If a beatnik is one whose life is devoted to enjoyment of the here and now with no thought of past or future, the yachtsmen of the Quai St. Pierre in Cannes should be called boatniks. Like Frank de Glasyer, the yachting-capped figure at the top of the group shown here, they came to the Mediterranean from all over the world and just decided to stay. Most of them scratch a living from the boats they love as charter captains or deck swabs. De Glasyer was a Rumanian gunboat skipper until he dropped anchor in Cannes in 1925—and never left. Now he sails his own 70-ton ketch for charter. The girl in the bikini was an industrial designer until she learned how to cook for yachtsmen.
Once, long ago, Sam Muller, the 6-foot 5-inch yacht captain at left, was a kid in Staten Island gazing at the ships that sailed in and out of New York Harbor. Since then he has been a merchant seaman, a newspaperman, a soldier in the armies of both France and Britain, a broadcaster, a tramp and a smuggler. Now he is a pillar of the casual waterfront society that makes its headquarters at Cannes' Café l'Esquif, a little bistro just across the harbor from Millionaires' Row. The rich part of the harbor is undergoing exhaustive "improvements" now, but the boatniks of l'Esquif care little about that. They like their part of the crowded harbor just the way it is. Besides, none of them could afford a berth in the new one. Stanley Owens, who owns the yacht "Micawber," might have made millionaire status if he'd hung on to his restaurant business in London. Instead he sailed to Cannes, along with his wife and daughter, for a holiday in 1960. The three of them have been there ever since, living on charters and enjoying themselves, as shown at right, with friends like Jacques (le Barbu) van Vught, a onetime French fashion photographer, and coolly British Pamela Waller, who used to train horses back in England.