Historic Nantucket, Fall 2001, Vol. 50, No. 4

VOL . 50 , NO . 4

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The No-Name Storm and Other Anniversaries

THE NANTUCKET HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION BOARD OF TRUSTEES Arie L. Kopelman President

Peter W. Nash

Barbara E. Hajim

Alice F. Emerson

Bruce D. Miller

Patricia M. Bridier

First Vice President

Second Vice President

Third Vice President

Treasurer

Clerk

Mary F. Espy Thomas C. Gosnell Julius Jensen III L. Dennis Kozlowski Jane T. Lamb Carolyn B. MacKenzie Albert L. Manning Jr. Arthur I. Reade Jr.

Sarah Baker Rebecca M. Bartlett Laurie Champion Nancy A. Chase Prudence S. Crozier John H. Davis Joseph S. DiMartino

Alfred Sanford Isabel C. Stewart John M. Sweeney Richard F. Tucker Marcia Welch David H. Wood Robert A. Young

Frank D. Milligan Executive Director

RESEARCH FELLOWS Dr. Elizabeth Little

Nathaniel Philbrick

Patty Jo S. Rice

Renny A. Stackpole

FRIENDS OF THE NHA Pat & Thomas Anathan Mariann & Mortimer Appley Heidi & Max Berry Christy & William Camp Jr. Laurie & Robert Champion Dottie & Earle Craig Jr. Prudy & William M. Crozier Jr. Robyn & John Davis Sandra & Nelson Doubleday Nancee & John Erickson Nan & Charles Geschke Susan & Herbert Goodall III

Georgia & Thomas Gosnell Sylvia & Thomas C. Gosnell Barbara & Robert Griffin Barbara & Edmund Hajim George S. Heyer Jr. Sara Jo & Arthur Kobacker Coco & Arie Kopelman Sharon & Francisco Lorenzo Carolyn & Ian MacKenzie Phyllis & William Macomber Miriam & Seymour Mandell Ronay & Richard Menschel

Aileen & Scott Newquist Corky & Flint Ranney Gleaves & Thomas Rhodes Ellen & Kenneth Roman Marion & Robert Rosenthal Ellen & David Ross III Linda & Harvey Saligman Charlotte Smith Ruth & Eliot Snider Genevieve & Richard Tucker Marilyn Whitney Yuriko & Bracebridge Young Jr.

ADVISORY BOARD William B. Macomber Paul Madden Robert F. Mooney Jane C. Richmond Nancy J. Sevrens Scott M. Stearns Jr. John S. Winter Mary-Elizabeth Young

Nina Hellman Elizabeth Husted Elizabeth Jacobsen Francis D. Lethbridge Reginald Levine Katherine S. Lodge Sharon Lorenzo Patricia Loring

Walter Beinecke Jr. Joan Brecker Patricia Butler Helen Winslow Chase Michael deLeo Lyndon Dupuis Martha Groetzinger Dorrit D. P. Gutterson

EDITORIAL COMMITTEE Mary H. Beman Susan F. Beegel Richard L. Brecker Thomas B. Congdon Jr.

Robert F. Mooney Margaret Moore Booker Elizabeth Oldham

Nathaniel Philbrick Sally Seidman Jim Sulzer David H. Wood

Cecil Barron Jensen

Helen Winslow Chase

Elizabeth Oldham

Claire O’Keeffe

EDITOR

HISTORIAN

COPY EDITOR

ART DIRECTOR

Historic Nantucket welcomes articles on any aspect of Nantucket history. Original research, first-hand accounts, reminiscences of island experiences, historic logs, letters, and photographs are examples of materials of interest to our readers.

Copyright © 2001 by Nantucket Historical Association Historic Nantucket (ISSN 0439-2248) is published quarterly by the Nantucket Historical Association, 15 Broad Street, Nantucket, MA 02554.

Second-class postage paid at South Yarmouth, MA and additional entry offices.

Postmaster: Send address changes to Historic Nantucket Box 1016 • Nantucket, MA 02554-1016 • (508) 228-1894; fax: (508) 228-5618 • nhainfo@nha.org For a map of our walking tour and historic sites: www.nha.org

NANTUCKET H

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VOLUME 50, NO. 4

4 Foreword

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by Frank D. Milligan

Journal of the No-Name Gale

by Susan F. Beegel

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October 30, 1991, at the NHA

“My Yale College and My Harvard”:

As Remembered by Maurice Gibbs

by Cecil Barron Jensen

The Writing of Herman Melville’s Sea Works

by Mary K. Bercaw Edwards

17 Celebrating Fifteen Years of Collecting Nantucket Art and History

15 New editions of Moby-Dick

by Niles Parker

Reviews by Donald Yannella and Sandy Mitchell

19 21 NHA News

Historic Nantucket Book Section Reviews by Elizabeth Oldham

On the cover: Wild seas on October 30, 1991 Photograph by Michael Galvin for The Nantucket Beacon Winning photo in 1991 New England Press Association annual competition

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Foreword

One year later: Nantucketers quickly responded and rebuilt following the devastating 1991 storm.

Photograph by Michael Galvin

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OR CENTURIES, ISLAND INHABITANTS HAVE

encountered, and weathered, numerous political, religious, economic, and weatherrelated storms. In each case Nantucketers successfully responded to those challenges. During the 1670s, the first generation of English-speaking settlers met the rising tides of political revolt led by John Gardner and the “half-share” men. The construction of the NHA’s Oldest House in 1686 exemplifies the accommodation that was eventually made to settle this storm, and Nantucketers moved on. In the mid-1750s storms relating to the Seven Years War howled over Nantucket while religious reformism shook the foundations of the island’s conservative-minded, pacifist Quakers. Two decades later, Nantucket’s whaling industry — a worldwide economic juggernaut built up by merchants, industrialists, sailors, and supportive family members — was devastated by the American Revolution. Eighty-five percent of the Nantucket fleet was captured or destroyed, and in the wake of this storm the island’s widows necessarily assumed the leadership of twenty-five percent of households. Still, islanders recovered and by 1823 Nantucket had resumed its position as the country’s leading whaling port.

In response to these and many other“storms,” Nantucketers demonstrated an ability to adapt and survive seemingly N A N T U C K E T

“against all odds.” In 1908 and 1992 it was Mother Nature’s turn, as climatic storms laid siege to the island and tested the people’s resolve. This was especially true during and in the aftermath of “the perfect storm” of 1991.

This issue of Historic Nantucket provides first-hand perspectives and outstanding photographs of the mighty storm that blew in from the north, fooling weather watchers and catching the island by surprise. In most cases during Nantucket’s history, the low, dunecovered Coatue barrier beach that stretches back down from Great Point to meet Nantucket Harbor has acted as a natural buffer to those northerly winds and waves.

But this one was different. As Bob Mooney describes in his book Nantucket Only Yesterday, “the storm hit the island on October 30 with extremely high tides surging ashore all along the waterfront, smashing against the cottages on the wharves and creating havoc in the boat basin. Waist-deep waters flooded the waterfront street and at Brant Point; boats were driven ashore on Washington Street and cottages were demolished on Old North Wharf.” Within a year the clean-up was completed, and Nantucket rebuilt and prepared to share in the economic prosperity that dominated the balance of the decade.

As our country responds to the storms that began blowing with such terrible force on September 11, we can draw strength from the Nantucket experience.

The “nation of Nantucket” has withstood many crises and undoubtedly will be called upon to face others in the future. Nantucketers, however, stood firm, and have overcome societal and cultural differences, economic disasters, and political turmoil. In each instance, they found ways to preserve their economic livelihoods and way of life on their tiny “elbow of sand.” The Nantucket experience serves as a beacon for America as it prepares to face new national challenges in the twenty-first century.

— Frank D. Milligan F A L L

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Journal of the No-Name Gale

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HE FOLLOWING IS AN EXCERPT FROM SUSAN

Beegel’s diary of the October 30 storm of 1991. It is a personal account of the weather and her world as it washed around her ten years ago. Susan and her husband Wes Tiffney live at the University of Massachusetts Nantucket Field Station, located on Nantucket Harbor, next to Quaise marsh. The beach house is a little building by the harbor that Stephen Peabody built for his fall duck hunting. Wes and Susan lived there when first married, but at the time of the storm were high and dry in a second-floor apartment up the Field Station road: the beach house was then and is now the station’s main office. In her journal, Susan mentions Doug Beattie, who was facilities manager at the UMass Nantucket Field Station, and his wife Karen Combs Beattie. Doug’s boat is Frances, a beautiful scalloping workboat he built himself.

Monday, 28 October 1991 North wind comes up with a bang in the night; I wake up to lock rattling windows. In the morning the harbor is creamy with whitecaps, the sky full of scudding clouds. Blows hard, a living gale, as hard as thirty-five knots. They say fifteen- to twenty-foot seas out on the Banks. It’s cold. Wind strips last of leaves from trees; they blow into drifts. Flags snap frantically, will be stretched, snapped to tatters.

Today gives us a first taste of winter, but this weather pattern seems to be stuck here because of a hurricane menacing Bermuda. One seasonal chap in the store today was returning to Palm Beach. “Who’d want to stay here now?” he says, red-nosed, wearing a shirt over a sweatshirt, hood up. Me.

Because this storm brings us northeast winds, onshore for the Field Station, it is more threatening in some ways than a hurricane, posing the threat of flooding to the beach house. It is the new moon and there are astronomically high tides as well. At low tide the marsh looks like a normal high. There is a carpet of white behind the dune — more gulls than I can count resting out of the wind. They are preening and napping; the area behind them is white with bits of escaped down trapped in the grass. Now, with an hour and a half to high tide, there is no beach, no grass visible in the marsh, only a strip of dune between us and the harbor. We have prepared the beach house for flooding, unplugging things, shutting off the power, picking up carpets and moving furniture off the porch, which is lower than the rest of the building. . . .

Downtown there are lots of muscle-bound deep-sea scallopers tied up at the docks to ride it out, mayhem among the boats remaining in the boat basin; there is an on-shore wind there too. Already there are some pretty sailboats on the beach and rubbing up against the condos; frantic men in waders, wind screaming in rigging, sails coming unfurled. The Coast Guard channel at home tells us there are fishing vessels in trouble. They are getting a helicopter to take men off one, talking to

by Susan F. Beegel

Fishing boats and deep-sea scallopers tied up at the dock for the storm.

Photo by Michael Galvin

Tuesday, 29 October 1991 Awake this morning to continuing wind and the weather radio. Hurricane Grace, a huge low-pressure area off Bermuda, is pulling down cold air from a high-pressure area over Quebec — gale-force winds to continue today and intensify to storm force tomorrow. No boat yesterday, none today, none tomorrow — Wes and I head for the grocery store. Sign in the produce section reads “No boat, no bananas.”

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Polpis Road at the turn-off to the Nantucket Lifesaving Museum.

Photo by Flint Ranney

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another with a hairline crack in the hull but pumps keeping up (“What color are your life jackets?”), trying to come alongside another in heavy seas so that a man can leap from his boat onto a Coast Guard vessel.

Wednesday, 30 October 1991 Wake this morning at 5 A.M.—high tide. Wes checks the beach house. Water is about one foot from the doorstep. It’s blowing a gale and we expect the storm to intensify. After coffee we go out on erosion patrol. It’s wild—surf overwashing the barrier beach and flowing into Sesachacha Pond. At Hoick’s Hollow, the surf is terrific, giant waves impacting the foot of Sankaty Bluff.

Wes says it’s cut almost vertical; there will be active erosion there. Wind is blowing so hard—Force 10 on the Beaufort—it’s hard for me to walk, shoved and staggered by gusts. It’s hard to breathe facing into the wind—you can’t exhale, but if you can relax your lungs and open your mouth they will inflate all by themselves.

Blowing sand is painful; salt stings my eyes. We stop at Sankaty Lighthouse, but there is so much sand blowing there it would be foolhardy to get out of the car, foolhardy to linger in the car if you like your paint job. A parked little red station wagon is white with salt and sand; it’ll be ruined. From the bank at ’Sconset, the surf is spectacular, house-high and impacting on the dunes, mountainous out on the shoals. Wes calls them haystacks.

We go to town. Washington Street and Hulbert Avenue are flooded in places, lots of boats are aground, N A N T U C K E T

some sorry soul salvaging a needlepoint cushion and a garbage bag full of papers from one. This northeast wind direction is deadly for Nantucket Harbor; this will be worse than a hurricane for boats.

We see a gannet over the harbor and now one over the saltmarsh — something I’ve never seen before.

Gannets are huge, snow-white diving birds with blacktipped wings and a seven-foot wing span. They cannot fly without the crest of a wave and a gust of wind to bear them aloft, and so live most of their lives at sea, breeding on cliffs. You can sometimes see them diving (from the air, sending up fountains of spray) off the ocean beaches, but never over the calm and sheltered waters of the harbor.

Lights flickering — a power failure seems a real possibility, especially with all the salt that’s being driven into the transformers. We do the drill of filling tubs, buckets, pots and pans. We turned down the temperature in the fridge and freezer. No sign of our friend Doug today. We call: his fishing boat Frances broke loose from her mooring, is half-sunk and aground. He does not know the extent of the damage, but the motor is under water, and the start of scalloping season two days away.

4:35 P.M. This is now a disaster journal. I went to work [at Mitchell’s Book Corner] in the wind; at 3 P.M. a policeman came in and said we were to close the store immediately and go home. A state of emergency has been declared. On the way back, water from the saltmarsh is up over the Polpis Road.

Wes and I drive to the beach house. Must wade to the back door, water to knees, full of debris — still two and a half hours to high tide. The front porch is already flooded, waves and weeds lapping at the windows. We pull books, records, papers, and slides off the bottom shelves — there is no doubt now the main part will be flooded. We pray the windows don’t break. There is a mouse on the front porch, running frantically around, pawing at the windows. . . .

Going back to the car the water is over my knees.

From our apartment window we watch huge, oceansized breakers rolling down the harbor, the dune going under, trees and beach stairs floating into the marsh, half-drowned headlights of cars trying to cross by the Lifesaving Museum and all the while the tide is rising, rising. . . . The wind is blowing hard enough to shake the house and rattle my wedding crystal in the china cabinet. Doug and Karen say downtown is badly floodF A L L

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ed; rumor has it the power is out because the Electric Company is flooded. Martha’s Vineyard radio — our old friend from Hurricane Bob — says conditions will be the same or worse until midnight with winds in the 70s, low hurricane force. This is a rare and vicious oceanic storm. No boat, no bananas indeed. Don’t know how long we’ll be without power and heat.

Fortunately it’s not that cold.

At last light, waves higher than the beach house are rolling down the harbor, pouring over the dunes. Wes says this is a textbook storm surge.

8:50 P.M. We endure a pounding; the power comes back on, though spikey. Wes goes down to check the beach house in the dark; storm has been raging so fiercely we don’t know whether the house is still there, or if it has been undercut and collapsed. He returns more uncertain — road is full of debris, unsafe to walk in the dark, stuff more than fifty yards up the road from the house.

11 P.M. Go out in the dark, wind, and rain — it’s hard to walk — and climb down the bank to the beach since the road is impassable. Beach house is still standing. A windrow of sand and debris in front of the building protected it somewhat, although at half tide we have water breaking where it has never broken before. The water seems to be draining away nicely and the wind has dropped. We have to stand in the breaking surf to inspect the house with flashlights; I have to hold on to Wes to stand up in the wind and waves. We return with soaked pants and boots full of water.

Thursday, 31 October Up at dawn after a restless night. . . . Gulp coffee and a handful of cookies and go down to see what’s left. The debris is stunning: fifty yards up the road from the house we encounter eelgrass, snow fencing, uprooted shrubs, shoes, boards, bailers, tennis balls, whiskey bottles, Gatorade bottles, miniature liquor bottles, our doorstep (with the doormat still on it), two complete sets of beach stairs, parts of a neighbor’s bulkhead, high-tide bush, dead trees, stumps, pieces of a bench, an outboard motor, a paddle, a laundry detergent bottle, an uprooted daffodil plant, buoys, pieces of a styrofoam cooler, a fragmented fish trap, a rose bush with the rose hips still on it, a dead gull, the inevitable beer can, plastic motor oil containers, and a “No Trespassing” sign. On the harbor side, debris is piled hip high against the front windows, and all of it soaking wet, treacherously slippery, with a fine clay-like mud H I S T O R I C

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covering. The outside walls of the beach house are wet and covered with eel grass as high as my chest.

With some trepidation, we pick our way through the debris — lots of it extruding rusty nails — clear the garbage away from the back door, and go in. There is good news, and there is bad news. The front and back porch floors are coated with mud — slick, brown, and wet like a fresh coat of paint. There is eel grass on the walls. The heating units, the radiators, the broiler unit of the stove, and the refrigerator motor have all been under water. In the main room, slightly higher than the porches, the wall-to-wall carpet and Wes’s own rug on top of it are soaking wet. The room is icy cold and dank. Waterlines on the furniture legs show it flooded about three to four inches in height. In the kitchen, the lower shelves of the cabinets flooded. The little mouse that was trying so frantically to escape the porch yesterday, has drowned. I feel guilty. . . . But the good news is overwhelming. The building is intact, and although the heating, wiring, carpeting, and fridge may need to be replaced, Wes’s books, files, slides, notes, and reprints are safe. . . .

So we take a deep breath and think about what we can tackle. The first thing to do is get the mud off the floor before it dries. We open a window on the front porch and Wes runs in a hose. He hoses down the floor; I mop. He hoses down the walls, too. We rip up the threshold so we can push the muddy water out the door. In the kitchen, the floor slopes the wrong way, so I bail muddy water into a wastebasket and fling it out

Easy Street looking toward Steamboat Wharf.

Photo by Michael Galvin

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the window. The hose will not reach the back porch.

There I take the hand-held unit of the shower, and after rinsing the mud and seaweed out of the shower itself, hose down the walls and the floor. There is no way to get a vehicle to the house because of the debris. Bob Caldwell arrives and says he knows a guy with a truck and a front-end loader.

I go to town to get boxes for books and papers so that we can begin to move things out. Washington Street is cordoned off, as is Easy Street. But I go out on Straight Wharf where the bricks are rumpled and merchants are putting merchandise out on the sidewalk to dry or be carted away. At the pet store there are piles of cute china dog dishes and leashes on the sidewalk; a

Devastation of Old North Wharf.

Photo by Michael Galvin

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distraught looking woman is wringing out T-shirts. But North Wharf is the real scene of devastation. There are three or four cottages missing. All that is left are boards floating in the water; and, on the dock, a pile of boards, bricks, mattresses, appliances, and one intact dormer. I think one or two of the missing cottages were in Nantucket Homes and Gardens. But George Andrews’s dilapidated old shack, the only one still used for fishing, is still standing there, triumphant and enduring. And George, in his oilers, is collecting a pair of oars from out of the floating debris. I feel better.

After a day of clean-up, I get in the car with Wes and go to do a preliminary inspection of erosion in the rain. At Quidnet, the dune breached, and an absolute N A N T U C K E T

river of sand flowed down the road. From the garage of the Egers’ house, last on the road, comes the sound of shoveling — it all must have flowed into their garage.

At Sesachacha, there is a huge delta of sand stretching far into the pond. At the height of the storm, the surf roared right across the Polpis Road. The road was undermined and collapsed in one place. There are all manner of little boats — Sailfish and Sunfish — trapped in the bushes at the edge of the pond, left there when the tide went out. At the Sankaty Beach Club, there has been tremendous erosion; there are only a few feet to go before the boardwalk goes over. A hedge that was there yesterday is nowhere in sight. At the lighthouse, the fence is over. Chappy Krauthof’s house is within inches. The bluff is so steep it must retreat more to reach angle of repose.

It’s getting dark so we drive into town. Washington Street is open now, although parts of it are still flooded.

Sayle’s Seafood’s sign is leaning against a building more than a block from the store. The houses have toppled fences, mangled porches and arbors, and broken windows. There is a huge sailboat crushing a sign that says “No Parking This Side.”

And what of Halloween? I spot a tiny masked goblin sitting in the car beside a tense and white-lipped mother. A tinier Tinkerbell in a rainslicker, visiting Mitchell’s, her tinseled pink mask sparkling in the light from the shop windows, a cheerful sight in the foggy drizzling dusk.

Before dinner we call Doug. Frances was flung up from the bottom of the harbor and carried inland, stranded on someone’s lawn. The propellers of a boat that landed next to her chewed up her side, but the hull is intact. With $200 of parts, Doug replaced her electricals and got the motor running.

Friday, 1 November 1991 I never understood before why coastal flooding places people’s homes at risk of burning down. Basically, if you leave the power on, it’s like dropping a toaster into the bathtub — only in this case your house is the toaster. Wes calls an electrician at 7:30 A.M., Dave Dunham.

The circuitry in the beach house is okay — because we cut the power before the flood, we have not shorted out, and the transformer boxes were above the water line. Dave is able to give us heat in the living room and opens our transformer boxes to dry. It’s no go on the porch where the water was so much deeper — Dave F A L L

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turns on a heater and it shorts instantly, sparks and smoke. He disconnects it and says he’ll have more heating elements coming on the boat next week, then rides off to help others. Our hero! We have heat, and we can plug in fans and a dehumidifier. Exhilaration! Now we can get dry.

I worry about the rug we dragged out into the rain; how will we ever get it dry and clean? I call Holdgate’s for advice — they say bring it in wet, and they will dry it, wash it, and dry it again. Very accommodating of them to accept room-sized wet rugs. In return, we must accept a blank bill; they charge to clean rugs by the pound, and very obligingly are going to dry the rug (it takes two people to carry it wet) before weighing it.

First chance to really look at our beach. In one place the dune looks to have been pushed back by a gigantic bulldozer. The beach is broad now, flat as a pancake and beautifully sandy where before it was sloped and rocky, shelly. No storm-wrack line, either — that is on the other side of the Polpis Road, where the water flowed over into the high marsh. Wes proposes yelling at people to stay off the dunes because the exposed roots of the Ammophila are vulnerable. We want that dune reestablished as quickly as possible.

Beach is littered with scallops and the gulls are having a feed. Doug gets Frances jacked up and on a boat trailer. She is parked in the yard. The side that was chewed by the prop looks as if it has been chipped with an axe. The start of scalloping season will be delayed until November 5 because of fuel, sewage, and debris in the harbor. But will there be any scallops? Maybe they have been all washed up for the gulls?

Saturday, 2 November 1991 The sun comes out long enough to dry the road and the debris, Albert Johnsen comes with his front-end loader and takes away a huge truck-load of debris — but only one, because the dump is closed on Saturday afternoons! Not very helpful on the town’s part.

Wes goes up in an airplane with geology students from Northeastern University. He tells me that the Galls are still open, and Great Point is an island. Says “There’s a lot less of Nantucket than there used to be.”

Monday, 4 November Albert Johnsen arrives again with his front-end loader despite the rain. Final tally: four truckloads of debris.

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is the same as if our perfectly spacious bedroom were filled to the ceiling twice.

Tuesday, 5 November Not a prepossessing start to the scalloping season. I didn’t hear the early dawn thrum of several dozen engines—only nine boats in sight. One hopes the men went elsewhere. Wonder what kind of condition Sayle’s and Glidden’s are in? Maybe folks decided to fish somewhere else.

Went on erosion patrol with Wes. A Wauwinet house undercut by surf, half of it hanging in the air, a concrete foundation cracked and shattered. Another house half-buried in sand, shingles torn from its ocean-

ward side — inside wet furniture, sand on the floor, and a crystal decanter three-quarters full of whiskey on a handsome sideboard. Porch supports broken, tattered screens blowing in the wind, the damaged structure full of sand. Surf crashed through a window in the back of the garage, blowing a boat and garden tools out through the front doors. Barrier beach washed over to the harbor. At Sankaty Bluff, we observe that the erosion has moved down — more houses are now at risk. Codfish Park has a number of houses undercut by the surf, too.

Erosion in ’Sconset.

Photo by Rob Benchley

Friday, 8 November 1991 They say it’s clear nothing so devastating has happened to this community since the Great Fire of 1846. Final F A L L

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toll? Ten homes totally destroyed, 300 homes and businesses badly damaged, 62 boats sunk, millions of dollars damage to the wharves. The Beachside Resort was fully booked for Christmas Stroll but won’t be able to open because they have to rewire. One lobsterman lost 800 out of 1,000 traps — about $25,000 worth.

National Weather Service says another northeaster is coming, with winds at approximately thirty mph.

Great! Wes goes out with a Federal Emergency Management Agency consultant. Says he’s glad he didn’t bring his wife because the weather’s “so awful.”

Well, the poor dainty thing!

I see an ad in the New York Times magazine for condos in the Caribbean. It says “Enjoy Island Living and Everything That Goes with the Territory.” I clip that out and stick it on the refrigerator.

Susan Beegel has been a year-round island resident since 1983. A trustee of the Nantucket Atheneum and the Maria Mitchell Science Center, she holds a Ph.D. in English from Yale University, teaches “Literature of the Sea” in the Williams College Maritime Studies Program at Mystic Seaport, and is a member of the NHA’s editorial committee.

OCTOBER 30, 1991, AT THE NANTUCKET HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION

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the outside to the watermark in the Museum, tive director Maurice Gibbs knew so we were making a difference.” to keep his eye on the weather. He With the Whaling Museum more or less had heard reports of record high tides and a under control, Maurice turned his attention to growing storm scheduled for October 30, the properties on Straight Wharf. The Little 1991. All morning he was kept posted for Gallery was apparently in bad shape. “Water any signs of flooding or other damage to the damaged the electrical system and we were NHA’s properties. But coming back to the unable to reopen the building without major Old Town Building offices after lunch, he work.” The Macy Warehouse was also in was alarmed to see water coming up Francis flood’s way. “When I got there, I could see Street — at low tide. water up above the floor level and I heard He immediately joined the maintenance water sloshing under the floorboards,” he said.

“I was particularly concerned about the and curatorial staff, including Rick Morcom diorama.” While the model townscape was and Mark Fortenberry, at the Whaling safely above the water on the floor, the elecMuseum where they were already sandtronics were in jeopardy. “I tore open the base bagging the doors to the building. and carried the electronics upstairs,” he said.

“Everybody just pitched in,” he said, After securing as much as possible, Maurice remembering the day. “We moved the iron decided to move on. “I swung the door open work and books that were on the first floor Motorboat opposite the A&P on Straight and a guy in a motorboat buzzed right past me up the ramp to Sanderson Hall.” In the Wharf. Photograph by Michael Galvin and tied up to a tree on Easy Street,” he Museum Shop all of the gifts were removed to upper levels and higher shelves. Pumps were started and the remembers. “I had to laugh thinking of the insurance report: electricity to the building shut down. man hit by motorboat on sidewalk.”

By about 1:30 P.M., Maurice could see water bubbling in As he slogged his way up Straight Wharf toward Main Street, through the porous foundation and water was covering the floor. Maurice saw half a dozen cars parked in the A&P parking lot “We were walking around the first floor in waders,” he said. with water rising up to the windows.

“But I could see that there was about a one-inch differential from — Cecil Barron Jensen

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“My Yale College and My Harvard”: The Writing of Herman Melville’s Sea Works This essay and the following book reviews commemorate the 150th anniversary of the publication of Moby-Dick

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WHALE-SHIP WAS MY YALE COLLEGE

and my Harvard,” Herman Melville writes in Moby-Dick (ch. 24). Of course, it wasn’t only Melville’s time aboard whaleships and at sea that led to his writing of Moby-Dick: he spent many hours deeply engaged in reading. Nonetheless, his time at sea was very important.

More than any other American author, Herman Melville used the sea as setting and concept in creating great literature. His books are far more than adventure stories. In his works, Melville struggles with human interactions in a diverse and complex world, the boundaries of knowledge, and the search for truth. Melville’s success began with his first book, Typee (1846), and continued with Omoo (1847). Although financial success eluded Melville after these first two books, their reception was a major influence on his continuing to write on maritime subjects. His time at sea inspired his next four books: Mardi (1849), Redburn (1849), WhiteJacket (1850), and Moby-Dick (1851). Only Pierre (1852) is a complete departure from the sea: he returns with “The Encantadas” (1854), the John Paul Jones section of Israel Potter (1854–1855), and “Benito Cereno” (1855). Moreover, The Confidence-Man (1857) is set on a steamboat, and many of Melville’s Civil War poems in Battle-Pieces (1866) concern naval warfare. Late in his life, however, he published Clarel (1876), an 18,000-line poem of a pilgrimage through the Holy Land with little maritime association, and Timoleon (1891), a small collection of nonmaritime poems. Nonetheless, his other late collection of poems, John Marr and Other Sailors (1888), and Billy Budd, Sailor (1924), the short novel he was working on at the time of his death, exhibit a powerful maritime influence.

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Melville’s first sea voyage began at age nineteen, when he signed on to the full-rigged merchant vessel St. Lawrence (1833), Oliver P. Brown, master. Melville sailed from New York to Liverpool and back to New York: the passage to England took twenty-seven days and the passage home forty-nine days. Melville’s fourth book, Redburn: His First Voyage, subtitled Being the Sailor-boy Confessions and Reminiscences of the Son-ofa-Gentleman, in the Merchant Service, describes in a fictional manner what Melville encountered as he learned the skills of a sailor.

Melville’s next major trip was in 1840 when he traveled to Illinois by boat with his friend Eli James Murdock Fly. Their three-day journey by canal boat from Albany to Buffalo may have provided the description of the Erie Canal found in chapter 54 of MobyDick, “The Town-Ho’s Story.” Melville and Fly crossed Lake Erie by steamboat and then, from Detroit, booked passage on a Lake Huron and Lake Michigan steamboat to Chicago. From there, they crossed the prairie to Galena, Illinois, where Melville’s uncle, Thomas Melville Jr., had a farm. It is unknown whether Melville actually went up the Mississippi River; however, his time on inland waterways decidedly influenced his tenth book, The ConfidenceMan, a bleak work of despair set on board the Fidèle, a Mississippi River steamboat.

The month and route of Melville’s return to New York are unknown.

With his family in financial trouble, Melville embarked from New Bedford, Massachusetts, on January 3, 1841, for the most influential voyage of his life.

He joined the crew of the whaleship Acushnet (1840), Valentine Pease Jr., master, on its maiden voyage, sailing from Fairhaven, Massachusetts. His time on the Acushnet is the basis for his account of a whaling voyage in his sixth book, Moby-Dick. But the vessel Melville

by Mary K. Bercaw Edwards Illustrations courtesy of: Plattsburgh State Art Museum Rockwell Kent Gallery & Collection

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creates in Moby-Dick, the Pequod, is a fantastical Nantucket ship, with belaying pins of sperm-whale teeth and a tiller made from the lower jaw of a sperm whale.

Melville, at age 21, shipped as a green hand on the Acushnet—the same rank he had held on the St. Lawrence.

However, before his whaling years were finished, Melville had worked his way up to bow oarsman, the position held by Ishmael in MobyDick, and then possibly to boatsteerer (harpooneer).

In November 1841 the Acushnet spent six days at anchor off Chatham Island in the Galapagos Islands.

The Galapagos, the location of Melville’s ten sketches entitled “The Encantadas” (1854), were called enchanted because the baffling currents in nearby waters were, Melville writes, “so strong and irregular as to change a vessel’s course against the helm, though sailing at the rate of four or five miles the hour” (sketch first, “Encantadas”). The Acushnet returned to the waters of the Galapagos for the month of January 1842, but the six days at Chatham Island in 1841 were the longest continuous period during which Melville may have had the possibility of going ashore. Surprisingly, Chatham Island is referred to only twice — and then in passing — in “The Encantadas.”

When the Acushnet reached Nukahiva in the Marquesas Islands in July 1842, Melville and his shipmate Richard Tobias Greene, whom he called “Toby,” deserted and made their way to the interior. Melville hurt his leg en route and was forced to remain behind while Toby escaped, hoping to secure medicines for Melville. However, Toby never returned, and Melville learned only years later that he had effected his escape on another Fairhaven whaleship, the London Packet.

The embellished story of his adventures on Nukahiva is told in Melville’s first book, Typee.

In reality he spent only one month on the island (July 9 – August 9, 1842), but he lengthens the time to four months in his book.

Melville escaped from Nukahiva on the Australian whaleship Lucy Ann (1819), Henry Ventom, master.

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Now signed as an able seaman, he joined a crew torn by dissent. The Lucy Ann was barque-rigged and quite small, only eighty-seven-feet long, with a sickly captain and a first mate, James German, who was prone to drink. In addition, the vessel was inadequately officered: it carried four whaleboats, but had only one mate, two illiterate boatsteerers, and a newly shipped boatsteerer who soon turned against the captain. A whaleship carrying four whaleboats would normally carry four mates (or boatheaders) and four boatsteerers (or harpooneers). The captain soon became very ill, and German headed for Tahiti, where the captain was put ashore. In an effort to prevent desertion yet staying close to the captain, the Lucy Ann left port and sailed back and forth off the harbor of Papeete, Tahiti; there, ten men refused duty. Those ten men were held on the French frigate La Reine Blanche and later they were taken to a Tahitian “calaboose” (jail). Melville joined the mutineers in their confinement ashore where during his time as a prisoner Melville was under a doctor’s care and his leg was treated. Roughly three weeks later, in October 1842, Melville escaped to the neighboring island of Eimeo (now Moorea), Society Islands. Melville’s passage on the Lucy Ann, the mutiny, and his imprisonment are treated in his second book, Omoo.

Melville wandered the island of Eimeo until November 1842, when he joined the Nantucket whaleship Charles and Henry (1832), John B. Coleman Jr., master. Melville evidently signed on as boatsteerer and spent five months aboard the Charles and Henry, much less than the claim of “the author’s own personal experience, of two years & more, as a harpooneer” which he made to his English publisher, Richard Bentley (letter of June 27, 1850). From his time on the Charles and Henry, Melville drew the beginning of his third book, Mardi.

Discharged at Lahaina, Maui, Melville traveled to Oahu aboard the Star, Captain Burroughs, master.

During Melville’s stay in Honolulu, the Acushnet came into port and Valentine Pease Jr., on June 2, 1843, filed F A L L

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an affidavit taking notice of Melville’s desertion eleven months earlier, a federal offense.

Six weeks later, Melville enlisted as an ordinary seaman on the American naval frigate United States (1797), James Armstrong, master. The frigate sailed under the pennant of Commodore Thomas Catesby Jones. Melville was one of approximately 480 men on board.

Melville spent fourteen months on the United States, and in that time he witnessed 163 floggings. His absolute hatred of this form of corporal punishment resounds throughout his fifth book, White-Jacket, and in his final work, Billy Budd, Sailor. Melville’s long period at sea ended on October 3, 1844, when the United States arrived at Boston. He traveled on the ocean several more times, but never again as a seaman. In 1860, he sailed around Cape Horn aboard the clipper ship Meteor (1852) with his younger brother, Thomas, as captain. Homesick and depressed, however, Melville took a steamer from San Francisco to Panama, crossed the isthmus, and then returned to New York on the steamer North Star.

Although unknown to him at the time, an event occurred while Melville was at sea on the Charles and Henry that would deeply affect his life. His first cousin, Guert Gansevoort, was first lieutenant on the United States training brig Somers (1842) under the command of Captain Alexander Slidell Mackenzie. Three men on the vessel, including the son of the Secretary of War, were hanged for mutiny on December 1, 1842.

Mackenzie was court-martialed after questions arose as to whether a mutiny had actually been planned. Some claimed that Mackenzie should have waited until the Somers reached St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands, a mere two days away, to try the men in a formal military court.

Mackenzie was acquitted, but questions remain to this day. The many similarities between the Somers incident and Billy Budd, Sailor include a suspected mutiny; a “drumhead court,” or officers council, controlled by the commanding officer; punishment by hanging; and unresolved questions about the commander’s decision.

Melville refers directly to the Somers in Billy Budd, Sailor, suggesting that he was still troubled almost fifty years H I S T O R I C

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later by an incident so closely tied to his family.

In his writings, Melville relied not only on his own experience but also very heavily on his reading. “I have swam through libraries,” he writes in Moby-Dick (ch. 32). Melville consumed books and was consumed by them. As he read, he argued with them, laughed and cried over them, and became fiercely angry with them.

The books he owned are filled with notes and jottings done with slashing pen marks and furious periods.

Melville’s reading, both literary and general, inspired his writing. An alchemist of words, Melville transformed his often mundane sources. For example, the information in the “Cetology” chapter of Moby-Dick (ch. 32) is borrowed nearly verbatim from the “Whales” entry in volume 27 of The Penny Cyclopaedia of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge (1843). As Melville infused the dry information with his own humor and philosophical ponderings, he transformed it into literature of the highest order.

Both his time at sea and his reading influenced Melville’s works, but he might never have achieved greatness had he not met first Evert Duyckinck, a man at the center of the New York literary world, and then Nathaniel Hawthorne. When Melville first met him, Duyckinck was the editor of Typee, and although the two men were markedly different, they became friends; Melville had access to Duyckinck’s library, one of the greatest private libraries in the country. Duyckinck wrote to his brother George: “Melville . . . has borrowed Sir Thomas Browne of me and says finely of the speculations of the Religio Medici that Browne is a kind of ‘crack’d Archangel.’ Was ever anything of this sort said before by a sailor?” (letter of March 18, 1848). In August of 1850, Duyckinck went to Pittsfield, Massachusetts, to visit Melville, and it was during that visit that a party of ten, seven of whom were literary men, climbed Monument Mountain. Here, for the first time, Melville met Hawthorne. Melville’s new book, which he had previously told Duyckinck was “mostly F A L L

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done,” took another year to complete. That was MobyDick, and Melville’s long, philosophical conversations with Hawthorne reshaped the book, which he subsequently dedicated to Hawthorne. The letter Hawthorne wrote on first reading Moby-Dick has been lost, but not Melville’s response to it. Melville calls it “your joy-giving and exultation-breeding letter” and goes on to say: “A sense of unspeakable security is in me this moment, on account of your having understood the book” (letter of November [17?],1851).

Unfortunately, few others understood, and MobyDick was never reprinted in Melville’s lifetime. Melville spent the next forty years living in obscurity until his death in 1891. He wrote only two more full-length works after Moby-Dick, and worked for nineteen years as a customs inspector in New York City. It was a life of aching sadness and depression. When he died, he was yet again revising the manuscript he had entitled Billy Budd, Sailor. The redemption of his reputation began with the publication of Raymond Weaver’s biography, Herman Melville: Mariner and Mystic, in 1921, and has continued to this day.

Mary K. Bercaw Edwards is a Visiting Scholar at Connecticut College. She teaches Literature of the Sea for the Williams College–Mystic Seaport Maritime Studies Program. Her first book, Melville’s Sources, was published in 1987 and her second, Melville’s Whaling Years, which she is coediting with Thomas Farel Heffernan, will be published next spring (2002). Dr. Bercaw Edwards sailed around the world in a 38-foot ketch with her family when she was 16 years old. She then taught Literature of the Sea and Maritime History for years on board 65-foot and 95-foot schooners for both Long Island University and Northeastern University, before coming to Mystic Seaport. In addition to teaching, she is foreman of the outdoor demonstration squad at Mystic Seaport and spends her days working aloft on the whaleship Charles W. Morgan and the full-rigged training ship Joseph Conrad.

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Two New Books Celebrate Moby-Dick Sesquicentennial Moby-Dick, or, the Whale

by Herman Melville 150th Anniversary Edition Foreword by Nathaniel Philbrick Penguin Paperbound, $14.00 Review by Donald Yannella

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HIS NEW BOOK IS A PLEASURE TO OWN .

It fits comfortably into one’s hands, and is as handsome as a quality hardbound volume — not the sort of paperback you’re likely to mistreat at the beach. The printing stock is reminiscent of the sort used in limited editions; the pages are rough and edged, unevenly cut, like those in a nineteenth-century volume that had to be separated with a knife. The art on the cover and spine reproduces the 1930 Lakeside Press illustrations of Rockwell Kent.

Penguin is to be thanked for this sesquicentennial edition. It reminds me of other Melville celebrations with Nantucket associations: The Melville Society gathered on Nantucket in 1969 to mark the author’s 150th birthday and then met on the island twice more, in the seventies and eighties.

Penguin has used the same offset sheets for this printing of Moby-Dick as it did when it issued Melville’s masterpiece in 1992. That one, not as attractive as this, was designed for students and has an introduction by Andrew Delbanco with notes by Tom Quirk. My guess is that the publisher is trying to reach a more general audience with this issue, a chunk of the popular culture.

And my bet is that this printing of The Whale (Melville’s original English title), with a foreword by one of Nantucket’s own authors, Nathaniel Philbrick, will open the door to that larger audience.

With the appearance of his best-selling, National Book Award-winning In the Heart of the Sea, recently adapted for television, Philbrick is no doubt one of the island’s most visible residents. More important to me, he F A L L

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is the most successful Melville promoter of at least the past decade. Incredible as it may seem for readers of Historic Nantucket, Melville’s reputation and that of his great book are in peril in some quarters. In the C-Span series on “American Writers” now being aired, there was no room in the fo’c’s’le, much less on the quarterdeck, for Herman or Moby. But neither was there room for Edgar Allan Poe, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Henry James, nor a host of others; that was the call of the literary-canon revisionists who decided who would be invited to submit articles. The established authors’ berths were taken by the likes of Mary Chesnut and Will Rogers, for instance. The gender, class, racially, and even geographically correct C-Span crew is not, however, as diverse as Melville’s gang of renegades and castaways aboard the Pequod. The C-Span venture is providing teachers at all levels with syllabi and lesson plans. Winds are changing, or so they hope. My point is that if general readers, wherever they may be, are allowed to choose their preferred authors according to criteria such as artistic achievement and intellectual force — not to mention imagination and other factors — rather than being ruled by the standards of political activists, social scientists, and cultural manipulators, then Melville and his whaling book might find a place beside David Halberstam, who gets an entire C-Span program while Hemingway and Fitzgerald share one, as do Emerson and Thoreau, for instance. But they’re in better shape than Melville and the others who were left ashore.

General readers will also be grateful for Philbrick’s eight-page foreword, which displays his journalistic background and orientation. Frankly admitting his antipathy to Melville’s big book when he was an adolescent, largely because of his English professor father’s enthusiasm for it, Philbrick will draw in youngsters of similar disposition, as well as other novices, in the next few decades or for as long as this volume is available.

With any luck, his introduction will foster their appreciation of Melville’s artistry, as Philbrick’s was by a highschool English teacher.

Our middle-aged old salt’s foreword is suffused by his love of Nantucket, where he’s lived these past fifteen years. Without insulting the sophisticated taste of seasoned readers, he suggests guides for comprehending Melville’s sprawling compendium: its humor, some of its chief literary sources such as Shakespeare and the Bible, and its importance as historical documentary. In short, he defends the widely shared assertion that MobyH I S T O R I C

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Dick is the “greatest American novel ever written.”

Given the expectations conjured by the word “novel,” I would suggest that readers think of it as a book, even a work, rather than a novel — as does Harrison Hayford, general editor of the monumental Northwestern University Press and Newberry Library’s Writings of Herman Melville — (known as the NN edition).

I offer a comment on the text used in this edition, the aforementioned NN. Sponsored by the Center for Editions of American Authors (the CEAA), this country’s authoritative textual overseer, the NN is virtually the only game in town for Melville’s works. As with all human ventures, however, no matter how commanding the authority, the NN has its problems. Scholars have had their disagreements over fundamentals, some profound and wrenching. Edmund Wilson, the great literary critic and cultural commentator, anticipated such difficulties when the CEAA was being proposed; he insisted that in order to avoid altering of the American culture’s principal literary works, the CEAA editors should follow the lead of the French and simply reprint first editions. But CEAA proponents were hoping to establish reliable texts for American works that were as accurate as those that had been developed for Shakespeare’s works, for instance. American editors should not tolerate flawed texts such as one that caused F. O. Matthiessen, the mid-twentieth-century literary critic, to misinterpret a passage in Moby-Dick that had been misprinted. Wilson lost and the CEAA won.

Because Penguin reprints the NN text, some problems arise. For example, in a key passage near the end of chapter 114, which lyrically brings certitude into question — a facet of the book that has long drawn Philbrick’s enthusiasm — Melville has Ishmael philosophize on humanity’s life cycle: “There is no unretracing progress in this life; we do not advance through fixed gradations, and at the last one pause:—through infancy’s unconscious spell, boyhood’s thoughtless faith, adolescence’s doubt (the common doom), then skepticism, then disbelief, resting at last in manhood’s pondering repose of If. But once gone through, F A L L

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we trace the round again, and are infants, boys, and men, and Ifs eternally.” Although these words were Ishmael’s in the first English and American editions (Melville proofread the latter), the mischievous NN editors placed quotation marks around the passage, thus attributing or assigning it to Captain Ahab. However typically the words express Ishmael’s thoughts on epistemology—I can think of few figures in fact or fiction less hospitable to “Ifness” than the monomaniacal captain. The editors’ dubious reason for the change is “the structure of the chapter” and contradicts the judgment of Hayford and Hershel Parker (two of the NN editors) in their Norton Critical edition, in print since 1967; there, although they were tempted, they inserted no quotation marks. So Edmund Wilson was right to a degree. But readers of the Penguin editions—and other reprints of the NN text—would not even know of the problem unless they consulted the source. Frankly, although I have served on the NN editorial board since 1987, on an issue such as this, whatever the virtues of modern textual editing, I prefer going with the American first edition’s authority. It provided the copytext for NN. By the way, the American first, the title page of which is reproduced in this Penguin printing, was set by one of the most skilled of New York’s printers in the period, Robert Craighead. He was so reliable that many mid-century professionals gave him almost total authority to produce error-free work, and these included Melville’s friend and mentor Evert Duyckinck.

All this aside, Philbrick and Penguin have done the reading public a service by offering this edition of Moby-Dick. May it help Melville retain his place among established American authors and, more important, may Moby-Dick be read by present and future generations and hold (may it never come to “take”) its rightful place in the galaxy of great American literary artifacts.

Donald Yannella’s most recent book was Herman Melville’s Malcolm Letter (1992); his New Essays on Billy Budd will appear in the spring from Cambridge University Press. He served the Melville Society as an officer for seventeen years, including fifteen as

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editor of its quarterly “Extracts.” Yannella is Professor Emeritus of English at Rowan University and resides south southwest of Nantucket with his wife and sailboat on the Jersey Shore, at Manahawkin.

Moby Dick Story adaptation by Steve Urbon and Lew Sayre Schwartz. Illustrated by Richard Giordano Publisher: City of New Bedford, Massachusetts $12.95, paperback Review by Sandy Mitchell BEDFORD’S “UNIQUE ADAPTATION” OF Moby-Dick is a comic book format full of the adventure and drama of the original tale. Certain intermediate readers may turn to this when the book version retold by Geraldine McCaughrean is too daunting and the charming picture-book adaptation by Allan Drummond, which is the favored version of youngsters at the Nantucket Atheneum, is well memorized. While the sequence of some of the boxed text is unclear due to indistinct markings, the action will appeal visually to some. Careful readers may be confused by the voyage portrayed on the map offered at the outset of Ahab’s journey, which shows the Pequod farther along than the more detailed map displayed when the ship has traveled for some time.

Nantucketers will surely be dismayed by the false skyline attributed to their home port.

If this were truly a children’s book, then terms such as gam and St. Elmo’s fire would be more clearly defined within the story. The question remains as to why the book is rewritten at this level. Will the specific audience targeted be inclined to seek out Melville’s original? If not, will they understand the intent of the story? The best use of this book will be the information about Melville himself and whaling history in general, for those who know little about either. But save the story of MobyDick for more sophisticated readers who can fully appreciate the complexity of the tale.

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Sandy Mitchell, a reading specialist, has taught reading on Nantucket for fourteen years and works at the Atheneum’s Weezie Children’s Library.

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Celebrating Fifteen Years of Collecting Nantucket Art and History A Windsor chair made on Nantucket in 1799; a silver pocket watch made for Peter Hussey in 1818; a scrimshawed whale’s tooth carved aboard a Nantucket whaleship by William Burdett; an Eastman Johnson painting of the old Round Top windmill, completed in 1873, the same year it was torn down.

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HESE ARE JUST SOME OF THE REMARKABLE

artifacts that have entered the collections of the Nantucket Historical Association during the last fifteen years through the generosity of the Friends of the Nantucket Historical Association. Formed in 1986, this group was founded to seek significant acquisitions for the collections of the NHA. With their support, the NHA has been able to acquire a variety of art works and artifacts — nearly seventy objects thus far — that the organization otherwise would not have been able to secure. The collecting activity of the Friends of the NHA has ensured that important artifacts have stayed on or returned to Nantucket so that they might be better preserved and shared with future generations.

In addition to collecting objects, the Friends of the NHA have helped to support other projects. The group was instrumental in the construction of the Association’s Gosnold Center, the collection storage facility, as well as in restoration of the parlor in the Hadwen House and the conservation of numerous

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artifacts. Throughout, the Friends have graciously lent their assistance to improving the collections of the NHA and the manner in which they are cared for and displayed.

The NHA is grateful to the Friends for their many contributions and celebrates their first fifteen years.

The NHA’s collections are stronger, more diverse, and far more representative of the island’s fascinating history and material culture as a result of their efforts.

Sankaty Lighthouse, 1895 W. Ferdinand Macy (1852–1901) Oil on canvas William Ferdinand Macy was born in New Bedford and was a descendant of Thomas Macy, one of Nantucket’s first settlers. Macy studied art in New York City and eventually submitted several landscape paintings to the National Academy of Design’s annual exhibitions. In 1878, Macy and his wife, Fannie, set up a studio on Pleasant Street in Nantucket. As artists, they were inspired by the beautiful scenery of the island and painted numerous landscapes and floral studies. It is known that Macy completed at least three views of the picturesque Sankaty Head lighthouse— this one, done in muted colors reflecting the moors and an overcast sky (offset by the famous bright red stripe on the lighthouse), was perhaps his last.

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by Niles Parker

W. Ferdinand Macy’s Sankaty Lighthouse, 1895; Portraits of Peter and Mary Cartwright Ewer, 1828 Attributed to William Swain (1803–1847)

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Portraits of Peter and Mary Cartwright Ewer, 1828 Attributed to William Swain (1803–1847) Oil on canvas Peter Ewer was born on Nantucket into a prosperous whaling family. In 1829 he founded a whaling and shipping firm, Peter Ewer and Company. An inventor and entrepreneur, Ewer eventually developed the “camels,” or floating drydocks, that were designed to help large ships return over the sand bar into Nantucket Harbor in the early- to mid-nineteenth century. Aside from providing physical evidence of Peter and Mary Ewer, these portraits are outstanding examples of Swain’s work as a portrait painter on Nantucket.

Brace-back Windsor armchair, ca. 1799 Made by Frederick Slade Nantucket This important chair reveals stylistic details, including spooled, cylindrical posts and large scrolled crests that have been linked to a few specific furniture makers on Nantucket Island in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Frederick Slade, who was born on the island in 1777, is the best known among these. Frederick, who was probably twenty-two when he made this chair, was the son of Benjamin Slade, another chairmaker on the island. This chair, which retains some of its original paint, was purchased at auction by the Friends in 1999 and subsequently exhibited at the January 2000 Winter Antiques Show in New York City.

Silver porringer, ca. 1800 Made by Benjamin Bunker (1751–1842), Nantucket Whaling provided a significant level of wealth for many Nantucket families in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Although the predominant Quaker values of plainness and modesty discouraged the display of expensive items and fancy clothing, the use of silver was one exception. Many Nantucketers did acquire and use fine pieces of silverware. This beautiful porringer is a wonderful example. Made by Benjamin Bunker, Nantucket’s first native-born silversmith, this porringer is a classic reflection of Bunker’s excellent craftsmanship near the middle of his career.

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Artist and Model in the Studio, ca. 1890 Elizabeth Rebecca Coffin (1850–1930) Oil on canvas A descendant of a Nantucket family, Elizabeth Rebecca Coffin attended Vassar College and studied under Maria Mitchell. Pursuing painting as a career, Coffin received numerous accolades and joined an elite circle of accomplished American women artists in the late nineteenth century.

Coffin trained at the Hague in the Netherlands, a rare achievement for a woman at the time, and was close friends with artists Thomas Eakins and William Merritt Chase. Later in life, Coffin moved to Nantucket and painted numerous island scenes. Purchased by the Friends in 1998, this painting is a wonderful example of Coffin’s work. It was on display in 2001 at the Coffin School as part of Margaret Moore Booker’s exhibition, Nantucket Spirit: The Art and Life of Elizabeth Rebecca Coffin.

Artist and Model in the Studio, ca. 1890 Elizabeth Rebecca Coffin.

Slade Brace-back Windsor armchair, ca. 1799

In the Fields, ca. 1879 Eastman Johnson (1824–1906) Oil on panel This painting is one of several studies Johnson completed in preparation for his 1880 masterpiece, The Cranberry Harvest, Island of Nantucket. Johnson was fascinated with Nantucket Island, particularly its inhabitants and their customs. Beginning in 1870, Johnson maintained a studio on the Cliff, where he spent every summer painting. His efforts at recording the cranberry harvest — an important annual fall event on the island — reveal his deep interest in the subject matter. This sketch, acquired by the Friends in 1998, is a major addition to the NHA’s holdings of Johnson’s work. It is critical toward gaining a better understanding of the artist’s compositional techniques and his use of color and form in depicting figures in a landscape. It also beautifully captures an element of Nantucket’s agricultural past that has since faded from view.

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Historic Nantucket Book Section Nantucket Spirit: The Art and Life of Elizabeth Rebecca Coffin

by Margaret Moore Booker Mill Hill Press Hard cover, $39.95

HE WAS NOT A NATIVE NANTUCKETER .

What? A Coffin not a native and worth writing about? Eight generations removed from Tristram and Dionis, Elizabeth Rebecca Coffin—Lizzie to her family and friends—was born in 1850 in Brooklyn, New York, whence her parents Andrew and Elizabeth had removed after living as a Quaker family on Nantucket. Andrew, a licensed pharmacist, established a wholesale drug business, which prospered—especially after the family spent a brief period in California cashing in on the successes experienced during the gold rush.

When Lizzie was five years old her mother died and the little girl was sent back east to live with an aunt and uncle, but she was soon to be reunited with her father, who had married again and settled into the newly developed, exclusive enclave of Brooklyn Heights. There, Lizzie would spend her youth, attending the Friends Academy in lower Manhattan—a school that printed in its 1864 catalogue: “Girls, do not believe that you were created for nothing but to play, dance, sing, read novels and flirt. . . . Cultivate your intellect and your heart, and prove to the world that ‘all men and women are created equal.’” Elizabeth Rebecca Coffin obviously took the admonition to heart, for she excelled in her studies and on graduation (at the age of 15) enrolled at Vassar College, pursuing courses in the fine arts, which would be the focus of her life from then on. Lizzie had been encouraged to apply to Vassar by a cousin of some degree from Nantucket — Maria Mitchell, who was her mentor at Vassar and remained a life-long friend.

After the ravages of the Civil War were past and transatlantic travel was fast and feasible, wealthy Americans began to make the Grand Tour, and there went Lizzie, en famille, in 1867 during her summer

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break. In Paris she would see not only the Old Masters but for the first time contemporary artists—the likes of Rousseau, Millet, and Corot—who were setting the art world on its ear, and greatly impressing the seventeenyear-old budding painter. Later, Berthe Morisot and Mary Cassatt would join that pantheon.

From Vassar to the Hague Art Academy to the Art Students League, Coffin continued her studies and eventually would receive from Vassar the first master of fine arts degree to be awarded in the United States.

In the 1880s and ’90s, Elizabeth Coffin’s base was the family homestead in Brooklyn, which offered a rich cultural ambience for the young artist. It was at the Brooklyn Art Association that she met and studied with “the person who became a lifelong friend and whose style of painting had an enormous impact upon her art”—Thomas Eakins, whose portrait of a mature Coffin we are privileged to view on the wall of the Coffin School here on Winter Street.

Coffin always cherished her Nantucket heritage, visiting often and finally claiming it as her home. From the turn of the century until her death in 1930, she was here, painting still, but wholeheartedly engaged in philanthropic endeavors. She was a founding member of the Nantucket Civic League, but her special concern was for the children of Nantucket.

She was instrumental in reopening the Coffin School, which had fallen on hard times, and was personally responsible for its conversion to an institution that promoted mastery of the manual arts— for both girls and boys—as a means of expressing creativity in the production of useful objects.

Margaret Moore Booker has spun out the life of this accomplished, energetic, and entirely admirable woman with deft threads of scholarship entwined with affection and respect. And Claire O’Keeffe has designed a beautiful book, showcasing the art of Elizabeth Coffin in a rich display of both black-and-white and full-color reproductions.

Reviews by Elizabeth Oldham

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Wildflowers of Nantucket Peter W. Dunwiddie.

Illustrated by M. J. Levy Dickson.

Nantucket Garden Club. Paperback, $15.75.

REEPING C HARLIE AND Bouncing Bet. Goat’s Rue and Marsh Skullcap. Nodding Ladies’-tresses and Pussytoes. And beware the Bastard Toadflax!

Just the recitation of these names gives great pleasure. But how much more gratifying it is to have in hand (and it really does fit in your hand) this wonderful field guide to the wildflowers of Nantucket, and how grateful we are to the Nantucket Garden Club for publishing it.

Peter Dunwiddie lived on Nantucket for several years, working as plant ecologist for the Massachusetts Audubon Society and gathering information on the composition and history of Nantucket’s flora. In this book he describes the most common of the island’s wildflowers, arranging them in groups according to habitat and flower color. Out on the heaths or near a wetland, you can whip out the guide and identify, for instance, that Striped Pipsissewa you’re unknowingly gazing upon.

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The descriptions are written in the charming, somewhat arcane language of the scientist—precise but evocative, so when you see “elongated bulblets in their axils” or a “spurred sack and a spotted face,” you can declare “Aha! That’s the Great Bladderwort I see before me,” or whatever it is you’ve stumbled on.

And, oh, the illustrations! Previously published guides—such as Alice Albertson’s Nantucket Wild Flowers, published in 1921 and reprinted once but long out of print, illustrated mainly in black-and-white with only a few color plates. But every page of description in this book carries a beautifully rendered watercolor painting by island artist M. J. Levy Dickson. Her meticulous attention to the features of even the lowliest of plants — the Perennial Saltwort of the Goosefoot Family, for example —can be contrasted with the fulsome, vivid drawing of the Saltspray Rose or the exotic Pitcher Plant. For the pictures alone, leafing through the guide is an aesthetic experience. A treat for nature buffs and art lovers alike.

Praise to the Nantucket Garden Club and the sponsors of this book, more so because any profits from its sale will be used to support conservation projects on the island. It is truly a gift.

Elizabeth Oldham is research associate in the Nantucket Historical Association’s Research Library.

She is also a free-lance copy editor and writer.

BOOK WISH LIST THANKS NHA WOULD LIKE TO THANK all those who responded to the Book Wish List included in the last issue of Historic Nantucket. In no time, all of the books were purchased and can now be found in the Research Library. Following is a list of the titles and the names of the people who donated the funds.

Window on the Past: Four Centuries of New England Homes, by Jane C. Nylander, Diane Viera, and Wendall Garrett; given by Yvonne Pimental.

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Materials & Techniques in the Decorative Arts: An Illustrated Dictionary, given by Ellen Goldberg.

O’ahu Cemetery: Burial Ground and Historic Site, by Nanette Napolean Purnell; given by Ellen Goldberg.

The Victorian Homefront: American Thought and Culture, 1860–1880, by Louise L. Stevenson; given by Ellen Goldberg.

Power and Prestige: The Arts of Island Melanesia and the Polynesian Outliers,

text by Norman Hurst; given by Yvonne Pimental.

Descendants of David Coltrane & James Frazier of North Carolina, compiled by Robert H. Frazier; given by Leslie Mope.

Walking in the Way of Peace: Quaker Pacificism in the Seventeenth Century,

by Meredith Weddle; given by Yvonne Pimental.

Costume Close Up: Pattern & Construction of Antique Clothing, 1750–1790, by Linda Baumgarten; given by Elton Irby Burch.

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Annual Meeting Report The Nantucket Historical Association held its 107th annual meeting on Friday, July 6, in the Hadwen House garden. With a focus on the Dunlap Broadside on loan for exhibition at the Peter Foulger Museum, the speaker was Pauline Maier, professor of American History at MIT and author of American Scripture: Making the Declaration of Independence.

Professor Maier spoke enthusiastically about the origins of the unforgettable text. For her rapt audience, she brought to life the authors of the Declaration, informing us of the roles played by Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, John Hancock, John Adams, and others. She identified the timing of the printing and the significance of the Dunlap Broadsides and led us to imagine the impact of hearing the words read in state houses, in churches, and on battlefields in 1776. It was a fascinating talk and a grand kick-off for the exhibition, Nantucket and the Declaration of Independence.

Nominating committee chair Marcia Welch placed the following names in nomination for the class of 2005: Nancy A. Chase, Joseph S. DiMartino, Alice F. Emerson, Barbara E. Hajim, Jane T. Lamb, and Robert A. Young. Elected to one-year terms were Carolyn B. MacKenzie, president of the Friends of the NHA, and Prudence S. Crozier, Friends of the NHA. The NHA also recognized two members who have completed their terms: Stephen Rales and former clerk Ginger Heard were thanked for their dedication and service. In addition, shop manager Georgina Winton read a citation commending Ginger’s many hours of work on behalf of the Museum Shop.

Following the meeting, members gathered for a reception organized by Sissy Jones, who was assisted by many trustees, friends, and family members, including her husband and her grandson.

Antiques Show News The twenty-fourth August Antiques Show truly was a star-spangled event. In celebration of the Nantucket Historical Association’s loan exhibition of a rare 1776 broadside of the Declaration of Independence, the Nantucket High School was festooned in red, white, H I S T O R I C

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and blue to create the right setting for the thirty-eight dealers in this nationally recognized show. The Declaration was the centerpiece and true inspiration for the entire show.

As chair of this exciting summer event, I was privileged to work with a volunteer committee of highly energetic, creative, and dedicated people from all over the United States. Now it is my pleasure to publicly thank the committee chairs who made the show such a resounding success; before I do, I want to acknowledge the special role played by the Antiques Council, especially Victor Weinblatt, our show liaison. In addition to helping out on site, Victor made sure that the integrity of the show was maintained right from the start. My gratitude to Nancee Erikson and Barbara Halsted and their committee for making sure that each and every dealer knew how much we appreciate them.

Every chair of the NHA Antiques Show has the benefit of the considerable experience and wisdom that comes from earlier chairs, formally called the Chair Council.

What an amazing group of women—always available to brainstorm new strategies and ideas. They were an invaluable resource to me.

The Friends of the Nantucket Historical Association, sponsor of the annual lecture, gave us all a special treat by enticing Leigh and Leslie Keno to come and talk about their quest for American furniture. Close to 400 people attended this event in the historic Methodist Church on Centre Street and helped us launch the Antiques Show week. Special thanks to Carolyn MacKenzie, president, and to Heidi Berry for making the arrangements and hosting the Keno brothers in her home.

The show opened with a splendid Preview Party at the Nantucket High School with over 500 guests attending. Rhonda Cassity and Pat Griffin thought of every detail to make the evening run smoothly and be fun for all those who attended.

The high school was transformed by the many volunteers who worked under the creative direction of Mellie Cooper and Lois Horgan. Their attention to detail made the show the best ever. They transformed the high school

Clockwise from top: Pauline Maier and her husband Charles; Sissy Jones with husband Raymond and their helpers; Ginger Heard accepts a gift from Museum Shop manager Georgina Winton.

Below: Antiques Show chair Melanie Sabelhaus with Pat Griffin and Rhonda Cassity

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NHA executive director Frank Milligan with wife Christine Hart, Robert S. Devens, Randy Kinard, and Peter Gambee of JPMorgan Private Bank and Melanie Sabelhaus.

Below from left: Carolyn Mackenzie and Heidi Berry; Lynn Steinfurth; Jay Bauer of Trianon/ Seaman Schepps and wife Binnie; Firemen’s Fund reps Bruce Perkins, Marie Felice Cunninghan, Sue Weber, and Carmel Faugi. Photographs by Jeffrey S. Allen.

Opposite from left to right: collections manager Tony Dumitru, properties assistant Scott Waldie, and Capital

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into a celebration of the founding fathers and authors of the Declaration of Independence. Simply fabulous, Lois and Mellie. Thank you.

My appreciation to Vanessa Diserio, associate chair, who invited a number of collectors and antiques experts to take small groups through the show and to answer all manner of questions during the Collectors Tour. Susan Zises Green, a collector, spoke during breakfast about her collecting experiences. Running concurrently was a children’s program where youngsters could learn and practice calligraphy with quills and ink.

The Collectors Booth has become a strong tradition of the show. With Sheila Sullivan and Ann Nussbaum as cochairs, along with many loyal, practical friends and neighbors, the booth set a new record for the quality of merchandise and over-all sales revenue.

Each year great excitement builds over the raffle and who will be the lucky winners of eleven raffle prizes generously donated by Nantucket businesses.

Clement Durkes and Anne Obrecht brought a fresh perspective and new ideas to this annual activity.

Thank you, Clement and Anne.

Before the show opened many mundane and timeconsuming tasks were completed by energetic volunteers who rolled up their sleeves and went to work.

Throughout the show the volunteer committee was on hand greeting visitors and selling raffle tickets. Kudos to Maggie Benedict and Louise Connell, who did a great job making sure that we had all the people power we needed. Thank you one and all, and special thanks to Nancy Peacock who organized the Preview Party tote bags for her eleventh year.

Nancy Thomas accepted the assignment of publicizing the Antiques Show. She worked closely with the NHA staff to think about new ways to increase public awareness of the show and special events that surround it.

The events concluded with the Patron Cocktail Party held on the grounds of John and Polly Espy’s elegant New Dollar Lane home. What a joy it was for the committee to welcome all those who had given generously to support the show and to be on hand for the first-ever live auction of “Things Money Cannot Buy.” My thanks to all those who made the auction possible through their gifts and to those who bid on and bought the unique opportunities.

Later in the evening we all marveled at the work of Lynne Steinfurth and her committee to organize the Founders and Benefactors Dinner on the NHA’s Eleanor Ham Pony Field, hosted, for the third year, by Trianon/Seaman Schepps. Jay Bauer, owner, extended a gracious welcome and promised to be our host again in 2002.

While everyone who worked on this event is vitally important, I also want to extend a special thank you to our corporate partners. JPMorgan Private Bank was, for the tenth year, the title sponsor. They, along with fifteen other corporations and businesses, helped to offset the fixed costs for this show. New this year was a special corporate luncheon, hosted by Bob and Mia Matthews, to show the association’s special appreciation for these important people. Marybeth Keene and her committee worked tirelessly to organize the underwriting effort—so essential to the show’s success.

It was a great year, but only because you, the members and supporters, gave generously to ensure the financial success of this annual fund-raiser. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to serve the Nantucket Historical Association as the show’s chair.

It’s an experience I’ll never forget.

— Melanie Sabelhaus, chair 24th August Antiques Show

Campaign associate Cristin Merck

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Staff News This past summer the NHA bid farewell to four longtime and talented staff members. Jeremy Slavitz has joined the staff of the Nantucket High School. He had been with the NHA for almost ten years, starting as an interpreter and most recently serving as the public programs coordinator. Betsy Lowenstein left the NHA Research Library after five years to become chief of special collections at the Massachusetts State Library located in the State House on Beacon Hill. Aimee Newell, formerly the NHA’s curator of collections, is now curator of textiles and fine arts at Old Sturbridge Village in Sturbridge, Massachusetts. After almost three years, properties manager Jeff Pollock left the NHA for self-employment, specializing in restoration carpentry. “We are enormously proud of all that Jeremy, Betsy, Aimee, and Jeff accomplished at the NHA. We wish each of them well in their new pursuits,” said executive director Frank Milligan. The NHA is currently recruiting for several positions including education and public programs coordinator and archivist/library director.

Cristin Merck, the newest member of the NHA staff, is working as capital campaign associate.

Previously, she worked with Tufts University School of Veterinary Medicine for thirteen years where she was director of the Tufts University Veterinary Fund and alumni relations. Cristin is particularly pleased to be working on Nantucket since she will be closer to her sister, Loren Jeffery, and their parents, Edith and Norman Delker of ’Sconset.

After a busy and successful summer as curatorial intern, Tony Dumitru has joined the NHA staff on a permanent basis. As collections manager, Tony oversees the care and management of the NHA’s artifacts stored at the Bartholomew Gosnold Support Center. Originally from Transylvania, Romania, Tony is finishing his final course work at the Cooperstown Graduate Program in Museum Studies and was previously a curator at the ASTRA Museum—an outdoor museum located in Sibiu, Romania.

Scott Waldie joined the NHA as maintenance assistant in July. He brings to the NHA a range of property-related experience including skills in gardening and landscaping. He has lived on the island since 1978 and for the past thirteen years worked at the Nantucket post office. He is also an avid genealogist, dating his Nantucket roots back to eighteenthcentury Tuckernuck.

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PROSPECT HILL October 8, 1987 An expansive green knoll bounded by a wooden fence: Born on . . .

Died on . . .

Widow of . . .

Slabs of gleaming granite, blocks of weathered stone: Hathaway . . .

Starbuck . . .

Folger . . .

A narrow dirt road rises up the gentle hill: Aged 72 years 11 months . . .

Aged 12 years 8 ms 5 ds . . .

Aged 57 years 7 months . . .

Plots of tended grass, some with markers: Grand Army of the Republic . . .

Firemen’s Association . . .

U.S. Coast Guard . . .

A faded flag flutters from a single pole: Blessed be . . .

Until we meet again . . .

One of nature’s noblemen . . .

Is there beyond the silent day an endless day? . . .

JEAN BOUTYETTE (1922–2001) Jean Boutyette was for several years a volunteer in the NHA Research Library. He was especially helpful in organizing and indexing the library’s collection of original research papers.

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NANTUCKET Published quarterly by the Nantucket Historical Association 15 Broad Street / P.O. Box 1016 Nantucket, Massachusetts 02554 © NHA 2001 ISSN 0439-2248 USPS 246460

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