Gilligan's Vice by Adam-Troy Castro

For those who have yet to read the following unique item; enjoy:


Back in the 80's I recevied a newsletter from a Gilligan's Island fan club; I think it was called the Castaway Quarterly. In one issue was an interesting story written by Adam-Troy Castro. It was titled "Gilligan's Vice."

So, strictly for fun, I thought I'd post this interesting piece of speculation.



Gilligan's Vice


by


Adam-Troy Castro


For years we considered Gilligan's Island an inane sitcom filled with improbable situations, one-dimensional characters, and some of the most predictable scripting in the history of show business. But we failed to apply deductive reasoning to it's glaring plot inconsistencies, overlooking the possibility that Gilligan's Island is actually a fiendishly clever crime drama filled with the kind of suspense and intrigue that marks the works of Robert Ludlum, Ed McBain and Elmore Leonard.

The clues start with the scheming, immoral millionaire, Thurston Howell III. A spoiled, selfish, amoral aristocrat, with nothing but disdain for his social inferiors, and an innate belief that his fortune entitles him to everything. Howell maintains this stance even while stranded on an uncharted desert isle, without a single luxury. Since the snobbish Howell can presumably afford to buy his own yachts, why would he be interested in a "three hour tour" aboard a dinky little charter vessel owned by two ex-navy men? And why would he take along a trunk filled with thousand dollar bills, when one of the perks associated with great wealth, is unlimited credit?

What was the S.S. Minnow making a three hour tour of? Certainly not the local reefs. Since there wasn't any scuba equipment aboard ship. Since the storm blew the Minnow far outside Hawaiian territory, the Minnow couldn't have been making a tour of the local shoreline. It must have been an unusual distance from shore when the storm hit. And still, no tourist destination can possibly explain the amount of money that Howell brought on board. But the three hours provides just enough time for a boat the Minnow's size to travel a discreet distance from shore, rendezvous with another ship, collect a highly valuable cargo in return for a large sum of cash, and return as if nothing unusual had happened.

The inevitable conclusion,; Howell chartered the Minnow to make a multi-million dollar drug deal. He had paid off Gilligan and The Skipper too. He had brought along the necessary cash. He even brought along an extensive wardrobe just in case the coast guard showed up and he had to leave U.S. territory in a hurry. And just to make sure he wasn't ripped off, he brought along an expert to evaluate the merchandise he was getting.

Who was this expert? Obviously, Howell needed someone with illegal-drug trafficking experience. Someone who probably already had a criminal record. Someone whose obvious intelligence and hifalutin vocabulary would have won him the kind of nickname such convicts are usually given in prison. Someone like --The Professor.

There's plenty of other evidence to support this theory. The enigmatic and vaguely sinister Professor (a.k.a. Roy Hinkley) was supposedly aboard the boat to research a new book called Fun with Ferns. But ferns don't exist at sea. The Professor also claimed to have held doctorates in several disciplines, though anyone even marginally knowledgeable in science (which the other castaways were not) can see through the Professor's scientific balderdash. Obviously he lied about who he was and why he was aboard. What's more, he brought along an astonishing array of test tubes and beakers for somebody researching ferns. And after the shipwreck, he displayed an incredibly adept ability to synthesize valuable chemicals from the local flora.

Howell and The Professor stuck by their cover stories, in the face of all available evidence, for years after the shipwreck. Mrs. Howell's large wardrobe indicates that she too was ready to flee to South America. Behind her "scatterbrained socialite" cover lurked a conniving dragon lady in the tradition of Imelda Marcos. Ginger also brought her entire wardrobe, and as a movie star, seemed to have no alternative motive for being aboard. Besides, her Hollywood drug connections, a natural gold mine for Howell, provide strong circumstantial evidence for her membership in the conspiracy. Gilligan and the Skipper had to know what Howell was planning.

Because everyone else stuck by their cover story, Mary Ann, a Kansas farm girl, who had won a Hawaiian vacation in a contest, must have been an innocent bystander. Howell and his cronies probably let her on board because failing to do so would have raised undue suspicion among harbor authorities; they probably intended to dump her at sea. But Mary Ann wasn't who she was pretending to be either. After all, vacation give-aways are always awarded to two people, not one. And Mary Ann who claimed to have a fiance' back home, had no reason to be traveling alone. Therefore, she must have been maintaining a false identity as well. Since everybody else on the Minnow was frantically putting on a show for her benefit, she must have been putting on a show for theirs.

The conclusion is inescapable. Mary Ann was an undercover agent and her very presence on the boat, presumably wearing a wire, suggests that Howell's scheme was doomed to fail from the start. The government already knew what he was planning, placing an agent right next to him. And she wouldn't have been there unless her superiors were within surveillance range, poised to bail her out the second she gathered the necessary evidence.

Still, the island was visited far too often by far too many people from far too many walks of life to be truly uncharted. Vital supplies washed up on shore just about every week -- far too often to suggest mere coincidence. And people capable of building huts and bicycles out of bamboo should certainly be capable of fixing a three-foot tear in a boat.

Assume that the radio transmitter did work. Assume that Howell and his cronies learned from cohorts on shore the federal government was after them for conspiring to commit a felony. How would they react? Simple. They'd agree to wait out the statute of limitations on the island, pretending to be stranded for Mary Ann's benefit. They'd surreptitiously radio for supplies they needed. Arranging for them to "wash up on shore" during the night. And they'd deliberately ruin any genuine opportunity for rescue. Any visitor who couldn't be bribed into silence by Howell would be subtly maneuvered into a situation where he would prefer to leave the island and the castaways. And any escape routes that seemed inevitable would be sabotaged by any means possible, by the castaways themselves; even if that meant they had to act like a bunch of ninnies.

Meanwhile, poor Mary Ann's life would depend upon her ability to successfully keep her own identity secret. For years on end, she'd have to pretend to be a naive farm girl, baking hundreds of coconut cream pies as she pretended to be fooled by the desperate playacting of six ruthless drug smugglers.

Watch the show with this knowledge in mind, and you'll recognize it for what it actually is: The single greatest mystery and suspense series in the history of television. But unfortunately, no last episode, where Mary Ann succeeds in arranging a "rescue" was ever filmed, so the show remains an indiscovered gem. And lovers of great television mourn.





Jesus is the Son of God and my Lord and savior. Pretty cool.