DAN'S PAPERS, February 29, 2008 Page 26 www.danshamptons.com
Pickup
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Friday at 10 a.m. at Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary, with interment in the cemetery adjacent. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that memorial donations in Harrington’s name be made to the Southampton Association for Beach Access (SABA) at Box 2970, Southampton, NY 11969.
Henderson
Many different people enjoy many different activities on our beaches. There are fishermen, surfers, picnickers, driftwood collectors, lovers, dog walkers, sunbathers, nature lovers, volleyball and Frisbee players. Each has a place and a time in the scheme of things. Beach driving is one of these activi-
ties, largely confined to the autumn, winter and spring. Those of us who enjoy beach driving consider Harrington’s fate as something that could happen to anyone at anytime. It is a tragedy, a warning and, hopefully, a lesson. But mostly, it is just so hard on those who knew him. •
of the Hamptons, his life on the East End is represented at the Maine house. Most of the windows in that house and the beautiful, massive windows in the tower were all trekked up there from East Hampton. During the winter, Henderson can be seen running his dogs at Springs Park or working in the small shed on the property that acts as the office of Pushcart Press. He reads through countless short story submissions sent from the editors of literary journals, previous Pushcart winners and the last remaining founding editors. Call it a labor of love and Henderson a literary martyr, because the anthology — so important to so many — barely pays for itself. Even if it is lost money, it would be hard to give up. “When are you ever going to find something in your life that seems to mean something to people, to the writers, especially the young writers?” asked Henderson, as if he had no choice but to continue with the prize. In addition to Pushcart, he has been publishing the Editor’s Book Award since 1983. Inspired by his
own plight with The Kid that Could, the award publishes one book annually that has been rejected by commercial publishers not because of its merit, but because the sales departments thought it wouldn’t generate profits. The spin, of course, is that each manuscript must be submitted by one of the rejecting editors. For a man who has made his life publishing short stories, Henderson doesn’t write many himself — just a couple of pieces here and there, as well as the ill-fated novel Sniper at the East Hampton dump. But for Henderson, life and truth are far more alluring topics to write about than fiction. His memoirs are honest snapshots, glimpses into his progression as a man, his connection to his family and his uncanny ability to build things from the ground up. While the tower in Maine may stand three stories tall, the Pushcart Press reaches heights beyond that which can be measured by yards and feet. In this and in his family, we see the greatest monuments to Bill Henderson’s life.
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inspired Henderson and his wife to move to East Hampton in 1982. As a child, he begged his father to live in a wooded neighborhood, and that desire for outdoor space is still present. He wanted a place to ride his bicycle and run. The couple settled in Springs and raised their daughter Lily (the inspiration of his second memoir Her Father, about his “misspent life” in Manhattan.) Unlike the Manhattan crowd that flocks to the East End every Memorial Day, Henderson and his family go to Sedgewick, Maine for the summer months. The small town, barely on the map, must be reminiscent of the tranquility the Hamptons once held. On the property, he built his house, a stone chapel and a threestory tower from the ground up with the most rudimentary of carpenter’s tools. His third memoir, Tower: Faith, Vertigo and Amateur Construction, is an account of building that tower, and Henderson is working on his fifth memoir about building the chapel on the property. Though Sedgwick is over 500 miles north
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