The Working Waterfront - August 2023

Machias is on the move

Cooperation, optimism accompany recent growth

BY SARAH CRAIGHEAD DEDMON

PHOTOS BY LESLIE BOWMAN

If you ask Bill Kitchen what’s going well in Machias, you’ll need to sit back because you’ll be listening for a while. Kitchen is a passionate booster for the shire town of Washington County. In fact, five years ago, during his campaign for a seat on board of selectmen, Kitchen penned an op-ed titled, “What’s Right with Machias.”

He won in a landslide, and he hasn’t changed his position yet.

“I knew it had become fashionable to say how downtrodden and poor we are in Machias, and once you slip into that, it’s very hard to get out of,” says Kitchen, who for two years has served as Machias town manager. “The point of that letter was to say, look, most of the pieces are already in place.”

Those pieces include what Kitchen calls the town’s “signature assets,” like the Machias Dike, where vendors set up impromptu flea markets along Route 1, and Bad Little Falls Park, which wraps around twin waterfalls in the center of town, and the Machias Wild Blueberry Festival, now in its 46th year and set for Aug. 18-20.

They also include key infrastructure, like the expanding Machias airport, where planning is underway to construct a longer runway, as well as Down East Community Hospital, and the University of Maine at Machias, standing high on College Hill since 1909.

Even with these assets, Kitchen acknowledges that by another measure, Machias is a poor town. In fact, according to the latest five-year data from American Community Survey, it’s the poorest town in Maine, with an average median income hovering just above

Battle over working waterfront on Orr’s Island

Lawsuit pits privately owned parcel's owners against each other

BY J. CRAIG ANDERSON

The numerous co-owners of a sliver of working waterfront on Orr’s Island, which has been treated as a public amenity for generations, may have to sell their shares soon if one of them prevails in court.

A lawsuit filed by part-owner John E. “Jack” Sylvester Jr. that seeks to force a sale of the property appears headed for trial later this year, following a failed attempt to resolve the dispute through mediation.

Sylvester, of Orr’s Island, wants to become the site’s sole owner, according

CAR-RT SORT POSTAL CUSTOMER

to court documents. Nearby residents say they fear such a result would mean the end of public access for storage of fishing gear, as well as swimming, recreational fishing, picnics on the beach, and other longtime community uses for the property.

“It’s been a place of solitude and joy, and this stands to be taken completely away,” said Orr’s Island resident Penny Wilson, who said her family and several others have used the site for decades. “He [Sylvester] will gate that off, and he will not allow people on there.”

Sylvester is asking the court to force … co-owners to sell their shares to him, arguing the property is

The property, known as Barleyfield Point, is fractionally owned by at least 16 people, including Sylvester, according to a lawsuit filed in spring 2022 in Cumberland County Superior Court and later transferred to the Maine Business and Consumer Court.

The site is described in Sylvester’s lawsuit as a “narrow, rocky, mostly tidal projection into Lowell’s Cove” that was conveyed by its original owners to 12 local residents in the late 1800s.

The original owners, Fidelia Prince and Alice G. Robinson, sold the property in 1891 to members of four families living close to Barleyfield Point, the lawsuit says.

Sylvester declined to be interviewed, citing the ongoing legal dispute. All of the named defendants, through their attorneys, also declined interviews. continued on page 7

The Laura B of Monhegan Boat Lines marks its 80th anniversary this year. For more photos of this storied vessel, still very much an active player in islander lives, see the

photo essay on pages 14-15.

PHOTO: JACK SULLIVAN continued on page 2

“unmanaged, unsecured, and in deteriorating condition.”

LAURA B GOOD—

$20,000 a year, compared to almost $65,000 statewide. At least in part, Machias’ low number is explained by the concentration of low-income housing units located near the services it offers.

But no matter the reason, it’s a number that motivates Kitchen. Working in his office just a stone’s throw from the Middle and Machias rivers, he waves his arm across a map of Machias, the smallest town in Washington County, and lays out the question he’s always working to answer—how can he create a more vibrant Machias without raising taxes?

“Here we are, the service center of this county that is bigger than some states, and yet we’ve only got 14.8 square miles to work with. And a lot of that is already in use by entities that pay little or no taxes,” Kitchen says. “There are very limited amounts of space in which to build, assuming you have people that want to build here.”

Chris Meroff wants to build in Machias. He fell in love with the area in the late 1990s while visiting with his grandparents. For years now, he’s made his home here for five months of the year, spending the rest of his time in Austin, Texas, running his 30-plus businesses and venture capital firm.

But one day, Meroff and his wife would like to retire to Machias. Before they can, he says, he has some investments to make, and his end goal is nothing short of “flipping Machias.”

“I love the people, I love the land, and I love the scenery, and we want to put our money to work here,” says Meroff. “I have flipped homes, I have flipped businesses, and now for me, it’s time to flip Main Street.”

The Meroffs’ investments in Machias are already almost too numerous to count and still growing. Four years ago, they started work on a 65-acre farm in the rural Kennebec District, where today they operate the Coffee + Crisp Cafe at West Branch Farm, overlooking the West Branch of the tidal Kennebec River and acres of blueberry barrens. Below it sprawls a large white tent, which will host multiple weddings this summer, until it is replaced by a two-story event venue modeled on a 1925 chicken barn.

A you-pick apple orchard is planted, an enormous catering kitchen is under construction now, minicattle and ducks are en route for the petting zoo, and a master organic gardener has been retained to oversee next year’s gardens, which will supply all of it, including a mercantile establishment for shoppers, with food.

To say nothing of Meroff’s near-term plans for a drive-through coffee shop, a large Machias lumber mill, or the creation of a global lifestyle brand, Maine Woods Outfitters, planned for another retail location in Machias and, quite possibly, to be the subject of a reality TV show.

“Machias’ downtown is why I’m doing this,” says Meroff. “We’ve seen this work in rural towns in Texas that have the same isolation issues, but they don’t have bones like Machias.”

Valdine Atwood, widely acknowledged as the unofficial town historian of Machias, knows everything about its good bones.

Fittingly, her home stands downtown near Machias’ best-known historic site, the Burnham Tavern, where in 1775 local patriots hatched plans to capture a British warship and its crew. They succeeded, and the Battle of the Margaretta is now celebrated as the first naval battle of the American Revolution. Every

June, the Machias Historical Society sponsors the Margaretta Days Festival and Craft Fair, complete with reenactments of the famous battle.

When she and her family moved to Machias in 1962, Atwood recalls large numbers of retail shops lining Main Street, including two dress shops and two shoe stores, plus the local bureau of the Bangor Daily News, where she and six others reported the news from Washington County.

“You did not have to leave Machias at all to get what you needed,” Atwood recalls. “At one time, there were five car dealerships in Machias.”

David Whitney agrees that, like almost everywhere, today there is less retail on Main Street, but says there is also growth happening here. And Whitney has a lengthy perspective. His family moved Downeast in the 1700s, and his grandparents and his father operated one of the car dealerships at the base of College Hill.

Today he runs Whitney’s Tri-Town Marine in the same location, selling boats and, more recently, lots of ATVs, including the Argo line, which features a popular amphibious model.

“We’ve added this Argo dealership, and we are hovering between fourth and fifth in volume across North America out of 300 dealerships,” Whitney says. “And we’ve been at it for less than a year.”

Some of those sales are to locals, but many are not. That’s a model Whitney and many other local business owners aim for because it brings in outside money and employs local people.

“Most of the revenues that we generate in all of my companies come from outside Washington County,” says Whitney, who also owns Machias Glassworks, Downeast Packaging Solutions, and Whitney Wreath, a large balsam wreath company which enabled him to move home from Boston for good, in his early 20s.

MACHIAS continued from page 1

Bill Kitchen is Machias’ town manager.

“I love the people, I love the land, and I love the scenery, and we want to put our money to work here.”

—Chris Meroff

Allison and Ben Edwards and their daughter Beverly, owners of Schoppee Farm.

“And since that time, I have struggled happily. And the struggles are real, and they are continual, and they are many,” says Whitney. “But first and foremost, my entrepreneurial attitude has always been one of optimism. I’ve listened to local pessimistic viewpoints, and I’ll have nothing of it.”

Whitney’s optimistic outlook and diversified business strategy are shared by many investing time and money in Machias today, like Sandi Malagara and her husband Ryan, who moved here from Connecticut almost 20 years ago. They run multiple businesses from Crows Nest Shops on Dublin Street, including a gift shop, Expressions Floral, a gourmet bakery, an electronics store, a shipping outlet, and the headquarters for Ryan’s drone videography business, Drones Eye View, in steady demand by Maine realtors.

“Right from the beginning, we’ve looked around to see what was missing. We asked, ‘What can’t we get here?’” Malagara recalls. “And then we would fill that need. Then once we’d gotten that piece established, we’d say, ‘What else?’”

This year, the Malagaras have added ATV rental to their business list, including an Argo they purchased from Whitney’s Tri-Town. They join another new business, Downeast Adventures, which this spring opened an ATV rental company to cater to a growing sector interested in the Downeast Sunrise Trail, an 87-mile multi-use offroad trail that carries walkers, bikers, and ATV riders from Ellsworth to Calais, by way of downtown Machias. The trail was at the center of June’s Machias ATV Jamboree.

Diversification was also on Ben Edwards’ mind when, in 2019, he decided to start a business on his family’s 200-year-old Machias farm, Schoppee Farm. Visiting from England, where he worked, Edwards met and fell in love with his now-wife, Allison, and knew he wanted to make his living in Machias in a way that might help the region, too.

“I’ve always been concerned about Machias’ primary revenuegenerating industries, like blueberries and lobsters. We have no control over pricing, no manufacturing, and we take the smallest piece of the pie,” says Edwards. “I knew I wanted to form a primary industry that generated revenue from outside Downeast Maine, and the farm seemed like my platform to do that.”

Today the Edwards have diversified Machias’ business portfolio with their organic line of CBD oil products grown and manufactured on the farm. But a few close calls with state hemp legislation showed Edwards they needed to diversify their own offerings, too.

“I had been looking for other business opportunities because I realized how fragile my position was. An act of the legislature could put us out of business,” Ben recalls. “That’s what led me to purchase the elderberry business last summer.”

Now, as owners of Seattle Elderberry, Schoppee Farm manufactures its products, too, sourcing organic elderberries from other Maine farmers while they work toward growing their own. But they’re not stopping there. This summer, in the farm’s original milking shed, they’ll open a cafe, including a French-inspired bakery, enlisting the talents of Chef Ross Florance.

“One of the things I thought I was giving up when I moved here was a cafe,” says Edwards, who recently sat down with Meroff to share ideas. “The overall attitude of collaboration in Machias is entirely different from what I remember as a child, and I think it looks better than I have ever seen it. That might be in contrast to things looking relatively dire, but I think what Bill [Kitchen] and some of the other local people have done has not only turned things around but really built some momentum for Machias.”

In June, Edwards was elected to the Machias Board of Selectmen, where he joins another local son who moved home to invest in Machias. Selectman Jake Patryn works as director of operations for Acadian Seaplants and, together with his fiancée Morgan-Lea Fogg, farms sugar kelp and manufactures a line of kelp products under the brand Nautical Farms.

“When we showed up saying we were going to start a seaweed farm, people thought we were insane. But

now there’s a growing interest, which is exciting,” says Fogg. “There’s a need to figure out how to continue our working waterfront that doesn’t rely on only one product.”

In June, Patryn and Fogg opened their first storefront stocking Nautical Farms’ line of kelp-based food and bath products, as well as books and other seaweed-related gifts.

For Patryn, doubling down on Machias was an easy decision.

“Machias has always been a part of me. I knew I didn’t want to leave again, so I started to think, how can I get more involved?” Patryn says, recalling what led him to run for selectman. “A big part of it is Bill Kitchen. I have a lot of respect for Bill, and as a leader, he really makes me want to be there beside him and help in any way that I can.”

Kitchen, whose background is not in municipal management but corporate and brand strategy, says he thinks of himself as Machias’ cheerleader, facilitator, and expediter rolled into one.

“It’s my job to get everybody to believe to a point where they are willing to invest their money and their time because it takes both,” he says. “Nobody wants to rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic. I think that for a long time, people felt this was a listing ship, and that’s changed. I think we have reached a point of critical mass.”

John Martin, Bud Staples, and Elsie Gillespie chat around the woodstove at the annual town meeting.

Gerald “Punkin” Lemoine

Levi Moulden

Bud Staples

Sarah Dedmon is editor of the Machias Valley News Observer and a contributor to The Working Waterfront.

Jake Patryn, a selectman in town, works as director of operations for Acadian Seaplants and, together with his fiancée Morgan-Lea Fogg, farms sugar kelp.

“I’ve always been concerned about Machias’s primary revenuegenerating industries, like blueberries and lobsters. We have no control over pricing…”

—Ben Edwards

Feds ordered to re-work whale rules

Court sides with lobster industry advocates

IN A MAJOR victory for Maine’s lobster industry, a federal appeals court in June ordered the National Marine Fisheries Service (NMFS) to go back to the drawing board and re-work the most recent federal regulation to protect endangered North Atlantic right whales. In its decision, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit agreed with the plaintiffs, Maine Lobstermen’s Association, and plaintiff-intervenors the Maine Department of Marine Resources, the Maine Lobstering Union, and the Massachusetts Lobstermen’s Association, ruling that NMFS distorted the science driving the regulation, relying improperly on assumptions and worst-case scenarios when determining the risk posed by industry to right whales. The court’s decision allows the current regulation to remain in effect while NMFS develops a new rule and does not impact recent Congressional action to delay further rulemaking until 2028.

The court has also overturned the biological opinion in which NMFS analyzed the risk posed by the lobster and Jonah crab fisheries to right whales, requiring NMFS to develop a new one.

“Maine’s lobstermen and women have long demonstrated their commitment to maintaining and protecting a sustainable fishery in the Gulf of Maine,” the Maine congressional delegation and Gov. Janet Mills wrote in a statement responding to the news. “The decision vindicates what the Maine lobster fishery, and the countless communities that rely on it, knew all along—that their practices support the conservation of the gulf ecosystem for generations to come. We are pleased the court has acknowledged that the data set NOAA has been using to unfairly target Maine’s fishery is flawed.”

Feds provide Maine with broadband funds

THE MAINE Connectivity Authority was awarded $30 million in federal funding from the Middle Mile Broadband Infrastructure grant. This investment is funded by the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law and will support Maine’s strategic goal of providing universal broadband access throughout the state.

“As one of the most rural states in the nation, Maine will see immense benefits from expanding high-speed, affordable broadband access to all our people,” members of the state’s congressional delegation noted in a joint statement. “In the 21st-century economy, access to high-speed internet is absolutely essential to business development and job growth in rural areas, and it opens doors to new opportunities in telehealth and education.”

In securing the funding, “Maine is demonstrating its national leadership in the expansion of high-speed, reliable and affordable internet,” said Andrew Butcher, president of the Maine Connectivity Authority. “MOOSE Net will provide the connectivity infrastructure to enable the industries that power Maine—farming, fishing, forest products, and fun.”

The Bipartisan Infrastructure Law invests $65 billion to support broadband infrastructure nationwide, including $1 billion for the Middle Mile Broadband Infrastructure Grant Program administered by the National Telecommunications & Information Administration. The funding will support the construction, improvement, or acquisition of “middle mile” broadband infrastructure, which will help reduce the cost of connecting areas that are unserved or underserved to the internet backbone, and bridge gaps in the broadband network.

Sen. Susan Collins was part of the core group of ten senators who negotiated the text of the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. Collins and Senator Shaheen of New Hampshire spearheaded the broadband working group and co-authored the law’s provisions providing for $65 billion in broadband investment. This historic legislation is delivering billions of dollars to Maine for investments in broadband, roads, bridges, and more. As co-chairman of the bipartisan Senate Broadband Caucus, Sen. Angus King has been a strong advocate for expanding affordable broadband access as a way to increase economic opportunity in rural Maine.

King introduced the Middle Mile Broadband Deployment Act in 2021 that proposed creating a grant program to connect internet carriers to local networks in unserved and underserved communities.

The Bipartisan Infrastructure Law is expected to deliver approximately $2.5 billion to Maine over the next five years for critical broadband, transportation, energy, and environmental projects. In December 2022, Maine received $5.5 million to plan for the deployment and adoption of broadband service throughout the state.

Patrick Keliher, commissioner of the state Department of Marine Resources, also hailed the ruling.

“I applaud the court for this decision and I’m tremendously proud of the collaboration by the legal teams for the Maine Lobstermen’s Association and the state,” he said. “Throughout the development of these regulations, NMFS has chosen a path not supported by law, lacking in guaranteed conservation benefits for right whales, and without regard for the tremendous economic harm their misguided approach could cause the people of Maine.”

Paul Weiland, attorney for DMR, said the decision “affirms the state’s position that the best available data and prevailing scientific methods should guide agency decisions.”

The appeals court stated that when NMFS claimed that it “needed to give the benefit of the doubt” to right whales over lobstermen, it was “egregiously wrong,” relying on a single sentence of legislative history instead of enacted law. “Here, the service misconceived the law, wrongly claiming the legislative history of the ESA had ordained—if legislative history could ever ordain—a precautionary principle in favor of the species. The

service therefore gets no deference, and its action cannot stand,” wrote the court.

The court also ruled that despite NMFS’ own admission that nothing in law required it to use a worst-case scenario in the development of models that determine risk to right whales, its ultimate reliance on worst-case scenarios that are “very likely wrong” was arbitrary and capricious, and therefore unlawful.

The Endangered Species Act requires NMFS to use the best available science and to focus on “likely outcomes” not the worst-case scenarios, the ruling stated. A lack of data regarding the source of serious injury and mortality to right whales, the court ruled, does not compel NMFS to assign a high, rather than low risk to the Maine lobster industry. The ESA “requires the service to use the best available scientific data, not the most pessimistic,” stated the ruling.

The court noted that the lack of data led NMFS to conclude the lobster and Jonah crab federal fisheries kill 46 whale deaths per decade, a “staggering departure from the two documented deaths known to have originated in all U.S. fisheries over a period of nine years.”

Captain James S. “Jim” Barstow, III

1943-2023 “The Finest Kind”

04855 - 04852 - 04855

I’d like to say goodbye, dear friend, as you take your final voyage on an ocean of tears, mourned by the multitude of lives you’ve so beautifully touched.

Captain James S. “Jim” Barstow, III

1943-2023 “The Finest Kind”

You are a meaningful part of my life, a do-er, getting things done while always nurturing, foremost, love of family. Thanks for all the wonderful memories and I’ll always cherish the sweet moments of sharing at the Red House as our family grew to love the island experience. And, you faithfully maintained the year round lifeline to the Monhegan community. You will forever be in my heart boarding at Port Clyde and when passing the Red House.

I’d like to say goodbye, dear friend, as you’ve taken your final voyage on an ocean of tears, mourned by the multitude of lives you have so beautifully touched.

I’d like to say goodbye, dear friend, as you take your final voyage on an ocean of tears, mourned by the multitude of lives you’ve so beautifully touched.

As you look back at us with your smiling countenance, I salute you and say “Aye, aye Captain, a life well lived.” Yes, well done, Captain Jim, Godspeed.

Captain James S. “Jim” Barstow, III

Our deepest condolences to the Barstow family and extended family.

1943-2023 “The Finest Kind”

You are a meaningful part of my life, a do-er, getting things done while always nurturing, foremost, love of family. Thanks for all the wonderful memories and I’ll always cherish the sweet moments of sharing at the Red House as our family grew to love the island experience. And, you faithfully maintained the year round lifeline to the Monhegan community. You will forever be in my heart boarding at Port Clyde and when passing the Red House.

Robert Smith with Penny, Anna and Jed Smith

As you look back at us with your smiling countenance, I salute you and say “Aye, aye Captain, a life well lived.”

You are a meaningful part of my life, a do-er, getting things done while always nurturing, foremost, love of family. Thanks for all the wonderful memories and I’ll always cherish the sweet moments of sharing at the Red House as our family grew to love the island experience. And, you faithfully maintained the year round lifeline to the Monhegan community. You will forever be in my heart boarding at Port Clyde and when passing the Red House.

I’d like to say goodbye, dear friend, as you take your final voyage on an ocean of tears, mourned by the multitude of lives you’ve so beautifully touched.

Yes, well done, Captain Jim, Godspeed.

Our deepest condolences to the Barstow family and extended family.

As you look back at us with your smiling countenance, I salute you and say “Aye, aye Captain, a life well lived.” Yes, well done, Captain Jim, Godspeed.

Robert Smith with Penny, Anna and Jed Smith

You are a meaningful part of my life, a do-er, getting things done while always nurturing, foremost, love of family. Thanks for all the wonderful memories and I’ll always cherish the sweet moments of sharing at the Red House as our family grew to love the island experience. And, you faithfully maintained the year round lifeline to the Monhegan community. You will forever be in my heart boarding at Port Clyde and when passing the Red House.

Our deepest condolences to the Barstow family and extended family.

As you look back at us with your smiling countenance, I salute you and say “Aye, aye Captain, a life well lived.” Yes, well done, Captain Jim, Godspeed.

Robert Smith with Penny, Anna and Jed Smith

Our deepest condolences to the Barstow family and extended family.

Robert Smith with Penny, Anna and Jed Smith

“The decision vindicates what the Maine lobster fishery, and the countless communities that rely on it, knew all along…”

Anatomy of a failure: Who killed Quoddy?

New history unravels failed power project

Moondoggle: Franklin Roosevelt and the Fight for Tidal-electric Power at Passamaquoddy Bay

By Mark C. Borton,

(2023)

Downeast Books

REVIEW BY DEANE RYKERSON

A RIVAL to the Hoover Dam in Eastport?

That could have been the Quoddy project to generate electricity from one of the highest tides in the world.

For Mainers, the ghost of Quoddy still exists as opportunity lost. The details, in all their shame and glory, are now exposed for all to see in the new book Moondoggle by Mark C. Borton. This is the first full accounting of the dream to harness perpetual tidal power for the nation soon to become the most powerful in the world.

Although small tidal mills existed throughout the coast of Maine starting in

the 1600s, harnessing Passamaquoddy Bay was an enormous multi-dam venture with thousands of workers building it in the 1930s. It started as an idea hatched by the brilliant engineer Dexter Cooper who designed hydropower projects from the Mississippi to the Soviet Union. His bride was a summer resident of Campobello Island, Canada, just across the strait from Eastport.

Campobello was also a summer retreat for the Roosevelts of New York.

Moondoggle follows the twists and turns of an idea to build dams and huge reservoirs fed by the Eastport tides. The book follows the perspectives of Cooper (the engineer), Franklin Roosevelt (starting from his time as Under Secretary of the Navy), and Roscoe Emery, the prominent publisher of Maine’s then longest continually operating newspaper, the Eastport Sentinel.

The project shifted from private enterprise, to international (with Canada), to public-private, to a public works project, and faced hurdles every step of the way. The players included the citizens of Eastport, Washington politicians, the press, the U.S. Army, the Passamaquoddy Nation, industries, and the electric utilities.

Moondoggle follows the drama that transformed Eastport with the construction of Quoddy Village, the economic boom, the dangling promises, and the eventual demise of the dream. We can read historical details from the sardine days, to the Depression, to World War II, to the era of John Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson. The level of detail and extensive source material results in a fascinating work that goes beyond history to include society, culture, politics, and community.

This absorbing story informs us about where Maine is today. It is a story featuring power and politics and leaves us with many “what ifs.” What if Washington County had become a manufacturing center for aluminum with the cheapest electricity in the Northeast? What if John F. Kennedy hadn’t been killed a month after his visit to Quoddy? What if Eastport, as a thriving community in the 1930s, had continued to thrive until today?

And the story still holds some mysteries. The author found that historic documents that could prove corruption and deceit have been stolen from archives.

Details also bring the past to life. In two decades, electricity was transformed from a luxury for the few to a necessity

for all. By 1947, electricity was in such short supply that Christmas lights in Portland were extinguished and two U.S. Navy destroyers docked in South Portland exported electricity from their diesel engines to Aroostook County.

In conclusion, the author writes the chapter “Who Killed Quoddy?” But there is also plenty of information in this account to allow readers to ponder their own theories.

It is fascinating that more than 100 years after obstructing the promise of vast power from the tides of eastern Maine, electric utilities still hold so much political power. Yet, the rules of the game have also altered. Damming water for power has been shown to negatively impact our environment.

The demand for kilowatts will soon double or triple for our new heat pumps and electric vehicles. Yet the tides still rise and fall every day as an untapped energy source. Will we find a way to work with the ocean for a green energy future? Here’s a compelling account of what can go wrong.

Dean Rykerson is president of the Tide Mill Institute, an organization dedicated to advancing the appreciation of tide mill technology. For more information, visit www.tidemillinstitute.org.

ORR'S ISLAND

continued from page 1

“It was used in support of their part-time, smallscale fishing activities: lobstering, shellfishing, and gill netting,” it says. “Three owners operated nearby general stores, two others summer boarding houses. Four fish houses and wharfs were built on the eastern side of the Point for storage, repair of gear, and processing of catch.”

The property owners are “tenants in common,” which means each of them owns a share of the entire property and can sell or give away their share without permission from their co-owners, similar to shareholders in a company.

Fractional shares in the roughly one-third-acre parcel have been passed down through the generations, with Sylvester owning the largest share of about one-third of the property at the time he filed suit. Defendants named in the legal complaint own shares ranging from one-ninth to 1/36th of the site.

The lawsuit has drawn criticism from some area residents and a local working waterfront advocate who said such cases threaten the future viability of wharves that remain vital to small commercial fishing operations. The site is zoned for commercial fishing and is being used for that purpose by Penny Wilson’s husband, Mark Wilson, with permission from co-owner Brian J. Black.

Sylvester is asking the court to force Black and the other co-owners to sell their shares to him, arguing the property is “unmanaged, unsecured, and in deteriorating condition” with too many owners to manage effectively.

But Penny Wilson questioned why, after all these years, Sylvester decided it was necessary for him to take full ownership of the site.

“It’s disturbing to all of us,” she said. Sylvester’s legal complaint describes a property what he claims is marked by disrepair because of disuse and neglect.

“After 130 years, the original use … no longer exists in practice, nor remains viable in concept,” the complaint says. “There is no communication or interaction among dispersed owners dealing with the management, use, and security of the property.”

It adds that uncontrolled access and use of the site by non-owners and visitors poses a liability risk to the property owners, and that the property’s low tax burden and revenue potential have given the inherited owners little incentive to invest in maintenance and repairs.

The lawsuit doesn’t deny that Barleyfield Point is used for fishing activities, but it says none of the site’s co-owners use it for commercial fishing.

In court filings, defendants dispute some of Sylvester’s claims and argue there is no compelling legal reason to force them to sell property their families have owned, used, and paid taxes on for generations.

Among the defendants is Gerald E. Stilphen, a Virginia resident who owns a 1/18th share and has asked the court to dismiss the case.

“I own my deeded 1/2 of 1/9 share as handed down to me from my grandfather through my father to me,” Stilphen wrote in a response to the complaint. “I pay my fair share of the property taxes each and every year. I regularly use this property that has been deeded to me.”

Property co-owners Joanne Choate, Mary Dee Grant, and Frederick B. Hatch III submitted a joint response to the court in June 2022, also asking it to dismiss the lawsuit.

“The property in question has served as a common area and should stay a common area,” their statement reads. “The sale of the property … would disproportionately provide more value to [him] as an owner of nearby land.”

Orr’s Island resident Monique Coombs said Barleyfield Point is one of many small, “discreet” working waterfront properties in Maine that are under constant threat of being lost.

Coombs is director of community programs for the Maine Coast Fishermen’s Association, an industryfunded nonprofit that seeks to preserve Maine’s fishing communities for future generations. She said there are many small properties in Maine like Barleyfield Point used by only one or two commercial fishermen, and that such sites are a dwindling resource in the state.

“Getting funding to protect them, or even understanding who to go to be able to conserve them, is incredibly difficult, and Barleyfield is one of those spaces,” Coombs said.

It’s not uncommon for such sites to be partially dilapidated, she said, because fixing them up is expensive, and there’s no public funding available. Still, Coombs said the solution isn’t to ask a court to kick property owners off their land.

“The other thing about those types of properties is that when they’re shut down and fishermen can’t use them anymore, it puts more pressure on the larger working waterfront properties,” she said.

Barleyfield Point is zoned “Commercial Fisheries I,” which means its owners would not be allowed to convert the property to something other than marine uses without being granted a zoning change by the town.

Still, Penny Wilson said she is aware of several locals, including her husband, who use Barleyfield Point for fishing at no cost, and it’s likely Sylvester would want those fishermen to start paying a fee to use it, if he let them use it at all.

“That cove has been open for everyone to use,” Penny Wilson said. “Nobody has ever told anyone that they can’t be on that point except for Jack Sylvester and his wife.”

A trial is tentatively scheduled for Nov. 29 in Portland.

This story first appeared in the Harpswell Anchor, a nonprofit online and print newspaper, and is reprinted with permission and gratitude. See HarpswellAnchor. org for more information.

A trio of fish houses and piers on Barleyfield Point, a rocky peninsula that juts out into Lowell’s Cove, Orr’s Island. A lawsuit by one of numerous shareholders seeks to force the others to sell their interest in the property.

PHOTO: J.W. OLIVER

Architecture for the way we live

Design should consider aesthetics and lifestyle

BY TOM GROENING

OUR RECENT vacation trip to Wellfleet on Cape Cod offered many pleasant diversions—ocean swimming, long walks on sandy beaches on both the ocean and bay sides, and enjoying the quiet vibe of that small New England village.

For me, a perennial joy of these visits is taking in the beauty of the architecture, particularly its residential expressions. Cape Cod is rich in history, of course, with the settlers of nearby Plymouth stopping at several points along the Cape’s bay shore as they approached their final destination.

And though the Pilgrims didn’t settle on the Cape, it wasn’t long before they began establishing villages there, and so there are examples of early houses.

The Pilgrims hailed from the East Midlands part of England and some scholars say the houses we now know as Cape Cods were replicating the style common in that part of the homeland.

I recently learned that Ipswich, Mass. has the distinction of having the most surviving examples of what are known as “first period” homes, an era defined as 1620 to 1720.

The houses I love on the Cape are mostly from the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Some feature clapboards on the wall facing the street— ”putting up a good front”—with cedar shingles covering the other walls and often the roof. There’s something pleasing to the eye about the textures, dimensions, roof angles, and the way these homes sit in the landscape. In fact, those ratios, according to Middle Age Italian mathematician Fibonacci, replicate patterns repeated in nature. It’s not clear whether those early builders were drawing on those natural ratios or if they just made good sense.

I’ve searched for floor plans for early Capes and been surprised to see a large room spanning the back half of the house, with small closet-like rooms which apparently were used for those who were sick, close as they were to the large fireplace.

reflections

There also are plenty of what I call shoebox houses on the Cape—large, asymmetrical buildings with flat roofs, looking like a series of boxes joined together. I’m not a fan.

In fact, there is one such structure on the bay side whose owner flouted the local ordinances in building it and merely, and apparently happily, paid the fines. Especially sad is that the late painter Edward Hopper’s house—a large, white Cape—is a few hundred yards away.

The woman we rent from in Wellfleet told me she had to negotiate with the town planning board to get permission to demolish an unused chimney in her 1850 house. In fact, only the top ten feet remained, and the bricks were supported on a metal frame in the attic. Severe, perhaps, but such rules maintain the beauty of the town. She also told me, when I was curious about some oddly placed doors in our

Deer Isle’s bounty impresses this Iowan

Connecting locals to local food has been rewarding

BY HALLIE LARTIUS

Reflections is written by Island Fellows, recent college grads who do community service work on Maine islands and in coastal communities through the Island Institute, publisher of The Working Waterfront.

FOR ME, the magic of Maine lies in the food—everything we fish, forage, and farm to feed each other.

I learned about lowbush blueberries on the first day of my fellowship. I was visiting the aptly named Blueberry Cove, where the Island Institute gathers Fellows each year for a retreat and orientation. It is the perfect place to get to know one another and our new home, complete with a swimming beach, a trail through the forest, and an elaborate garden.

I was drawn into the garden with the promise of taking with me whatever I could harvest. I’m not sure I had ever seen a blueberry bush before, let alone the small, lowbush berries that Maine is so well-known for, but I managed to pick a full carton. I was amazed by their flavor, their history, and their ability to thrive in what seemed to be a harsh landscape.

As a proud Midwesterner, agriculture is close to my heart. My childhood

home is surrounded by fields of corn and soy, spread in every direction. Since grade school, I have been able to recite the basics of crop rotation, tell stories of death-defying crop-dusters flying overhead, and confirm that there are indeed more pigs than people in our small state. However, Maine has taught me more about food— and life—than I could have ever imagined.

I was raised on sweet corn and smoked barbecue. When I moved to Deer Isle, I discovered so many new foods for the very first time: wild strawberries, raw milk, Atlantic rock crab (cracked open with a rock), pickled tiger tomatoes, salt cod with boiled potatoes, Four Season’s sweet winter carrots, and live lobster fresh from Stonington waters.

Over the last two years, farm-fresh food has become the focus of my fellowship with the Healthy Island Project. At the peak of the season, you can find me coordinating farmers for our online FarmDrop store, distributing

fresh produce with the Magic Food Bus, and managing SNAP-EBT at the Stonington Farmer’s Market. Our work continues year-round with an online food pantry, grocery-filled backpacks sent home with students, and a hot lunch delivered to more than 100 seniors each week. Whether it’s the latesummer husk cherries or a warm meal on a cold winter’s day, I have found there is nothing more rewarding than feeding my community.

While I oversee hundreds of pounds of produce each week, I worry that Deer Isle is increasingly vulnerable to food insecurity. Despite the many millions of dollars generated from lobster each year, almost a third of our population is low-income. The cost of food seems to rise every year—already 20% more than the state average— along with housing, healthcare, and transportation. While these statistics are striking, it’s what we can’t measure that worries me most: isolation. So many of the people I feed at work are truly alone.

second-floor apartment, that she believed they were for a small room for a servant.

And that leads to another point— houses change as we live differently.

Large Victorian homes with 15-foot ceilings are not in demand by younger buyers. At the other end of the spectrum are so-called tiny houses, which I think are a fad, perhaps secretly promoted by divorce lawyers.

But seriously, I believe there is an opportunity for a next wave of architecture here in Maine, designs that not only are pleasing to the eye and highly energy efficient, but also are affordable and matched to the way millennials live— plenty of common space, but perhaps smaller bedrooms and no formal rooms.

And that’s why Cape Cods were popular for centuries, right through the early baby boom era. So that’s the challenge, architects—design a home for the 21st century equal to this classic.

Tom Groening is editor of The Working Waterfront and may be contacted at tgroening@islandinstitute.org.

When I go home at the end of the day, I try my best not to leave them behind. I often hear that island culture can be traced back to times of scarcity and survival. We struggle with what little we have, but when we come together, there is always enough to go around.

Healthy Island Project is working hard to sustain our impact and respond to growing needs. Fortunately, while we may be one of the most remote and rural communities on the coast, we certainly are not alone in our efforts. We receive incredible support everyday: messages of gratitude, thousands of volunteer hours, and donations from across the country.

I truly believe the island can survive anything, and I’ve seen countless meal trains, bean suppers, and bake sales that prove just how much we care for one another. From fishing to famine, food is a way of life in Deer Isle.

Hallie Lartius works with Deer IsleStonington’s Healthy Island Project, a nonprofit organization that coordinates projects to promote healthy living.

The woman we rent from told me she had to negotiate with the town planning board to get permission to demolish an unused chimney.

I have found there is nothing more rewarding than feeding my community.

GOOD TIMES–

They’re all smiles in this 1938 image of a clam bake and lobster boil in Owls Head, near Rockland.

Buying a house is your best investment

Real estate association highlights wealth gains

BY KENNY PARCELL

THE PATH to homeownership can be bumpy. Buyers must withstand bidding wars, contingencies, complex tax laws, and an array of market factors beyond most anyone’s control. Still, buying a house is typically the single best investment a family can make.

Homeownership is the largest source of wealth creation in the U.S., while the median net worth of the average American homeowner is more than 40 times that of the average renter.

A decision of this magnitude comes with a number of potential hurdles, and it’s important to get the decision right. Certified housing counselors and agents who are realtors can help consumers do just that.

The motivation for buying a home differs from person to person. For many, it’s financial—an opportunity to grow home equity and lock-in a stable monthly housing payment. For others, it’s emotional—a chance to build roots, create stability and feel more connected to their community.

Island Institute Board of Trustees

Kr istin Howard, Chair

Douglas Henderson, Vice Chair

Charles Owen Verrill, Jr. Secretary

Kate Vogt, Treasurer, Finance Chair

Carol White, Programs Chair

Megan McGi nnis Dayton, Philanthropy & Communications Chair

Shey Conover, Governance Chair

Michael P. Boyd, Clerk

Sebastian Belle

David Cousens

Michael Felton

Nathan Johnson

Emily Lane

Bryan Lewis

Michael Sant

Barbara Kinney Sweet

Donna Wiegle

John Bird (honorary)

In Bankrate’s Financial Security survey, 74% of respondents ranked homeownership as a key component of the American dream.

A report released by the National Association of Realtors analyzed how homeowners across income levels have increased their net worth in recent years and decades. Between 2012 and 2022, the median value of homes owned by lower-income Americans climbed 75%, a gain of roughly $100,000. Middleincome homeowners saw their properties appreciate 68% over the same period, equivalent to a wealth increase of $122,000. Today, home equity is the largest financial asset for American households in the middle three quintiles of the income distribution, accounting for between 50% and 70% of this group’s total net worth.

Making a mortgage payment each month is, in many ways, comparable to contributing to a stable savings account. Homeowners chip away at their loan balance and increase their claim on the home’s overall value in the process. Many Americans who bought a medianvalue home ten years ago and stayed consistent with their monthly payments have already paid off over 20% of their mortgage.

Unfortunately, many Americans today feel their homeownership dreams are beyond reach.

All Americans deserve the opportunity to achieve their homeownership dreams and build lasting wealth. Prospective buyers can take advantage of several resources.

First-timers can benefit from connecting with a certified housing

THE WORKING WATERFRONT

All members of the Island Institute and residents of Maine island communities receive monthly mail delivery of The Working Waterfront.

counselor. These trained agents with the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development help prospective home buyers plan for future home purchases and get their finances mortgage-ready.

Agents who are realtors also help people navigate the home-buying process. They’re uniquely positioned to leverage their knowledge of a local market, extensive networks, and down payment assistance programs to open doors to affordable housing opportunities.

Everyone deserves safe, quality housing at a price they can afford. Even when the market seems challenging, prospective buyers can still obtain their own piece of the American Dream, capitalizing on resources available through real estate professionals and the programs they support.

Kenny Parcell is 2023 president of the National Association of Realtors brokerowner of Equity Real Estate Utah. This piece was originally published on Kiplinger.com.

Editor: Tom Groening tgroening@islandinstitute.org

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Home equity is the largest financial asset for American households in the middle three quintiles of the income distribution…

On the record with…

Cliff Island lobsterman Teddy Reiner

A lot more hands-on work in the 1970s

BY KAI HOLLOWAY

Achance encounter on Cliff Island, six miles off Portland in Casco Bay, led to a conversation that yielded rich history about lobstering in the 1970s. It started while I was scoping out the island trash and treasures that depart in early June as the “large item” pickup. Edward Reiner, known on the island as Teddy, saw me and offered me a bike he was sending off island with the trash. As he helped me change its tires, he began telling me fascinating stories from his younger days on the island. I thought, “This needs to be recorded!”

After attending Clark University, Reiner lobstered on Cliff Island for over 13 years. He went on to become a carpenter, teacher (language arts and kindergarten), storyteller, and writer.

Reiner agreed to an interview, and we met at his house late one afternoon. He sat in a rocking chair in the living room of his cottage overlooking Fisherman’s Cove, home to the island’s lobster fleet. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The Working Waterfront: Tell me about how you started lobstering.

Reiner: I lobstered with Bunk MacVane for two years. It was hard work. I remember that Bunk had these 4-foot traps that weighed 90 pounds. We had long days moving those traps around. I was strong, but I got muscle bound so that my arms would not hang straight when I was standing up.

I would come home after a day of hauling, sit down in my rocking chair, and conk out for about 20 minutes. That’s how tired I was. But I really loved lobstering, and I think I was a quick learner. I was good in boats. I was learning how to rig a string of lobster traps, and how to build them.

And when I got out of college, I wanted to be here. So, that summer we were putting a roof on the house, and at the end of the summer Bunk asked me to be a sternman, and Bunk was one of the top lobstermen.

One of the things that helped me get into the lobster fleet was that I was a scuba diver, so I had a lot of jobs to help island lobstermen with— getting the rope untangled from their propellers, retrieving lost traps, and hauling blocks.

My brother and I were both working for Cliff Island lobstermen. So it kind of segued into me, thinking, “Well, I can do this on my own.”

So I started building traps in our island house. Pretty soon I was knitting heads for my new oak lobster traps. I think I built between 650 and 700 traps overall.

WW: How long would it take you to build a trap?

Reiner: It’s not that hard to build the oak frames but first you have to rip

down the rough-cut, four-foot boards. The bow frames are 1-inch by 2-inches in size, and the laths are about half-aninch thick and about 36 inches long.

You would try to rip-cut as many as 1,000 a day. It was very labor intensive if you include the actual milling of the wood and the cross-cutting.

Then these traps had to have the heads nailed in and tied off. We ballasted the traps with Cliff Island rocks, strapping them in with leather from the shoe industry. I also made a set up in the middle of the trap, a place to pour cement for ballasting the trap.

I would think it would be about eight hours per trap.

There’s a bait line that comes up through the kitchen end of the trap, and that was tied around a cleat that you carved with a hatchet. It was a lot of fun and I had to learn all those skills of milling the wood. I had to order the lumber, too, so that’s a business skill, right?

Knitting heads was something husbands and wives would do while sitting by the fire. I used to knit heads on the Casco Bay Lines.

I feel like a dinosaur now because few people are knitting their own heads these days. Instead of using hemp twine, the heads are now cut out of shrimp nets.

Those skills of building the traps led to me being a pretty good carpenter, and I worked doing carpentry in island homes. Even when I wasn’t on the island, I would come back for the summer and work.

There were many older men who were my friends. I think one of the nicest things about Cliff Island, and that part of my life, were those friendships with other lobstermen. We all appreciated each other. It was a fraternity, a brotherhood.

WW: How has lobstering changed over the years?

Reiner: Now the boats are more expensive. In the old days, lobstering did not require a lot of money. Almost all the boats were serviced by their owners. They usually had car engines. So all lobstermen had to be excellent mechanics. Back then the lobstermen weren’t interested in buying brand new boats with big diesel engines that cost $70,000 or $80,000, so the business has changed a lot.

One of the biggest changes in the industry is the capital investment. It used to be very minimal, but now it costs a lot to get started lobstering. Now there are half a million dollar boats out there, and instead of one stern man, they might have three stern men.

The environmental impact of the lobstering industry is also far greater. Lobster traps didn’t contain plastic netting and plastic coated steel. Lost wooden traps would eventually rot away and stop catching lobsters. The wire traps when lost become ghost

traps, lost on the bottom for years, and they keep catching lobsters.

These wire traps are an environmental issue. Some 40% of ocean pollution worldwide is from lost commercial fishing gear. Maine lobstermen have not dealt with the issue of lost and storm-wrecked traps and gear. It has become a major problem along the coast of Maine.

Sometimes Maine fishing draggers often tow their nets into strings of lobster traps offshore causing thousands of dollars of damage and hundreds of traps to end up lost and permanently on the bottom of the ocean.

Kai Holloway has spent most of his 15 years living year-round on Cliff Island, and now his family returns to spend about five months in an off-the-grid cabin in the woods. He works at the Cliff Island Historical Society and is fascinated by stories of Cliff Island’s history.

There were many older men who were my friends. I think one of the nicest things about Cliff Island, and that part of my life, were those friendships…

Edward “Teddy” Reiner. PHOTO: KAI HOLLOWAY

Reiner back in the 1970s. PHOTO: COURTESY EDWARD REINER

Sustaining

Maine’s Island and Coastal Communities

At Island Institute, our mission is to sustain Maine’s island and coastal communities—building climate resilience, creating a diversified marine economy, and fueling community-led innovation. As publisher of the Working Waterfront newspaper, we give voice to the people that make keep Maine working.

Islandinstitute.org

“I got to create the life that I wanted—starting a business on a small Maine island, being on the water every day— and I was welcomed and supported in doing so.”

—LAUREN GRAY Owner, Cranberry Oysters, and Island Institute grant recipient

book review

Inventorying a Downeast home

Author, photographer explores Schoodic region

photographs organized thematically in chapters with short introductions by the author—nicely illustrates the first. I imagine other readers might have reacted as I did while reading More Than Meets the Eye: “Where are the pictures? This must look amazing!”

More

By Margie Patlak, Down East Books (2021)

Wild

By Margie Patlak, Down East Books (2023)

REVIEW BY TINA COHEN

DUST OFF your copy of Margie Patlak’s book, More Than Meets the Eye: Exploring Nature and Loss on the Coast of Maine and have it handy when her next book, Wild and Wondrous: Nature’s Artistry on the Coast of Maine is published this summer. The two really are companion pieces describing the natural world of the Schoodic Peninsula region.

While each can stand alone, the newest book—a collection of her

In a way, the point of that book was not to see the text illustrated, but rather to feel an experience as Patlak did, that being in that landscape and grieving the loss of two close family members over several years became interwoven, one informing the other. Patlak’s home and environs in Corea and the Schoodic Peninsula served to sponsor pondering the meaning of life and loss.

She is a curious observer and relentless researcher. More Than Meets the Eye is not only emotionally informed and deeply personal, but benefits from the author’s background in botany and environmental studies, and her ongoing writing about the environment, neuroscience, technology, and biomedical research.

Each chapter focuses on a particular aspect of the Schoodic area, among them fog, flora and fauna, rocks and geology, clouds, and tides.

Throughout the book, a life event is connected to the broader phenomenon under discussion. For instance, the

chapter, “They Say There Are Moose,” refers to (her) difficulty in actually seeing one. It’s left Patlak frustrated and disappointed. But she conveys some fascinating facts, including mating behaviors and how they are drawn to swimming and going underwater, not only to eat aqueous plants but to cool off.

A scorcher of a summer day she’d endured there is described, too hot to do much of anything. She’d used the downtime to read Moose by Valerius Geist, then refreshed herself in the frigid bay with a bracing swim.

In bed that night—still warm with windows left wide open—she heard a noise, “a tremendous splashing in the water followed by loud snorting... I realize what I’ve just heard. A moose.” Heard, but not seen.

Explaining tides, Patlak describes how she learned to adapt her own schedule to that of the moon’s.

The tyranny of the tidal clock shaping her day and activities may seem a harsh lesson in ceding control. But she finds ways to take comfort in accepting that, comparing it to her becoming a mother whose parenting of children has to take into account their diminished need for that, even when she might wish otherwise. And there is opportunity in the lesson of tides to feel connected to a

profound rhythm of life. She quotes poet Mary Oliver: “In water that departs forever and forever returns, we experience eternity.”

Wild and Wondrous includes Patlak’s poetic musings on nature as well. Fog, for example, is described as “particularly emblematic of coastal Maine... It imparts a dreaminess to the landscape that makes you question what’s there and what isn’t, what is real and what is a mirage...”. That chapter’s photographs and the ones in “Reflections” and “Intersections and Tides” are probably my favorites, though it was fun to see portraits of some wildlife she’d written about in More Than Meets the Eye. (Of course, no moose!)

While Wild and Wondrous has the makings of a coffee table book or the perfect souvenir or house gift, I appreciate it most in combination with More Than Meets the Eye. Patlak brings the reader through a life-changing event in that first book, grieving the deaths of her mother and brother. In reorienting herself to that loss, she took an inventory of where she is and what she has. Wild and Wondrous documents that outcome—becoming re-grounded, as it were.

Tina Cohen is a therapist who splits her time between Massachusetts and Vinalhaven.

Novelist to read, speak in Eastport

CANADIAN AUTHOR Beth Powning will read from one of her books and answer questions as the featured presenter at an upcoming open mic night in Eastport.

Powning, who lives in Sussex, New Brunswick, has written four novels and three literary nonfiction books to wide acclaim. New Brunswick’s lieutenant governor presented her with an award for high achievement in literary arts in 2010.

Her books reflect the history and natural environment of the Maritimes. For example, Powning’s second novel, The Sea Captain’s Wife, follows the life of a young woman determined to accompany her husband on his merchant ship despite the perils involved. The book charts the path taken by numerous women in the Maritimes and New

England who refused to be left alone as their husbands sailed the seas.

“The Sea Captain’s Wife is a gripping story, written with assurance and authority,” writes reviewer Nancy Herkness in the New York Journal of Books. “It succeeds equally as a study of the difficulties of marriage, and as a tale of gritty adventure on the high seas—with the particular fascination of being experienced from the female perspective.”

Powning’s most recent novel, The Sister’s Tale, also draws upon the history of the Maritimes as it tracks the story of an orphan purchased at a pauper auction where children were sold to bidders as a form of social relief for the poor. The high bidder would house the newly purchased orphan in exchange for a stipend from the local government and the work the orphan could provide.

The book was a national bestseller as it tracked the tale of how two young girls orphaned in England traveled to Canada to start a new life. Once there, in a world dominated by loss but populated by resilient women, they find their strength and a hopeful future.

Powning grew up in Connecticut so many of her books reflect the larger historical narrative of eastern North America.

“I mean Eastport might as well as be St. Stephen as far as what things were and the things that were happening,” she said. “And the further you go back, the more similar they become.”

She has also written nonfiction books that often reflect on the natural rhythms, forests, pastures, hills, and seascapes that surround her home.

Powning will read from The Sister’s Tale beginning at 6 p.m. on Thursday,

July 27, in the Eastport Arts Center, 36 Washington St. Her reading will be followed by a short question-andanswer session.

The night prior to Powning’s reading, on July 26, her husband, Peter Powning, will present a discussion at Eastport’s Tides Institute on his art. His work, which is currently on display in the Tides’ gallery, embodies a varied range of media including glass, stone, and steel. That talk will take place at 7 p.m. in the Institute at 43 Water St.

The book reading and open mic are free and open to the public. Powning’s books can be purchased in both brick-and-mortar bookshops as well as online.

In Eastport, The Sister’s Tale is available to purchase at Raye’s Mustard.

Searsport museum hosts evening walking tours

The Penobscot Marine Museum will hold walking tours the evenings of July 20, July 27, August 3, and Aug. 10. Tours will be offered at 5 p.m., 6 p.m., and 7 p.m. Tickets are $8 per person with pre-registration and $10 per person at the door. To register, visit penobscotmarinemuseum. org/events-list/.

On July 20 and 27, the theme will be “They Did it in Petticoats: Searsport Women’s History.” In the 19th century Searsport was bustling with people who filled the busy streets.

The museum often has exhibits and shares stories about the experiences of middle and upper-class male ship captains and shipwrights. What about the women who lived in this vibrant coastal town, who sailed the ocean, and who grew up on the water? Participants will be able to hear their stories on this tour.

On Aug. 3 and Aug. 10, the theme will be “The Feds, The Greeks, and Those Delightful Victorians: Searsport Architecture.” This tour

uses buildings on the Penobscot Marine Museum campus to examine local architecture and the growth of the town of Searsport.

Residents in the early 1800s chose Greek Revival and Federal architectural elements while the Victorians in the later 19th century embraced the Italianate style. Participants will enjoy some local history as well as learn more about architectural elements that can also be found throughout the Maine coast and beyond.

The Penobscot Marine Museum brings Maine’s maritime history to life on a campus of beautiful historic buildings in the charming seacoast village of Searsport.

In addition to exhibits, Penobscot Marine Museum has over 300,000 historic photographs, an extensive collection of maritime artifacts and archives, and a maritime history research library. Visit penobscotmarinemuseum.org to learn more.

This unusually beautiful property sits on 11.13 acres of mature trees, both hard and soft wood, with a lovely lawn leading to 400 ft. of shore on Jones’ Cove, Gouldsboro. The living spaces consist of the main cape with two large wings on either side to total 11 rooms, each tastefully appointed with 3 wood-burning fireplaces. From the main living room there is a deck facing the cove, a deck off the formal dining room, newly renovated kitchen, darling family room, den with wood-burning fireplace, full bath, and 2nd floor with 1 bedroom, an office, and full bath. The sun space connector leads to the east wing which has the library with another fireplace, lots of built-ins, and a primary bedroom suite with large, full bath, walk-in closet, and views of the cove. Great workshop in the full basement. On a point on the southwest corner, there are long, westerly views for sunsets and a path to the shore. Additionally, there is a fabulous, seasonal guest cottage with full bath, living room, sleep space and an eat-in kitchen. A two-car garage is near the house with another one for boat storage, etc. Minutes from the Schoodic Peninsula, Acadia National Park, and lovely galleries and restaurants. This is a complete property surrounded by beauty at every turn with everything you need for your life on the Maine Coast. $1,300,000.

Monhegan’s Laura B is 80

Historic, hard-working boat going strong

PHOTO ESSAY BY JACK SULLIVAN

The Laura B makes the early-morning trip to Monhegan every day during the summer and delivers freight to the island year round. The boat is also available for private charters and for hauling freight to other islands.

Built in 1943, the 65-foot Laura B is rigged as a heavy-duty work boat. Originally designated a U.S. Army T-57, she spent World War II in the Pacific serving as a patrol boat and carrying troops and supplies. She came under fire during those days, and carried two 50-caliber machine guns on deck.

The vessel was brought to Maine in 1946 and spent the next few years transporting lobster from Vinalhaven to Boston and New York City.

Our Island Communities

Almer Dinsmore honored with ferry name

Swan’s Islander now retired after shipping career

BY JENNIFER HELMAN

LIVING ON an unbridged island like Swan’s Island, I knew the tradition of naming ferries in honor of previous, long-serving captains like our very own Henry Lee and others like Richard Spear and Neal Burgess.

That honor now has been bestowed on a friend— the Ferry Advisory Board voted unanimously to name the new ferry the Almer Dinsmore.

I recently interviewed Dinsmore in his Trenton home. He graduated from Maine Maritime Academy in 1968 and took his first job at sea with American Export Lines, an industry leader at the time.

He loved the work, but it kept him away from his growing family. When he saw an ad for an opening as a Maine ferry captain, he jumped at the chance to work closer to home. In 1978, he started as a relief captain on the Everett Libby on the Swan’s Island run. He fondly remembers his first crew of Steve Harriman, Donnie Staples, and Johnny Martin.

For the next nine years he continued his time at sea with shipping companies as well as relieving ferry captains for Swan’s Island, North Haven, Vinalhaven, and Islesboro. In 1987 he accepted a permanent position as captain of the Libby.

His wife Linda shared that for those first 18 years he spent ten out of 12 months each year away from home. She and the kids would visit him for a few days or he might have a week at home between assignments. So, when he took the permanent position, they were able to enjoy a more traditional lifestyle.

“It was a good life, and we were happy when he didn’t have to go to sea anymore,” Linda said.

Dinsmore recalled one weekend on the North Haven run when all the day’s runs had been cancelled due to winter weather. He was living in crew quarters on the island, and a crew member called saying his mother needed emergency medical help and asked him to risk a trip to Rockland.

They loaded the island’s snowplow and ambulance, then headed out with water washing over the bow doors. Once they reached the mainland, the plow led the way, clearing the ice and snow, getting the ambulance to the hospital.

By then, the weather had improved, so the island’s schoolteacher was able to hitch a ride back in time for school the next morning. The teacher was thrilled not to be stuck on the mainland. Dinsmore wasn’t sure the students were as relieved.

From 1989-90, he held the ferry manager position in Rockland, but quickly found he didn’t care for office life. In the fall of 1990, he returned to the Swan’s Island service and never looked back. In 2013 he retired.

Linda also retired, and they’ve been enjoying making up for lost time.

At several points during the interview, Dinsmore was visibly moved. While reviewing comments on a Facebook post about the naming of the vessel, he was particularly touched. In addition to the many hearty congratulations, a fellow ferry captain said, “He was very good to me … and [I] had the privilege to fill his spot when he retired.”

Other comments demonstrated how captains become a part of the fabric of the islands they serve. One post described him as a “gentleman and a class act” while another said he “really cared about island people.”

The Maine DOT expects the new ferry to launch sometime this fall and it will, at least initially, serve Vinalhaven. Dinsmore and his family hope to attend the dedication ceremony in Rhode Island, where the vessel is being constructed.

Island Reader’s offerings reflect passion for place

BY CARL LITTLE

Every year since 2006 the Maine Seacoast Mission has published The Island Reader, a wide-ranging anthology of poetry, prose, and artwork by residents of Maine’s unbridged islands. And every year the literary/artistic smorgasbord reminds us that islands are special places that people call home. The 2023 edition, no. 17, gets right to the point with this short poem by Arria Carbonneau of Peaks Island: bound to the ocean to the rising of the tides the salt in your nose. in your hair. Home.

drink it up. let it swell inside of you. cleansing.

Island livelihoods inspire a number of poems. Leona Buswell from Swan’s Island offers a rousing evocation of lobstering in her “Way of Life,” which opens: On a cold and windy morning, you want to sleep in late

But the shedders and the day old bait won’t wait So ya pack your lunch and get your gear Kiss your mate just below the ear

LOBSTERING, IT’S A WAY OF LIFE . . . .

In his poem “Would There Be Wood,” Buswell’s fellow Swan’s Islander Weston Parker riffs on the life of a carpenter. “You can talk to the wood,/begging it to fit,” he writes, but it may split under so little pressure, sending a splinter your way to remind you of its delicate feelings.

Capt. Joe Litchfield of Peaks Island shares a short play, The Fisherman’s Wife. One of the characters, Ethan, captain of the F/V Sarah C, vents: “Nearly all the good boats and fishermen have been forced off the waterfront by the condo ownin’ Boston Yuppies. No one cares about the workin’ waterfront guys anymore. No one. Cultural destruction if you ask me.”

Island kids contribute some fun poems. Audrey Barker of Isle au Haut declares, “I am happy and I like cats” while Anica Messer on Matinicus seeks to answer the question, “What is an island family?” She writes, “We all help each other when we need it,/And we all play with each other when we can.”

Several pieces take the form of reminiscences. In her “Maine Memories,” Judith Bowen Horky of Chebeague relates how her father had a boat named The Maygo, “thanks to the temperamental motor hanging off the back.”

Janet Moynihan from Matinicus recounts the creation of a hybrid truck by a lobsterman, “our good engine welded onto his good truck bed.” Both stories underscore the islanders’ ingenuity.

There is gratitude here too. Sarah Goodman Cuetara of Peaks Island offers thanks for, among other things, 50 milkweed seeds, for the soil that covers them, and for “next November’s explosion of nomad ballerinas.”

Pixie Lauer thanks the plants that form her compost pile as she hauls tubs of seaweed mulch gathered at Thrumcap and anticipates leaving Great Cranberry for the winter.

The “Best in Anthology” prize might go to Jane Goodrich’s splendid ode to a pin cushion. The longtime Swan’s Island resident and owner of Saturn Press considers the “faded cloth … sentinel on

my dead mother’s dresser, a chaotic catchall defying order, defining haphazardness.” The pins provide a timeline of one woman’s life.

The artwork starts on the cover with a brilliantly comical painting by Tom Kilmartin of Peaks Island showing a seagull sipping Moxie through a straw. There are many photographs, including one of a snowy owl perched on a headstone by Mike Johnson, captain of the Maine Seacoast Mission’s boat, the Sunbeam.

The collection carries a heartfelt dedication to the Mission’s director of island health, Sharon Daley, who recently retired after more than 20 years tending to islanders. Among other accomplishments, Daley started the telehealth program and the outer island eldercare network.

“Sharon is best remembered, however, for the depth of her care and for giving a painless shot,” write the editors.

You can order a copy of the 80-page anthology or read it online at www.seacoastmission.org.

Thos. Moser in Freeport is hosting an exhibition of works by 60 artists featured in Carl and David Little’s forthcoming book Art of Penobscot Bay (Islandport Press). The show runs through January.

Al and Linda Dinsmore at their home in Trenton.

The summer game, as played offshore

Calling balls and strikes offers view of island life

BY PETE RAND

When my son was eight, he asked me to stop coaching him in baseball. I didn’t ask him why. Instead, I swallowed my pride and simply informed the head coach of his minor league team that I could no longer help out.

The coach took it well. In fact, in the next breath he asked if I wouldn’t mind calling balls and strikes for the games. “There is some gear in the shed,” he said. Thus, my umpiring career was born.

Over the next several years, I graduated from doing Little League games and joined the local umpire’s association. I started doing games at the middle school level, and eventually moved into tournament and high school ball.

Living in South Portland, I umpired games for schools all over York and Cumberland counties. Highlights included games at Hadlock Field and The Ballpark in Old Orchard Beach.

Five years ago, my work in nonprofit finance brought me to Island Institute (publisher of The Working Waterfront) as the organization’s chief financial officer. Last fall, my wife and I moved full-time to the Rockland area, and part of my relocation included the decision this spring to join the Midcoast Umpire Association.

My territory now covers Knox, Waldo, and Lincoln counties. The towns have changed, but the games are played by the same rules and the kids are just as eager to make a running catch or leg out an infield hit.

Recently, I was notified that I was being assigned a varsity double-header on Vinalhaven. Even though this meant setting aside an entire Saturday, I saw it as an opportunity to do something quite different and readily agreed to the assignment.

I met my umpiring partner at 8:15 in the morning at the ferry terminal in Rockland, then departed for the 75-minute ferry ride. Along the way, my partner and I talked about baseball, and eventually about our careers and families.

On Vinalhaven, we were met by the school’s athletic director, who personally drove us to the school just ahead of the brand-new electric school bus which was ushering the kids and their families from Rangeley who had accompanied us on the ferry ride.

At the school, the AD gave us a quick tour, and informed us that of the 30 kids at the high school, 25 (including a few 8th grade call-ups) played on either the baseball or softball teams. We were led to the guidance office which would serve as the umpires’ lockerroom for the day. He also told us that our lunches would be waiting for us in the fridge in the teachers’ lounge, when we returned for a break between games one and two.

After putting on our umpire gear, we headed to the field. The Vinalhaven School serves grades K-12, and the field therefore serves multiple purposes and can be configured for either baseball or softball. A portable mound is installed for baseball and removed for softball, and can be moved closer to the plate for younger kids. The all-dirt infield, not usually seen in baseball games, is a must for softball.

At the pre-game meeting, the Vinalhaven coach went over the ground rules.

There is no fence except the backstop, so balls thrown into the woods or over by the school stop play. A ball hit into the outfield woods is a double if it rolls in, a home run if on the fly. That would be a poke, we all agreed.

I stood next to my partner while both teams lined up along the foul lines and were individually introduced to the crowd of several dozen onlookers. The AD even thanked the umpires, acknowledging the shortage of officials in school sports.

The crowd clapped for us, and we waved appreciatively. I couldn’t help but notice the smell of burgers and hotdogs coming from the concession area. The national anthem played, and it was time for baseball.

The two, five-inning games were both won by the Vinalhaven team. The group of parents from Rangeley

enthusiastically cheered on their kids from beyond the first base dugout, even during warm up-pitches. The day was bright with sunshine, the kids competed hard, did not complain, and the smell of food was in the air. If Norman Rockwell were present, I’m sure the scene would have been captured in a painting. It was perfect.

After again being personally escorted back to the terminal by the AD, I spent the ride back to Rockland taking in the scenery from the top deck of the ferry and contemplating how much I had enjoyed the day. Several Rangeley parents noticed me and smiled. I was back in Rockland by 4 p.m. I couldn’t have imagined a better day umpiring baseball.

On the island, I learned that Vinalhaven has two home game dates per year. I hope I get asked to do the next one.

200 & 202 Seawall Road Southwest Harbor, Maine

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Wilbur Yachts, a landmark boatyard in Southwest Harbor offers 4 27 acres and multiple buildings currently used for boat building and repair This is a rare commercial opportunity in Southwest Harbor, close to the village center and Manset Town Dock The main shop boasts high ceilings, large bay door and second floor work area with balcony for easy access to larger boats, fully equipped wood shop, finish room and several offices Two large additional bays for boat storage as well as a wood shed and small seasonal cottage exist on the property Prime development opportunity with large double lot, abundance of storage and 80+/- feet of frontage on Seawall Road

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Umpire Pete Rand poses on the Maine coast. PHOTO: SOPHIE PAYSON-RAND

Pete Rand is chief financial officer for Island Institute, publisher of The Working Waterfront. He may be contacted at prand@islandinstitute.org.

From Portland to Presque Isle, LifeFlight of Maine is committed to ensuring that every person, in every community in Maine, has access to critical care and medical transport when needed.

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Washington County atlas revived Crosen’s version of 1881 edition adds photos, facts

If you enjoy exploring old maps, photos, and other pathways of Downeast history, you’ll find inspiration in artist-editor Jane Crosen’s new Coastwise edition of Colby’s 1881 Atlas of Washington County.

For over 40 years the Penobscot mapmaker has been creating handdrawn maps of Maine coastal and lake regions, published as posters, cards, T-shirts, flour-sack towels, trays, and other items. As her Maine Mapmaker product line has grown, so has her interest in exploring Downeast Maine’s historic landscape through maps.

In 2020, Crosen published a geographically arranged “Coastwise” edition of George N. Colby’s 1881 Atlas of Hancock County, expanded with period photos and excerpts as a time capsule of Downeast’s 19th-century coastal economy in the age of sail and steam.

After the Hancock atlas, she conceived of a Coastwise edition of Colby’s 1881 Atlas of Washington County as a companion volume. It would prove a longer but more interesting journey, with Sunrise County having twice the number of towns and townships in a much larger area—and with more margin space for period photos and excerpts complementing the maps.

Compiled and published by George N. Colby, the original Atlas of Washington County, Maine, (1881) was drawn in Machias and engraved and printed in Philadelphia; only 300 hand-colored copies were printed, now collectors’ items.

Digitally archived scans and blackand-white facsimile editions have kept Colby’s historic maps available for public access, but they weren’t in any kind of order, making it hard to correlate maps and find places.

Crosen, envisioning “a way-back edition of the Maine Atlas and Gazetteer,” wanted to present Colby’s historic maps in a more user-friendly format for today’s explorers, grouping

related maps—towns, villages, timber lot plans, based on charts and surveys— in geographic order, “as schooners would sail coastwise Downeast with the prevailing winds.”

The edition is Crosen’s love letter to Washington County, which she had gotten to know somewhat through three decades selling her wares at the Machias Blueberry Festival, exploring along the Airline en route to her camp on a lake near Wesley, and in adventures around Grand Lake Stream. In researching period photos and captions to round out the atlas with historic context, she found much more to explore in Washington County’s rich cultural landscape.

While she expected and found many themes in common with Hancock County, like shipbuilding and lumbering, she soon realized Washington County had its own stories to tell, varying with its diverse landscape.

“From the outwash plains, I found tales of glacial history and blueberries, the Baseline and Coast Geodetic Survey, along the craggy granite coast and bold volcanic cliffs, tales of schooners and lighthouses, shipwrecks and life-saving.

“On Passamaquoddy and Cobscook bays, tales of borders and battles, customs and smuggling, tides and sardine canneries, and on the Downeast rivers, tales of sea-run fish and salmon hatcheries, dams and log-driving.

“From the inland hills and waterways, tales of canoe routes and the Airline, game and guiding.

“And all around the St. Croix, Dennys, and Machias watersheds, I found the anglicized place names and enduring presence of the Passamaquoddy whose ancestral homelands span eastern Maine’s shores, facing the dawn.”

To make the maps and local history more accessible for today’s users, including explorers of genealogy and old deeds, Crosen has added a comprehensive index correlating historic place names (many changed since 1881)

with their current ones. It includes a sidebar on the Passamaquoddy heritage found in many place names in Sunrise County, the traditional home of the People of the Dawn.

She hopes history buffs will enjoy sleuthing the new, old atlas.

“There is so much to discover and rediscover in Washington County where the past is still present in its well-preserved cultural landscape.”

Colby’s remarkably detailed maps provide clues to locations of 19th-century buildings, Coast Geodetic Survey markers, rail spurs, millponds and mills, dams and dikes, lumber

wharves and steamer landings—“historic features (or remnants) still in today’s landscape if you know where to look.”

Designed in collaboration with graphic designer Dede Johnson, Crosen’s new edition of the atlas was printed by Downeast Graphics in Ellsworth, launched in time to celebrate Washington and Hancock Counties’ new Downeast Maine’s National Heritage Area designation.

The Coastwise Geographic Edition of Colby’s 1881 Atlas of Washington County is available at local stores and historical societies, and at www.mainemapmaker.com.

Navy planning to commission ship in Eastport

USS Augusta was built in Alabama

BY EDWARD FRENCH

The USS Augusta is set to be commissioned by the U.S. Navy, and, although the commissioning ceremony is still subject to change, the Eastport Port Authority is anticipating it will occur at the Eastport breakwater from Sept. 25 to Oct. 2.

While the Navy was looking at other ports in Maine for the commissioning, Eastport made a pitch to host the ceremony, pointing to its long history of hosting Navy ships over the Fourth of July.

“We are well known and well respected by the Navy, and it’s a natural fit for Eastport,” said Chris Gardner, executive director of the port authority. “Our

operation, experience, and vetted status made us a great candidate, and of course the success of all our Fourth of July visits is well-known through the Navy.”

While most Navy ship commissioning ceremonies in Maine are held at Bath Iron Works, this vessel, a 418-foot independence-class littoral combat ship, was built in Alabama, with work having been completed in May 2022. However, because she’s named for a Maine city, the Navy wanted the vessel to be commissioned in the state. She is actually the second ship to be named for Augusta.

“The Navy is excited to come, and we’re working out the details to make sure this takes place,” said Gardner, who added that indications are that Eastport will be selected as the port for the commissioning.

“It’s a huge coup for the Port of Eastport,” he said, with the possibility of a number of significant dignitaries attending the series of commissioning events that will last for a week.

Gardner points out that the commissioning ceremony celebrates a tradition dating back to the first ship ever commissioned by the U.S. Navy, the Margaretta, in 1775. That vessel was captured from the British in the Battle of Machias, the first naval battle of the American Revolution, and was then used as a privateer.

“The commissioning team was very pleased to hear that they were going to be coming to the county home for that event,” Gardner said. “This is almost the birthplace of commissioning” Navy ships, he points out. Gardner has

reached out to those involved with the Margaretta Days Festival so that they are aware of the ceremony in Eastport.

“It’s a celebration of Washington County’s heritage,” he notes.

“The port authority’s ability to attract an event like this speaks well of the community and its long-standing support of the Navy,” Gardner said. “That’s indicated by the success of the Fourth of July visits over many years. Old Home Week is famous among Eastporters, but Eastport is famous within the Navy due to its Fourth celebrations.”

This story first appeared in The Quoddy Tides and is reprinted with permission and gratitude.

essay

The wonders of Maine life

Longtime visitor, now resident, is impressed

BY CHARLES BUKI

In August 1973, our family arrived in Maine for a one-week vacation on Pemaquid Pond outside Damariscotta. The following year we arrived for two weeks, and then steadily we accumulated more weeks and years until something about Maine felt like home.

I was 13 the bicentennial summer in 1976 and walked into the Maine Coast bookshop and a white haired man, the proprietor, helped me find books to read. He gave me A River Runs Through It, and a lifetime memory of his kindness.

I still have that hard-bound first edition, and the memory of that wonderful book store—across the street from the Yellow Front Grocery and near Reny’s and across from Clark’s Spa—and it remains influential.

The tug of those summers required me to return as often as was practicable the next decades, and the combination of too much time in the D.C. area without nature, and too little interaction in the D.C. area with real people, led me and my wife to try to make a go of it here on the Midcoast. In the fall of 2020 we bought a home along the Kennebec, two or so miles up from Popham Beach.

I’m so fortunate to be able to work remotely, and this affords much

tranquility, as the hermit thrushes, cedar waxwings, warblers, and nuthatches, and the spruce, pine, fir, maple, oak, birch, and beech they live in surround us. We are having to learn about wood chipping, snow blowing, gale force winds, frozen pipes, brown tailed moths, how porcupines and dogs mix, and the necessity that firewood be seasoned.

On a bike ride a few weeks ago there was a bird strutting across the road while a pickup truck behind me seemed likely to pass me and squash the little guy. The truck driver stopped to let the bird cross. The driver explained to me it was mating season and he was a woodcock doing his thing.

On a bike ride a week later, as the lilacs were in full bloom, I could see up ahead on the road an old rusty F-150 pulled over, and a giant bear of a man out on the side clipping a few lilac flowers which I then saw he was fastening to his rear view mirror.

and who is always in good cheer, even when he managed to get his truck into the ditch and had to winch himself out.

Besides the thrushes and the warblers, pink lady slippers sprouted for the second spring in a row, and we have begun to notice not just huckleberries and blueberries but beautiful service berries as well.

I could see an old rusty F-150 pulled over, and a giant bear of a man out on the side clipping a few lilac flowers…

Our neighbor’s camera confirms coyote and a fisher cat are hanging out, and my youngest cattle dog cannot help but roll in something vile on some of our morning walks. Foul as that is, it’s so much better that it happens now in these spring and summer months when I can hose her off outside.

sink into the couch wondering about the size and constitution of the men who built the miles of stone walls across Maine.

Moving a single 250-pound stone the 100 yards from one part of my property to another, up against gravity that doesn’t want to let me get the rock up the hill, and then down against gravity that wants to yank it from me before I’m ready, takes everything I have got. And then I have to figure out how to get it placed without losing a finger in the process.

Henry David Thoreau wrote that “We are never prepared to believe that our ancestors lifted large stones or built thick walls.”

I would not be surprised to learn that one or both of these guys, neither of whom I know, may be related to the guy who plows my drive at 2:30 in the morning during a January blizzard

The cranberry bog is much wetter this year than last. I’m anticipating a much healthier blueberry harvest than last summer, which was quite hot and dry. What this spring’s and early summer rain totals mean for this fall’s cranberry haul I am too new to say. But I’m enjoying thinking about a real bounty.

A lot of my time on the weekends has been devoted to moving rocks.

That means I get a few feet of a wall built every weekend, whereafter I

book review

Home to Downeast for compass reset

Eastport native’s novel sorts out youthful mistakes

practice. A cop who knows who he is spots him, gives him grief about the school being closed to visitors, and warns him to watch his step. Dan’s obviously got some history to live down.

unmarried, to Eastport from ambiguously close but distant Lubec. Hinging on this history, an altercation with two high school classmates launches the story’s key events.

Here in Phippsburg, I see the kinds of people who know how to build stone walls because they build them. And know how to navigate through the fog because they fish in it. And know that summer is short and as much as one may want to sit back and take it all in, there’s wood to stack.

These days, someone is getting half of every strawberry in the garden; it’s an annoying tithe, but also more than a little bit charming.

Charles Buki was born in Arkansas, lived in the Carolinas, served in the Army, spent time in Northern Virginia, and finally, after all that, is home.

Just East of Nowhere

By Scot Lehigh (Islandport Press, 2023)

REVIEW BY DANA WILDE

Anyone passingly familiar with Eastport will recognize it immediately in Scot Lehigh’s new novel, Just East of Nowhere. We get a tour of the place in the first pages when young Dan Winters gets off a bus at Perry Corner and hitchhikes into his hometown. A local storekeeper picks him up halfway to the Passamaquoddy Reservation, and we gather from terse conversation that word of Dan’s return will spread quickly. He gets out at the foot of the High Street hill and walks up to his alma mater, Shead High School, where he looks in wistfully on a JV basketball

He walks to the waterfront to gaze at the breakwater, “Eastport’s aquatic town square,” which spurs detailed memories of his not-quite-lost youth. He then ambles along Water Street through the North End, and comes face to face with the house where he lived with his mother and that “had seemed like a prison he’d never escape.”

For as the story opens, Dan has returned from college to attend his mother’s funeral. At this point we realize his sort of shell-shocked state of mind in these opening pages really is a version of Camus’ “my mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don’t know.” This sense of detached, existential ambivalence and latent anger makes up the emotional condition, but not the atmosphere, of most of this story, which is told in mainly objective, at times almost wry sentences.

Events revolve around Dan’s quest to find out who his father was and why his mother moved, young and

The classmates are Sonny Beal, from a fishing family that had relocated for murky reasons from the Machias area to Eastport, and Griffin Kimball, Sonny’s unlikely sidekick. After the altercation, the story makes a sharp left turn to focus on Griffin, his disaffected family life, and how he stumbled into the friction with Dan. The friction mistakenly comes to center on innocent Susan, the love interest of both boys.

The narrative spends a great deal of time sorting out Dan’s and Griffin’s inner struggles, and it’s tempting to say that the physical geography of Eastport equals the psychological geography of the teenagers in this book. But it would be a stretch. The matter-of-fact prose vividly sets the physical scene, but it also lightens the angst we’re told the teenagers are feeling.

This dissonance becomes apparent when, toward the end of the book, a near-tragic mistake with a firearm is euphemistically interpreted as a

moment of personal empowerment. The matter-of-fact interpretation seems to belie the gravity of the mistake.

The many other adolescent misdeeds—serious and ridiculous, some deep in the past—made by young adults in the story have already led to far-reaching pain and suffering, and the event with the firearm could have been even worse. The easygoing narrative skates over the fact that a deadly shooting has far deeper moral implications than a simple learning opportunity.

Still, Just East of Nowhere provides observant details of life in Eastport, where Scot Lehigh himself grew up before lighting out on a successful career as a journalist. Just East of Nowhere unfolds the fact that in outback Maine, if you’re not a high school sports hero, expectations are low, and how teenagers’ resulting feelings of doubt, dread, and alienation from civilization’s far-away centers— such as Bangor, Portland, Boston, New York—can actually play out in life.

Dana Wilde is a former editor and college professor living in Troy.

saltwater cure

Smell-o-vision in an island meadow

Natural scents are infused with memory

BY COURTNEY NALIBOFF

DURING MY first spring on North Haven, I often had occasion to walk to work. I lived on the island’s North Shore, much closer to the school than I live now, and walking was a more attractive method of transportation than driving the dilapidated Saab I had managed to buy that winter.

My route took me past an expansive meadow crowned with an A-frame house set far back from the road, looking like it would have been more at home in a Swiss Alpine village than on the island.

As we neared the end of the school year, the meadow exploded with wildflowers. In the late spring heat, purple and rabbits’ foot clover, white and golden daisies, and yellow and purple vetch dotted the field, interspersed with grasses spanning the full gradient of greens and browns.

It was enticing to the eye, but what struck me even more strongly was the scent. That spicy, warm aroma lit up some part of my brain that remembered

being a very small child being pushed in a stroller past a similar meadow, my younger sister in a front pack on my mother’s chest. She paused to pick a head of clover and place it on the stroller tray, where I could touch and smell and even taste it.

The smell of that sunbaked field, reaching 20 years into the past to connect me to the present, was a visceral and welcome clue that perhaps, despite all the challenges of moving to a new home, I was in the right place after all. And nearly 20 years on, the smell of North Haven’s spring meadows still reassures me that I’m in the right place.

Scent lets me know when I’m far from home, too. I’m filing this month from San Diego, where we’re visiting Bill’s family. On a walk through the neighborhood, we suddenly encountered a wall of scent, unlike anything I had on file in my memory. A quick glance to

the side revealed a fence and half-wall covered entirely with jasmine, just past peak bloom. I sniffed—and sneezed— trying to imprint the odor on my brain.

The next time I get a full-face smell of jasmine, I hope it lights up the memory of that day, with its cool and pleasant sunshine, and the satisfaction of stretching my legs on a new path.

A few other smells trigger strong associations, most pleasant. Roses and smoke bring me back to three weeks in Spain in my junior year of high school. The lively smell of fresh vegetables and fish on ice, with an undertone of fry oil, transports me back to my first summer in Boston, reveling in the freedom afforded me by the “T” and finding dinner treasures in Chinatown.

Less welcome are the occasional flashbacks my brain offers to the

journal of an island kitchen

The weather and dinner next year

Cool, damp early summer impacts plans

BY SANDY OLIVER

A FRIEND observed this week, midst soggy, foggy, drizzle, and downpours, that, “I’m glad I don’t have to depend on the garden for food this year.”

People have planted beans twice, perhaps at last seeing some showing above ground. Radishes and greens, which sprouted to flea beetles’ delight, were left with lacy leaves.

Whatever of my whole first planting of lettuce started inside and set out hopefully, survived an attack of Japanese beetle grubs which chewed away the stem from roots, were then mauled by slugs. Frequent rain showers diluted the effectiveness of the old beer-in-a-dish trap, and the more powerful Sluggo pellets needed too frequent replacement.

Cold and wet hinders planting. Wet soil compacts too much when worked even if it isn’t clayey. What a frustrating growing season so far except for the weeds which plant themselves when and where they choose and so thrive on their own terms.

So far the happiest green growing things here are the tomatoes in my hoop house. Protected from pounding rain, sheltered from chilly nights, about 30-odd paste, slicer, and cherry tomatoes are blooming and setting fruit.

Back in early May when I set them out in their appointed places under wires that support trellising strings, I thought about canning in August and September, about winter soups and sauces, how in a year from that moment, I’d be down to the last few jars of tomatoes; how I was planting meals months to a year in advance.

Last year’s droughty late summer resulted in one good ear of corn per stalk instead of the more usual two, and we ate so much off the cob that enough corn for the usual couple dozen packages of cut kernels stashed in the freezer never materialized. What I did freeze disappeared quickly into early winter’s shepherd’s pies and corn chowder. A corn supply calibrated to last until July was simply impossible.

This week, we snapped off the sprouts that always appear, starting in March, among October-stored potatoes, and we still have a five-gallon bucket and a half of another bucket of useable potatoes for mashing and roasting, and summer potato salads.

In September and October, we’ll harvest the next year’s supply. I think it is fun to have one salad made up of a couple of last year’s potatoes and a couple of the new year’s potatoes.

Of course, this is just vegetables. We eat grains grown in Maine, elsewhere

on our continent, and even around the globe; fruit from this region, elsewhere across the country, and even the globe, and as much meat grown in nearby Maine as we can find, New England cheese, and luxury European cheeses, so we are not subject merely to Maine’s flukey weather.

We certainly are subject to flukey weather elsewhere. I wonder how the intense heat wave in the South and West concurrent with our cool and damp will affect this year’s meals. Still, as long as we have money and the supply chains work, we will eat.

I often think about people in past times, and in our own, who have to choose between eating and saving seed crops; who have to ration their food to make sure there will be enough; who don’t raise any of their own food and must depend on market supplies completely out of their control.

I think about 1816, often called Eighteen Hundred and Froze to Death, which saw extremes of heat and cold, and in New England, frost in every month and heavy snow in early June. Most crops failed, and lack of feed for cattle meant animals were slaughtered because it was impossible to overwinter them.

While lots of people simply went hungry, others ate a repetitive diet, probably grateful to eat anything.

powdery, fruity smell of the anesthesia used to knock me out for my tonsillectomy, my eight-year-old self briefly panicking in the overwhelming odor delivered by the mask over my face.

A quick search of the internet has taught me that it’s a quirk of brain anatomy that lets our noses act as a key to some of our most visceral memories. The pathway from the olfactory bulb through the limbic system works some sort of nostalgia magic when the right chemical combinations trigger a flood of memory and emotion.

That seemingly prosaic explanation doesn’t diminish the power certain smells have to press play on the experiences that have shaped my life. A smell can tell me when I’m on vacation, and a smell can tell me when I’m home.

Courtney Naliboff teaches music, theater, and writing on North Haven. She may be contacted at Courtney. Naliboff@gmail.com.

With nothing to rely on from the 1816 season, the winter and spring of 1817 must have been dire.

One year, I decided to stop buying fresh vegetables in winter. In the summer, I planted plenty of root crops: beets, carrots, onions, potatoes, rutabagas, parsnips. I stashed away red and green cabbage, winter squashes of all sorts, and made pickles out of cucumbers, green beans, and cauliflower. I froze green beans, peas, corn, and some peppers. I gathered apples, canned peaches.

Winter salads that year were cole slaw, Waldorf salads, grated carrots with and without, apple chunks, shredded butternut squash, cold beet salad; pickles replaced raw cucumber, and sometimes we ate pickles instead of green salad. It boiled down to “fresh” equals “uncooked.”

It took planning several months ahead. There was no noticeable diminution in the quality of my life. After all, humankind had been living this way for millennia.

That spicy, warm aroma lit up some part of my brain…

Sandy Oliver is a food historian who gardens, cooks, and writes on Islesboro. She may be contacted at SandyOliver47@gmail.com.

cranberry

report

Sharing a summer house

Family history leaves its mark

BY BARBARA FERNALD

IN SEPTEMBER I will have lived on Islesford, as a year round resident, for 47 years, but I have spent part of the summer here for every year of my life. My connection to Little Cranberry Island goes back to two sets of greatgrandparents who happened to build summer homes near each other on the north shore of the island.

I imagine my grandmother, Barbara Seelye, knew my grandfather, Francis Bottome, when they were children. After they married it was the Bottome house that remained in our family, and is now shared by my brother, me, and our three cousins.

When I was a child, our family usually stayed in the house for the weeks at the end of June and early July. My grandparents stayed for the middle weeks of summer, followed by my aunt, uncle, and cousins who were there for the last weeks of August into Labor Day.

The adults never saw the need to overlap these visits since we all lived in Rochester and saw each other frequently for family occasions. As a youngster I didn’t really understand this. It was always fun to be together with my cousins.

One clue I had that our family and my aunt’s family had different styles for occupying the house was the annual tradition of my father grumbling his way up the stairs to the third floor where the double doors to the living room and dining room had been stored by my uncle. He then grumbled his way down to the first floor carrying one door at a time.

There is no heat or insulation in the house, but on a cold wet June day the living room can be kept warm and cozy with a fire in the fireplace and those doors closed. At the end of the season the days tend to be hotter and the house has soaked some warmth into its plaster walls. Upon my cousins’ arrival, I picture my uncle grumbling his way up the stairs, carrying those same doors that seemed unnecessary to him.

things the way he thought they should be done. It was a spring ritual.

There is no heat or insulation in the house, but on a cold wet June day the living room can be kept warm and cozy with a fire in the fireplace.

Now, all of us have grown children and we get to watch the next generation work out schedules for when they might like to stay in the house while considering the plans of their parents. There are enough people to fill up time slots for the whole summer so we haven’t yet come to any consensus about renting. We don’t have a system for who uses the house and when. It usually starts with a group email, during the winter, from whoever thinks about their summer schedule first.

“We would like to use the house from June 25 to until July 2, if no one else has plans for it then,” was the message from one of my sons. Everyone started to figure out schedules from there and the house is set to be steadily occupied this summer.

overlap our visits much. Just as each family has its own approach to parenting, everyone has their own style while staying in the house.

I haven’t slept in the house for over 40 years, but I so enjoy seeing my sons and their families able to use it. They have managed to share a few days in the house together for the last four years and the cousins have a blast.

One of my favorite childhood memories is the time our family came back to the island in August to stay for a few days with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. Two visits to Islesford in one summer was the best thing ever to me. The house felt wonderful to be so full of people. I remember endless laughter as we helped get ready for meals in the way children do.

If there was friction among the adults, I never saw it. Yet, somehow our parents never chose to repeat the multifamily visit.

I don’t know if he complained or even if he was the one to move the doors. I just know my father had a hard time understanding why people didn’t do

“It’s great that we all get along so well,” my brother says about this method. Maybe one of the reasons we get along so well is that we still don’t

Conflict and chiffon at an island restaurant

BY PHIL CROSSMAN

I OPENED a restaurant a while back right across the street from my Tidewater Motel. It was quite an experience; I had the most fun I’d ever had during the three summer months we were open and lost more money than I’d ever managed as well. Crow being my nickname, we named it the Crow’s Nest.

I interviewed applicants in Portland for the chef position and hired Matthew; he was young and enthusiastic and seemed to know what he was doing. When we opened around Memorial Day, Matt took the helm in the kitchen.

I had a lot of live music and as a result the place was quite a draw some nights. I tapped my fellow islanders as staff and these folks, capable enough in familiar surroundings, were hard pressed to conduct themselves in ways that fit the notion of service to which some of our visitors were accustomed, wine selection and procedure, for instance.

One day, when the place was absolutely packed, one of our home-grown

young women found herself waitressing the dinner shift on open mic night. At table 11 was seated a cosmopolitan young couple who’d come over from the motel.

Shirley invited them to make a drink selection. They did and she relayed it to Scooter back at the bar. He opened the New York cabernet sauvignon and gave it to Shirley to take to the table. When she arrived with it, the young gentleman gave her a withering look of disdain and said, “This wine is supposed to be opened at the table. Having been opened at the bar, it has breathed excessively and has now lost much of the subtle nuance we might have expected.”

“No kiddin,” said Shirley as she grabbed the bottle, put it to her lips, inverted it completely and took a big healthy swig. Wiping a little dribble from the corner of her mouth and modestly dispensing with a tiny pocket of gas, she pronounced, “Hell, this is finest kind, hasn’t lost any of its nuisance at all. Now you folks drink up and enjoy your lobster ‘cause the ferry don’t leave till mornin’.”

A few weeks later just as the customary seasonal influx was arriving and things were getting very busy, I walked into the kitchen about an hour before our customary 11 a.m. opening and found Matthew in the kitchen, complaining about something to a staff member who was whipping a big bowl of chiffon. A cigarette was hanging out of his mouth. I told him to get rid of it or smoke outside. He ignored me and kept on complaining about something that was going on outside.

I spoke to him again, “Matthew, get rid of the smoke or take it outside.” He kept on smoking and complaining. I grabbed the bowl of chiffon and hit him in the face with it. When the bowl dropped away, a memorable apparition revealed itself, its face covered in froth and a long extension of chiffon seeming to take flight from the cigarette. He stormed out, wiping his face with a dishrag. I never saw him again. It was 10 a.m. I called Lynette, an island friend, who had worked these gigs in the past. She came right down, got lunch ready and stayed with me till we closed in the fall. Why

Barbara Fernald lives on Islesford (Little Cranberry Island). She may be contacted at Fernald244@gmail.com.

I didn’t call her in the first place is beyond me.

Later in the busy season, Scooter was having way too much fun and a group of young, somewhat ribald young ladies took a six-seater right in front of the bar. Scooter, eager to engage, took their drink order. They ordered several bottles of wine.

Scooter brought them to the table and then reached into his (tight) jeans pocket to retrieve the needlessly big and cumbersome corkscrew he’d bought earlier at the next door grocery. In his hurried process the corkscrew engaged with something down there below his belt. He winced noticeably but finally got it out and went ahead with the opening but the whole thing was fodder for the girls all night.

Phil Crossman lives on Vinalhaven. He may be contacted at philcrossman.vh@ gmail.com.

Patron service wasn’t always the priority

observer

Feds learn about community, in-person

Northern border commission visits coast

BY NICK BATTISTA

KATHLEEN BILLINGS, Stonington’s longtime town manager, articulated some deep truths to representatives of the Northern Border Regional Commission (NRBC) during a recent visit.

“This is our home,” she said. “Once you are on an island, there’s a different culture to it. You have to be selfsufficient. You have to figure it out for yourselves, that’s what makes us tough. We care about each other and there’s a strong sense of community.”

Over the course of two foggy, rainy days in June, with Island Institute staff, Maine’s congressional delegation, and Maine’s Department of Economic and Community Development helped the NBRC understand the unique economic needs, challenges, and opportunities of Maine’s island and coastal communities.

The NBRC is a federal agency that works in partnership with member states to support economic development in distressed or struggling counties across Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and New York. The geography is dominated by forests and small rural communities that depend on the woods, paper mills, sawmills, and increasingly, on outdoor recreation—communities like Madawaska, Millinocket, and Bingham.

As a young but growing federal agency, NBRC is continually striving to ensure its work aligns with the needs of the communities it is designed to serve.

“In undertaking this work there is no substitute for listening first-hand to communities describe both the history that has shaped them and their vision for securing a brighter future,” said Chris Saunders, NBRC’s federal co-chairman.

“While needs like infrastructure, housing, and workforce development are shared among nearly all our communities, our policies and investments are stronger when guided by an understanding of the specific ways our communities and businesses hope to address these challenges and the partners they are working with to do so,” Saunders said.

Experiencing coastal communities firsthand helps NBRC be a better partner in Maine.

At the Vinalhaven Fisherman’s Coop, we heard about planning for infrastructure upgrades that will help maintain working waterfront. Between those working for the coop and the fishermen who use it, this infrastructure supports paychecks for over 5% of the community.

In Spruce Head and Stonington, we saw properties adjacent to important waterfront properties that had recently been listed for sale and been purchased

fathoming

by the owners of the working waterfront to protect their access and business operations against the possibility that “they would’ve had a rich person buy it, put in a big pier with a big boat, and frig everything up,” as one man put it.

“Piecing together a living” is common in these communities and increases in shoulder season income or additional seasonal employment opportunities are a big deal.

At the Spruce Head Fisherman’s Coop, Bob Baines talked about lobstering, scalloping, and his decision to start growing kelp to have some income in the spring.

Next door, Krista Tripp showed off her oyster shack where she sells her Aphrodite Oysters. She talked about being able to leverage her lobster business to support the growth of her oyster business which now employs three. She was optimistic about what the future might hold: “Maine is the perfect place for aquaculture!”

The conversation in Stonington was about transitions. Even fishing has undergone immense transitions over the years. Kim Hutchinson of Project Launch talked about how it’s helping high school students transition to college or explore other opportunities. She also said they are starting to see

Forecasting the Maine coast’s future

Data now includes environmental DNA

BY NICK RECORD

DINOSAURS NEVER knew the coast of Maine. As rugged and timeless as it appears, our coast is a relatively new feature, formed and revealed as ice sheets melted away, roughly around the time the seeds of human civilization were sprouting roots around the world.

No one could have foreseen back then, as the gravelly shoreline saw those first rays of sun, that it would one day be a hotspot for fried clams, lobster rolls, and the world’s largest chocolate moose.

Even over the span of my short life, the coast has changed in noticeable ways.

The once distinctive layer of blue mussels has almost disappeared, and there are large aggregations of plastic debris that didn’t exist when I was a kid. Even the coastline itself has moved in a few places, like around Popham Beach.

It makes me wonder, in ten, 20, or 50 years, what sort of coast will our kids be looking at?

Predicting the future is a big business. The head of NOAA once told me that weather forecasting is a $300 billion industry globally. It’s easy to go online and find daily forecasts of everything ranging from COVID outbreaks to elections to the NBA finals.

For my own part, I’m interested to know if we can make forecasts about the future of the coast of Maine.

A couple of years ago, a few of us started the Tandy Center for Ocean Forecasting at Bigelow Lab in East Boothbay. We’ve been working on developing new ocean forecasts, with projects ranging from microbes to whales. For example, our shellfish toxicity forecast is in its third year running.

This forecast was put together with the help of the Maine Department of Marine Resources and shellfish growers, and it gives a weekly prediction of the probability of closures due to toxic algae at sites all along the coast. DMR hosts the forecast here: mainedmr.shinyapps.io/bph_phyto/.

We’re not the only ones doing this kind of forecasting. There’s a blue whale forecast on the West Coast and a sturgeon forecast in Chesapeake Bay. Some scientists are working on a sargassum forecast, for the gigantic mats of floating seaweed that wash up and decompose along shorelines. Others are trying to predict the way species will change as the ocean climate warms.

Forecasts are sometimes easy to take for granted. Nature is wild, and there are plenty of things we still can’t explain well.

About ten years ago, large aggregations of jellyfish started surprising people along the coast of Maine, and there was no data to help answer the question of why they were suddenly there. At the time, I started collecting people’s jellyfish sightings, mostly through email, hoping to forecast them.

Over the years I’ve received thousands of jellyfish emails, and the list of mysteries only grows longer. For example, a couple of years ago, giant lion’s mane jellyfish started washing up—specimens that were four to six feet in diameter.

I’m still collecting these reports, so if you see a jellyfish, send along an email to jellyfish@bigelow.org—maybe with enough reports we can eventually figure out what’s going on.

There is one lesson about forecasting that the jellyfish reports have taught me—it’s a lot more fun when it’s a community effort.

For the past few years, a growing group of people in Maine have been working with a new kind of data: environmental DNA. It’s like a kind of ocean forensics. People are tracking salmon, sharks, scallops, toxic algae, you name it, by collecting DNA from coastal waters.

people in the fishing industry deciding to sell their traps, boat, and do something different. They sometimes need support, too, she said.

Saunders shared themes that have emerged in these rural areas.

“It all comes down to the pathways we can offer people to make a living,” he said. “In rural communities we often see families working together in order to facilitate some sort of entrepreneurial activities. The quality of infrastructure also matters to these communities. You hear it a lot. These communities know you have to take care of the stuff you have.”

Our plans to visit Isle au Haut were interrupted by weather. It was a fitting moment for a trip focused on the unique aspects of island and coastal communities. Adapting to changes in the weather and figuring out how to keep a community moving forward helps make them tough and resilient.

Nick Battista is senior policy officer with the Island Institute, publisher of The Working Waterfront. He may be contacted at nbattista@islandinstitute.org.

Now, as the data starts to build up, people are going one step further and asking whether we might be able to make forecasts. Here’s where it would be amazing to get some community input. As we make more discoveries about where these organisms are headed, what would you like to know about the future of Maine’s coast? What questions would you like to see answered? How far into the future would you like to look?

If you have two cents to add on this topic, we set up a page where you can tell us what you think. The link is at the end of this article–we’d love to hear from you.

Link for input:

https://forms.gle/WNzYA1bpjtFqSJCF7

Nick Record is a senior research scientist and director of the Tandy Center for Ocean Forecasting, part of Bigelow Laboratory in East Boothbay. He holds a PhD in oceanography.

plain sight

Orr’s Island’s forgotten attraction

The famous author’s ‘other’ book

BY KELLY PAGE

HARRIET BEECHER STOWE is renowned for her influential 1852 novel,  Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which played a pivotal role in shaping national perspectives on slavery. During her husband’s tenure as a professor at Bowdoin College, Stowe penned this significant work while residing in Brunswick. Her impact on the historical fabric of Brunswick is evident, as her Federal Street residence stands as a cherished historic site, and one of Brunswick’s elementary schools bears her name.

But she also had a major but lesserknown impact on a community not so far away—Orr’s Island.

Orr’s Island, apart from its captivating coastal village scenery, has gained recognition for its lobster boat fleet and the distinctive crib-stone bridge connecting it to Bailey Island. In 1862, Stowe chose Orr’s Island as the backdrop for her novel,  Pearl of Orr’s Island, a captivating coming-of-age tale that weaves together elements of romance, tragedy, and misadventure.

Through this literary work, Stowe provided readers with an intimate glimpse into the daily lives, customs, and work routines of a real Maine community. Thus, Orr’s Island became

inextricably linked to a national literary figure and her transformative writing.

Enthusiastic fans of Stowe’s novel flocked to Orr’s Island, eager to explore the sites and encounter the people who inspired her. Initially, the local community was ill-prepared to accommodate these visitors, lacking lodging and dining establishments, and facing transportation challenges.

However, with the establishment of steamer lines and the growing popularity of tourism in Maine during the 1880s and 1890s, Orr’s Island experienced an influx of tourists seeking an authentic Stowe-inspired experience, the peak of which occurred after her death in 1896.

Over time, the locals gradually began to capitalize on the interest of tourists. Despite the fact that no actual homes perfectly matched Stowe’s descriptions, several houses were controversially identified as the residences of central characters.

Orr’s Island evolved into a Pearlthemed attraction, offering visitors a comprehensive experience that included visits to three character’s houses, the site of a smuggler’s cave, a cemetery, reenactors, day sails, clambakes, hotels, and a general store with an extensive souvenir section.

Additionally, old salts spun their yarns including numerous stories

Construction,

circulated about Stowe’s time on the island. Consequently, tourism had supplanted seafaring as the island’s primary industry.

The aerial-view postcard shown here, dating back to the 1930s, represents just one of the hundreds of promotional materials found in Maine Maritime Museum’s collection, all aimed at enticing tourists to explore “the Pearl’s” Orr’s Island. Spanning several decades, these postcards likely ceased production in the late 1940s, around the same time when the last accessible house was closed to the public.

Remarkably, this particular house still stands today as a private residence. During Stowe’s era, it served as the home of Deacon Johnson, the one individual widely believed to have inspired a character in the book.

Kelly Page is collections and library services manager at Maine Maritime Museum in Bath. Current exhibits include “Women Behind the Lens” and “SeaChange: Darkness and Light in the Gulf of Maine.” Plan your visit at www.mainemaritimemuseum.org

An aerial view of Orr’s Island from the 1930s. PHOTO: MAINE MARITIME MUSEUM

art of the waterfront

David Vickery visits Olson Wharf

Cushing painter ‘dowses’ for subjects

BY CARL LITTLE

IN AN INSTAGRAM post in early June, painter David Vickery shared a recent painting, “Flag Buoys, Olson Wharf,” accompanied by this cursory description: “Down at the end of my road, where there’s usually something interesting.”

Vickery lives on a lane off Hathorne Point Road in Cushing, a quarter mile from the wharf, and he often walks down there after dinner.

“Being a working dock, fishing gear is always coming and going, and the weather, tide, and light are always different,” he reports.

This particular time he noticed the buoys “casually stuck” in bait barrels. Attracted to their “eye-catching” Day-Glo flags, he liked “the sense of anticipation of their career in the ocean, where I imagine they are now.”

Asked about these buoys, Vickery’s lobsterman neighbor told him they’re called “high flyers.” They mark the ends of trap lines, thereby offering better visibility to other fishermen, so they don’t “set over each other’s gear.”

Vickery finds many of the subjects for his realist paintings close to home, “generally things that have depth and

meaning because they’re familiar,” he writes, adding, “I have a sense of their history, and I’m better able to see them as metaphors.”

He likens finding a motif to dowsing, where “your intuition tells you there’s something meaningful there, even if you don’t always understand why.”

Vickery has painted other wharves, including the one on Monhegan which he first discovered as a Carina House artist-in-residence in 1993. Asked what appeals to him about the subject, he notes that they are transitional places and thus have a built-in dynamic of expectation, “and the sea beyond is always interesting and metaphoric.”

Olson Wharf sits on Maple Juice Cove, not far from the mouth of the St. George River to the south. The wharf gets its name from the Olson family of Andrew Wyeth fame. Vickery’s friend, lobsterman Sam Olson, owns the wharf. His grandfather, also named Sam, was Christina and Alvaro Olson’s brother.

Vickery remembers chatting with Sam’s father John, who died in 2019 at age 97. The painter was fascinated by John Olson’s stories of serving in the Navy during World War II, which included losing 24 shipmates during David

Doc Martin meets All Creatures Great and Small in these uniquely American true tales about an island physician off

Vickery, Flag Buoys, Olson Wharf, 2023, oil on panel, 13 ½ by 12 ½ inches.

Photos courtesy the artist

the Normandy invasion when a torpedo hit his destroyer and witnessing the Japanese surrender in Tokyo Bay.

Originally from Connecticut, Vickery first came to Maine in the late 1960s to visit his grandparents’ modest summer home on Islesboro and later camped with his family on the coast every summer. “From the age of about seven I knew I wanted to live in Maine,” he says.

In 1985 Vickery took a course at the Apprenticeshop, then in Rockport, thinking he might become a boatbuilder, but art classes at College of the Atlantic hooked him on painting. In 1991, two years after graduating from COA, he moved to Cushing full-time and began his art career.

A fan of Hopper, Homer, the Wyeths, the Dutch and Northern Renaissance realists, and photographers like Eliot Porter, Paul Strand, and Paul Caponigro, Vickery found his muse in Maine. Today, he enjoys an ever-growing audience that admires—and acquires—his precise renderings of coastal scenes, be it the Red House on Monhegan, a clammer working an icy cove—or those bright flags flying over a humble wharf down the road a piece.

Vickery is represented by Dowling Walsh Gallery in Rockland and The Gallery at Somes Sound in Somesville. You can see more of his work on their websites as well as at www.dvickery.com.

Carl and David Little’s Art of Acadia comes out in a paperback edition this summer.

David Vickery in his Cushing studio.

Connor O’Neil is a North Haven resident working in the lobster industry as a sternman, looking to diversify his income by expanding into an aquaculture business that he runs with his wife, Hannah. With a Compass Workforce grant from Island Institute, Connor is purchasing equipment to map and monitor the area where they will be farming scallops and seaweed. Once they are farming their products, Island Institute will connect them to a network of potential buyers of their products, to ensure future success. PLEASE CONSIDER MAKING YOUR GIFT TODAY!