Historic Nantucket
Captain George A. Grant (1856-1942) Painting by Walter Gilman Page From the NHA collection
April 1989 Published Quarterly by Nantucket Historical Association
NANTUCKET HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION OFFICERS President: H. Flint Ranney Vice President: Mrs. Jane D. Woodruff Vice President: Mrs. Bracebridge H. Young Secretary: Mrs. Walker Groetzinger Treasurer: Robert F. Mooney Honorary Chairman: Robert Congdon
Walter Beinecke, Jr. Mrs. Bernard Grossman
George W. Jones
Mrs. C. Marshall Beale Mrs. Dwight Beman Max N. Berry Mrs. Richard L. Brecker Mrs. James F. Chase John W. Eckman Mrs. H. Crowell Freeman
Mrs. Robert Bailey Mrs. Charles Balas Mrs. Donna Beasley Patricia A. Butler Charles Butt Mrs. Herbert Gutterson
Honorary Vice Presidents Albert F. Egan, Jr.
Presidents Emeritus Leroy H. True COUNCIL MEMBERS John Gilbert Mrs. Hamilton Heard, Jr. Mrs. Arthur Jacobsen Reginald E. Levine Mrs. Earle MacAusland Mrs. William Macomber
ADVISORY BOARD Ronald W. Haase William A. Hance Mrs. Robert Hellman Mrs. John Husted Charles A. Kilvert Andrew J. Leddy
Alcon Chadwick Mrs. R. Arthur Orleans
Edouard A. Stackpole
Nancy A. Martin Mrs. Carl M. Mueller Philip C. Murray Mrs. Judith Powers Charles F. Sayle, Sr. Susan K.* Spring Richard S. Sylvia
Mrs. Thomas Loring Mrs. Earle MacAusland William B. Macomber Paul H. Madden F. Blair Reeves Donald E. Terry
STAFF John N. Welch, Administrator Elizabeth A. Codding Asst. Curator of Collections
Louise R. Hussey Librarian
Richard E. Morcom Assf. Plant Mgr.
Bruce A. Courson Curator of Museums & Interpretations
Wynn Lee Director of Development & Public Affairs
Trisha Murphy Bookkeeper
Thomas W. Dickson Merchandise Manager
Elizabeth Little Curator of Prehistoric Artifacts
Mark W. Fortenberry Plant Manager
Peter S. MacGlashan Registrar/Audio-Visual Librarian
Jacqueline Kolle Haring Curator of Research Materials
Gayl Michael Asst. Curator of Research Materials
Victoria Taylor Hawkins Curator of Collections
Edouard A. Stackpole Historian Richard P. Swain Miller Leroy H. True Manager, Whaling Museum Elizabeth Tyrer Executive Secretary
Docents: Alcon Chadwick, Margaret Crowell, Anita Dougan, Edward Dougan, Barbara Johnston, Jane Jones, Orrin Macy, Elsie Niles, Alfred Orpin, Frederick Richmond, Gerald Ryder, Leigh Simpson, Dorothy Strong, Margaret Trapnell, Mary Witt Historic Nantucket' Editorial Board: Mrs. Dwight Beman, Mrs. James F. Chase, Robert F. Mooney, H. Flint Ranney, Mrs. Jane D. Woodruff, Mrs. Bracebridge H. Young Editor: Edouard A. Stackpole Assistant Editor: Merle T. Orleans
Historic Nantucket
Published quarterly and devoted to the preservation of Nantucket's antiquity, its famed heritage, and its illustrious past as a whaling port.
Vol. 37
April 1989
• No. 2
CONTENTS My Seafaring Family by Nancy Grant Adams
Austin Strong by Helen Wilson Sherman
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My First Visit to Nantucket by David M. Ogden
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Naming Streets and Numbering Houses by William A. Hance
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Historic Nantucket (USPS 246-460) is published quarterly at Nantucket, Massachusetts by the Nantucket Historical Association, 2 Union Street, P.O. Box 1016, Nantucket, MA 02554, to which address changes should be sent. Historic Nantucket is sent to Association members and extra copies may be purchased for $3.00 each. © N.H.A. 1988 (ISSN 0439-2248). Member dues are: Individual $25, Family $40, Supporting $50, Contributing $100, Sponsor $250, Patron $500, Life Benefactor $2,500. Second-class postage paid at Nantucket, Massachusetts. Communications pertaining to the publication should be addressed to the Editor, Historic Nantucket, Nantucket Historical Association, Nantucket, Massachusetts 02554.
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My Seafaring Family by
Nancy Grant Adams Nancy Grant, an island-born Nantucketer, was the first woman to make a voyage on a whaleship, the "Potomac." Her story is be ing published in serial form in Historic Nantucket. In this issue, Chapter 13 reports the birth of her son, Charles Grant. Mr. Grant was to become Captain Charles Grant, Nantucket's famous whaleship captain.
Chapter 13 George Grant is born in Apia. The little town of Apia, on the island of Upolu, Samaon group of the Navigator Islands, was to be the birthplace of the second Seafaring Grant. Nancy went to live in the British Consulate. This was a long, low, one-story house with a wide veranda in the front, and surrounded with palm trees. A picket fence enclosed the plot of land. At the rear were the hospital tents of the British. Mr. John C. Williams, H.B.M. consul, and Mr. August Unshelm resided there with their families and extended to strangers visiting them a friendly welcome, seeking to render their stay there agreeable by many kinds of services and attentions. Those who have enjoyed their hospitality must ever hold them in grateful memory. The harbor at Apia was one of the best in the Pacific. It was capacious, well-protected, had a good entrance and sufficient depth of water for large vessels. An experienced pilot was at hand. The port had been frequented for many years by whaleships that touched to obtain water and supplies, hut it was not until later that mer chant vessels had much occasion to avail themselves of its advantages. Since the importation of guano had commenced from Baker's and other islands near the line, a number of merchant ships, on their way home, called at Apia for provisions and water. Yams were generally to be had in abundance; pigs and fowl were readily ob tained; fresh water was close at hand; and a suitable launch or water boat was ordered from Sydney to facilitate the watering of large vessels. Mr. Unshelm, an agreeable and hospitable gentleman of
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much business experience, made it the depot of extensive trade among the various groups of islands in the South Pacific. He was prepared to furnish to vessels all such ship's stores as were ordinarily in demand and would take drafts at reasonable discount. The town of Apia lay along the shore, a straggling line of European-built houses of all sorts and sizes, placed at intervals round the edge of the horseshoe-shaped bay. Not far from the center, to the leeward, the houses were in double rows, thus forming a street. Here were the retail stores, the hotel, the court house and gaol, all backed by rolling foothills and ridges of tropical verdure, gradually ascending until they reached the topmost heights of the lofty backbone of Upolu. The native houses were located back from the sea. At this time Samoa was ruled by King Malietoa who got his name, I believe, from the days when the early Tongans held part of the island and were driven from it by a doughty warrior of the same name. Before leaving, the Tongans expressed their admiration of their conqueror's prowess by shouting at him "Malie Toa" ~ "Well done, good fighting cock." As one approaches these islands of Samoa, the air is laden with the spicy odor of the Frangipani blossom. The writer has heard Austin Strong say the scent of this Frangipani was over powering, even way out to sea. Austin Strong spent his boyhood days on this island with his grandmother, who was the wife of Robert Louis Stevenson, and his mother, who was her stepfather's amanuensis. The island was populated by buxom, sturdy, brown natives who came in droves to meet the ships, their canoes laden with fruit, coral, etc. They were a fine lot, both in appearance and friendliness. The women and girls were kept busy making tappa cloth, a very necessary product. The tappa is made from the inner bark of the mulberry tree. The bark is stripped off the branches of young sap lings; the inner bark is white and separates easily from the outer. The outer bark is steeped in the river water overnight, weighted down with stones to soften the fibre. The next day, one sees the girls sitting in the river with sloping boards in front of them on which a strip of bark is placed. With constant application of water, it is scraped with a cockleshell until all the vegetable mucus is separated and there remains only a spongy white material. It is then taken to their houses and placed on a rounded hardwood log where it is pounded with wooden beetles, both ribbed and smooth, until
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the bark is greatly expanded. This is kept up until the desired thickness is secured. The sound of these beetles is very pleasing as all are used at one time. The cloth is spread on the stones to dry, and the girls then pro ceed to stick the pieces together with arrow gum, layer over layer, overlapping side by side until the cloth is the proper thickness and size. It is subsequently stained with berry juice or dyes manufac tured by their own ingenuity, made up in rolls and stored amongst the roof beams until needed. They made mats, clothing and cur tains, etc., from this very useful material. At a much later date, after Charles Grant had bought a home in Nantucket, a linoleum floor covering was laid in the kitchen. When it was taken up years later, it was found that tappa cloth had been used as a base for the linoleum. The coconut was also of great value to the natives. The milk makes a delicious drink and the partially formed kernel is in a jellylike state which is very appetizing. The shell was used for mak ing drinking vessels, water pitchers, lamps, funnels, fuel and for Panga (a game). The fibre became sennit, cordage and bed stuff ing, scrub brushes, whisks for flies and medicine. The leaf was us ed to thatch the houses and as lining for houses, mats, baskets, combs, bedding, brooms, screens for bedrooms and other uses. The natives sat on mats to eat a meal at the best houses, drank from coconut shells and ate from large shells. Lotus and hibiscus blossoms were profuse. There were many ferns and sensitive plants and rubber trees. The natives greet you with "Alofa," meaning "How do you do?" and "Tofa" for "Good-bye." They were fond of fun and sports and were great procrastinators: "Tomorrow is just as good as today." Surf riding was the main sport. The rider wades out as far as he can go on the reef, carrying a flat board about three feet long. When a suitable wave comes along, he throws himself on his chest flat on the board; and as the wave breaks over him, it carries him with a great velocity toward shore. They never tired of this sport. Another sport was pig hunting and pigeon catching. A game they enjoyed was called Tiga-tia. This was played by throwing a light stick about four feet long as far as possible, and the one who threw the greatest length in one direction was the win ner. They also loved to play cards; Euchre was their favorite game. On March 24th, her most gracious Majesty the Queen's birth-
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day was observed by all British subjects as a holiday. They called her "Vikitoria." It was in this Paradise that Robert Louis Stevenson and his devoted wife lived at Villa Vailima, which was up the hill about three miles from the town. R.L.S., or "Tusitala" as he was called, was much beloved by the natives, and it was on Upolu that he died and was buried at the top Mt. Vaca where one could see the tomb which was erected in his memory. (This, of course, was many years after Charles and Nancy were there.) At the foot of the hill where R.L.S. was later buried was the place where the writer's father was born. He was to become a very devoted friend of Austin Strong who spent a large part of the year in Nan tucket. They would meet on the street and talk Kanaka to" each other. Sometimes, along would come Sarah Bunker Winslow, the daughter of Perry Winslow, who as a little girl went to sea with her parents and was dearly beloved by the New Zealand people. The stories would then accumulate rapidly, one telling the others something that had happened so long ago. Another place the two men would meet was at the wharf where old sea stories are told in Wallace Adams' boathouse, or the Wharf Rat Club where Herbert Hunter Coffin held the distinction of be ing Commodore. This club was exclusive. One could not belong by the payment of money, but only if one could tell a story or had real sea blood in him. The writer has the privilege of being a "Rat." All others are gone at the present day: John M. and Sarah Winslow, Austin Strong, Herb Coffin, Wallace Adams, and George Grant. The new little Grant baby was called George Arthur and was born on the 28th of October, 1857. Nancy and Charles were very happy to have another son. He was also destined to be a seafarer. The natives and the colonists on the island were all very excited at the birth of an American baby and came offering congratulations and bearing gifts. Now there were three children to care for. Ella was about two and a half years old and Charlie was seven years old. What would Nancy do with them on board ship? Other wives and mothers had their children with them on the ships, so Nancy probably would solve the problems as they had done. Charles cruised the next four months after leaving Nancy at Upolu and was successful in getting a good fare of oil.
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He met and boarded the "Edward Carey" and spent the night with the Winslows. A week later, the Winslows returned the visit, spending the day with him. This helped him from heing too lonely. On October 3rd, his log states, "Two small birds are on board; they came two weeks ago. On their arrival, they were shy but got over that, and they ran around the deck and ate cockroaches." On the day Georgie was born, they were beating up toward Upolu and on November 5, they steered into the harbor at Upolu and an chored in three fathoms of water. The larboard watch was on liberty and the third mate and boatsteerer were discharged, also one foremast hand. A third officer and two foremast hands were shipped. On the 15th, they found a man stowed away on the ship, ordered him into a boat and landed him on shore. In the meantime, Charles had become acquainted with his new son and found Nancy recuperating very nicely. Thanks to the good care given her by her kind friends on the island, she was happy and in good health. On the 17th of November, 1857, the log reads, "All hands were employed in getting ready for the sea, getting off yams, bananas, wood, pigs and babies and various other articles." In the years to come, this log book would be in the Whaling Museum at Nantucket, and George would show it to the visitors at the museum and run his fingers over the above entry. As he reached "and babies," he would say, "That is me." He wore the page down so much telling this to visitors that, finally, the log had to be put away for fear it would get worn out. The day that the Grant family left was a very eventful time. Charles led the way holding a satchel in one hand and Ella by the other. Charlie followed with bundles and bags, then Nancy with more bundles. At last, proud as she could be to be granted the privilege, came a native woman carrying the new three-week-old baby George, wrapped in a banana leaf. Following them was a pro cession of natives all carrying bags and bundles. A day to be remembered, and the story was told many, many times in the years to come by George who lived to tell his listeners, "Yes, I was born in Samoa and went to sea for the first time when I was three weeks old and was wrapped in a banana leaf." One of his listeners was so amazed at his story that she said to him, "Born in Samoa? Why? Was your mother there?" "Well, she certainly was," George replied.
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On the 20th, all hands were aboard, ready for sea, but it was several days before they got under way. On the 24th, the ship was crowded with ladies, some European and the greater part natives of Samoa; and there were canoes alongside most of the day, loaded with males and females of the Samoan tribe to say good-bye to the "Mohawk." Nancy was certainly kept busy and if it had not been for the help of the men on board, she never could have weathered the voyage home. They were fond of Charlie and kept him entertained as much as possible. On stormy days, the problems were many as it would be impossible to go up on deck, and Charlie and Ella would have to be entertained in the small cabin. Georgie slept a good part of the time; lulled by the rock of the ship, he needed no cradle. Charles steered for Lord Howe's Island and werrt ashore there for potatoes, yams and onions, and stood off and on trading for pork and vegetables. Ships spoken during the month of December were: the "King," "Hiawatha," "Edward Carey," "Midas," "Isaac Howland," "William and Eliza" and "Sophia Thompson." On January 7, 1858, they had a sad time; boats were down after whales and struck and killed one, but the third mate, John Arm strong, a black man from Nantucket, fell overboard from one of the boats and not knowing how to swim, he was about to drown before he could be recovered. Two men jumped in after him; but the boat had a sail on with a stiff breeze and a heavy sea and before it could row back to windward, the two men who held up Mr. Arm strong became exhausted and had to let go of him to save themselves. He went down immediately. Everything in their power was done to save him, but his time had come. In February, they were boiling out oil one day when the pot burst and the oil ran into the fire. Two barrels were lost, but the ship was saved from catching fire. Now they had to boil with only one pot. They got fifty barrels, but Charles was anxious to get forty more. The oil was stored down and another pot set in the try works. On the 19th, they came to anchor in the Bay of Islands to fit for home. On the 23rd, they took on for freight eighty barrels of oil from the ship "Swift" and eighty from the "James Arnold," both of New Bed ford. The next day, they hauled alongside the "Shepardess" and took on 180 barrels for freight. On the 14th, the carpenter deserted, but he was taken again and
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put in irons for twelve hours. On March 16, they got under way and steered out of the bay. All during April, they saw more ships than whales. A very bad storm did a lot of damage on May 24th. Both star board and larboard boats were smashed to pieces. One of the bearers broke which brought down two boats from overhead, stove one of them, carried away two davits, seven cranes and lines. All hands were called on deck to clear away the debris and bail out the water from the cabin and staterooms. They had only one boat left now. Poor Nancy, how she must have suffered with water in the cabin, seasickness and all the inconveniences of trying to care for the three children in a small space. For the next seven days, all hands were busy repairing boats. They found a cask of flour damaged and threw that overboard; however, they were homeward bound and by June 16, Cape Horn was sighted. They passed it within twenty-five miles. This return by the Horn made their voyage "Round the World" as they had gone out via the Cape of Good Hope through the In dian Ocean. The month of July was taken up painting the ship inside and out, cleaning up generally and polishing everything in sight. On the 15th, they saw several vessels off Cape Augustine and Pernambuco. Charles ordered the ship to lay off and on while they got fresh fruit and small stores. On August 21, they spoke and boarded the brig "Belle of the West" of Boston, five days out bound for Baltimore. On the 22nd, they took down the try works, sighted Block Island, took a pilot and steered for the Nantucket bar. At one time in April 1858, they had spoken with the ship "Isaac Howland" whose master was Captain Reuben Hobbs, the same man who had been first mate with Charles on the "Potomac" on a previous voyage. Later in the year, Captain Hobbs spent the even ing aboard the "Mohawk." On one occasion in the Phoenix group of islands, while on this voyage, a group of ships met and gammed each other; all hove to. They were the "Edward Carey," "Commander Morris" and the "Mohawk." A reunion was held on board the "Mohawk" with a dinner party of roast pig, plum duff and pum pkin pie. When this voyage was over, Captain Charles Grant and his wife Nancy and three children, Charlie, Ella and Georgie, landed on the dock at Nantucket, accompanied by 2,050 barrels of sperm oil which was selling at $1.50 a gallon.
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It was August 28, 1858, when they landed, and George was only ten months old. He would be taking another sea voyage, but not Charlie and Ella; they were to be left at home in the future. Charles was now going to have a little rest ashore. It would seem that Nan cy might have had enough of sea life, but not so. Charles was fortyfour years old and Nancy was thirty-five; they were still young peo ple, but their experiences had made them seem so much older. Both Charles' mother and Nancy's mother would be happy to see them all home safely. James Grant had died while Charles was on this voyage, so his mother was a widow. She lived until 1880, aged 89 years. In the next installment of "My Seafaring Family," the Grants spend the next seven years ashore, living in a two-family house at 42 Fair Street. It was not until August 1865, that Charles sailed away on the "Milton," leaving his family at home.
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Austin Strong at the Wharf Rat Club with one of his many friends, ca. 1945 Photograph by Louis S. Davidson From the NHA collection
AUSTIN STRONG
by his niece, HELEN WILSON SHERMAN He had a habit of looking at you, as if to bore into your very soul. His blue eyes examined you from under huge cliffs of eyebrows which were as black as his straight, gleaming hair. His cheeks were ruddy, his skin very white, and in all the years I knew him, I never remember him with a tan like most sailing enthusiasts. He had a small, permanent frown between his brows, but he smiled often, and his teeth were very white. Austin Strong was my uncle by mar riage to my father's sister, Mary Holbrook Wilson, a dowager lady who never got near the sun if she could help it. "Uncle Austin," as we called him (I was eldest in a family of seven who all adored him), never wore business suits while in Nantucket. He wore either sailor pants, cotton shirts of navy with a blue and white bandana at his throat and sneakers, or a navy jacket with brass buttons, white flannels, white shoes and a yachting cap with the Nantucket Yacht Club flag button on it. The yachting cap, at an angle, was always
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worn with panache. Nantucket's whaling background made a stage fit for his imagined role as a sea captain, and his membership in the New York Yacht Club made him ambitious for the Nantucket Yacht Club to be elegant enough to receive the mighty yachts of such men as J. P. Morgan, Harold Vanderbilt and others whose names were famous in the 1920's and 30's. My uncle was a complete romantic and had a glamorous childhood in the Samoan Islands under the eye of his step-grandfather, Robert Louis Stevenson. He was the only white child on Vailima, British Samoa, and was treated like a little prince by the native children. When British ships would sail in, the sailors made him a little sailor uniform to wear on visits aboard the men-of-war of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. With this background and his success as a playwright (he wrote "Seventh Heaven" which, as a movie, starred Charles Farrell and Janet Gaynor and won the 1927 Photoplay Medal), Austin Strong came to Nantucket with my aunt before 1921 when my father, Ellery L. Wilson, moved our large brood of Wilsons to 25 Hussey Street. I was seven years old. The Strongs lived at 5 Quince Street nearby. What Austin Strong did to brighten the lives of the young children who came to the island every summer came from his romantic im agination, and to hundreds of youngsters, his memory remains bright through our old age today. He was one of the first to make a shanty on Old North Wharf into a "boathouse" on pilings over the water and, in 1922, he put up the imposing three-story "Boathouse" which still stands between the "Mary Slade" and the "Charles & Henry." He built it as a "land yacht" since my aunt refused to join him on the deck of a floating yacht. He put davits over the porch deck and hung a Herreshoff dinghy on it. It had a leg-o' -mutton sail, and he used it to teach children, eight years old and older, how to sail alone in a boat. Her name was the "You You," French for "Little Boat." He held classes on the float in front of the boathouse deck. Here we learned to tie knots and sew sails, to make landings and dodge harbor craft at moorings, and particularly how to apply the rules of the road when approaching other boats. We were also warned NEVER to sail out side the jetties towards Tuckernuck or Great Point in small sailboats, which could be grabbed by strong tides and swept to sea. If we made boo-boos during this training, he washed our heads with a huge sponge to make us remember.
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Austin Strong and Yacht Club members, 1927 From the NHA collection
Uncle Austin had a racing catboat called "Catnip" and competed in a Yacht Club handicap class. He noticed that no children were sailing in the class racing boats; and as he worked his way up through the ranks of the Commodores at the Club and finally became the Commodore, he obtained a fleet of twelve-foot Beetle Catboats with colored sails. He donated one to the Wilson children, which I immediately appropriated on race days, and we dubbed her the "Kittiwake." Uncle's captain, Peder Pedersen, a wonderful Norwegian who tended Uncle's fleet of small boats, carved a black kittiwake out of lead, painted it and put it on the bow. In those days, a number of summer residents had boathouses on the water fronts where they kept large catboats, sloops and motorboats, with hired captains to maintain them. Sidney Mitchell had what is now the "Peru" on Old North Wharf, and his brother, Leeds Mitchell, Sr., had a shore boathouse, a dock and a fleet next to his house which sat almost in the lap of the Brant Point Lighthouse. Sidney Mit chell sailed a yawlcat, the "Mimosa," which he handled like a master. Uncle owned a lovely catboat named "Light," and G. Lister Carli sle, who owned the Old North Wharf, had a very elegant catboat called the "Gilt Edge," maintained by Charles Collins. The harbor
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was filled with catboats every good sailing day, and there were among them many party boats which one hired at the wharf. The only marine noise in those days was the put-put of one-lung engines of fishing boats (conversions of old catboat hulls) and the whistles of the steamers rounding Brant Point. I remember Leeds Mitchell, Jr., with the first outboard, which broke down constant ly and made a terrible noise as it zoomed across the harbor and back. The "Little Rainbow Fleet," as Austin called our children's boats, was made up of smaller editions of the "Old Rainbows" that were at least fourteen feet overall. They died out shortly after the Beetle class came into being. The Fleet ended up with forty boats, racing in two classes up harbor, and was a beautiful sight from the shore. For those of us at the tiller, however, busy trying to beat each other, it was wet, sloppy going, tacking home from the Second Point Buoy to cross the finish line off Brant Point. The big poster for sale today which shows the Rainbow Fleet off Brant Point was photographed by H. Marshall Gardiner under the direction of Commodore Strong. He chose a dead calm day, then aroused us sailors to haul our sails and tie our bowlines to the sterns of fellow boats. My father towed us out into the harbor so that when we got into a good line, Marshall Gardiner could begin taking pic tures from the Commodore's boat which was run by Byron Coffin. I was Commodore of the Rainbow Fleet at that time. "The Emerald" which my father bought me, the "Kittiwake" with brother Peter aboard, Pauline Freeman in her boat, the "Tern," and a dozen other young sailors in their boats became famous. The final shot of us rounding Brant Point was taken from that beach by Mr. Gardiner. I bought a pink and white dinner plate made in Japan some years later which showed me and "The Emerald" at the head of the pro cession. Uncle Austin always knew a classic moment that would remain memorable and did something about it. He did much to renovate the Yacht Club building, docks and piers, and built a stage on what is now the dance floor. We used to see silent movies there once a week, with "Brownie," the blind musi cian, playing the piano while a small boy described the scenes on the screen to him. On this stage, Commodore Strong created an unforgettable per formance called the "Nantucket Follies" in which townspeople, wharf people and young people and children all took part. It was a series of vignettes, and one set was a whaleship with Captain B.
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Austin Strong leading the Main Street Fete Parade, 1923 From The NHA collection
Whitford Joy at the helm, surrounded by the last living whaling men singing sea chanties. Among them were Nelson Ewer, John Cross and George Grant. It was done so authentically you thought you were at sea. Another memorable set was Roger Dunham's newspaper store, with Roger playing himself as all sorts of Nantucket characters came in to buy a paper -- taximen, carriage drivers, wharfmen, fishermen, gardeners, farmers, "Babe," the enormously fat deliveryman from American Express, many summer people known to all in the au dience and dozens of children. So many took part in the Follies that one wondered who was left to watch it in the audience. A bevy of young beauties danced, of course. It was a celebration of old and "new" Nantucket. The most moving vignette was of Walter Chace who, as a member of the Coast Guard, had been given the Congres sional Medal of Honor for saving lives in a gale off Great Point. He stood silently like a statue, dressed in the waist-high boots he wore at his lifesaving work, carried a large white coil of heavy rope on one shoulder, and wore the medal so all could see. What a hero! Tears were in every eye.
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While he was Commodore, Austin Strong introduced a welcom ing committee of male Yacht Club members who volunteered (my father among them) to spend a day in white shirt and flannels, black tie and navy jacket with brass buttons, white shoes and a white yachting cap, aboard the special Commodore's launch. Whenever a visiting yacht appeared and anchored (no marina in those days), the launch, which was painted blue with a white stripe and run by Byron Coffin, put out into the harbor to deliver an engraved in vitation for the visitor to use the Yacht Club facilities while on the island. (If a boat came in without a visiting yacht club flag, it was probably a rumrunner and was not approached!) This practice so established the elegance of the Yacht Club that it became noted elsewhere. Once, when the Edgartown Yacht Club had a regatta in which I raced, fifteen Officers of the Day stood on the deck looking at entering yachts through binoculars, but they did not give out invitations! Commodore Strong did other glamorous things to make Nantucket glorious in the eyes of visitors and summer people as well as the islanders. He invented the Main Street Fetes for the benefit of the Nantucket Cottage Hospital. The first Fete was the biggest and most ambitious. Everyone participated and wore costumes of the 1870's. A parade started at the Pacific Club with Uncle dressed as a rich sea captain, just arriving in his dove grey suit, flowered vest and grey top hat. Accompanying him were his Chinese wife and his whaling men, with the ship's oars held high, riding in a Life Sav ing boat that was drawn on wheels over the cobbles. Girls dressed in bonnets, hoopskirts and pantalettes sat with the rough seamen. A whole army of handsome officers of the army and navy (who were Yacht Club members) marched in front, and two little cabin boys accompanied the sea captain. He headed for the Hadwen-Satler house on the corner of Main and Pleasant Streets where his Nan tucket wife awaited him on the porch with other elegant ladies. (Maybe the Chinese wife was a gift to his real wife?!) I danced the Virginia Reel with Pauline Freeman, Wilhelmine Kirby Waller and others in Phebe Beedle's garden during this gala day. The Com modore broke all social barriers with this procession so all of Nan tucket was feted. It was real and wonderful. My mother dressed me in a homemade hoop skirt & a wide brimmed hat with rosebuds on it. My two eldest brothers were dressed as cabin boys with black top hats, white shirts and pants, and black patent leather shoes.
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Uncle masterminded another Fete at a later date on Easy Street and Old North Wharf, and the Governor of Massachusetts attend ed. All the cathoats in the Basin had their sails hauled to make a pretty scene. Since it was another calm day, everything went off without a hitch. Austin designed a Nantucket Island map which he donated to the Hospital. Since it was the only one for sale at the time, it brought in quite a bit of money. During World War II, when all the coast towns were forced to have blackouts, the Strongs chose to stay on island during the winter. He organized a blackout group to see that not even a cigarette glowed in the dark whenever warnings came. He also instituted victory gardens for raising vegetables because, with so many farmers in the army and navy, food was hard to obtain and strictly rationed. With Everett U. Crosby and others who loved Nantucket dearly, the Strongs worked to keep the cobblestones on Main Street when someone thought it should become a tarred pavement. He and a group of investors bought land on Coatue, including all of First Point and, I believe, up to Second Point, to protect it and keep it forever wild. He also established the Wharf Rat Club, the idea for which came to him in 1926 when the Yacht Club refused family memberships to my father with seven children, Albert Reed with five, and the Frank Gilbreths with twelve, all of whom wanted to have all their children enjoy membership which they could not otherwise afford. Seeing our disappointment, the Commodore said, "We'll make a club down at Old North Wharf! We will have no dues, and the motto will be 'No Reserved Seats for the Mighty.' " He was thinking of the Perry & Coffin Store, run by Charles G. Coffin and his son, Herbert Hunter Coffin, which sold fishermen's clothes, boots and gear, and where the partyboatmen tied up their catboats. Here, a social life already prevailed around a potbellied stove for cold weather. On one side of the building facing the Basin, chairs were brought out and people sat around and chewed the fat. All it need ed was a name and a flag. A secret board was formed to pass on membership to keep it in hounds. The criterion for joining was the ability to stand the gaff and give it as well, and you had to sit there once in a while. I lived there! Uncle went to Tony Sarg, famous puppeteer, illustrator and bon vivant, who was sketching people on the beach at the Jetties, and
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said, "Tony, I can't draw a rat, and I need one for a flag for the Wharf Rat Club." In two minutes, Tony drew a rat sitting on his haunches smoking a pipe. It became the Wharf Rat logo -- a white rat on a bright blue flag. The Club became famous when members who joined the U. S. Navy talked about it in London, the Arctic, Antarctic and across the Pacific Ocean. The Club is still going strong with Charles Sayle as Commodore, following the death of Peter Grant. Roars of laughter can be heard through its open door if one walks down Old North Wharf. The Club flag is flying under the American flag on the wharf side of the building. As all those own ing hoathouses on the wharf automatically became members when it started, I am one of the chartered few. In the first days, every time a member came to the Island on the steamer, he would get a three-gun salute; and the flags would be raised if he had let the Wharf Rat Commodore know ahead. Nowadays, the gun is fired for parties held in early July and August and on Labor Day. All of this is thanks to Austin Strong's flair for making the most of everything around him. Life was fun in those innocent days. I believe he had much to do with the rebuilding of the Steam boat Wharf around the time the Yacht Club was done over. His in fluence was felt in all directions to make the town of Nantucket and its environs as charming as possible. There was a ring of authen ticity about the island up to the time of Austin's death in the fifties which is lacking today. He made us all feel it, deep in our hones. In sum, what Austin Strong did for Nantucket was to roman ticize its heritage and its possibilities as a yachting center. With his pied-piper charisma with children, he launched many careers, some of them spectacular in later life. Commander John Walling, who lost his life when his submarine went down in World War II in the Pacific, was in one of Uncle's classes. Leeds Mitchell, Jr., has supervised the America's Cup races and is Harbor Master in Barrington, R.I. Gifford Warner has run ferryboats on the Connecticut River for years. I would say that Nantucket today owes a strong debt (forgive the pun) to this fabulous man who made us all realize the preciousness of the Island and its people. There are many stories to be told about him, and these just skim the surface. He was my most unforgettable character.
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The Ocean House, now the Jared Coffin House, in 1910 From the NHA collection.
My First Visit to Nantucket By David M. Ogden Shortly before Easter 1948, and during my junior year at Yale, I realized I had one last summer before graduating and beginning a career to find a lucrative job that could also be carefree and fun. In an effort to find such a position, I asked a number of classmates how they had spent past summers. One told me he had made a lot of money and had a wonderful time working as a bartender in the Tap Room at the Ocean House on Nantucket Island, which I had never heard of. He suggested I write to Mr. Eben Hutchinson and ask for that position. This I did, outlining my experiences in the Army Air Corps and any other information I could think of, which might induce a favorable reply. Eben answered promptly, explain ing that all positions in the bar had been filled but that he still needed a bellboy. If I would like to fill that position, the job was mine. I accepted. After final exams, I boarded the train in New Haven and rode
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directly to Woods Hole where, after a short walk across the dock, I boarded the boat for Nantucket. It was not crowded; but there was a snack bar, and I spent the last quarter in my pocket to buy a beer and ponder my future. As we neared Nantucket on that rainy night, I realized I had no idea how to find the Ocean House and hoped a taxi would be on hand at arrival. I was therefore delighted when, as I walked down the gangplank, I heard a chorus of voices from the limousine operators calling, "Wauwinet House," "Old Sconset Inn," "Harbor House," "Sea Cliff Inn," "Ocean House." The fellow representing the Ocean House was Wyn, who, I soon found, was a student at Amherst College. When I told him I was the new bellboy, he was stunned and dismayed. He said that there would now be three bellboys and that only one was really needed. We drove the three blocks up Broad Street in the Ocean House sta tion wagon to the hotel where he introduced me to Mrs. Hutchin son, the manager and owner. She promptly told me she did not need another bellboy, but I told her I had spent my last quarter and was hungry. She gave me dinner and said I could spend the night at the hotel and go look for a job in the morning. The next day, I spoke to Eben who immediately rehired me. The Ocean House was a grand old brick building with a huge porch across its entire front. Inside there was a reception area, a formal parlor, a large dining room, and a kitchen, all on the first floor. Behind the hotel was a two-story dormitory where the girls had their rooms and a common bath on the second floor, while the boys had their rooms and another bath on the first floor. A stair way came down the side of the building from the second floor. Wyn showed me to my room and then introduced me to Dick, the second bellboy, who was a student at Tufts. It was Dick who suggested we discuss over a beer at Cy's Green Coffeepot how we were going to work together and possibly make some money for all three of us. The problem, it seemed, was that the majority of the hotel guests were participating in the New Haven Railroad Tours. Their excur sion ticket covered all the resort areas in New England and includ ed all expenses, even tips. They would arrive, therefore, with a lot of luggage and the satisfaction of knowing that the bellboys would work hard on their behalf for no additional compensation. The good news, Wyn and Dick told me, was the high quality of the employees, not only at our hotel but all over the island. All were
23
The Ocean House, now the Jared Coffin House, today From the NHA collection
college students who frequently got together for parties on the beach where open fires were permitted. The summer employees, they told me, had a lot more fun than the paying guests! We left Cy's with the understanding that we would split up the work load and see, over the next few days, just how serious our financial problem was going to be. Luncheon for the staff at the Ocean House in those early sum mer days of 1948 consisted of peanut butter and jelly on sal tine crackers, served with a glass of cold milk. While I knew this was wholesome and tasty fare, it was not my idea of a satisfactory meal so, after the second day of the same, I began to express my doubts and dissatisfactions about the whole arrangement. On the third day, however, two things happened which completely changed everything. The first occurred as I was eating my peanut butter and jelly on a saltine cracker. I glanced out the kitchen window and saw, descending the dormitory stairs, a girl whom I had never noticed before. I knew nothing about her, of course, but I said to myself, "There is the girl I am going to marry." Her name was Betty, and she was not enthralled with me because she was pinned to a boy
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from Amherst and felt I should not be objecting so strenuously to peanut butter, jelly, saltines and milk. The second event was really a decision Wyn, Dick and I made. We decided to charge fifty cents per person for transporting the hotel guests to or from the boat. It was the only way we could make money at all. Well, this idea went into effect that afternoon and although there were some moans and groans, everyone paid. Our pockets began to jingle once again. Our duties were primarily to keep the chairs on the porch prop erly aligned, to drive the guests to and from the dock or airport, to clean and vacuum the parlor thoroughly every day and to take the trash and garbage out to the dump whenever necessary. One of us was always up for the early shift. After getting those who were departing on the early boat safely aboard, we would hurry back to the hotel where we were on constant alert to dash somewhere to borrow or buy bread, bacon or whatever staple was in short supply in the kitchen that morning. I know we owed my friend at the Cliff House much more coffee than we repaid. One day late in July, everyone was excited because, for the first time that summer, the chef was serving fresh lobster salad for lun cheon. When I returned from a trip to the dump about 12:30,1 en countered an uproar because the chef could not find the lobster. It turned out that the "fresh" lobster was a ten-pound can, and it was missing. The chef asked if by any chance it could have fallen off the counter into the trash which I had just taken to the dump. A rush round-trip saved luncheon for all because I found the can. In 1948, an open fire was burning daily at the dump and, when I got there, flames were licking the label. But I saved the can without burning my fingers too badly. I am sure the guests wondered what had caused the delay, but I am positive that they never guessed the truth about the "fresh" lobster salad. Then, as now, there was a lot to do on Nantucket. Swimming, sailing, tennis and golf were active favorites. Everyone also enjoyed the Downy Flake, Cy's, the Dreamland Theatre and a dance hall on Main Street where the orchestra always seemed to be playing "Bye Bye, Blackbird." A delightful summer was rapidly passing. I gave Betty my fraternity pin over a beer at the Mad Hatter. In the middle of August, we had our last crisis. The three bellboys were called sternly into the parlor by Mrs. Hutchinson to meet the president of the New Haven Railroad. He had told her that we were
My First Visit to Nantucket
25
charging guests fifty cents for the ride from the boat. This had been brought to his attention in letters of complaint from people on his tour. Could her three wonderful bellboys possibly have done such an awful thing? I assured her that it was true because that was the only way we could subsist without tips from the railroad tourists and other guests. The president fortunately had a good sense of humor and laughed, but he also asked us to stop our practice immediately. We agreed we would but told Mrs. Hutchinson that to do so meant we had to be put on salary. She agreed, so all ended well. Most of the staff left the Ocean House shortly after Labor Day. I certainly had the fun I was looking for that summer. Charging for the short ride to the hotel was not enough to make the summer financially profitable, but in a much more important way it was extremely valuable because I had met Betty. We were engaged that Christmas Eve and married in July 1950. The long engagement enabled her to graduate from college. We returned to Nantucket in 1952 to stay with Betty's parents who had rented a cottage on Fair Street. We saw Eben and his mother. She was so happy for us that we both were delighted we had gone to see her. It was our last sight of the Ocean House because when we next returned to the island, it had become the Jared Cof fin House, with a different management style and a gourmet din ing room! I am now retired, and Betty and I live on the island year-round. We look forward to having our three children and their children come to visit. They have as much fun here as we did way back in that memorable year of 1948.
David and Betty Ogden live in a delightful post and beam house on Meadow View Drive. They are serving as cochairmen of the August 1989 Antiques Show for the Historical Association. David presented the above story at a Rotary Club luncheon and agreed to contribute it to the series of contemporary personal narratives about Nantucket experiences which is being published in Historic Nantucket. Readers are cordially invited to submit legible remem brances of an interesting nature, serious or humorous, with or without photographs, for possible future publication.
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Historic Nantucket
Naming Streets and Numbering Houses A Personal Account William A. Hance The idea that all of Nantucket should have a system of locating houses and that the Civic League might take on the job was first raised by Mrs. John (Bobbie) Beale about mid-1980. At that time only Nantucket Town and a few streets out of town had street ad dresses. The main reason for extending a locator system was to facilitate emergency and police services. The days when policemen and firemen knew every house on the island were fast disappear ing, and summer recruits could not be expected to have the required knowledge. The most common types of out-of-town address were "Madaket," "Surfside," "Off Polpis Road," "Off Hummock Pond Road," etc.; houses in these areas could be miles apart. In 1982, the County Commissioners endorsed a proposal by the Civic League that an Emergency House Locator System be created, and I was appointed shortly thereafter to head up the effort. In pro ceeding with the assignment, it became apparent very soon that there were a lot of anomalies and problems to face. First, it was not practical to focus solely on the areas outside of town because several streets began within; and their numbering in town thus af fected the numbers used outside. Second, a brief examination of town numbers revealed serious shortcomings. Two streets, Madaket and North Liberty, had been numbered starting at both ends. Numbers of several streets, particularly those running southward from Main Street, went up, then down, then up again. Quite a few streets had houses with duplicate numbers; one street had three houses numbered "3." There was confusion resulting from the use of appendages to street names, most of which were unnecessary. For example, streets running northward from Main Street graduated into "Upper," "Extension," or both, or even changed names, as when Grave Street becomes Brush Lane. (The thought occurred to me that if Vestal Street went beyond Upper and Extension, we could name it "Vestal Virgin Street.") Streets running southward from Main Street often had a "Lower" prefix at some intermediate point, and sometimes an "Extension." (I considered that we might change "Lower Orange" to "Lemon," "Lower Union" to "Disunion" and "Lower Pleasant" to "Unpleasant.") A fair number of streets had
Naming Streets and Numbering Houses
27
unnecessary "Easts" and "Wests." A few streets had two or more names, and it was unclear where one began and the other ended. On one stretch of road, addresses alternated between Atlantic Avenue and Surfside Road. It seemed logical to me to make the division at the junction with Prospect and Sparks, though I got a bit of flak for choosing this point. Another example is the three names for what is one street -- Gardner (ex tending one block from the Monument on Main Street), Liberty and North Liberty. To confuse matters still further, Liberty also starts at Main Street, between the Pacific Bank and the Methodist Church. I did not change these historic uses. There were also in consistencies in where numbering began and what streets were used as dividers between East-West and North-South. For example, Main Street should be the divider, but we find Broad Street dividing South and North Water, and Easton Street dividing the two Beach Streets. Again, I did not alter these because it would have involved too many number changes and, by now, most people were familiar with these anomalies. It was clear that I had to look closely at the town as well as outlying areas. The greatest problem was that the existing numbering system had not allowed room for filling in of new struc tures. This had already resulted in the use of "A" and "B," or "1/2" or "R" for rear. I adopted the principle that, to avoid compounding the confu sion, I would make no changes unless there was a cogent reason for doing so. There were some streets where it was absolutely necessary to make changes because of one or more of the anomalies noted above. Most people were understanding, but a few were irate, saying "We've had this number for years, and we're not going to change it." This kind of reaction occasionally made my job somewhat unpleasant. I tried to explain that the purpose of the change was to improve the response time of emergency teams and that the con tinued use of incorrect and conflicting numbers was a danger to them and their neighbors. Once in a while, however, I felt like say ing, "Okay, but don't blame me if the Fire Department goes to the wrong house and yours burns down!" Outside of town, there was another set of problems. There were a remarkable number of duplicate names, even a few occurring in quintuplicate. In fact, 25.7% of the street names were duplicated: there were Atlantic, Beach and Washington Streets all over the Island. In one area, Washington Streets ran parallel to each other,
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Historic Nantucket
while in another, they were at right angles to each other. There had been either a very lazy or very unimaginative person naming the roads in those parts of the Island where a large number of "paper roads" were laid out only on maps late in the last century. For ex ample, in one area, the main streets of Boston had been borrowed, street names such as "A," "B," "C" or "First," "Second," etc., or names of various states and major cities had been used. A particularly un fortunate example was seen in Surfside where roads were named after other parts of the Island which already had roads of the same name - e.g., Maddequet, Massasoit, Monomoy and Pocomo. The then largely undeveloped part of Tom Nevers contained roads with the inappropriate names of Quaise and Shimmo. Roads in Siasconset, Surfside, Tom Nevers and Miacomet Park had also been given names borrowed from Nantucket Town, creating duplicate and triplicate names each time. The name problems were somewhat ameliorated when they were on paper roads that had not yet been developed; in these cases new names could be applied without changing anyone's address. The property maps did not show which paper roads actually ex isted and which did not. By combining the planimetric maps based on 1976 aerial photographs with the property maps, this could be determined in most cases; but development had been proceeding so rapidly that the planimetric maps were no longer accurate. Ac tual roads were often located away from where they were suppos ed to be according to the property maps. It was not always possible to tell from the maps the road on which houses fronted. This and other considerations made it necessary for me to drive over every part of the Island, a really pleasurable part of the job. I thought I knew the island pretty well before I started, but I discovered some areas I had not known at all. In town, I walked many of the streets to determine numbers in use and the frontage of individual houses. There was confusion in many cases about whether a routeway was a road, street, avenue, lane or way; numerous roads appeared on maps with two or more of these designations on the same road. The most intensive work period was in the late spring and sum mer of 1982. On September 7, I presented a report to the Traffic Safety committee. By then, I had entered more than 6,000 addresses on the landowners list, eliminated 36 duplicate names, put in 350 hours, and driven 494 miles. (I had recorded these data partly for my own amusement and partly because the League offered to pay
Naming Streets and Numbering Houses
29
for gasoline used. That, incidentally, was my only reimbursement, and I did not expect any other. I take some pride in thinking that if a professional outfit had been hired for the job, it would have cost somewhere between $25,000 and $40,000.)
Naming Roads There was obviously a need for a considerable number of new names for roads. I consulted a number of books in the Edouard A. Stackpole Research Center of the Nantucket Historical Associa tion to develop a bank of appropriate names. This list included: a few early settlers whose names had not been used (there were plenty of Starbuck, Gardner and Coffin roads, streets, ways and courts); Nantucket place names (e.g., Burnt Swamp Lane, Fulling Mill Road); Indian names (places and people, including Indian whalers); ships' names (including vessels wrecked along the Island's shores); ships' captains; flowers (some Nantucket flowers have fascinating names, but not all are suitable for roads, such as one called "Welcome Home Husband, though Never so Drunk"); other plants; and animals. I used a fair number of the names on the list and left a long list for use on roads created after my job was done. I tried, where possible, to make some kind of pattern of names. Most of the new names in the Trotts Hills area are either those of early settlers or of vessels. The names in Cisco are mainly shipwrecks that occurred along that shore. Many of those in Surfside are taken from steamships that served the Island; Tom Nevers had many names of British shires, and I rounded out this list (the connection with Nantucket is that the early settlers originated in several of these counties). At the end of the exercise, I left several lists of road names: one of all past and present names; another of new names with the old names where there was one; an inventory of deleted names with their present names; one which classified Nantucket road names by their origin, if known; a list of duplicate names still in use; and finally, the bank of future names. Most of the duplicates retained were those found in both Town and Siasconset, where different zip codes reduced their confusion for the Post Office. Others were distinguished by different classifications (e.g., Somerset Road and Somerset Lane, Ash Street and Ash Lane). All of these lists were given to the Planning Office, and the originals are now in the Research Center of the NHA.
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Historic Nantucket
I also made a number of recommendations on the naming of roads. Prior to my work, developers were required to provide names for new roads. It seemed to me that this had led to a number of unfortunate examples, such as combinations of the first syllables of children's names, names with no pertinence to Nantucket what soever and names that were a bit too cute. I proposed that the Nan tucket Planning and Economic Development Commission take charge of naming streets, that no names of living people be allow ed and that only names appropriate in one way or another to Nan tucket be utilized. I would like to have changed a good many other names but did not feel that my mandate permitted it, especially since some names appeared on private land. There was, for example, a whole series of "Views": Surfside View Drive, Farm View and Golf View. (I was tempted to name one Dump View Drive.) There is also Skyline Drive which is more appropriate for the Blue Ridge Mountains than an outwash plain. I got some pleasure from dreaming up names to apply where certain residents objected to change; these included Under tow Lane, Babesiosis Boulevard, Deer Tick Turnpike, Poison Ivy Way, Sandtrap Street, Proverbial Creek Road and No Paddle Lane.
Numbering Houses The numbering process was considerably less controversial than the naming of roads. The rule was Right odd, Left even (R.O.L.E.). This sounds easy, and basically it is, but there were quite a few cases where it was not entirely clear at which end of the street the numbering should begin. Other problems arose on roads ending in a circle, or those forming a "U" so that they intersected the same road twice. I tried to avoid the mistake that had caused so much difficulty in town - i.e., not leaving numbers to allow for filling in. There was one relatively small area that I did not complete ~ along the shore between Old Tom Nevers Road and the Navy Base - because the preexisting road was blocked off and new roads were being bulldozed. I offered to go back when the system was com pleted to help in numbering but was not asked to do so. When I took the job in 1982, I knew there would be a certain amount of flak, and there was. The vast majority of the contacts I had were friendly and constructive which made the job con siderably less onerous than it might have been. While the system
Naming Streets and Numbering Houses
31
was introduced primarily to expedite responses to emergencies, it has had other advantages. It has contributed to improved deliveries of all sorts and made it easier for visitors, renters and friends to find specific places.
THE OLDEST HOUSE This is no stately home like those Their Grandsires knew, But still, good timber here Grain straight and hard As masts they raised, Set like the keels they laid To claim the seas.
Like this old house Our own foundations Were laid here long ago As true as pine and oak, As firm as keel, as tall as spar, Built on the faith, the hope That led them here.
An English cottage built For bride and groom One father gave the land And one the house; they built it well The chimney wide and deep, A blessing sign upon its side.
We claim this house as kin! These beams, these walls Have stood three hundred years; We too were fashioned In the selfsame way This beacon comes to us We point the way!
This was no loft-and-ladder house! The hand-cut steps That curve to rooms above, The well-made floors, the beams, The friendly hearth, The sturdy door all speak Of pride in work well done.
By Mildred Leisure Irvin, seven-times great-grand-daughter of Tristram Coffin
Note: When Mrs. Irvin wrote these lines, the Jethro Coffin House was still standing straight and firm with no hint of approaching disaster. She believed the pattern on the chimney was "an ancient blessing sign, a protection for the house, a blessing for those within and those who came." Perhaps she was right for, although light ning tumbled the chimney in October 1987 and destroyed the "sign," it did not set fire to the house. Both sign and chimney will be reconstructed in the current restoration of the presently battered building.
oA sketch of
GK/INTUCKET ^S^ E)UMMERING PLACL PUBLISHED BY
[assenr/er Department, HEW YORK,NEW HAVEN & HARTFORD RAILROAD. BOSTON, MASS.
