Jesse Halsey | c1934
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Jesse Halsey
The East Riding of Yorkshire in the olden days, it still
retains a flavor not found on the west end of the Island where Dutch influence
predominated then, and where the Big City reaches out now. The atmosphere
changes when one nears the Shinnecock canal. It is, for one thing, always
cooler out there; and for another, here one comes to the New England part of
Long Island.
Although the modern cottager has come in numbers and with
affluence, these “Yorkers,” as the native used to call them, have not changed
the scene essentially as many of the summer homes follow the old lines of the
colonial or farm house type though there are notable exceptions in [Mr.
Atterbury’s] shingled houses that hug the dunes and in an occasional Italian villa or other
importation.
Cement has been used on the main highways, but one misses
the real beauty of the countryside if he follows these, after he reaches “The
East End.” In the last twenty years the local road-masters have developed a
road of loam, sand, and oil, which, smoothly honed after each rain, make a
perfect highway much more resilient and easy riding than cement or macadam.
Southampton and East Hampton towns are threaded with such
roads, almost unknown to the motorist, who goes flying through on the numbered
state highway, and misses the innumerable ponds and bays, almost forgetting the
ocean itself, until he reaches Nappeague, that long narrow Cape-Cod-like-sand-dune-stretch
leading to Montauk. Aside from this one piece of concrete, it is pleasanter to
keep to the dirt roads and to spend a little time seeking the natural beauty of
the Island’s southeastern fluke.
For like a great leviathan, Long Island throws itself out
into the ocean, paralleling the Connecticut shore; with its head safely
anchored to Manhattan by the bridges, bathed by the Sound on the starboard, and
the Atlantic on the port side, its caudal-fins stick out to sea. One is called
Orient, the other Montauk Point.
Historically, this is interesting country. Southampton was
founded in June of 1640 and is the oldest English settlement in New York state.
Half a dozen “undertakers,” as they were called, organized in Lynn and sailed
for western Long Island where they were driven off by the Dutch and so,
finally, landed in an estuary of Peconic Bay that they named the North Sea.
Four miles further south on the ocean they made their permanent settlement.
Several old houses remain from that general period and are worthy of a visit.
The summer colony that has become famous is, naturally, off
the main road. First Neck, Cooper’s Neck, or Halsey’s Neck; each has its
“lane”; Great Plains and Ox Pasture have theirs also. It will pay one to follow
them, driving slowly.
East Hampton is the most perfect New England village outside
New England and more perfect than many in New England. Its wide village street
with a Common and duck pond, its cemetery, dividing the main street, and the
gorgeous elms, make it a perfect setting for “Home Sweet Home,” the boyhood
home of John Howard Payne, which faces The Green. “Maidstone” was the old name
brought from England. It seems a pity that it was ever changed. This is
possibly true of Southampton also, as the old communion cups of the Southampton
Church (now loaned to the Metropolitan Museum) spell the name “Sought
Hampton”—the Hampton within the sound, or “soughing,” of the sea.
Both Bridge Hampton and Sag Harbor have striking examples of
colonial churches with white spires. The Sag Harbor church tower dominates the
landscape (or seascape) for miles, and was built in the palmy days of the
whaling industry when “The Harbor” rivaled New Bedford and Nantucket. The
wharves are deserted now, where once the old whalers lay awaiting their turn to
discharge their smelly cargoes of oil. Numerous house in this village have
lovely doorways, and there are gardens with box-wood hedges.
Use “Further Lane” or “Hither Lane,” by all means, as you go
on from East Hampton. Pass south of Amagansett and take the beach road toward
Montauk, then (for once) use the concrete across the Neappeague Beach—all else
is white sand. When on Montauk, roam by the side roads and cross roads from bay
to ocean. There are several hills where ocean and sound can be seen at once,
and in clear weather, the Connecticut shore and Block Island are visible. Visit
the fishing dock at Fort Pond (near the station) and plan to spend the late
afternoon at the Point driving back into the sunset along the ridge road, with
the surf and ocean stretching away on your left.
Another time take the “back road” to Springs from East
Hampton and come out at “Fireplace,” opposite Gardiner’s Island where Captain
Kidd buried his treasure and where the heirs of old Lyon Gardiner still hold
the island in entailed succession.
Six or eight old windmills of Dutch design still stand in
this territory. Two of them occasionally can be seen revolving, under sail
though no longer actually grinding grist.
Before the days of speed, each hamlet had its name, and
though the sign boards no longer indicate anything except the larger villages
it will pay to slow down and with a local map visit such a spot as Canoe Place
where the Indians portaged their canoes from the South to the North Bay. You
will see Quogue on the road map, but not Quiogue; Hampton Bays but neither Good
Ground, nor Ram Pasture. You will, likely, brave one sand road and visit the
Shinnecock Indian Reservation and there pick up a scrub or a basket. Ponquoque
Bridge will take you across Shinnecock Bay to the ocean road, which you can
follow—with several short breaks (as indicated on the map) all the way to
Montauk.
The cement “slab” is all right for speed. The back lanes,
dustless and smooth, are much more interesting and less frequented. This is a
leisurely country; explore a bit. No roads are long—they can’t be: sooner or
later they lead to water; this bay or that pond—Tiana, Mecox, Georgica,
Peconic, or whatnot. And they seem indiscriminately mixed; fresh water lakes
within a stone’s throw of the ocean, alternating with tidal estuaries.
Cold Spring, Seabonac, Towd, Wickapogue, Littleworth, Hay
Ground, Scuttle Hole are as interesting as the villages, if you can find a
guide who knows the local lore and the hidden spots of beauty in the woods. An
inquiry addressed to the Colonial Society in Southampton or the Historical
Society in East Hampton, should bring a response that would put the antiquarian
motorist in touch with a local historian who can lead to genealogical data, or
local legends, or authentic history. James Truslow Adams, then a Wall Street
broker, began his career as a historian, in a cemetery near Wainscott, studying
epitaphs!
British soldiers were stationed in these parts during the
Revolution. The fireplace where their General’s mess was prepared still stands
in the Herrick House in the North End of Southampton. Near Pudding Hill,
British raiders were driven off by a steaming teakettle in the hands of a
patriot housewife. A local doctor routed the red coats from Hay Ground with a
small pox scare. Old Pomp, a salve, dispatched horses of the enemy, with ground
glass placed in their feed.
The oldest house was built by Thomas Halsey in 1688, in the
South End of Southampton. The present owner, over zealously, has placed 1628
over the door. (He is a “Yorker” not a native).
In Littleworth, Foster’s Museum deserves a visit—an old barn
filled with whaling and other relics. The library at East Hampton contains the
priceless Pennypacker collection of books and papers relating to all Long
Island subjects. In Southampton and East Hampton there are worthy art museums.
Nature’s best contribution is found on the “wood roads” and back lanes.
Good hotels abound, but unfortunately, few farmhouses cater
to the tourists. Parks, however, at Montauk provide camping accommodations and
cooking places. What could be more fitting than to visit the Montauk docks,
buying some live lobsters from the fishermen and then taking them to one of the
parks on the Atlantic, and boiling them in sea water? This requires only a good
sized kettle. To the more ambitious camp-cook, there is always fish available—“blues”
from the surf or weakfish from the bays. (Likely the quickest way to get them
is to visit Captain Tithill’s at Fort Pond.)
For the twin eight or the old four, alike, the East End
offers its back roads and hidden beauties. The four-ply cement to Jericho or
the Merrick Road certainly (25 or 27), but dirt roads after crossing Shinnecock
Canal! They will lead through Millstone Brook where the trees have never been
cut off; out to the Scallop Pond or around Big Fresh, called Nippaug by the
Indians. Minnesunk Lake, or Little Fresh, Conscience Point, where the first
settlers landed, Tuckahoe, Squaw Hill, Towd Point, and Holmes Hill—these and
dozens of other places are found along the dirt roads.
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