Ship Chandlers

Greenport had one and if you aren't sure what they are (they still exist in our village but not like way back then) they are specialty stores that supply things for ships - or in our present era - boats.  When Greenport was a very active port the chandlery store was a big time operation but, as all things shipping waned a bit, these stores had to diversify.

We noted this intriguing store pictured in some local archives.  We can travel to Main St. now and find it, another name on the sign but clearly still part of our village.  This particular chandlery was owned by Mr. J.P. Grady who was a yacht broker - as of 1910 anyway and perhaps this store was just an offshoot of his business as S.T. Preston's, almost next door, was the big dog chandlery in town and had been for half a century when this picture was taken.

We found Mr. Grady in a 1910 phone book. No number but we did some research and as it appears just under 300 folks and businesses here in town had a phone, sorting though to find Mr. Grady's listing didn't take much time and the operator just connected folks by name anyway.  Mr. Preston and a Mr. George Volkman over on Central Avenue were the only chandlers listed as such. We had a couple liquor distributors, three attorneys and a company that made small engines.

Phones were pretty much confined to the north road, main and front streets, central avenue and 1st Street with a smattering on 5th and 6th and Wiggins.  A few, like Mr. Bartlett, didn't have one at his home but at his office at the First National Bank Building which we think is now on the spot occupied by Capital One but will have to go inspect that and find out....there is always an engraved block of granite somewhere if there is a bank...they seem to go hand in hand or hand in glove perhaps is a better expression.

Looking closely at the picture we can see the telephone wires in place and the possibility of a telephone pole upper right.  We will inspect the pole that is in place at that location and see if it yields any clues.  We will be looking for a NYTelephone tag on it - that would be something - as that wonderful former part of Ma Bell was in the directory as well.

Finding some notes from last winter

We think that this was jotted down in January and now at the half year from then, coming off a heat wave when our shoes stuck to the pavement...it jut seemed a good idea to publish this too cool off.

"Well, its cold this morning, -2 degrees in fact and still as if the air was frozen. Shelter Island rests just to the south of where we are looking and across a harbor area that is still ice free. We'd give it til noon.

This is a strange little land, this island.  It rests between the north and south forks of the far eastern part of Long Island and connected only by ferry. At certain times during the late night you are there and better like it because there is no getting off of it except to swim.  Perlman, the violinist, has his music camp just across the way.  Homes perched high on the heights, a few hundred feet up probably have a few souls looking back at me as on mornings like this there is very little else to do except to look for early morning fireplaces coming alive and coffee brewing here and there.
A while back it was part of the original Plymouth Land Grant (1620 or so if memory serves and eventually found its way to some sugar merchants - one in particular, a fellow named Sylvester, settled there. Signs dot the roadside all over the place and his original home or what remains still exists. We are reminded of him a bit (not in person but from the historical markers) because he married a young lady (16) named Grissel Brinley - what a name!

About 15 years ago we attended  a yard sale just up the street from the original Sylvester home.  It was a farmhouse that due to a recent death was being emptied and was under contract for sale.  The 1,600 pounds of sugar (about $5,000 at the local IGA store now) would have bought about 1/100th of one of the 6 acres remaining.  Shelter Island isn't for the faint of pocketbook.  Anyway, in one of the out buildings that was used as a canning shed, was a wall full of canning jars (seemed to make sense). Hundreds of jars. Some were very rare and dated back 120 years..1870s actually.  On investigation this was one of the original "farms" on the island, blocked off into a substantial parcel from the nearly 12,000 acres.  The original farmhouse was rebuilt after the War of 1812 when the British invaded and burned a lot of the buildings. If walls could talk.

We keep the found jar  in the kitchen where it stores brown sugar and generally decorates the counter top. We keep Shelter Island in sight out of our windows; sometimes thinking that Shakespeare died about 4 years before this Island was the target of settlers and think of the opening of Twelfth Night and Viola and her not bound for Virginia but to Plymouth (and not all lost at sea save one) and finding her way to Shelter Island and her great great great great grand kids owning a farm and having a canning shed.....and of course owning our precious jar.

Our far flung correspondents

Headline writer wanted. Obvious sense of humor required.

We would like to know what the 'broader demographic" is in this case.....we don't mean...well as not to put too fine a point on it -- but dead is dead....or are we missing something?

Bury the silver. Hide the children. There is business afoot and it appears to be on the move....

Eagle Hose

We have tried to figure out where in our village this shot was taken .... well...where it was shot....and when.  So many mysteries.

We went to a clothing expert of sorts who places the dresses at about 1900.  Perhaps they were shopping at the one local millinery store we know of from then, Ms. M.K.Baileys over on Main Street or perhaps from a catalogue long gone and forgotten.  We do note a few things in the photograph to give us a clue, one being the prominent sign "carriages" dead center and, on close look, the fire crew is leading horse drawn fire wagons in the back but all that is pretty dim.

Looking closely, we noted a wire in the top left of the photo. AHA.  Well at the time in question, we found a Greenport Telephone directory and found three "livery" listings (no carriages) but figured we were on the right track.  One belonged to Mr. H.E. Young on Front Street, another "Young", this time Leander J. on Railroad Avenue and the last being G. Thomas Black's establishment on Central Avenue.  All of these establishments were on the wire - all connected - no cell phones even imagined, no text, just a lone operator at a switchboard plugging in connectors that lead to the lines, what few there were.

We don't think that this is Front Street because it had buildings lining it for a long way.  We also don't thing that this is Central Avenue although that is our second choice but would have to wonder that zig-zag parade route would take Eagle Hose into that part of town.  We think this is on railroad avenue up a bit from front and that would make some sense if not for the fact there is no railroad avenue in Greenport but the old railroad yard was at the end of the present 3rd street so we think this might be along that way. The telephone to the station would make sense as it would to the livery - always a great business at that time - "can you bring our carriage out and have it ready at 5pm sharp".

The pride on the faces is without mistake.  Membership in an organization like this carries that with it as a given.  The drums rat-a-tat-tat, the cornets fan faring and the bass brass ompahing must have been a smash on parade.  Ladies in their finery and fashion, parasols to the sun, leaves aglow with sunlight and something coming over the telephone wire, the parade is underway, out quickly and watch it.

Operator:  Number please

Us:  the Leander Livery on Railroad please.

Operator:  Please hold the line.

Aquarelle

We have a great local library that is far more than just books. Far more.  This month and next they have highlighted a local artist of some talent for a watercolor exhibit.  "Travels in Watercolor 10am-5pm Floyd Memorial Library, 539 1st St, Greenport"

So now you can find it and we hope you do. The place is a treasure and if you have children - then go there, do not pass go, do not collect $200 as the old saying goes.

We urge you to go feast your eyes.  Seriously. Watercolors are often thought of as something that comes out of kits when you were a kid. Obviously there is a lot more to it than that and some surface reading on the subject just starts to open the eyes.  What we like about the entire thing is that the particles (pigments)  are suspended in the water and seem to hang above the surface. Some of us got into the entire technique during college and grad school when we looked at illuminations in old texts and music - often drawn there via a watercolor genre. We liked that a  lot because the colors seemed to glow off the page.

There are, in this terrific exhibit, a lot of works that glow and a good space to think about them.  This scene (by Milne - above left) is an example of what you might find...it is as far removed from the photograph as Debussy is removed from Ravel (that might be an obscure reference - sorry) and this isn't impressionistic at all. Not at all.

The suspension of pigments in a medium is just what it is and by the nature of a suspension (physics time), there is no uniformity except for the split second they are mixed - after that chaos ensues and greens suddenly are by degree - at least that is what it is to our untrained eyes and equally untrained mind.

It is, this exhibit we mean, worth a long look.  We don't know about technique and skill level (although compared to us "Sunday painters" this is some pumpkins) but we do know what pleases our eyes and makes us want to know more - particularly on how a painter in watercolors sees what he/she sees and then finds pigments suspended in solution to express her mind's eye.

Curious.

Grand daughters and tall tales

After dinner the other night a grand daughter in our company took us outside - I think to be away from the grownups and their talk. It was a girl's night reunion with, counting her, 4 generations of the female part of the family and 3 were dearest and closest friends visiting. These three have visited middle summer every year for almost a score of years and.....well we are lucky to have them come and be so nice. But back to one of the grand kids..

We went outside and of course the fireflies are in full bloom and carefully explained to her that when we were kids we used to capture them in a jar and make firefly lanterns out of them. She looked perplexed and we couldn't blame her because the entire idea of capturing one of these wonders seems to be just a bad idea from the get go. We did decide that when fireflies light up they are just talking to one another in some sort of star trek code - something that is possibly true but we don't know for sure and its not important other than its a nice thing to think about. We humans do pretty much the same thing when we talk to someone we like ... our little lights go off then too.

The stars were just coming out and it was opined that they were really fireflies who flew very high so they wouldn't end up in some little girl's jar and they kept their light on so their friends could find them. "No. They are stars". "No, they are fireflies way up high". And on it went.

We had a full moon that rose out of the ocean to the east and she asked if that could be a firefly too. The moon hung so perfectly that she could see the "face" and we agreed that it was just someone who loved fireflies and was up there watching them.

Some nights it pays to grow old, grand daughters in tow, tall tales of fireflies, stars and the man in the moon; laughter from the dinner table from old friends and family just enjoying things and the full attention of a child, brain all full of imagination, living in a world that we want to be so perfect for her that fireflies in a jar when they could be stars in the night sky, looked upon by the man in the moon, seems like a bad idea.

All Hail

This is former Chief Engineer Young - dates of service not yet known but we will find out.  He is resplendent in dress uniform and wonderful hat.  Fire Department Volunteers are an interesting lot in our little village.  We plan to write about them often here not only because they have a fair amount of archival pictures hanging about town but mainly because they "do good work". 

They don't get paid.  We don't think they ever were compensated for their work.  It makes these volunteers all the more interesting.  There is some small small small pension that the village provides after about a zillion years of public service so if anyone gets into this for the money or tells you that and you swallow that bait - we have bridge to sell you.  We see them a lot around here as the sirens go off now and then and cars with blue lights race up the streets to meet the emergency vehicles like some skitter bugs on water.  They have been to our very neighborhood in the past half year and have arrived in jig time must to our relief and assurance that some things do work and work nearly perfectly.

In the summer, they have a famous chicken dinner that about 1,200 people attend and a thousand more could if they didn't sell out. The famous Martha Stewart asked for the marinade recipe which we know but we are not telling not to be snippy but it isn't ours, it is theirs, and if it is for the telling let them tell it.

Life and property are much safer here because of these fine folks.  Chief Engineer Young has much to be proud of in his gallant pose and the village is better off for him.  (I'm sure he was criticized for not cutting the grass but we won't say a word).

Yummie

Some foolish person opined that this was perfect for a fall Sunday morning. Ha.  It is perfect for a summer morning, a noonish brunch, goes well at dinner and makes a fine late night snack. 

 

You can inject this right into your arteries if you wish.  You'll miss the taste but the results will be the same.

 

Scalloped Oysters

Ingredients

 

• Pint of oysters (or two) - 1 pint per person is a rule of thumb
• cup of half and half
• butter (1 stick melted)
• saltines

Preheat the oven to  400.  In an oven safe Pyrex loaf pan or small pie pan or for that matter some aluminum disposable - if you use a ramekin then butter the sides.

 

 

1. Crumble up enough saltines to put a layer 1/4" deep across the bottom of the pan ..dampen these a bit with some melted butter (don't make them soggy).  Spread half your oysters (drained and reserve the liquid (liquor its called) over the top.
2. Cover with saltines like you did on the bottom
3. Add another layer of oysters and cover those with a thin layer of saltines  Mix the oyster liquid (liquor) and the half and half  and pour over the entire layers - it should be 1/3 to 1/2 full of liquid but there is never too much.
4. pour the remaining butter over the top.
5. there is salt on the saltines (duh) so if you like some pepper you can add that either layer by layer or into the liquid or over the top.  up to you...and to your taste.

bake in a 400 degree oven until the top layer turns light brown or the mixture boils or both. don't over cook..poached is the operative word not baked to death...we have found it takes just a few minutes to heat through, cook the oysters before they turn to rubber and crisp up the top.

"Oh, this is elementary my dear fellow"

We were clicking around the historical society's pictures at our library and came across this billboard.  It got us all excited t be sure as there is nothing like being a detective on Saturday mornings.  Childhood memories likely center around the movie theater on Saturday mornings - about 10a.m. - with Flash Gordon or a Captain Midnight - maybe a Lone Ranger thrown in.  It made for good times and an appreciation of that clear and crisp black and white, not that we didn't have CinemaScope - we refuse however to state our ages.

Before the "tube" there were just movies and before that, there was the stage - not that there isn't now - but perhaps a hundred years ago, before movie houses sprung up everywhere, traveling troops of players made their way on the circuit.  The east end of Long Island had opera houses and "halls" all over the place.  It was a coming of age for a village to build that sort of place because it meant culture and in the decades after the turn of the century (the last century not 2000 !!  you wags) we wanted to be like Europe.

William Gillette, the fellow in the picture, came to Greenport and played in the Opera House.  We actually have proof. He was the fellow from whom Basil Rathbone modeled the character that we identify from those long ago trips to the movie house or Sunday matinees on TV.  The cap, the curved pipe, the coat - all Mr. Gillette as he took to the stage all over the place with Mr. Holmes' escapades.

Mr. Gillette coined the phrase that has been reduced to "Elementary my dear Watson".   He also gave our predecessors around these parts a good deal of entertainment something to talk about for weeks on end... not to mention an iconic cap, cape and the gotcha! phrase of all time.

Life's a Carousel

A few year's back Greenport launched an ambitious waterfront restoration project centering around Mitchell Park - a great stretch of land right in the center of the village and, in honesty, something of an abandoned space.  Long ago it hosted the Mitchell Marina and Restaurant that fell upon fire and hard times.  The then Mayor, David Kapell had a splendid vision for the area - to make it a park and to extend and repair the wharfs on the waterfront into a village marina. Well the transformation  took a bit but now - well its maturing and pretty darn neat.

In the center of it rests a carousel and not just any carousel.  Grumman - the aircraft/aerospace company (now Northrup) - owned it. It dates back, we have heard, to the 30s and Grumman acquired it in the 50s for use at events.  When they (Grumman) pretty much packed up and moved west, the Carousel was left to sit in a shed and Mr. Kapell noticed it. Long story short, it found its way to Mitchell Park through Mr. Kapell's efforts and now,  here in the center of our little village, commands the spot of a jewel in the crown. A lookout; horses in place to ride off in all directions and riders at the ready.

It sounds like a carousel should sound and the horses clip along at a good pace. There is even a brass ring to catch and seats for the grownups who aren't into mixing it up on horseback.  We can walk by, on this walkway in the picture and hear the music and the whoops of kids at full gallop. On a bright evening, it nearly drowns out the moonlight.

We  wonder about the horses in all this. They have seen a lot things over the years - mostly carnivals and picnics during their early years followed by some neglect and we imagine loneliness without a 3 year old in the saddle hanging on for dear life. In their resurrection, they fly around in their circles and look out of windows at a great view of a very old harbor made new and shinning, are cared for and adored by a great many kids and an equal number of adults, and pretty much are having the times of their lives.

We think so anyway.  It is a very pleasant thought.

All the ships at sea

Peconic Bay, where we are, has a wonderfully protected harbor that is and once was deep enough for a submarine base just west of Greenport - the first one in the navy by the way. Mostly it is a safe place to tie up and enjoy an overnight on the water without a lot of angst.

We note boats that come in and anchor/tie up for a stay as that is what we do. We aren't snooping we just notice.

Some of us walked on a beach several mornings in a row and noted the sailboat. Two of the days were windy and grey/foggy and one was spectacular. This was the spectacular morning. 6am. All hands on deck.

Virginia Flugrath

These old photos fascinate us.  Like the first post on this blog, another flip though the older photos turned up yet another and older suprise. 

This is Virginia Flugrath - stage name Viola Dana - and some pumpkins in the silent movie era.  At about this time, Virginia was just about 19 and recently married. Girl from Brooklyn makes good in flicks should be the headline.  The movie in question and playing at the Metro Theater (of Metro Pictures), "The Flower of No Man's Land" was a steamy little drama about a woman eventually working, and after some trails and travails, in New York as a seamstress, and was released just before the 4th of July in 1916.  That's the movie listed on the billboard and Viola's picture adorns the signs on the sidewalk. Virginia/Viola went through 3 husbands and lived in Southern California for another 70 years before dying at age 90.

We like to look at pictures with a "before and after" though.  The picture to the left is the Metro in 1916 featuring the aforementioned Viola.  The picture to the right is the Metro a couple years later (1922 - November to be exact).

We liked the "bunting" on the theater in the picture on the left and the addition of the marquee (probably marquis at the time) in the later shot. There is an unidentified building to the left of the theater (in each shot) and that has caught our interest.  We are exploring.  It has to have a story worth finding. The lot in question has gone through a number of uses in the 30 years we remember so there are records and we will find them.

Just a few more years to the celebration of the 100th year of the Metro.  Can't wait.

Same year as -----

We think in terms of events linked to years - the famous Antiques Roadshow question, "Do you remember what year you bought this"?

Wandering around the picture archives from this Village of Greenport (it was Greenport at this time), we came across a train schedule from 1849. It is pretty nifty to look at and even niftier to think about.

The presidential election was over and President Polk (remember him???) just came into office.  Noticing the Sutter's Mill gold find in California from late the year before, he supposedly coined the phrase Gold Rush and from that 49'ers for those hearty souls - some 200,000 of them, who made the journey.

We have read that an alternate route to California from here required going to Panama and hiking/canoing over to the Pacific - shorter but we are thinking of snakes and bugs - perhaps not ideal for us.

Some 2 months before this train schedule went into effect, the Sabina, a merchant ship from Greenport started the journey to the Gold Fields leaving in early February perhaps about the time that David Ives, the railroad superintendent was drawing up the schedule for spring. The Sabrina's journey took about 8 months and they returned in May of 1850. That Log exists so we need a day trip to Mystic to read it.

The passengers would have missed the great Greenport Fair of 1849 which seemed to spout from efforts of the railroad to promote their service but we just don't know much about it.  That seems like a good project....an interesting excursion to the records.

All in all, 1849 was an interesting year in these parts and all over. Good to know.

Haett(s)

The royal wedding was certainly a nice event to watch,  and the young couple seem like just plain ordinary folks. They would fit in well in our village. The future king and his brother are, well;  hail fellows well met types or so they seem. Kate is a real dazzler. 
The only commotion came from some rather (to our eyes) amazing hats and to be historical about it -  haetts - or hottrs - (or that Red Hat of the Cardinals). It appears that hats came about as a "toss-up" between protection from the inclements, a sign of office or perhaps rank, and a hood of sorts - probably the oldest meaning.  We assume that someone looked "really spiffy" in a hat at one point and they became fashion statements. 

Never stopping at understatement when excess can be reached, a few of the females who went to Kate's wingding pulled out all the stops.  We all got a good chuckle but that was and is the tradition there and,well, good for them...although we note that some wore them better than others.

Rummaging around in some archives in our village, we came across a picture of a few of the local aristocracy from some years back and we point out that the English have nothing on any of them.  We don't know the names or the reason for the portrait but it had to be our version of a royal wedding at the very least but I won't make up a story when a picture will do.

If anyone has any information whatsoever about this, please let us know as frankly we are dying of curiosity.  It had to be some pumpkins of an event - furs, feathers and haetts.  In some odd way these women look smashing.  We do hope that the picture was taken on the coldest night of the year.

We do note in amazement that the two women in the front seem to be in variations of the same dress......

Of Trains

The links between New York City and the far east end of Long Island are about 175 years old.  Serious history.  The North Fork had a huge train yard at the far end of it in Greenport and trains would be loaded on ships or barges for the trip across Long Island Sound to Connecticut.  In turn, everything from whale oil to oysters, potatoes to cabbages were shipped to New York.  The Long Island Railroad's "main line" ends here but it is a shell of its former glory with just a few passenger trains a day making the two hour trip to Penn Station.

Most of us have family influenced by the railroads.  One might have to go back a few generations to find it, but someone traveled to somewhere on it to start a new life or escape an old one.  Some celebrate railroads with nostalgia - railroad enthusiasts abound and perhaps there is no more ubiquitous symbol of Christmas morning than setting up a new train set around the tree, conductor cap firmly in place, tiny fingers on the rheostat - engine at the ready.   All Aboard.

Just a little village history - what's in a picture

We take lots of pictures now that we aren't developing film and, being a generation of instant gratification - well its snap it now and it is on Facebook in a minute or less. Old black and whites, the staple of the Brownie Camera from youth produce really magical "snaps" and these treasures are everywhere for the looking.

While rummaging around in the Stirling Historical Societies collection at the Floyd Memorial Library we found this photo of our local movie theater.  In an attempt to label it right, it needed a date or some way to place it in time.  Well the Metro was the Metro for decades so the name was of no help. However, on the far right of the picture there are three "billboard" panels and the one on the far right of the three announces the movie "The Forgotten Law". Aha. The picture dates from November or so of 1922. Bingo.

The Forgotten Law (plot unknown) starred a fellow name Milton Sills.  Sills was from Chicago and wealthy AND smart. Before he caught the limelight he taught at the University of Chicago but was lured away by a touring stage company and eventually Broadway and on to silent movies.  This 1922 production was one of his early movie appearances and in his brief but highly regarded career he was some pumpkins although how someone gets critical acclaim as an actor in a silent film melodrama - well its like watching the soap operas without the sound  - at least to me.

There was a era when lives like this could happen although so remote given the nature and demands of our times.  It seems we all had a college acquittance who literally packed up his bag and his Royal typewriter and moved to New York City to become a writer; silly because you could write from your basement for that matter and no sense living in a La Boehme melodrama if you didn't have to but he went and probably did ok.

So here is this Milton Sills who walks away from a wealthy "swells" life and the prestige of being a professor at what was then and is now a superb University to get in front of a crowd and then a camera and actually do it.

You can see his star on the Hollywood walk of fame and you might wonder who the heck he was. Now you know. He was the guy starring in the film playing at the Metro that had a printed billboard up in front of the theater in November, 1922 - 90 years ago give or take. Oh - the GPS for the Star is 34.101747, -118.326453. He's buried in Chicago.

He died playing tennis with his wife in Santa Barbara.