Night Light

Night Light

Some called her Houseboat Hanna, others nicknamed her Saggy Sue, while the younger set couldn't resist the genderless Wharf Rat. Hanna was not her name, nor Sue, but nicknames are sometimes unexplainable, because there was nothing a bit saggy about Sarah Benjamin.

Sarah's story is worth telling because it shows the influence a strong individual can have in this day of followers, the power not only to maintain one's self-sovereignty, but to positively effect those around her. Ms Benjamin was every bit the autonomous being that Thoreau advocated a century earlier.

Sarah was born in a socially accepted middle class family in Seattle: her father was an educator, her mother an RN before the children came. Sarah went to Harrison High, then the University of Washington, and joined a small sports business her college classmates established their Senior year. She dated, drank the occasional glass of wine at meals, socialized like all non-drug using young women, and was even known to play computer games now and then. Everyone agreed there was nothing wrong nor even unusual about this agreeable young lady.

In the sixties, when a twenty four year-old, single, financially promising woman married, lived with friends, or even lived at home, no eyebrows rose. But when such a lady lived alone on a houseboat on Lake Washington, that brought the occasional smile.

Before she was in her late twenties, the pattern of her future had been established. She lived alone, on the water, and walked or went by boat wherever she could. When the Internet became popular, she used it to purchase items she couldn't carry. When she wasn't at the sports store, she spent most of her days and nights tied alongside the docks in downtown Seattle using the Post Office as her address.

She became a millionaire partly by luck. That is, her friends at Seattle Sports created an investment pool which she, almost as an afterthought, joined. The group made a respectable profit with almost no effort. But the insightful woman saw that if one put her mind to it, real money could be

made by playing the stocks. At that point she focused on investing through the computer and, in time, made a fortune. Her independent nature dictated that she let no one know. So now she added financial independence to her innate self-sovereignty.

Sarah kept living on her moss-logged houseboat she namedHuckleberryin deference to her favorite author. She still preferred walking to the Post Office and making her own decisions concerning all things financial: which stocks to buy, which to sell, and the all-important timing.

Everyone knows that moths congregate around a light. Like that, a number of suitors journeyed to Houseboat 37 to bask in the aura of Sarah Benjamin. Mostly friends and old acquaintances, but occasionally a man who had met Sarah at the sports shop where she continued working in spite of her accumulating wealth. One such moth was Berry Benton, a lover of boats, amateur sailor, and self-taught computer expert. Barry was a bit imbalanced in that he could be too cerebral. Sailing kept him on an even keel. Barry remet Sarah by accident as he motored his twenty-four foot boat past the Number 37 after spending the day sailing around Mercer Island.

"Hey, aren't you the girl from Seattle Sports?"

"Well, I work there. Forgive me, but I don't recognize you."

"No reason to: I'm Nobody from Nowhere. I stopped in and bought some gear for my boat: anchor, some rope, nothing big. Lived here long?"

"Ever since graduating from U Dub."

"Must be great, living on the water. If I had a zillion bucks I'd buy a whole block of houseboats and have my own little city on the bay."

"Oh, you don't have to be rich to live like this," she said hesitatingly. "Just have the desire. Which you seem to have in abundance. Just don't forget and go to the basement in the middle of the night."

It turned out that the light that moth-Barry fluttered around was not Sarah but houseboats. So in time, Mr. Bentor moved the wharf. But he never bothered his inspirer: no one did once they realized the woman's need for privacy and independence.

But Barry's story is indicative of Sarah's influence. Simply because she lived on the water and loved it so, others followed suit. So many that potential water dwellers from Seattle and surrounding environs lined up.

A family of victims to the siren's song was Doug Applegate, his charming wife Bobby, and their twin sons, Alex and Arnie. The Applegates

spent hours launching boats, packing cars, unloading, and driving from one launch site to another. Every Friday afternoon when Doug finished his insurance paperwork the family rejoiced; every Sunday evening when they had to head back to their landlocked house they moaned.

"Too bad we can't just live on the water," wailed Doug.

"Like that girl on theHuckleberry?"

"Huckleberry?"

"That houseboat with the moss growing on the edge."

"I don't know about her," said the salesman, "but I sure envy the people who live on those flats. I wish we could..."

"Could?" It wasn't a question. "Of course we could, and can. With what you make and the revenue from Grandpa's estate, it's a cinch. It's whether we reallywantto."

"There's no doubt on my side."

Within a month the houseboat population increased by a new rig and four enthusiasts. And behind the scenes, unbeknownst to the public, Sarah Benjamin donated over a million dollars to ease the burden on the Seattle tax payers.

It's interesting to see how one strong individual affects others, especially those on the edge: one plunge and others follow suit. In the case of Sarah Benjamin, enough people applied for licenses that the City Council was asked to expand its houseboat moorings. And because enough influential and moneyed people filled these ranks, an ordinance was passed, contracts were issued, and a sizable pool was excavated so a veritable suburb of new houseboat dwellers moved to the water.

Wharf Rat became a title of distinction conferred on permanent residents of the houseboat community. More citizens of Seattle as well as tourists envied the dock dwellers. Prices skyrocketed, taxes zoomed, and the waiting list to purchase an existing unit became like trying to get simultaneous appointment with the Queen and Pope. And because the former Governor of Washington and present Mayor of Seattle wanted to be part of the unique community, they proposed that a floating city be established in Lake Washington. The suggestion has been hotly contested by land owners, of course, and the debate is still afire. But because of the success of The Pond, Floating City may very well become a reality this decade. There are just a few sanitary and utility regulations that need to be ironed out. The advocates guarantee the project will not impinge on the summer Regatta or any normal uses of the great, inland lake.

But Floating City wasn't the end of the ambitious planners. They began dreaming of New Venice, a billion-dollar enterprise that would entail hundreds of acres of bottom land excavated deep enough to float a full city of houseboats. It would feature the largest grocery store-Post Office-Fire and Police Departments afloat in the world. Its plans are truly global: Japanese investors, Thai experience, Swiss know-how, and a myriad of nautical engineers. They're hard on the project at this moment. And interest is so great that already variations are being suggested to suit the Great Lakes and even desert communities. Mankind seems to have come full circle from primordial seed in the saline seas to New Venice and its spin-offs.

No one in the public sector knows what Sarah's net worth is at the moment. But being a shrewd stock jockey you can guess it's considerable. It must be, because she is the principle investor in the New Venice projects as well as Chairwoman of the Board. But none of the titles have affected the young lady now in her late thirty's: she still works at Seattle Sports selling boat anchors, rope, and water skis. But she gets away with it because no one knows her assets, no one is aware of the full talents of this extraordinary woman. But everyone who knows her doubt that even if she were featured on the front cover of Forbes and the Wall Street Journal that it would bother her, and that she certainly wouldn't change. She's simply too strong to be anything other than the unassuming though autonomous Sarah Alisha Benjamin. Unless you want to call her as others do, Houseboat Hannah, the pretty Wharf Rat on theHuckleberry.