It’s such a “Great Gatsby” thing, owning the 100-foot-plus motor yacht, especially when proudly sporting on the bow a distinctive burgee representing membership in an exclusive yacht club. To be sure, you had to be rich, and not just to buy the boat. Factor in the monthly cash outflow to a crew of eight plus captain. And the anchorage fees. And the barnacle removal off that hull. Also the annual paint and varnish touchups. And, as you can imagine, the careful engine service. You can’t let anything slide when owning a yacht. All to maybe take it out once or twice a month. On sunny days. For rainy days, you just had to have the portrait of your dollar-gulping “baby” above the mantle in your paneled downtown office. As the penultimate “robber baron” of the age, J.P. Morgan observed, “If you have to ask how much it cost, you can’t afford it.” Especially after the ’29 Crash, the year this offering was painted. But today, perhaps as a tribute to the “Great Age of Steam Yachting,” you can at least enjoy possessing this picture unlike its first owner, happily free of all those pesty expenses.