Cape Cod Folks: Book Review

One of the odd things bout the Bible is that it pretty much jumps from Jesus as a toddler to Jesus on His world tour. There's no Teen Jesus part, which would have actually been pretty cool to read about. Maybe not that much happened to Teen Jesus, hence the focus on the birth story and the ending.

Plymouth is sort of the same way. We all have a basic visual of how 1621 Plimoth looked, and we can drive into Plymouth right damned now if we wanted to know the modern version personally. However, Plimoth was a backwater fairly soon in her history, especially in what is now Southern Plymouth.

Luckily, we have a book set in postbellum Plymouth. Beyond that, you're on your own.

Before we start, a bit of geography.

"Cape Cod" today means "all of the land east of the Cape Cod Canal." If you want to get technical, Sandwich and Bourne own a bit of the mainland, with places like Sagamore Beach and Bournedale serving as a buffer zone... sort of like a salty Estonia.

Before they dug the Canal, defining the borders of the Cape was a more dodgy proposition. Your best answer was "east of the Scusset and Manomet Rivers." Some people might point to a line running from the Wareham River to Great Herring Pond in Pymouth. Others would define Cape Cod's border as the Manomet River (bungle "Manomet" as you say it, and you now know why Monument Beach in Bourne is named what it is) as it runs to Great Herring Pond in the Plymouth/Bournedale area, and from Great Herring Pond over coastal streams to just about Ellisville.

These distinctions prove two things. One, "Cape Cod" used to include the southeastern hinterlands of Plymouth. Two, ol' Sarah Pratt McLean Greene wasn't wrong when she wrote "Cape Cod Folks" about Plymouth residents.

I don't read as many books as I used to. The NFL takes up a lot of my time, as does marketing, pornography, reggae, local politics, stuff with the family.... I'm more likely to be up in a website than in a book these days. Some people might look down on that, but hey... I'm reading.

I did feel the need to blast through Cape Cod Folks, as it is set in Cedarville. Our Plymouth road office is in the White Cliffs, in Cedarville. Not much goes on there, and I was curious as to how someone would crank a book out about a post-bellum version of it.

SPOILERS!

The year was 1881, and a woman (Sarah Platt McLean Greene) of both privilege and higher education leaves New York on, as she says, "a mission." I get sort of lost when people speak Olde American, but I think she wanted to minister to some wretches. A classmate of hers was working as a schoolmarm out in the sticks, could no longer keep the job, and offered it to Sarah. It turns out to be an isolated (meaning "the train doesn't go near there") coastal village in Plymouth.

The author uses fake names. She herself is either "Miss Hungerford" or "Teacher." Cedarville is both Kedarville and (colloquially) Wallencamp. Plymouth is Wallen or West Wallen. Falmouth is Farmouth. Sandwich, Bourne, New Bedford, Braintree, Fall River and Taunton all appear as themselves.

The story is a fish out of water tale, sort of an earlier, less funny version of The Egg And I. The author takes a job in a one-room schoolhouse (a building which still stands today, right on the corner of Long Pond Road and Herring Pond Road) for $8 a week, settles into a boarding house and falls in love with the town.

Her ride in a carriage from Plymouth's train depot to Cedarville may be the foundation of the old Cape Cod "sass" story. A socialite took a carriage to Cape Cod. The driver started talking, the socialite shushed him gracelessly, and the rest of the ride went down in silence. When settling the bill, the socialite saw a $1 charge that she couldn't identify, and she asked the driver what it was for. " Sass," said the driver. "I don't take it much, ma'am, and when I do, I charge."

The residents of Cedarville are as hick as it gets. As Dennis Miller once joked, "there were people there who were their own fathers." Most of the people in town have been no further away from Cedarville than Sandwich. The author's first conversation is with a man who explains where her house is by pointing out that "there's miles,and there's Cape Cod  miles, child." It goes downhill from there.

The only visitor comes to cull the town's virgins from the schoolhouse, you don't even get near seeing a black guy, and the Beverly Hillbillies would snicker at the folksy manners of the Cedarville residents. Several of the people mentioned in the story were able to win a Libel suit against the author.

She moves into a boarding house run by a retired sea captain and his wife. There is a son at sea with the scorned-wife name of Philander Keeler. The grandparents can be called nothing but Grandma and Grandpa by anyone who interacts with them, and they live in a one-story house of many rooms known as "The Ark." Most of the business in the comes-to-charm-you village conducts itself through the Ark at some point.

She meets the kids, all of whom- ages 3 through 20- are taught in the same class. If you squint sideways at the class descriptions in To Kill A Mockingbird, you'd have about the right idea of what her lot looks like. There's one kid who goes to class barefoot ("In January. On Cape Cod."), another who has to be dragged in by his father, a third who eventually gets scarlet fever and pretty much dies at her desk, and a rough-but-charming 19 year old named Becky.

Becky gets involved later, although not in a HLA manner. Not that kind of book, player. Becky and the teacher get hung up on the same guy, a lady-killing yacht owner. The author has other shadowy student issues, as she later promises her hand in marriage to a student who is taking to sea.

Cedarville food takes some getting used to. They eat whatever food (beans, pumpkins) is up for harvest for weeks at a time. At one point, every kid in her class raised their hand when asked "Who had split herring for breakfast today?" Popcorn is the big party food, coated with milk and sugar. If you get sick, Grandma boils up some onions and molasses. I don't recall seeing them get any sort of meat other than fish.

It goes without saying that the arrival of the fetching young schoolmarm tunes up every bachelor in town. They visit her constantly, both alone and en masse, hoping to go five-hole on the blue-blood babe. They all want her as a wife, and she eventually narrows it down to the fisherman with money and one of her students. The winner gets killed, of course.

It's a charming little book, and makes a great guide for anyone who wondered how things were around here 135 years ago. Pretty much all of the book is conducted in an isolated area running from about Manomet through Sagamore.

I'll save you some Qs by telling you that there are no car chases, sex scenes, dinosaurs, snipers, rappers-turned-actors, karate fights, CGI, elves, aliens and so forth... so it's already down one star.

I was able to read this book for Nathan, thanks to the good people at Project Gutenberg.

Added Bonus: Quotes!

"The Wallencampers were quick to note the estrangement between us, and affirmed that "Beck was mad, and wouldn't speak to teacher, along o' teacher's goin' with Beck's beau.'"

"Investigating the place where she had been sitting, I found a wild confusion of claws and shells, as carefully denuded of meat as though they had been turned inside out for that purpose.

What was my surprise and mortification to find a like collection at nearly every seat in the school-room, and all the while my flock had seemed unusually silent and attentive; such proficiency had those children acquired in the art of dissecting lobsters.

I saw how many they devoured day by day, and how much water they drank, and I fancied that they themselves grew to partake more and more of the form and character of marine animals. I believed that they could have existed equally well crawling at the bottom of the deep or swimming on its surface."


"And yet, notwithstanding this, they had grown used to a wild ruggedness of nature and condition, a terrible, sublime uncertainty about life and things in general when the wind blew, missing which, in this earthly state, they would have pined most sadly. And I do not believe that they would have exchanged their rugged, storm-swept, wind-beleaguered little section of Cape Cod for a realm in sunny Italy itself; no."

"I knew what it meant—mild winter on the Cape! There's the devil in the old Cape weather, teacher, and he never skipped four seasons yit! If it ain't one time, it must be another. Yis, yis! mild winter on the Cape, and no March to speak on, and a hurricane in summer! "


"A little more than a year after I left Wallencamp, I heard of Grandma and Grandpa Keeler's death. "Very quiet and peaceful," they said concerning Grandma, but I had known what sort of a death-bed hers would be. Scarcely a week after she had passed away, Grandpa Keeler followed her. I had it from good authority that he kept about the house till the last. There was a "rainy spell," and he stood often gazing out of the window "with a lost look on his face," and once he said with a wistful, broken utterance and a pathetic longing in his eyes that did away forever with any opprobrium there might have been in connection with the term, that "it was gittin' to be very lonely about the house without ma pesterin' on him."


"Since then, I have not heard from Wallencamp. It is doubtful whether I ever get another letter from that source. Though singularly gifted in the epistolary art, it is but a dull and faint means of expression to the souls of the Wallencampers—and they will not forget. From the storms that shake their earthly habitations, they pass to their sweet, wild rest beside the sea; and by and by, when I meet them, I shall hear them sing."

Thoughts On The Post-Pilgrim Nuclear Power Plant Future

The Pilgrim Nuclear Power Station in Plymouth will close in 2019, according to multiple sources.

They are citing low energy costs, market pressures and millions of dollars in necessary upgrades as the reasons for the closure.

The power plant was a source of both energy and concern for area residents ever since it was placed in the Manomet scrub coast. It helped keep the houses warm and the drinks cold for a few decades, and- Good Lord willing- we got it opened and closed without a Chernobyl-style disaster.

I took a tour of Pilgrm in 2008 or so, for an old article that I cant find in the archives. It looked very 1970s, with multiple dial labeled controls that made me think of the Batcave from the 1960s version of the Batman show. That's really what it looked like, sans Bat-mobile of course.

A few other things jumped out at me. The plant, while listed at 27 feet or so, seemed to be very, very close to sea level. They had two jetties and a jersey barrier between the Atlantic Ocean and a boiling water nuclear reactor.

The water flowing out of the plant, towards the ocean, was exactly the same color as Mountain Dew. I'm sure this has to do with sunlight and ionized water or something, and that nuclear power doesn't turn you green like the Incredible Hulk, but still...

The plant was also storing spent fuel on the site, hoping to send it to the Yucca Mountains in Nevada or somewhere like that. Amazingly, there aren't many takers when you're shopping Spent Nuclear Fuel storage.

The plant was also heavily, heavily guarded. I won't spill their details or anything, but you'd want to have a very good plan if you wanted to do some Bond Villain stuff. You'd be getting lit up before you even got exposed to the uranium or whatever they were using there.

The security force, which is 101% paramilitary, even wear their assault rifles while eating Chinese food. I kid you not. The guy I saw doing that immediately became my permanent visual definition of Badass Casual. You know he's gonna shoot you more than necessary if your terrorist attack makes him have to dump his General Tso's chicken on the ground and sling up Ol' Painless.

You can read about the shutdown here, or about the plant itself here... I'm not the expert. I'm more of the write-a-thought-provoking-article guy.

Here are some tangents we can explore together, if you like....

- Unless something bad happens quickly, we will never know if Pilgrim would have been able to stand up to a direct-hit monster hurricane. It had a nice bit of elevation, built on top of a sizable sand cliff. It also had Cape Cod blocking anything but a direct-hit storm.

Someone should put a marker about where the Fukushima line of reactor inundation would be, and maybe someday we'll see if the planners made a few crucial planning errors.

- If you wonder what the sudden loss of 14% of Massachusetts' power generation will do to your power bill, you'll find out in July of 2019. Remember, Cape Wind also got the Bozack from just about everyone, so we won't even have nascent wind technology to help things along.

- The plant's closure will cost the town 600 nice-paying jobs and $9.75 million a year in taxes. It also means we will need to import an additional 10 million barrels of oil and run our coal-fired power plant in Sagamore much harder.

- I'm already seeing a lot of "News Flash: Plymouth Economy To Collapse In 2019" things on Facebook. I'm seeing sympathy for the plant workers, too.

- I wonder what the NO ESCAPE FROM THE CAPE people who we used to see on the Sagamore Bridge will do for fun now.

- The closure of the plant means that Monster Hurricane becomes the only way we'll see a massive evacuation of Cape Cod, short of an Atlantic tsunami or the sudden arrival of Godzilla. We were looking at a Road To Basra type scenario of people cooking in their cars with a nuclear accident causing Cape Cod to empty.

- I planned to evacuate by boat, with the fact that I don't own a boat just being a minor obstacle in my world view.

- I'll have to go into the archives, find my Cape Cod Disaster Scenarios article, and revise the list from the top down. Pilgrim had the top spot there, I forget what #2 was, it may have been "series of shark attacks destroys tourist economy" or "asteroid strike" or "Sea AIDS."

- No, I don't know how long it will take to dismantle it, or how long before the area is safe for farming or anything like that. The line starts on the right for the Grown On The Site Of The Former Nuclear Power Plant produce.

- Will the towns keep the nuclear air-raid sirens up, on the off-chance we get a tornado or an air raid or something? We could have town-wide versions of the Morning Announcements we all remember from high school. I'd like Duxbury to use theirs to constantly broadcast reggae instrumental beats.

- Much of the area around Pilgrim, and I mean like Manomet to Bournehurst, is wildly underdeveloped scrub forest. If they start filling that in, we may need to carve a piece off of southern Plymouth and make a new town, maybe merging it with mainland Bourne. We'll do a whole article on that once some of the more serious people straighten me out on it in the comments or on Facebook.

- Will there be reluctance to develop that land around the plant? Will we have a Forbidden Zone?

- Would developing the Forbidden Zone around Pilgrim generate enough property taxes and carpenter jobs to offset the tax hit and plant job loss?

- It'd be funny if the land where Pilgrim presently stands is developed, someone puts a corny seafood restaurant there, Al Qaeda fails to get a series of memos, and a sorely-mistaken terrorist crashes a SEMTEX-loaded Cessna into a Seafood Shanty-type clam shack. Hopefully, it happens off-season.

- Fearless fishermen knew that the fishing was always good off Pilgrim. The water temperature differential plays a role or something, I don't know. It's always an Act Of Luck whenever I catch a fish.

- This pretty much kills the Cape Cod setting for my Nuclear Mutant Shark  movie script. I'm never gonna get that Oscar now...

Surf Check, Round 2

For the second straight day, we set out to give you some surf reports. This is from Duxbury Beach.

Media Savvy Sky Rat

You just knew we were gonna hit 'Murica's Hometown, folks.

If I lived there, I'd have the Lobster Pound just zip-line me my supper every day.

Rough-but-ultimately-unimpressive surf, Duxbury Beach

Lobster Pound, Manomet Point, Plymouth MA

White Horse Beach, Flag Rock

Care to venture a guess which pictures in this article were shot on Jessica's phone, and which were shot on my $27 Wal-Mart cheapo camera?

Under the boardwalk, there's lots of water..... Sandwich, MA

Rotten camera ruins a nice shot from Scusset Beach, MA

The author, cavorting...

Plymouth's lobsetermen were taking no chances.

This guy was psyching himself up to jump the Sandwich boardwalk, but he didn't get it done while I was watching.

You'll get various opinions on fishing during storms, but this guy was at least putting his theories to practice in the Cape Cod Canal

Strong winds in effect for a few days, which means that we'll be out there tomorrow, as well.

CCM knows not fear, and runs only for the exercise.

Rotten shot, but this was as far East as I went... Sandwich, MA

Plymouth Hurricane Primer: Inundation and Evacuation In America's Hometown

Plymouth doesn't have the coastal flooding problems that towns like Duxbury have, which is amazing, because Plymouth has as much coastline as Scituate, Marshfield and Cohasset combined.

Plymouth floods, no doubt. If you've ever been in Bert's, and wondered why the big boulder was displayed inside.... the Blizzard of '78 put it there. A trip to Cedarville will show you several houses which are one storm away from a straw/camel's back scenario involving the seaside cliffs they rest on. Plymouth was also Ground Zero for the worst hurricane seen in New England by the palefaces, but we'll get to that in a moment.

Plymouth gets mad hurricane Disrespeck for several reasons. One, it is blocked by several barrier beaches, which range from as small as Long Beach to as large as Cape Cod. E/NE winds that push storm unimpeded waves across the mid-Atlantic towards towns like Scituate and Duxbury find a Cape Cod-sized roadblock when aiming at Plymouth.

The Cape, an dat ol' sketchy South Coast, also protect Plymouth from direct hit hurricane shots. Any storm that hits Plymouth has hit New Bedford or Wareham first, and those towns absorb a lot of the initial shock. I watched Hurricane Bob- which tore Cape Cod to shreds- from nearby Duxbury Beach, and the waves didn't even hit the seawall.

Plymouth has a wide variety of coastline designs, or whatever God calls it when He makes Ellisville different from Cedarville. You can park 100 feet from the shore at Bert's and have a wave break over your car. You're a few feet higher off the beach over by Issac's, and you're 8 stories above the waves at the same 33 yard distance if you are working the 18th hole at White Cliffs Country Club.

Plymouth also elevates rather quickly from the shoreline, so the ocean is unable to push that far inland, even with Katrina-style winds blowing behind it. That means very little to you if you live on Water Street, but it is why you don't see flooding miles inland like you do with Duxbury and Marshfield. This is also influenced by the heavily-wooded nature of Plymouth, as opposed to the just-add-ocean marshes in the Floodier towns to the north.

We have two maps for you to look over. The one at the top of the page is a Hurricane Inundation Map. That shows you what parts of Plymouth would flood in what intensity of hurricane. The people who make these maps (a group effort by FEMA, MEMA, NOAA and the NHC) are assuming a worst case, direct-hit scenario with full hurricane conditions striking at mean high tide.

The map DOES NOT account for freshwater, inland flooding. You're on your own there, homie... although you'd want to know how far you are from any river, and the relative elevation of your house. Shoot, 7 inches of rain will sweep some roads away, so be prepared.

The colors of the Inundation map work like this.... light green = Category 1, darker green = Category 2, yellow = Category 3 and red = Category 4. Plymouth has not had direct Category 4 hurricane conditions since the Pilgrims showed up. FEMA even takes a 100 Year Flood estimate for extreme scenarios, which is represented by the color Crayola used to call "flesh" until they realized that minority kids also like to color. I think it's called "Off Whitey" now.

Due to Plymouth's large size, it can be hard to distinguish some of the colors with the picture I have for you. You can solve that by going here. You can zoom in all you want from there.

The hardcore areas in town seem to be a Kingston border-to-Long Beach run. It's not so bad after that, as the hills of the coastline begin to assert themselves. You get some flat coastline- and a river mouth- right where the nuclear power station is. Pilgrim is in the Inundation zone, even for a moderate hurricane. It's odd using terms like "moderate" to describe something as ghastly as a hurricane, but this is how we do at the NWS.

If your street is any color but the white of the map background, you might want to start making plans on escaping. You might have to wait 50 years before you need to get Ghost, but it is better to have a plan and not need it than it is to need a plan and not have it.

Your plan would be influenced by the second map we have for you today, the Evacuation. Sounds biblical, no?

The proffered Evacution map is easier to follow. Red means "those people have to evacuate," and yellow means "so do you."

Plymouth takes her storm threats very seriously, and the police will be following this map as a guide for which streets and even which houses would be asked to leave when Mr. Hurricane comes knocking.

The immediate shoreline will be evacuated all through the town, even the cliffs areas. This is in effect even for a minimal huuricne. You don't have to leave if you don't want to, but you also don't want to be relying on the cop you told to f*ck off earlier to pull you out of the maelstrom. Irony and Karma both bite for the ass.

The bonus areas in Plymouth that might require inland evacuation are the Eel River area and Ellisville. You have to earn them with a higher-intensity storm, but the threat is real. Larger storms look to be a good bet to evacuate people out to 3A in White Horse Beach and all around the Eel River.

That's the cell phone version of the map, you can view the Evacuation map in more detail by clicking here.

Plymouth folk may have the tendency to disregard hurricane preparations, as they have large land masses taking the heavy shots for them. However, history paints such people as fools, because Harry Cane can f*ck you up smooth in Pilgrim Town. He has before.

Remember, we're only about 380 years removed from the Great Colonial Hurricane.That powerful 1635 storm dropped in unannounced on the Pilgrims, and blew down everything in sight. Experts say that it may have been the worst East Coast hurricane since European colonization, and hit Plymouth (after coming ashore along the CT/RI border) as a Category 3 monster. It may have been Category 5 further south of us.

A storm like that would be bad, bad news for Plymouth, and that would be BEFORE we factored in the inundated nuclear power plant.

Keep your head up, people. This magazine relies heavily on your site visits, and my lifestyle can not afford to have Plymouth residents dying en masse. We've got nothing but love for you.

Saquish, pictured in the background below, would be an island in a hurricane. Rotten last paragraph, I know, but I like to end articles with nature shots.

Shark Week: Ol' Toothy, The Kayak Eatin' Shark Of Manomet And Duxbury

The South Shore was rocked last summer when a Great White Shark made an appearance off of Duxbury Beach, and then the whole world was rocked when, like a day or two later, he attacked a kayak off of Manomet.

I'm assuming it's a He, for no good reason at all. Boats are girls, sharks are boys. That's how I work.

Shark attacks aren't supposed to happen here in Cranberry County. That is Cape Cod we see on the news with sharks just offshore, The Discovery Channel had no interest in Duxbury, and Manomet is lucky to get on TV during Pilgrim/Thanksgiving shows.

Why the disrespect?

For one, we don't have the Outer Cape's seal population. We have seals, a whole bunch of them, but Chatham is Seal City. We're just a suburb. Sharks go where the seal meat is plentiful, and there is plenty more of it out in Monomoy.

Two, our shark may have been a rogue. I don't mean a Communist or a child molester, just a big fish who should have been off Cape Cod instead of the South Shore. At least, that's what the TV tells us.

Also, I suppose a version of Mayor Vaughn's barracuda speech applies here. If you say "Manomet," it means something to everyone on the South Shore and nothing to anyone else. If you say "Cape Cod," you have the nation's attention.

As you can see, Cape Cod Bay was awash with the blood of the non-believers.... OK, just kidding, that's a cranberry bog.

Are we in the media somewhat responsible for the public being shocked when a porker turned up near the Manomet Lobster Pound?  Mayhap we are, child, mayhap we are....

I say "we," but I mean "they." Dr. Gregory Skomal, the shark expert with all the shark tags you see on TV, can vouch for me. I was pestering him about sharks on the South Shore long before the entertainment went down off Plymouth, even about Duxbury in particular. I was so far ahead of the curve, I got scoliosis from it.

Still, there was a WTF reaction locally when the shark arrived off Plymouth. People couldn't deal. We, the media, the people who gave you the bread-n-milk panics when an inch of snow falls, had left the public hanging. You didn't know something you should have known, and it was something lethal.

Remember, it wasn't that long ago that you had trouble catching striper off of these beaches. We went from 0 to 60 rather quickly when Ol' Toothy had himself a bite of that girl's kayak last summer. Suddenly, we had mad shark respeck! It's also quite a jolt to the ecosystem.

In one week, what may quite possibly have been one single fish changed the game on the Irish Riviera. We had a new apex predator (our previous champ was either the coyote or the horsefly, and the meanest thing in our waters were bluefish), and he was an A Lister. He also had a taste for People Food.

One thing that didn't change was the disrespect. Dr. Skomal never left Chatham, even though we had the shark who was into the Other White Meat. If one fish deserved a tag last summer, it was Ol' Toothy. He never got one.

Even though he tried to eat some of my readers, I like Ol' Toothy. My amity (groan) for this fish is irrational. I like to think that he is the only shark who used Cape Cod Bay. He, for lack of a better term, is a local, a native. One of us.

In 1637, old Plimoth got a bit too crowded for one Myles Standish, so he walked a few Myles through the primeval forest and founded Duxbury. Sure, everyone who was anyone was in Plimoth... which is why Myles went to Duxbury. I like to think that Ol' Toothy was on that sort of trip with Chatham. He went out to the country.

This is why I wanted a tag in Ol' Toothy. I looked in his eyes and saw a Local. Maybe he's a snowbird, maybe he isn't... but what's to stop him from coming back?

I don't know if he came through the Cape Cod Canal or if he looped around Provincetown. What I do know is that sharks don't get enough credit for their brains.

Think about it. They live in water. It all looks the same. Sharks have invented no GPS systems. Yet, the sharks know enough to head south for the winter, and to return to where the seals are in the summer. I know homeless people who aren't that sharp.

Ol' Toothy knows all that, but he knows something else, too. He knows how to get around Provincetown, or through the Canal. Rather than maybe fighting for territory on a crowded beach in Chatham, he has all of the South Shore to himself. The seals haven't diffused here from Chatham in great numbers yet, but there are more than enough to feed a forward-thinking shark devoted to a more leisurely existence than the one to be had in the rat race off Monomoy.

If the seals are in short supply, there is always a kayak to tip over. God shall provide....

Yup, my gut tells me that we haven't seen the last of Ol' Toothy.