Matson Lines July 1959
I had been an enthusiastic fan prior to being selected National Fan Club President (second choice for the job, I will remind you here, a fact I learned later when I was already hunched and probably permanently from sitting over a hot typewriter pounding out replies to fan mail, sending out photographs, writing newsletters, all of which required licking endless numbers of stamps to affix to envelopes bound with rubber bands before walking two miles to the post office to mail them ).
I gathered friends and we met the artist at the pier when he was moving to the Mainland from Hawaii. He arrived on the Matson line and we had enough time to paint a large sign and attach old broomsticks for handles, plus assemble suitable attire,
as well as arrange a ride. He was flabbergasted as we stood by the gangway and he walked down the bright white wooden walkway festooned with large strands nautical sisal ... "How did you know when I was arriving?"
(heh heh heh ... never underestimate me and my friends, I thought to myself)