Book review by Susan Dearing
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Click on photos to enlarge Your
visit to Instead he found a tiny inn on the beach which had been devastated by a killer hurricane in 1959. For sale. Cheap. A great base of operations for his search for the gold, he figured, but the real treasure turned out to be the little hotel. |
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La Posada is still very much there, and the incredible story of Bart's experience with it, with fixing it up and with the many characters who crossed his path along the way will keep you glued to the more than 380 pages and over 200 photographs half of them in full color. You'll meet Bing Crosby, Ken Kesey, Lee Marvin, Sam Houston Johnson (who the heck is that? LBJ's brother!), Atenor Patiño (the impossibly rich Bolivian Tin King), Dudley Moore and many others. |
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There's
the outcome of the dive for sunken treasure (did Bart find the gold?), a
murder plot (his plot), a trip to the pokey (not for the murder), his
experiences building a 40-apartment condominium on a rock next to La
Posada (Roca Del Mar) and a lot of chicanery involving cops, Federales,
politicos and other unsavory individuals including a 106 year-old man who
is still batting around town in an old Ford pickup. |
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At this
point I want you to read an excerpt from INNKEEPER so you can sample (and savor)
his writing style. In an effort to convince a crooked attorney to sign
over the hotel to him, Bart visited a bar in the nearby city of
"How
much, " I asked the stocky young man at the bar, "to shoot a guy in
the kneecap?" "Cinco mil pesos," he replied. That was only
four hundred bucks which was well within my budget. "How much for
both kneecaps," I ventured, expecting a reduced rate for double the volume.
"Veinte mil pesos, Señor," declared my new confidant.
That
was a whopping $1,600! "Why," I persisted, "do you charge
so much more for the second one?" My curiosity was piqued, although
my enthusiasm for this project had begun to wane. Everyone in the cantina seemed
to know this guy and if persuaded, could no doubt recall the furtive gringo who
was getting cost estimates from the neighborhood assassin.
"Because Señor, one kneecap is easy." He eased off the barstool
to pantomime his role in the scenario. "You sneak up behind the cabrón
and BANG! But the other one? Hah! It is very difficult to shoot the other
kneecap while he is flopping around on the ground and howling and the people
they are approaching to see what is happening."
The gunman stalked the boards of the tavern, jabbing his trigger finger at the
elusive kneecap of his flailing, frantic -- and imaginary victim.
"Of course," I said,
"how foolish of me not to consider that."
My inclination to abandon this particular plan became a decision when my
erstwhile hit man disclosed that he was an off-duty police officer. At the
same time, it sank in that whatever persuasion was needed to force the
attorney's hand would have to come from me. By myself.
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Before Manzanillo there's Bart's stint as a banjo player in his Dixieland band,
a plane crash on the Ohio River, five years as a
bomber pilot during the Korean War (he insists
he was on our side), his GI Bill generated degree from the University of Miami,
his attempt to sell his cartoon strip to the New York newspaper syndicates, a
shot at the Foreign Service and a brief page or three on some adolescent
shenanigans. |
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I've read INNKEEPER twice, and will probably read it again. You'll learn
first-hand about Mexicans and the real
For my tourist guidebook about Manzanillo and the state of Colima, go to www.gomanzanillo.com/guidebook/index.htm.
