My Cape Cod Vacations, Circa 1965: Part Three

When I was a kid, I thought Cape Cod tourists were divided into two groups: those who liked the "Treasure Island" gift shop and those who liked "The Barefoot Trader".  Both shops were located along Route 28, not far from each other. 

We were definitely "Barefoot Trader" people. I say this because whenever we left "Treasure Island", Mom and Dad would compare it unfavorably to "The Barefoot Trader"... and then we would head over to "The Barefoot Trader".

"Treasure Island" was a store that was shaped like a big treasure chest. I remember it as being huge, packed with stuff out back that I wasn't allowed to touch. In front they had the kid of gifts and souvenirs that I appreciated: pepper gum, hand buzzers, x-ray spec's and the like. Try as I might, I couldn't get Mom to buy me the x-ray spec's. Even though they looked cool with the crazy swirls, she thought they were a waste of money even though Dad was the one who pointed them out to me while he was wearing them. 

X-Ray Specs: Miracle of 60's Technology.

I ended up getting some cool looking fake stones. I think they were meant to go in the bottom of an aquarium (which I didn't own), but I imagined them to be rare jewels; rare jewels that my brother and sisters didn't have.

The Barefoot Trader was an exotic looking building with a sharp pitched roof and big windows in the front. Over the entrance was a life size statue of the "Trader" himself, carrying a sack on a stick and looking a little creepy. It was years before I realized it wasn't called the "Barefoot Traitor"...with his shifty look, it had made perfect sense to me.

Leading off to the right was a sidewalk with bare footprints in the cement, presumably from "the Traitor". The fact that these footprints led away from the building only emphasized to me that this guy was hightailing it out of there. God knows what was in that sack.

The path led over to a giant tiki head which was pretty impressive, especially at night when a spotlight would shine on it. Further around the side was a swing set. Whoever designed the place had the foresight to design in something for the kids to do to while their parents shopped. Or, the swings could have belonged to some unsuspecting neighbor. Either way, I appreciated it.

What I remember most about the Barefoot Trader wasn't in the store, but next door. Off to the right of the store and forward of the swings, was an old house that looked like it was being used for storage. It was borderline deserted- rundown exterior, no curtains on the windows, overgrown grass. Once, in an effort to keep us kids entertained while Mom shopped, Dad snuck over with us to peer into one of the windows. He told us it was a haunted house...and it really looked it.

Trailing behind Dad, I slowly went up to look through the window with him into what was a large, long room. The air seemed a little dusty and it was pretty dark, but you could make out a lot of large boxes nearly filling the room. Some boxes had what appeared to be drapes thrown over them. Along the sides of the room were what looked to be half covered up paintings leaning against the walls. Towards the back of the room was a large ornate mirror, also leaning at an odd angle.

Peaking out from behind this mirror, I could have sworn I saw one of those flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. It looked right at me, blinked, and ducked back behind the mirror. I was terrorized. I tried to get Dad's attention but when I turned back, it was gone. Somewhere in that building there was an evil monkey flying around.

I knew better than to say anything at this point. This would be chalked up to me hallucinating from too much candy and soda. But too much candy and soda only made me hallucinate about more candy and soda. I didn't need to listen to the ridicule and scoffing that would surely follow my discovery. This was real and I knew better than to hang around. It was every man for himself. I ran back to the car. Let that monkey feast on someone else.

From that point on, every time we went to "The Barefoot Trader", I preferred to stay in the car.
The others would get out of the car and walk away toward the store and I would hear: "What's the matter with Rick?"
"Oh, let him stay in the car", would come the disdainful answer.

But I knew... I knew.