5/27/2023 0 Comments Andy griffith the football storyDuring his six-decade career, he caught countless red-eye flights east from Los Angeles, headed home from the city where he made his living to the island that gave him that living. His memories of working in that play were the anchor to which he kept returning. Andy, “Doc” Harvey, and their sons at the Oregon Inlet Coast Guard Station in October 1968. It’s just south of the Waterside Theatre, the home of The Lost Colony outdoor drama, where it all began for Andy in the summer of 1947. We cruised by Andy’s last big house peeking through the pines. My friend at the wheel pulled out from his downtown Manteo dock and piloted the boat out of Shallowbag Bay, then cruised slowly north on the sound, rocking gently by a sandspit where Andy sometimes parked his buddy-laden pontoon boat (he hated to be alone, my friends told me) and fiercely competed in volleyball. They told me about enjoying drinks with him on Roanoke Sound, and we shared drinks as they wove stories about Andy. Island friends were taking me out on their wooden sportfishing boat, a 30-footer with clean lines, a vessel they took Andy Griffith out on when he grew too frosty-haired frail to take out his own boat. ![]() It was dusk, a gray-dog day surrendering to a cool sunset in August 2020. Excerpted from the book Andy Griffith’s Manteo: His Real Mayberry, which was published in May.
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