One of the nicest things about working with the Boothbay Register is Kevin Burnham’s willingness (reluctantly sometimes I suspect) to cut me some slack … and correct my screw ups! For example, today I was trying to pull something together for my weekly column. No small challenge! During a moment of brilliance, having written all but a brief signoff, I clicked the wrong key on my computer and vaporized the entire column! I wrote to Kevin to share my mishap and he graciously said it was OK if I took a little more time. I took a walk, made a cup of tea and here I am, trying again. Jeesh, thanks, Kevin.
Kevin, by the way, is just one of the special things I have come to appreciate over the years while sharing stuff for the paper. I missed the first 100 years but have managed to annoy the more skilled Register staff quite regularly the past 50 years! I had in mind, initially, to share a photo I made with Mary Brewer, Mrs. Cowan and Rags, her lovely pup, but my search came up empty. So, I decided to share a photo I made back in the late ’70s while visiting Damariscove Island with the late David Colburn and family, which included their son Jon, who who was just a young whippersnapper at the time. We explored the island and I came out of my shoes when I saw the above shared photo. I love old buildings and the stories they can tell. This was prime time for me!
I’m not great with boats. There wasn’t much call for nautical equipment in the Appalachian hills of central Pennsylvania. I get a little nervous, especially when out of sight of land. I’ve tried to get over that and am making progress, but I suspect there will always be a little nagging in the back of my brain sharing “what if.” My wife is far more experienced having spent lots of time on the ocean in Delaware growing up. I know Damariscove is not a gazillion miles offshore, but …
My first contribution, if you can call it that, to the Register readers, was in 1975 when I related my first experience with the Maine lobster, also not a staple among my native clan. My errand was to pick up some lobsters from a Little River lobsterman at his boat shed and deliver then to guests at Treasure Island for an evening meal. I had never seen a lobster before but it didn’t seem like too difficult a chore. I picked up the lobsters, paid for them and started my return to civilization with critters squirming about in a paper grocery bag. About halfway home in the woods, the bottom of the bag let go and lobsters shot out in every direction! Don’t let anyone ever tell you that these sea creatures require ocean. They wasted no time escaping and I had no clue regarding their recapture. It wasn’t pretty. I finally got them all rounded up, one of which I had flipped up onto a low tree branch when it started to whack my hand with its tail. At least it was easier to get out of the tree than it was to drag others out of the woods!
When I finally got my new friends home, the guests were curious about the leaves, twigs and soil that accompanied the catch. “Wash before cooking” was my only response.
At the time of my submission to the paper, Dan DeRepentigny had just taken over ownership. Mary Brewer was editor and Kevin Burnham was still in college. Jim Behringer had a print shop downstairs, Bill Harris was artist in residence, and I think Emily Berne was staff photographer. It was a nice group. Mary and I did a fun column now and then called “Working Folks.” I would photograph a member of the community and Mary wrote a nice piece. Howard Cowan and Mrs. Cowan took over as time went on.
The old building on Damariscove was fascinating. I know that Chip Griffin has written extensively about the island, and many of the local seafaring lot still visit the island during warmer times. Andrea Hallinan shared some stories about her visits with her father Captain Bill. Bill keeps a float in the harbor and it's one of Mark Stover’s favorite haunts with friends and guests. Everyone I have spoken with has stories about the island. For Andrea, as a child, it was a great place to explore. Things were beginning to show their age then, though. I think the Coast Guard station had been abandoned and the old shack shared above was beginning to fall apart. All the more adventures to be had.
So there you have it, a brief romantic recollection of my early association with the Boothbay Register. I hope it can remain a viable institution as the plight of local newspapers becomes more evident. It’s nice to be able to find a record of local happenings, news, stories, ads and opinions. One hundred and fifty years is pretty impressive. Here’s to the next chunk of time to explore and record. Thank you all for giving us a paper to hold.