Peter deGregory

Birth1930 – Bahamas

Death1978 – Not Available

Mother – Not Available

Father – Not Available

This is the only information that the memory of Peter deGregory is awarded on Ancestry.com. Yes, it’s a shame but a man that was legendary in the beer joints of Riviera Beach and the docks at the Port of Palm Beach, along with the beaches and even the churches in West End and throughout Grand Bahama Island–has been lost to the out-going tides of time.

It all began with Butlin’s Bahamas Vacation Village (1950) … the pioneer (if premature) attempt to develop a modern resort on Grand Bahama was Butlin’s Bahamas Vacation Village. The Englishman, Billy Butlin had made his mark in the UK establishing “luxury” holiday camps, beginning in Skegness in 1936. Unlike the earlier holiday camps which were little more than a bunch of tents, Butlin provided a quality article which greatly appealed to the post-World War ll British tourist:

I was still in grade school at Southboro Elementary, but my father got a new customer–Powell Brothers Produce Company’s first ever in the Bahamas. The only problem was … no commercial shipping company operated between the Port of Palm Beach and West End or anywhere else on Grand Bahama Island. After asking around, it was determined that the only way that seaborne cargo could be shipped from the Palm Beach Inlet to Butlin’s in West End, was on the weekly sailing of a seafarer by the name of Peter deGregory.

It would be a stretch to refer to the vessel used as a freighter or a transport, or even a ferry–it was a Marine Corp. World War ll landing craft–purchased from US Army surplus by Peter and his brother, Harold, to serve their neighbors and a family-owned grocery store in West End Settlement. The only modification made to the craft consisted of a canvas sunshade installed over the pilot station at the starboard stern.

West End, in the late 1940s, was little more than a tiny, depression era, rum-runners haven at the western extremity of one of the least populated islands in the Bahamas. Other than random arrivals of Government mail boats, the only contact its residents had with the outside world was with Peter deGregory’s local flashbacks to the landings at Normandy or Iwo-Jima.

It was here that the plot thickened. Potatoes, onions, and a few other produce items did not require refrigeration, but the same could not be said for iceberg lettuce, strawberries, and most other fresh fruits and vegetables. Needless to say, Peter’s vessel offered no refrigeration. His primary cargo was the occasional automobile .. there was only room for one and it would be driven on board by lowering the landing ramp on a sandy beach adjacent to the Port. Once in place, the vehicle was converted into a makeshift weatherproof container for furniture, clothing, packaged foods, and yes, produce delivered by Powell Brothers. We packed the perishables into boxes and bags with block ice, as best we could–filling the vehicle and every nook and cranny of the craft, before covering it all with a tied-down tarp.

I was too young to be aware of what transpired, but my father’s introduction to Peter deGregory and international trade was an ill-fated adventure. His young and struggling business suffered a huge monetary loss when Butlin’s abruptly stopped paying their bills. Sir Billy’s venture on Grand Bahama, which might have evolved into some sort of decorous “Club Med” in West End if it had survived, had begun in 1948 and cost £ 2 million (about $10 million at the time). It opened in February, 1950, with a modest schedule and expenses, but didn’t attract sufficient customers to pacify nervous creditors, who closed it down that fall. It opened again in 1955 on a more modest basis for Florida based sport fishermen and was bought in 1959 by the Jack Tar Hotel chain. The 500-room Grand Bahama Hotel and an enlarged marina along with a rudimentary airstrip were built (1963) on the site, making it a completely self-contained, entirely new, resort.

By this time, I had graduated college and returned to help run the business. Over my father’s reluctance, I solicited and secured the account once again–this time delivering the produce to the M/V Grand Bahama (a much larger ship owned by Jack Tar and used to transport guests, as well as cargo, to and from the Port of Palm Beach). This time, the West End resort flourished until Freeport and Lucaya became the real attractions on the island, but Peter deGregory and his vessel were long gone. Tropical Shipping Inc. had initiated containerized service into Freeport and, rumor had it that, Peter and his bare-boned landing craft delivery service were only making infrequent calls on Walker’s Cay, Grand, Coopers Town, and other remote out-island destinations. His income had been greatly diminished, as his cargo no longer included motorized vehicles (there were no roads, on or off, these isolated destinations.)

Years passed and I’m not sure when I heard the news, “Did you hear? Peter deGregory was lost at sea–he just sailed out the Palm Beach Inlet one night and must have run into some really bad weather. No one has ever heard from him since.”.

Above … Peter deGregory, demonstrating the backwards water-skiing style he used to travel the sixty-seven miles, non-stop, from West End, Bahamas to West Palm Beach. He came ashore in Lake Worth near the old Flotilla Club. By comparison, it was about this same time that I, and a few of my Conniston Jr. High classmates, were struggling to travel a few hundred yards, skiing forward, in back of Don Cunningham’s home in Lake Clark Shores.

Peter deGregory was part of an extended family that became one of the most note-worthy in the out islands. To this day, you can’t clear customs or immigration in West End or Freeport without a conversation with an agent named deGregory and there is a good chance that one of the shops or eateries you frequent during your visit will bear the name as well.

If pressed to give an example of the term … :A  MAN’S MAN”, few that have ever lived will challenge Peter.

Jim Powell