 feet 4
that we voted sergeant-at arms.
"Ole Dan," Willoughby muses fondly, "he comes in, stands
around for a while and pretty soon he's singing Sinatra.
   "Then there are John and Don. They dance up and down the
floor in front of the bar, singing, `Stomping to the east, stomping to the west . . .'
   "Later in the year, there will be a mock wedding, with a man
dressed as the bride and a woman dressed as the groom."
Willoughby crinkles his brow ruminatively. "I've never seen a mock
wedding, but I hear they're great fun."  
   "Maybe so," Ched Smiley sounds unconvinced.
   Commodores is Willoughby's first yacht club. He inherited it from his parents,
who owned the place when it was across the street and actually had a few slips for boats.
   "Eight years ago the docks blew away," Willoughby says. "The landlord
wouldn't let us rebuild them. He had a chance to rent to an expensive restaurant."
   Commodores moved across Curlew Road to the present location,
taking their membership with them. Also the witty sign over the bar:
"FREE DRINKS TOMORROW"
   "Now and then somebody says, `I was here yesterday, and now
I want my free drinks.' I just point to the sign and say, `Tomorrow.' " 
   Daytime bartender is Leslie Price, a cheery woman who also cooks for the club.
   She makes a $3 lunch special at home every morning (rice and beans; a chicken dish),
then brings it to the club, along with sandwich makings.
   "Now and then customers ask for something else, say lobster. I say,
`Come on, guys, it's for three bucks apiece.' "  
Price does all the work, gets all the money. 
   The club gets by and puts on regular covered dish suppers, $6 rib roast
dinners (made in Price's kitchen) and the occasional pig roast -
all financed mostly by dues money and nominal charges.
For Price, it's a good day job and she can still spend time with her two children.
"I came up from Key West looking for a job in a yacht club," she says.
"Well, this is a different kind of yacht club, but it's nice.

JACQUIN SANDERS. St. Petersburg Times. St. Petersburg, Fla.: Jul 14, 1994. pg. 1.1.1.1
Correction (7/15/94): In a story Thursday on the Commodores Yacht Club,
Don Kelly's name was misspelled. Also, the story said Larry Willoughby
inherited the club; he actually bought it three years ago ( 1991) from the previous owners.