Ahoy, Hoy Polloi! : Wry Boatman to the Stars Shows Visitors Posh Newport Bay

Jim (Sandbar) Orr was on a roll.

One hand gripped the wheel of the Pavilion Paddy, a double-decker sightseeing boat cruising through Newport Harbor. A microphone rested in his other big mitt. The Lido Isle Bridge lay dead ahead.

“For those of you sitting on the roof, I’ve got some bad news,” Sandbar announced over the public address system to the two dozen folks on board. “The bridge is a pigeon roost. . . . But it is biodegradable.”

A smattering of nervous laughter came from up top. In a hushed voice, Sandbar continued: “We’ll want to be quiet so as not to disturb their anatomical activity.”

As the boat slid under the bridge, a whimsical glint lit Sandbar’s eyes. With a flourish, he jabbed the ship’s horn.

Whaaa! Whaaa! Whaaa!

Welcome to fabulous Newport Harbor, land of millionaire beachcombers, home of starlets and swabbies, taxiway for tour boats like the Tiki, the Belle, the Showboat, the Pavilion Queen.

And, of course, the Pavilion Paddy and its droll and devoted captain, the one and only Sandbar.

Several times each day, this seafaring Robin Leach leads boatloads of tourists on jaunts through the harbor waterways, guiding them past the haunts, houses and yachts of Newport’s rich and famous.

In a melodic baritone that a radio pitchman would envy, Sandbar regales his guests with tales of the harbor’s past and present, pointing out erstwhile homes of such movie legends as John Wayne, Dick Powell and Shirley Temple, as well as present abodes of industry captains and development tycoons.

As the stories mount, Sandbar’s mustache--the ends waxed into stiff stalks like pipe cleaners--rises as he smiles. But it’s not all shtick.

Steering past three homes perched at water’s edge, Sandbar’s voice grows solemn as he tells his passengers how legendary comedian Joe E. Brown bought the houses years ago with plans to occupy them, along with his two sons. Within a month, however, the eldest son died in a plane crash.

“The comedian blamed the harbor for his sudden misfortune, so he sold the homes, never to return to Newport,” Sandbar said.

Down another channel, he relates the tale of how actor James Cagney reportedly won one of the harbor’s islands in a poker game.

Then, nearing a small knob of land smothered with fine homes, the captain said the mid-channel perch, dubbed Sand Island, was once owned by a woman who hated cars. To this day, no automobiles are allowed on the island, which is connected to the mainland only by a small footbridge.

The audience, each of whom paid $5 for a 45-minute tour, was a bit dubious when the cruise began but seemed to warm as Sandbar and the sun worked their effect.

Jim Myers, owner of a St. Louis firm that does salvage work for insurance firms, hopped aboard Pavilion Paddy with his wife, Carol, to help celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary. After spending the first half of the tour up top, Myers stepped down the spiral staircase to the lower deck and was shocked to find Sandbar with the microphone in hand.

“I thought it was a recording, then I came down here and here he was talking,” Myers said, a bit bemused by it all.

Hearing that, Sandbar hoisted the microphone and announced that Myers had just bought a $10-million seaside home off the port bow for his bride.

The Midwestern visitor smiled. “It’s a nice tour,” he said. “I think we would probably come back.”

After one recent 45-minute tour ended and the guests went ashore, Sandbar told how he got his name.

“I ran aground,” he said simply. It was 22 years ago, Sandbar’s first season as a tour guide. He was piloting the Bay Queen, struck a reef and stuck. The boat had to be pulled off, but the only damage was to his ego.

“The entire town heard about it,” said Sandbar, now a portly, 42-year-old harbor veteran. “They emptied out all the drinking establishments. There were probably 80 people on the dock when we returned to meet ‘Captain Sandbar.’ It’s stuck. To this day, everyone just calls me Sandbar.”

Does his wife call him Sandbar?

“Several of them have,” he said. “I’ve run aground a bit in the matrimonial department. I’m heading for wife No. 6.”

A Newport native who grew up on the water, Sandbar has seen plenty of changes along the waterfront, and his tour business has reflected them.

“Over the years, it’s gone from movie stars to business people,” he said. “But the tastes of the passengers have changed too. In the past they wanted to see the movie stars’ homes. Today, they want to know where the real estate moguls are.

“As much as people used to be awed by movie stars, they’re now awed by the numbers. I don’t think they care who lives there when I’m talking about a $19-million house.”

With a wink, Sandbar admitted that he occasionally “bends the truth” to rib a passenger. A reporter who lives in Santa Ana, for instance, was suddenly and unexpectedly given ownership of a prominent Newport Harbor home during a tour. Sandbar went on to embellish the tall tale by revealing that wild parties are held at the luxurious house most weekends.

Some real-life seafront residents, however, have been shy about their mansions being displayed as landmarks to tourists from Iowa and others taken along their shore. Some have even asked the various harbor cruise lines to refrain from identifying their homes.

Sandbar and the other tour skippers willingly comply. “We’re out here to show visitors a good time, not to harass people who are locals, so to speak,” Sandbar said.

“This is a little bit entertainment, a little bit education,” the comical captain said. “We just want people to enjoy it. This is one of the most beautiful harbors in the world, so it’s only natural to show it off. . . . It’s Disneyland by the sea, with millionaires on either shore.”