By Associated Press
September 6, 2004

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At the City Marina in Fort Pierce on Sunday, eight sail and fishing boats lay on their sides, broken apart by Hurricane Frances. The wharf also was damaged, sending 100 feet of cement and plastic foam scattered into the harbor.

The boats and debris came to rest in an area locals call "The Yachtless Yacht Club," which Holly Aronson noted was no longer "yachtless."

"I guess if you have money to have something like that, you have money to lose it," said Aronson, who weathered the storm in a three-story apartment building across the street.

Aronson's son, Drew Strohmenger, stood on the wrecked boat slip and scanned the horizon looking for signs of the islands that usually dot the harbor.

"They're gone," he said. "Without the trees, the islands will be wiped away."

Carson McCurdy walked the waterfront in vain looking for his 29-foot Topaz, "The White Trash."

"Mine's at the bottom somewhere," he said.

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Fears of further destruction from Hurricane Frances in Charlotte, Hardee and DeSoto counties, which bore the brunt of Hurricane Charley three weeks ago, failed to materialize Sunday.

It was blustery day, but all roads were open and no one was reporting damage, said Charlotte County spokeswoman Sherry Montgomery.

"The phones have been very, very quiet," she said. "It's been kind of a slow, rainy day."

He said the biggest worry was about river flooding that could occur in the next couple days. At noon Sunday, the Peace River was just below flood stage at 15.36 feet. It was expected to crest at 20.2 feet Tuesday, said Hardee County spokesman Richard Shepard.

DeSoto County received less wind and rain than expected and there was no comparison with Charley, said spokeswoman Mandy Hines. The highest gusts reported were only 45 mph. She said officials there have received no damage reports.

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Clyde Beckett hopped on his bicycle Sunday and rode away from the shelter at Pinewood Elementary School in Martin County, where had waited out slow-moving Frances. He was one of the last people to leave the shelter.

Beckett maneuvered between piles of tree debris and downed power lines as he rode away in a light breeze and drizzle. He was looking forward to going back to work on the overnight shift at a gas station.

"It wasn't that bad, but I want to go home and wait for the power to come back on," Beckett said. "I need to be there for when they call me to come back to work. I've missed a lot of hours."

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In Cape Canaveral, despite stiff gusts and stinging rain, James and Cathy Smith took a drive around their neighborhood Sunday afternoon to check out Frances' damage. They said they were glad they did not evacuate their first-floor condo, just a quarter-mile from the beach.

"You never know what kind of a mess you may get into," by leaving, said Smith, 62. "We would have evacuated if it had been a Category 4, but we kept on top of the news and we decided to stay."

Paul and Erma Bushek also were glad to have stayed behind; they heated water for coffee and tea on a gas burner Sunday and offered visitors freshly baked brownies.

"When I see the shelters, I'm glad I stayed," Mrs. Bushek said. "And we're not traveling on the road, which I think is dangerous."

The Busheks, who are in their 70s, readily evacuated for Hurricane Floyd in 1999. But Frances was no match and, besides, forecasters kept putting the hurricane's path well to the south, and they turned out to be right, Bushek said.

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Thanks to Hurricane Frances, Rhiannon and Jordan Couch got to spend part of their honeymoon sleeping in a middle school office.

The Newberry, Mich., couple came to Palm Beach County right after their Aug. 28 wedding. The first few days on Singer Island went great — they went parasailing and shopping.

But on Thursday, the couple — who are both 21 — were told to evacuate their hotel. They were unable to get a flight home, so they went to a shelter at an elementary school, where they spent a night sleeping on the floor. But police felt the neighborhood was too dangerous for a honeymooning couple, so they moved the Couches to Watson B. Duncan Middle School in West Palm Beach.

There, officials moved them into a private office and gave them a sleeping bag and access to a shower.

"Compared to the other shelter, this is a honeymoon," Jordan said.

His uncle had teased them about honeymooning in Florida during hurricane season, but Rhiannon said "Everybody said West Palm Beach never gets hit."

"We will come back," she said. "We'll just pick a different season."

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As the backside of Hurricane Frances ripped through Fort Pierce, Ramiro Venegas emerged Sunday from a public bathroom at the base of the A1A South bridge. He was staying in his girlfriend's car until just before the storm, but she ditched him Friday with nothing but a backpack full of clothing and a green trash bag.

"I've spent two nights over here with no food and no water," said Venegas, 43, an itinerant worker who came to the United States about 35 years ago from Mexico. "I'm thirsty, I'm hungry, and I'm soaking wet."

Venegas slept on the concrete floor of the men's bathroom with his head under the sink as Frances took apart the marina across the parking lot. When he awoke Sunday, a three-story boat storage shed had collapsed on top of the Black Pearl bar, and two sailboats were lying side by side on the tarmac, their masts crossed as if in battle.

Venegas said a policeman came in to use his toilet two days ago and told him he should be safe there during the storm, not offering to take him to a shelter.

Because he was on foot, Venegas couldn't reach any shelters that still had room.

As he heard the smashing of the boats and metal twisting, he said, "I just prayed to God before I went to sleep that he would let me wake up."

"I prayed for everybody over here, and I prayed for my girlfriend."

His last meal was a cold ham and cheese sandwich that he bought at a gas station across the road Friday. There was no running water in the bathroom. A reporter gave him some power bars and two bottles of water. He drained a 17-ounce bottle in one sip.

"Oh, it tastes wonderful," he said.

Venegas mostly works cleaning hotels rooms, disposing of construction debris and any other job he can find through the local labor pool.

"There's going to be lots of work here now," he said. "We're going to help people, and people are going to help us."

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A group of Salvation Army volunteers rode out Hurricane Frances at a motel in Daytona Beach on Sunday, waiting for conditions to improve to they can begin disaster relief operations in South Florida.

Maj. George Hood, national community relations and development secretary at the Salvation Army's National Headquarters in Washington, D.C., flew into Tampa Saturday and drove to Daytona Beach. His job is to spread the word about the work of the Salvation Army in disaster relief.

As soon as they get the word from the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the Salvation Army will move in 43 to 60 mobile kitchens into the disaster areas to feed first responders and displaced residents.

Those units, many of whom just left southwest Florida about week ago after Hurricane Charley, are waiting in Tampa, southern Georgia and Alabama until the storm passes.

Next, working with federal officials, the Salvation Army will open comfort stations, where residents can pick up water and ice.

In addition, if needed, they will open bath facilities, where people can take a hot shower.

While caring for people's physical needs, the Salvation Army can minister to their spiritual needs.

"People are frazzled," he said, many enduring two hurricanes in about three weeks.

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Amid the tumult caused by Frances, county officials said a baby girl was born at The Suburban Lodge in Stuart. A midwife who had been staying at the hotel delivered Miranda Frances Bennett at 7:11 p.m., as wind and rained battered the hotel, said Jeorge Filamor, general manager of the lodge.

Filamor said that he called 911 for help, and they sent a fire-rescue team that arrived after the baby was born.

"The midwife took care of everything," Filamor said. "Everybody is happy."

Filamor said late Saturday his hotel had suffered only minor damage, and he felt it was good luck that the baby was born there.

"We just want to give the good news, because we're hearing all bad news and everything with the hurricane," he said.