I never saw Frank Prothero smile. He was a gruff, imposing figure with enormous beat-up hands who looked like he had strayed here from the 19th century. He was revered in Seattle’s wooden boat community for his lifelong career as a shipwright and, even beyond the respect due for his inestimable accomplishments, he had an air about him that commanded it. I used to see Frank back in the early 1980s when I was working for Joe Bucek and Land Washburn, owners of the Wooden Boat Shop in Seattle’s University District. I was in my late 20s and had built just a handful of boats and knew just enough about boatbuilding to mind the store.Frank was then in his late 70s and had been building boats for over 50 years. It was in his blood. His ancestors in Wales had been building boats since the late 17th century, his great-grandfather immigrated to Seattle in 1870 and went into business building boats on the shores of Lake Union, and his grandfather, father, and brother were all shipwrights. Frank was in a retirement, of sorts, and was building himself a 65′ gaff-rigged topsail schooner in a floating boatshop on the south end of Lake Union. He had been working on it since 1965.Frank would often come to the Wooden Boat Shop, always wearing a newsboy hat, a khaki shirt, and leather work boots with white crepe soles. I don’t recall ever speaking to him beyond a hello when he came in, or getting any more of a reply other than a nod. When he wandered the aisles looking at the wares, he had a habit of pressing his lips together tight in a straight line, turned neither up nor down at the corners of his mouth.
Read this article now for Free!
Ready for a second free article? Create a free account by entering your email address and a password below.
— OR —
Subscribe now for $29.99 a year and have immediate access to all of our content, including hundreds of small-boat profiles, gear reviews and techniques, adventure stories, and more! You can also browse our entire archive of back issues starting from September 2014, as well as post unlimited classified ads. This is an extraordinary value!
I was living on a houseboat just north of Prothero’s shop back then and went down to see her when she came out of the shed. I can’t recall now if it was for the actual launching or not, but boy, was she impressive. Her relatively rapid decline seemed so unfathomable to me; such a precious thing being let go. I also stumbled across her while in Port Townsend and her condition pretty much caused me to lose all hope. I can’t tell you how good it is to see her coming back; the effort to get her to the point of relaunching alone must have been huge.
I always admired Frank’s philosophy, that the only reason to take out a boat, was to bring it back and work on it. ;o)
Great news that it is being restored!
This is good news, more power to Jeremy. It was devastating to see GLORY hauled out in Port Townsend with mulch spilling out of her guts.
I also have memories of visiting Frank and GLORY in the shed. This was prior to boat school and much of any carpentry experience on my part. But I had a long wandering eye and intense interest in boats. GLORY so dominated that space, the shed was like a cathedral. It was SO much to absorb. I visited a few times. Somehow Frank tolerated me. Sometimes he would be sitting in his moaning chair back in a nook of the shop. I have not the foggiest memory of what either of us said. Surely not much. I was vaguely terrified. What could I say. But it was OK.
There’s something profoundly sad about a person who goes through a long life life without smiling.
As a person of advanced age (69) who interrupted a career as a merchant mariner to do a seven-year stint as a wooden boatbuilder back in the eighties, and have continued to build, and work on wooden boats since, I’ve read a lot about Frank Prothero, and have admired him from afar.
For me, part of the the joy of wooden boats is the camaraderie involved. Early in my apprenticeship, there were many folks with much more experience, that willingly, and happily, shared their knowledge with this then-neophyte. For the life of me, I don’t get why Mr Prothero’s rude response to a reasonable inquiry actually increased the editor’s admiration of him. Mr Prothero’s brain was clearly that of a master shipwright, but his heart was that of a jerk!
Frank wasn’t malicious, a defining trait, I think, for a jerk. As I was considering writing about Frank, I talked to a few people, all boatbuilders, who had met him and had similar stories to tell of him as a gruff character, but none thought any less of him for his rough edges. He was regarded with the utmost respect.
Well, I don’t know about that. If the recipient of a rude rebuff feels it as malice, then the effect of it is indeed malicious—intended or not. Like David Mitchell above, I’ve enjoyed a great deal of kind advice and assistance from professional and amateur boatbuilders alike as I’ve advanced in my avocational career. Nobody ever hammered me for a dumb question. One person drove 90 miles to my home—twice—to provide hands-on help with construction problems that were a little beyond my competence. Another generously loaned me his homemade spar lathe. Still another contributed a bucket of lead shot for ballast. I think these are the people who deserve our utmost respect.
That’s a beautifully written profile, Chris. I never met Frank Prothero, but I’ve heard a lot about him and have been deeply curious as to what he was like on the personal level. I now feel like I have a complete and full-color picture. And it was probably better to read about him at this distance than to have been introduced!
I was afraid the story was going to have a thoroughly unhappy ending as far as GLORY is concerned, but it’s great to learn that she’s now in the care of a capable owner. Schooners are the most beautiful of all sailing craft, and this is a fine example.
Nicely written and a well chosen story, Chris. You don’t hear enough about Frank Prothero and his life building boats in the Northwest. Maybe his gruff approach to life keeps his story hidden. I too worked at the Wooden Boat Shop, but around 1993, after the Land Washburn era. Frank was still coming into the shop then. He would drive up in some unmemorable monstrous sedan that was always spewing steam from the radiator. After a few visits to the store, I made a mistake saying, “…hey Frank your car is overheating.” His response was a penetrating scowl. He didn’t need words. “Yeah, I figured you noticed,” was my response. I tried to laugh my way around Frank’s hardness knowing he was a giant in the world of boat building.
I was hoping some great foundation would recognize and save GLORY and make her Seattle’s icon to its maritime history (big ask for such a venture). Happy to see her in good hands. I hope GLORY has a same future of care and love as the ALCYONE, a 65′ schooner Frank built in his backyard.
I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but a friend once told me of having the chance to meet Bud McIntosh. He, too, was a master at his craft but, unlike Mr. Prothero, it seems that everyone who met him was touched by his warmth, his willingness to share advice, tools, and most importantly, encouragement. This was certainly my friend’s experience. I’m 70 now, and I still don’t understand the whole “crusty old guy” act, even when I can view it (now) from an old guy’s perspective.
J. Daw
Uncle Frank always treated my Dad and his brother like the black sheep. Regardless we admired his skill. After all, he put to sea and rode out the Columbus Day Storm on one of his boats. Seeing this neglect saddens me deeply!
Harry Prothero
Can anyone comment on the status now?