By Verna Gates
DAUPHIN ISLAND, Alabama (Reuters) - At the Pelican Pub in Alabama's oil-fouled Dauphin Island, the normally jolly mood has turned as dark as the tar balls on the beaches as residents fear their idyllic way of life may never be the same.
Energy giant BP could succeed in halting the huge spill that has covered the U.S. Gulf coast with sticky oil.
But it may be too late for the 1,300 year-round residents of 14-mile-long Dauphin Island and their beachside world, now turned upside down by the worst environmental disaster in U.S. history.
At the Pelican, which serves as the center of the barrier island's community, attendance was down 70 percent at the Wednesday night darts contest and the mood was somber.
"BP has ruined the island, our way of life, and our tranquility. There isn't any money in the world that will make up for what they have done. They can't bring back our lives," said the Pelican's Scottish owner, Vickie Connoly.
On Thursday, clean-up crews walked the shore, scooping up tar balls and "tarry mousse", the gooey detritus of a catastrophic spill that has already hit Louisiana to the west and threatens Florida to the east.
Two boats were skimming oil from waters off the island.
Alabama this week closed state oyster beds, suspended local fishing and discouraged swimming on Dauphin Island, disrupting the leisure and livelihoods of residents and visitors alike.
"This is the first time in 50 years that I have not put in a net, a crab trap, pulled an oyster, or put out a fishing line. It is really a sad moment. This was my playground," said 61-year-old long-time resident John Shuford.
Others feel the pollution in their purses, as the flow of summer visitors has stopped. "In June, I usually serve 1,800 meals on weekdays, and 4,000 on weekends. Now it is down to 400," said Katherine Overstreet, who owns the restaurant beneath the Pelican Pub.
"BP is bringing in its own caterers, so I am even losing the worker business. I can't make a living off of locals," she said, greeting a former employee who washed dishes until leaving to became foreman of a 100-person beach cleanup crew.
Other Dauphin islanders -- residents are toughened by frequent Gulf tropical storms -- took a more sanguine view.
"This old Mother Earth has a way of taking care of herself. Nothing man has ever built, has been beyond her destruction, nothing he has destroyed is beyond what she can correct," said Ken Mormon, who retired from the Army Corps of Engineers.
But as the residue from the spill washes ashore, frustration about the struggling response operation increases: "I'm not pointing any fingers, but it's hard for me to understand how we have the technology to put a man on the moon and can't plug an oil leak," said Herb Malone, president and CEO of the Alabama Gulf Coast Convention and Visitors Bureau.
(Additional reporting by Kelli Dugan; Editing by Pascal Fletcher and Paul Simao)
