6363-R3_CIC_April2019_Calendar_Web

Marty’s Memories: Boats Out of Water by Marty Trower

I drove up the slight hill before going down to Bennett’s Cove last week, where I met up with Cecil Amos Doughty. He slowed his truck as he passed me and rolled down his window. “When are you going to write about my boat down there?” he asked, smiling his crooked smile. “Strange that you should say that,” I answered. “I’ve been thinking about doing just that!” I often drive down to sit and take in one of the prettiest spots on the island and always love seeing Cecil’s old lobster boat perched there on the side of the road, almost on the shore, year after year. So, I asked him, pretty much knowing the answer beforehand, “Are you going to put her in the water this year?” “Oh, heavens no, I don’t think so.” Where do old boats go anyway, ones that have been used and loved for a long time? I remember seeing one on the road to the dump, on the side, in the woods, really. I don’t know what to think about that. It makes me feel sad, though. Then there’s the romantic and lovely Polaris, Poochie Ross’s fishing boat, that sits in front of his house on John Small Road and comes alive with vigor and splendor every year at Christmastime, outlined with colored lights. That sight that never ceases to thrill me. One of my earliest Chebeague summer memories was seeing the underside of Morris Harmon’s black wooden sailboat abandoned on the side of the right of way to Hamilton Beach. The property used to belong to Polly and Margaret Newell, sisters of Grace Harmon; it is now Margaret’s grandson Jack Turner’s house. Tall grass had grown over it, and it

wasn’t much more than a skeleton, but its lines were curved and gracious and the black was faded but still dramatic. That image holds me still, though all other evidence of its existence is long gone. I never knew Morris Harmon; he died before I was born. Morris and Grace Harmon lived year-round in the original farmhouse of the Soule property, once the only home on the large property of orchards and farm land on the east end of the island until farming died out and summer cottages cropped up around it. Mrs. Harmon, or “Gubbie” as we called her, was like a second grandmother to many kids in our neighborhood, but she was the real grandmother of Michael, Martha, and David Porter. I remember sitting on her porch steps while she told us how she used to be able to see right out over the beach and to the islands and how you could feel the breezes and smell the salt of the ocean—that is, until old Mr. Zaugg planted all those pine trees on his property in front of her. Then, she shook her head in frustration! Now those huge trees are gone, wiped out in a freak “micro-burst” during that Patriots’ Day storm about ten years ago. Just up the road from where that black beauty used to sleep is another stately monument to boat building in Michael Porter’s yard. Michael spent his summers as a youth with Ray Hamilton on his gray fishing boat, and the two remained friends until Ray died at 102. Ray’s boat spent years at Michael’s mooring at Hamilton Beach after Ray retired. Now, its elegant form, gracious bones, and proud bow repose in Michael’s driveway, remembering. Dental Clinic How long has it been since you had your teeth cleaned? The Council would like to continue to sponsor free dental clinics, but needs to be sure there is sufficient community interest to continue. Please contact the Council at chebeagueislandcouncil@gmail.com or call 846-4988 if you are interested in keeping this clinic active. The clinic is by appointment only and has room for up to 8 patients.

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APRIL 2019 CHEBEAGUE ISLAND COUNCIL CALENDAR