Showing posts with label scituate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scituate. Show all posts

Monday, November 9, 2015

Nor'easter Coming This Wednesday


...WIND ADVISORY IN EFFECT FROM 1 AM TO 4 PM EST WEDNESDAY...

THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN TAUNTON HAS ISSUED A WIND
ADVISORY...WHICH IS IN EFFECT FROM 1 AM TO 4 PM EST WEDNESDAY.

* LOCATIONS...INCLUDE CAPE ANN...THE PLYMOUTH COUNTY SHORELINE...
CAPE COD...AND NANTUCKET.

* WINDS...NORTHEAST 20 TO 30 MPH WITH GUSTS UP TO 50 MPH.

* TIMING...1 AM TO 4 PM WEDNESDAY.

* IMPACTS...STRONG WIND GUSTS WILL DOWN SMALL TREE LIMBS AND
BRANCHES...POSSIBLY CAUSING ISOLATED POWER OUTAGES. DRIVING MAY
BECOME DIFFICULT...ESPECIALLY IN HIGH PROFILE VEHICLES.

PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS...

A WIND ADVISORY IS ISSUED WHEN SUSTAINED WINDS ARE FORECAST TO BE
31 TO 39 MPH OR GUSTS WILL RANGE BETWEEN 46 AND 57 MPH. WINDS
THIS STRONG ARE CAPABLE OF DOWNING SMALL TREE LIMBS AND
BRANCHES...POSSIBLY CAUSING ISOLATED POWER OUTAGES. DRIVING CAN
ALSO BE DIFFICULT...ESPECIALLY FOR HIGH PROFILE VEHICLES.


Ten foot tides on Wednesday morning, new moon heights.

Plymouth tide chart

Duxbury Tide Chart

Marshfield (Brant Rock) tide chart

Scituate tide chart

Cape Cod Canal (Sandwich end) tide chart

Barnstable tide chart

Provincetown tide chart

Chatham tide chart

Wellfleet tide chart


Monday, November 2, 2015

Massachusetts Town Names That No One Else Can Pronounce


Scituate

Sort of like "sit chew it," but not really.


Leicester

"Molester" without the first name of the slap-happy Stooge. Remember, the "r" is non-rhotic.


Billerica

Silent "e," and "rica" is pronounced like My Friend Flicka.


Gloucester

The people who make the Gorton's Of Gloucester commercials pronounce it wrong. It's actually sort of like "Gloss Stir"... if you pronounce that last R, that is.


Worcester

I was a security guard at the Worcester Centrum one year, and I saw Kenny Rogers botch this one. "Me and the boys travel across the land, but we always love it when we come back to War Chester." Someone up front shouted the proper word, causing Rogers to make a confused face and say, a bit more properly, something that sounds a bit like Rooster. The town is sometimes pronounced like the steak sauce, and vice-versa.


Somerville

The best way I can explain this without maxing out the syllable-syllable-syllable thing is to say that the Beach Boys or the Heat Miser should live here. Ironically, this is where Winter Hill is.


Leominster

Lemon-stir, quite possibly named so that people with a jar of water and some sugar would never forget how to make lemonade. Bree Sisson, the WBZ newsie from Jacksonville, always stumbles over this one. I forgive her.


Chicopee

Sort of like "chicory," but not really. This mostly just fools foreigners, but it fools them badly.



Sandwich

One thing that I discovered when I moved to Cape Cod is that about 20% of the people I know pronounce this as "Sammich." It goes up to 35% if the town name is dropped mid-sentence.


Tyngsborough

"Ting," not "Tying." Also, note the over-lettering of what should be "boro." Many towns, including Middleboro and Foxboro, refuse to use the ugh ending. No, none of these town names end in a way that rhymes with "cough."


Rehoboth

People who write dictionaries- who may just have one guy who specializes in the little ruh-hoe-buth parts of dictionaries- know how to tell you how to pronounce this. I can't do it, at least not in print.


Cataumet, Waqouit, Weqauquet, etc...

Cape Cod's town names are easy, but they make up for it by having impossible village names.


Woburn

The "o" is pronounced exactly like the "u" is pronounced in "tuba," because... well, f*ck you.


Haverhill

More "shave" than "have." A rare pronounced R sound in a Massachusetts town name.


Cotuit

"O" as "uh," then the last part of "Do it to it." Yes, the "o" is a "u" sound and the "u" is an "o" sound. We may one day be invaded by a foreign power, but they will not sneak up on us if they have to talk at all.


Fairhaven

You'd think that "fair" is in this word, but you'd be wrong. The "ir" was put in that word just to fool the British. The remainder of the prefix is pronounced like a longer way to run... provided that The Sound Of Music is set in Mission Hill.



Duxbury

Childe Stephen made a relatively quick leap from Dorchester to Quincy to Duxbury in the 1970s. Duxbury is about where, after Busing, the Boston accent runs into the more clipped Cape Cod accent. I spent 4th and 5th grade being removed from regular class for Speech Therapy, and all of it was me, over and over, having to say words like "farther" and "carnivore" as they exorcised my Southie accent like I was Regan MacNeil. As for pronouncing Duxbury, some people pronounce the end like Miss Sisson's first name, some say it sort of like "berry," and some say it sort of like the last part of Kitty Purry. The first part is like "Ducks," and not at all like Frank Dux from Bloodsport.


Tyringham

"Tier," not Tie."


Cochituate

Next....


Hyannis

More "Buy Ann this" than "Uranus."


Nahant

Just as confusing backwards as forwards.


Eastham

Looks easy enough. The end can be a deal-breaker. I threw this article up on the Eastham FB page, and there is some debate ongoing. 'Ham or 'Hum, choose your side wisely. It is tied very heavily into how one pronounces "Chatham." I'm an Upper Cape guy, this is Outer Cape stuff, and I can't be the one who makes the call.


Housatonic

Should be in Texas, and used as an adverb.


Wellesley

Also should be used as an adverb.


Mattapoisett

This isn't that hard to pronounce, but you have to stare at it for a second before you do so.



Quincy

Your favorite TV coroner pronounces his own name wrong, there's a Z in this.


Assinnippi

A little bit of Mississippi, in Norwell.


Assonet

Sounds like a crude name for pantyhose.


Cambridge

More "I came, I saw..." rather than Cam Neely's first name.


Padanaram

The nice part of Dartmouth, but it sounds like a level of Hell.


Truro

A rare Massachusetts word that pronounces both "r" sounds. It fools people who try to fake a Boston accent by dropping every "r." The actor who portrayed Cliff Clavin would have Jacksonian seizure if "Truro" came up mid-sentence on the teleprompter.


Amherst

No "H."


Acushnet

"A cushy net," minus the "y." The town seems to be named after a hammock.


Groton

Rhymes with "cotton," I think. I don't get there much.


Athol


Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Surf Check: Round 1

CCM sent out their A Team to chin-check the coastline during the waning Supermoon high tide, and we went from Scituate to Sagamore. This is an iconic photo angle from Marsh Vegas.

Unfortunately for the readers, it wasn't that bad. Here is fearsome Scituate, about 45 minutes before high tide. Joaquin is still a day away from threatening the Bahamas, let alone Massachusetts.


The surf does look mean if you, say, stand on some steps, squat down, and shoot the wave as it rolls safely under you.

OK, that's what it really looks like.... Duxbury Beach, high tide.

Staring down at Green Harbor from Duxbury, you can see where this will become an issue once the seas have built themselves up over a few storm tides.


The prospect of having allergy fuel like Goldenrod blown into your face at 70 mph is something that most coastal residents of Scituate don't waste a lot of time worrying about.


Duxbury Bay is showing us that it can inundate a neighborhood on a flood tide, even without waves.



Duxbury Beach can look you in the eye and stab you in the back at the same time, as water washes in around Saquish and enters the neighborhood from the seawall-free marsh side.

Water flowing over Gurnet Road, during a storm where the biggest wave could be dodged by standing on the 3rd step up on a set of beach stairs.


We got out of Scituate before the marshes started spilling over. I want to do some storm time in Scin Scity, but I also had to get the kid off the bus at 3:30... and beaches with marshes behind them can sometimes hold you in place for a few hours.


We did high tide in Duxbuy, where I know the roads better and where we still almost got trapped. Gurnet Road and her side streets get washed over rather easily.

This is us driving down Gurnet Road, which washed over a foot deep in the ten minutes that we were in town. For locals, this is at the bottom of Cable Hill.


To be fair to Duxbury Beach Park, the scenery to the left of the sign is what they're selling. We shot to the right.


I only have so much flooded-marsh material. This is Duxbury Beach, aiming at Duxbury Proper.


Not storm related... but pretty cool, playboy.



Any insurance actuary worth her salt would say "Stephen will die in a 45 mph crash on a Scituate side street while shooting a blurry picture out of the car window," right up until she saw me open the Marl'bros.


They got the Duxbury Beach seawall up just a few months before Hurricane Carol hit. If you don't believe me, ask Tony. Our friend Tony, if he is alive, is 60+ years old if he did that as a child. He might be 60 years dead if he did that as the job foreman.

We got off easy today, but we're planning the same trip tomorrow, after the seas have built a bit. Go Coast Guard!

Monday, September 14, 2015

Scituate Hurricane Special


The tropics are stirring up a bit, so why not drop the Hurricane Special for Scituate?

Scituate, like her neighbors in Duxbury and Marshfield, is more of a nor'easter town than a hurricane town. That's actually a worse fate in Massachusetts, as we don't get hurricanes all that much, and the ones we do get break on the South Coast or Rhode Island first.

That matters very little when the waves are breaking on your house, but it matters a lot with these maps we'll be looking at today.

The map above is a Hurricane Inundation Map. It is brought to you today by an amalgamation of FEMA, MEMA, NOAA and NHC. It will be analyzed by ME, for U.

Inundation relates to storm surge, which is the water pushed ashore by a large storm like a hurricane. You can call it the Deathflood or Liquid Doom if that gets your people moving faster. Flooding is the big killer with hurricanes, and it would be an issue in Scituate.

You can use this map to determine what's what in your neighborhood when the flooding starts. It depicts a direct hit hurricane arriving at mean high tide. It does not depict freshwater flooding. They are developed by using the zany-weatherman-titled SLOSH model of storm surge inundation. They also show which intensity (on the Saffir-Simpson hurricane intensity scale) of storm would be needed to soak a particular region.

A direct-hit hurricane would be near impossible for Scituate, as it would have to loop around the Cape and drop back in on you. It's not impossible, according to Bistromath, it's just highly improbable. What is more likely is a Category X storm hitting the South Coast, then moving into Cape Cod Bay to hit Sit Chew It with X-Y. If you see Category 1 for Scituate, you know that Fairhaven probably got Category 2.

Here's how the colors work on the Inundation Map above:

Light Green = Category 1 hurricane. The Blizzard of '78 and the Halloween Gale are good examples of Category 1 storm damage, although neither was directly a hurricane.

Dark Green = Category 2 hurricane. Hurricane Bob was a weak Category 2, and yes we do realize that "weak" and "Category 2 hurricane" are odd words to chain together.

Yellow = Category 3 hurricane. We've only had five storms of this strength hit New England since the Other Man arrived in 1620, the most recent being Carol in 1954.

Pink = Category 4 hurricane. We've had one in recorded history, in 1635.

Flesh = 100 Year FEMA Flood Zone. This is the "hundred year storm" you hear about, although you have to go pre-Colombian to find them. New England was hit by storms greater than Category 4 in roughly 1100 AD, 1300 AD and 1400 AD. They can tell by checking layers of sand on salt marsh muck.

Sorry about "flesh," my knowledge of colors was greatly dictated by the people at Crayola in the 1970s.

You can check these maps in far greater detail by going here and zooming a bit. It's disaster porn, styled to your very home!

Remember, you don't have to get flooded with seawater to die in a hurricane. You can get hit by lightning, sucked into a river, mashed in a road accident, have a tree fall on you, step on power lines, stumble into a sharknado or be killed by looters.

This leads to our second map, the Evacuation Map,

This is the map the authorities use when determining which neighborhoods will be evacuated. You don't HAVE to leave when the police tell you, but you also want to remember that the cop you were reading the Constitution to before the storm might very well be the one who has to make a decision as to whether or not to dive in to the maelstrom after you and your family.

I'm not chastising you. I watched the Halloween Gale from a waterfront home, with the police on a nearby hill blasting a searchlight on us the whole time.

Of course, that was a stupid move, so we'll work the other side now, and tell you about Beating Feet, Hightailing It, and Running Like A Scaled Dog.

This map is easier to follow. It has two colors:

Pink = They have to evacuate.

Yellow = You do, too.

Here's the map:


As you can see, Scituate is pretty much Get To Steppin' City if a storm is coming. She's low-lying, and is one of the first towns on the South Shore who get no barrier beach protection from Cape Cod. Much like how they vote in Chicago, Scituate will flood early and often.

Cranberry County Magazine is very much pro-Ask Old People Stuff. If you have some codger on your street who was here for Hurricane Carol, get a few drinks in him and pump him for storm information. Never let the Old School be an unutilized resource, player.

Grandpa may not work for FEMA, but FEMA most likely didn't have someone living on Oceanside Drive during Hurricane Donna. Find out what happened.

No one is going to tell you that Scituate is more dangerous than, say, Lynn.... but if the barometer drops, Scituate is about as bad as it gets. You want to have a rough idea of what danger your house faces, and you want to know if people who study weather for a living would evacuate if they owned your house.

Bone up on some local hurricane knowledge, oh people of Scituate!

Hurricane Inundation Maps

Evacuation Maps

Worst Hurricanes To Hit New England

List of all hurricanes to hit New England


FEMA

MEMA

NOAA

NHC

Cranberry County Magazine wants you alive for several reasons:

- I love showing non-Massachusetts people the written word "Scituate," and seeing if they can pronounce it properly. If Scituate gets wiped off the map, the default towns are Billerica, Gloucester, and Worcester.

- Professional Pride. "If they followed my advice, they're alive."

- Economics. Cranberry County Magazine can not afford to lose one person who opened this page, even if they did so by accident.

- Regular, nice people reasons.


Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Eastwick Meets The East Wind: A Cohasset Hurricane Primer


Hurricane season is upon us, and we are nearing the peak of it.

Now, we're in Massachusetts, and we haven't been hit dead-on by a hurricane since the 1990s. That means that we don't get them often, and it means that we are long overdue.

They aren't a frequent enough event that you should walk around wringing your hands or anything. However, there are certain things that a wise person might do which can eliminate a lot of the hand-wringing.

Ironically, the first step to a peaceful mind is to view some Disaster Porn!



We have two maps for you to look at, and they are specific to your town. One is for Inundation, and the other is for Evacuation. They pertain to a direct-hit hurricane hitting your town at mean high tide.

"Inundation" means "covered in water," although you can call it a Deathflood or a Sea Plague if that gets your people motivated. It refers to which areas in town will be covered with seawater (important distinction, these maps do NOT project freshwater flooding) if you play host to a hurricane. 

The map for Inundation (the top one) is color-coded, with light green, dark green, yellow and red. Those colors equate to which areas will get wet in what kind of storm, i.e. Category 1, 2, 3 and 4. Where you see colors changing on the map, that's where the experts think it will require a greater storm to flood that area in seawater.

The maps for Evacuation (right and below) are less complicated. If you look at the Inundation map for a moment and then look at the Evacuation map, the logic will eventually make sense. The red areas of the map essentially say "Those People Have To Leave," and the yellow areas say "You Have To Leave, Too."

See how you compare to your neighboring towns with the complete list of Inundation maps and Evacuation maps!

Remember, storm surge is not the only threat from a hurricane. Things like falling branches, freshwater flooding, lightning, flying debris, slick roads, tornadoes, downed power lines, looters and a thousand other variables can mess you up plenty when the barometer drops heavy.

Cohasset doesn't get the storm-love that Scituate gets. Part of this is from the more northern tilt to her beaches. Part of it is the armor of a rocky coastline, as those offshore rocks and ledges can knock the oomph out of a storm wave. A great part of it is Scituate sticking her Scituate Neck out to block Cohasset from the full effects of the east wind. 

In the end, Cohasset slides a bit. If you see a rich person's beach house getting washed away, it's more likely to be from Duxbury than Cohasset.

We sort of butchered the part where we cleanly upload the Cohasset evacuation map, but enough of the Scituate and Hull maps will bleed into C City that you can get the general idea. With evacuation, the general rule is When In Doubt, Get Out.

Most of Cohasset's housing is in the east side of town, and rightfully so. This will put many people in the Inundation area, and, shortly before or after, in the Evacuation area. Beach Street and Atlantic Avenue will live up to their names. Joy Place almost certainly will not.

No elitist, Mother Nature will also have herself a few swings at Jerusalem Road. One of the great differences between hurricanes and tornadoes is that the rich suffer disproportionately in coastal storms due to their habit of buying up shoreline property, while tornadoes- using logic which only they understand- prefer trailer parks.

The worst omission from my evacuation maps was the area of Cohasset along the Scituate border, which has a coastal river as the dominant feature. Ocean water loves to surge up coastal rivers during hurricanes, and Cohasset will see this first hand if a major storm arrives. Anything west of Scituate Neck, and anyone along a river, should be evacuated.

You can view Cohasset's evacuation map right here.

As always, know that hurricanes are rare in these parts. They have to plow through either the South Coast or Cape Cod (and then fight through the South Shore) before they even think about Cohassle. By the time they arrive, they will be considerably weakened.

Still, you want to be careful if the weather gets nasty. There are plenty of ways to die in Cohasset during a hurricane, and most people only need one.

Remember, as we say on Duxbury Beach, the other 364 days of the year look sort of like this!







Thursday, July 23, 2015

Enter The Hoodsie....



So, what is this Hoodsie that the author speaks of?

No, it's not the little ice cream cup with the wooden spoon in the picture above, although those are good and I want one right now.

Basically, a Hoodsie is a female teenager from the South Shore. It's more complicated than that, but that's the short answer.

Usually, the author finds out the answer to the question and then writes the article. That's not going to be the case here, as I am expecting the real answer to this question to turn up in the comments.

Here is what I don't know about the term, which makes for a longer article than if I told you what I know for sure:

- Why are South Shore girls known as Hoodsies?

- How far does the term range?

- When did the term come into use?


WHY?

I have no idea on the Why? The Hood company was founded in Charlestown, though they may have got the actual milk from Bridgewater. From what I have heard, the term is used by city people when speaking of South Shore girls. It seems pretty complicated for a nickname.

Boston University has The Wicked Good Guide To Boston English, and the term makes an appearance in there. It is not ascribed to the South Shore in there, nor was it listed so in the Universal Hub definition.

A thread on Yelp said that a Hoodsie was a sexually promiscuous girl below the legal age of consent, but they may be confusing that with "jailbait." The author may also have heard the term in his youth, when he was hunting South Shore snuggling from younger girls.

I have also heard, on Facebook, that the nickname stems from girls sitting on the hoods of cars.

As near as I can tell, Boston guys would go to the South Shore to get girls. Both dictionaries list "scoop" as a term for picking up girls. Hood was the dominant local ice cream, a Hoodsie is an individual serving, and here come Donna from Weymouth! The girls, equated with something you scoop like ice cream, thus became Hoodsies. I suppose that the fact that there aren't many reasons for a Boston guy to go to Abington beyond "scooping" also led to the association.

More than one source said that the Hoodsie's slogan of "small and sweet and good to eat" played a role in the name, but only one source notes the Hoodsie cup size connotation with the smaller breasts of the teenager.... which has to be true, because I read it on a site called Swing Batta Batta Swing.

I could be 1000% wrong about this, I'm speculating about something that barely merits a mention on the Internet.


EPICENTER, TIMING AND RANGE

If I'm not wrong about the South Shore ownership of the term, I'd assume that it came to us with the development of the highway system. I'd especially associate it with Route 3.

I say this because Route 3 either A) made it feasible to drive from Dorchester to Hanover to get a little somethin'-somethin', or B) led to an exodus from the city, which brought a term generally associated with Boston girls into the South Shore suburbs. SBBS listed the term as a Dorchester/Southie term, and the South Shore filled up with people from Southie, The Dot, JP, Roslindale and Hyde Park right around when busing started.

I actually like Option B the best, with Hoodsie as a White Flight import from the city. It makes the most sense, and it follows the path of least resistance. Boston schools went from 100,000 kids pre-busing to 55,000 kids in 1988, and many of the refugees ended up in the Irish Riviera.

Duxbury, for example, went from 4700 people in 1960 to 11,000 in 1980. That's a remarkable growth rate, even before you factor in the town's more elderly demographic. I, personally, was in Dorchester in 1970 and in Duxbury by 1978. I was not the only Dorchester kid in my Duxbury classes by a long shot. Plymouth went from 18,000 people in 1970 to 35,000 in 1980. Ol' Marsh Vegas went from 6000 in 1960 to 20,000 in 1980.

A lot and maybe most of that spike is the Baby Boom, but a lot of it is White Flight. It is, in my completely uneducated opinion, enough oomph to transfer slang from city to suburbs.

So, the date would either be the late 1950s (Route 3 goes through the South Shore) or the 1970s (White Flight). I'm hoping that some old-schooler enlightens me in the comments section. It may be a bit of both.

The range of the Hoodsie term becomes the issue here. I have only heard it ascribed to South Shore girls, but I also can only claim Duxbury, Halifax and Buzzards Bay as my last three hometowns. There could be Hoodsies running around in Natick or Woburn or Concord or Mansfield for all that I know.

If my White Flight theory is correct, the term would move out to the suburbs with the city kids. Enough white kids remained in the city for the term to remain there, but enough white kids had left that the term became suburban. It's sort of how the country with the most black people isn't African, it's Brazil... but, just about the opposite of that. I digress...

To determine the range of the Hoodsie by operating along this theory, you just have to go through some census numbers on Ye Olde Wikipedia. I already fed you Duxbury and Marsh Vegas data... how does the North Shore and Metro West stack up? Does the White Flight reach New Hampshire or even the South Coast?

I'll pick random towns, or we'll be here all day. We'll go 1970 population to 1980 population.

Stoneham... 17K to 21K, nine miles north of the Bean

Framingham... 64K to 65K

Middleboro... 13K to 16K

Foxboro... 14,218 to 14,178, and that's with the Patriots moving to town during the era in question.

Andover... 24 to 26K

Marion... 3400 to 3900

Manchester-by-the-Sea, 5100 to 5400

OK, what I'm seeing here and not listing in numbers is that Massachusetts suburban towns tended to have population explosions from 1950 to 1970, but the South Shore also had a Busing Boom in the 1970s that doubled the population of some towns.

To this day, people who know this stuff tell me that Geography isn't why the Cape Cod accent doesn't get across the Canal, it's that the Boston accent stormed South in the 1970s with all the White Flight kids. I can recall getting SPED-type help for my speech in 1978, my first year in Duxbury. All that I can remember of it was the lady making me say "barter" and "martyr" over and over.

SUMMARY

So, my research leads me to believe that "Hoodsie" is a Boston term, most likely distinct to the Irish parts of town like Jamaica Plain and Southie. When busing came, those cities disgorged their wealthier Irish-Catholics onto the South Shore, and those people brought the concept of the Hoodsie with them. By 1980, it had become a South Shore term, and by 2015, it had been South Shore long enough that city folk- the original Hoodsies- now referred to the South Shore girls as Hoodsies.

Yup, it's that confusing AFTER we try to summarize it. But I'm pretty sure that the theory is correct.

I thank you for your time.

Not hoodsies, just cool enough to pose for Cranberry County Magazine...

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Shark Week: Historical Massachusetts Shark Attacks

Duxbury Beach, MA, courtesy of MSP

Shark attack.

It's not anything that a rational person worries about. There are some well-worn statistical trends that put it in context, the ones where you are less likely to be eaten by a shark than you are to be hit by lightning, run over by a snowplow, shot mistakenly by a Crip and so forth.

There have been 1974 shark attacks in American waters since 1900. Less than 10% (160) have been fatal. I know this because I am reading the Shark Attack Database, and you aren't... OK, I'll share the link, stop hatin.'

You are twice as likely to be killed by Al Qaeda than you are by a shark. Adam Lanza has killed more people this century than sharks have. Humans aren't a primary or even secondary food source (we're not meaty enough, and our bones make us tough to swallow... sharks aren't built to eat us, although we pass in a pinch) for a shark, and any attack on a human is most likely a mistake.

It does happen, however. It happens right here in Massachusetts. OK, offshore a bit, but in our territorial waters. We're here today to tell you about the times when sharks killed people in our general area.

caught off Duxbury, MA, 1938
I do lack complete information on how many shark attacks there have been in Massachusetts history. I have some good excuses.

One, the Native Americans no doubt lost a few tribesman to the White Death, but their records don't end up in the Google search results a lot. The white man's time running Massachusetts is just a blip on the map when compared to the time it was owned by the Other Man, we'd be like a minute in the day on that clock. There are probably old trees who still think of Plymouth as Wampanoag territory.

The natives did a lot of paddling in the local waters, and I have no doubts that a few of them got a Chomping for it. I can find no records of it, however. There are records of shark attacks in Spanish New World histories, usually on pearl divers. Natives had pollution-free rivers teeming with fish, and didn't need to take to the seas like Europeans did... but they did get dined upon. Those numbers probably build up to impressive totals after a few thousand years.

Another reason my totals are incomplete is because, while fatal shark attacks are always big news, minor ones are not. In the CNN era, every shark attack is national news in a few hours. Back when some 1700s fisherman got maimed off the Gloucester coast, it remained an isolated event. Even if it is big news at the time, it may not enter into historical record.

The mention of fishermen also brings about the question of how far offshore a shark attack can occur and still be counted as Massachusetts. At least one that I will be counting happened several miles offshore. No, your great uncle from Worcester who was on the Indianapolis doesn't count.

A flaw in the numbers (that I'm aware of, there may be more) is that shark attacks are not always framed like Speilbreg movies. Many are simple bites, in cloudy water, at night, by a fish that is gone before you can look. It could be a shark, but it could also be a bluefish, a striper or a score of other fish. That was falsely rumored to have happened on Cape Cod or Dartmouth within the last decade or so, and I don't think there ever was 100% agreement on what bit the guy.

That brings up another dark question. People go to sea and vanish now and then. Can we assume that every shipwreck victim drowned or died of hypothermia? Maybe some of them became meals. How often do you see a case of someone disappearing in the water, someone who was said to be a strong swimmer? Sometimes they just had heart attacks while swimming, but sometimes they didn't...

Here are a few stories we can be more certain about, stories where someone local had to pay the Swimmer's Debt. As Hunter Thompson once said, "Civilization ends at the waterline. After that, we all enter the food chain, and not always right at the top."

A police helicopter searches for the kayak-eating shark off Plymouth, MA

NEW YORK CITY

Yes, all shark attack histories of Massachusetts start in New York. We'll also get to New Jersey before this article is over, and maybe North Carolina.

New York and Massachusetts can be far apart culturally, especially when the baseball teams play. That means very little to a fish, however. It's merely a day's swim from Long Island to Cape Cod, and all of you people taste the same anyhow.

In 1642, while the rotten apple was still Dutch, word of an English expedition spread to Peter Stuyvesant. Peter ordered his trumpeter, Anthony Van Corlaer, to roust the sleeping villagers. He went down the bank of the East River like Paul Revere, waking the settlers. Upon reaching the northern tip of Manhattan, he decided to swim across to the Bronx.

It was a stormy night, and people urged him to reconsider. Ant was having none of that, however. He then spoke the worst sentence of his soon-to-be-over life, vowing to get to the Bronx to spite the Devil.

You don't get to be the Devil by letting people talk sh*t about you like that, and the Prince of Darkness, if you will pardon the pun, took the bait... the bait being Van Corlaer. Witnesses report seeing "the devil appear in the form of a giant fish," chomp down on the mouthy trumpeter, and pull him beneath the waves.

Another version of the story has Ant letting off a blast from his trumpet as the leviathan grabs him. The blast scares the fish away, but Ant succumbs to blood loss, exhaustion, hypothermia or some combination of the three.

Other versions have him drowning, but those are no fun.

The inlet is now called Spuyten Duyvil... Dutch for "Spouting Devil."

It may have been a Great White, but the East River location also speaks strongly of the possibility of the perp being a Bull Shark. Bull Sharks like rivers, and can make a pretty good claim for the New Jersey attacks that inspired Jaws.

The attack is notable for two reasons. First, it puts a firm dividing line down between Native American and European shark attack histories. Attacks in America enter into the historical record from this point.

More importantly, it proved that American sharks like white meat... and white meat was going to be on the menu in America from now on.

Mashnee Neck, MA

BOSTON HARBOR

The Shattuck family is well-known in Boston, and they got really well-known in 1730 or so (the exact date is touchy, but the victim had a a kid born in February of 1731) to the point where they still get press today.

The Shattucks had a lovely young daughter, Rebecca. Her charms proved to be too much for a London businessman- Alexander Sampson- to resist. In town for a business visit, he became a resident after meeting the fetching Miss Shattuck. Marriage and children followed.... he cranked 3 kids out of her before she was 20.

Life was good until he took a pleasurable excursion by boat on Boston Harbor. He then went in Boston Harbor when a giant shark swamped his boat. Mr. Sampson couldn't get out of the water, and was devoured. "Ye greate Fish doth fochked up Mr. Sampson," or something like that.

Great Whites have some history of attacking smaller boats with the intent of knocking the people out of them. Boston is within the natural range of the Great White. New England's two alphas had met on the battlefield, and the one with the legs and and hat ended up as lunch.

It was at this point that scientists began to speculate that sharks were somehow offended by fishing. OK, I just made that up.


BRISTOL HARBOR, RHODE ISLAND

This one is almost Massachusetts, as Bristol Harbor is just across Mount Hope Bay from Fall River.

A boy swimming off a fishing vessel was snared by a large shark, which took him underwater and vanished before rescuers could arrive.

When the boy's body was found a few days later, it was armless, legless and lifeless. This was 1816, if you're keeping score at home.

I have read about this and a Connecticut attack, and the Connecticut attack may have been someone mistaking this one for the Nutmeg State. Connecticut has had 9 shark attacks in her history, none fatal.

A reason that I feel this case and the CT one are the same is that both cases involved a black child swimming in from a fishing boat. Sharks like people of all colors... although they only take the wings from black people, at least in New England.

Duxbury Beach, MA


SCITUATE

Scituate (pronounced sort of like "sit chew it", but not really) has a deservedly fine reputation as a and perhaps the coastliest town in Massachusetts, at least south of Gloucester.

They have fishing, shipbuilding, beachcombing, clamming, surfing and anything else you need to be nautical. They are the go-to town for local news camera crews seeking nor'easter damage shots. Two Scituate schoolgirls chased off a storm of mercenary Brits with a drum and a fife once in 1812, in case you think people are p*ssy down there or anything.

The sea meets the land in a hard way in Scituate, but the action we speak of today went down 5 miles offshore in 1830. This attack is mistakenly called the Swampscott attack now and then, as the ship in question (the Finback) set sail from Swampscott. This is also mistakenly cited for a shark attack 20 miles south of Lynn (by an 1897 account in a Wisconsin newspaper) in some shark attack databases.

Five miles off of Scituate, a guy who was 99.9999% done using the name Joseph Blaney took a small dory away from the Finback to do some small-scale solo fishing. Shortly after, he was seen waving his hat in distress. He appeared to have an injured arm. Help was sent, but before it could arrive, a giant shark was seen lying amidships across his dory. Blaney survived the first attack with an injured arm, but the whole boat was then taken under in a second attack. The boat came back up in a foam, but all of Mr. Blaney that came up was his hat.

These were, as the page I'm stealing this from said, times of wooden ships and iron men, so- naturally- the brother of the victim rounded up a sea posse, returned to Scituate, and hunted down the fish in question. Just to be sure, they caught two Great Whites, including a 16 footer that was too heavy for them to hoist on board.

They dragged the smaller one back to Swampscott, where they let the Blaney widow slap it. It was then taken to Boston, where you and a friend could view it for a quarter until the carcass was dumped back in the sea. In a mistake common at the time, the shark (like any other large shark seen at the surface) was called a Basking Shark.

If you tweak a few details and mix in the New Jersey attacks of 1916, you basically have the complete plot of Jaws. I have a few questions about that I'd like to ask that Peter Benchley fellow... what's that? He's dead? Never mind.

Duxbury Beach, MA

WEEKAPAUG (AKA NOYES POINT), RHODE ISLAND

You knew Rhodey was getting back in the mix at some point. Are Eye has had 7 shark attacks, with two fatalities. The non fatal attacks range in severity from "lacerations on thighs and feet" to "overalls torn." Providence, Coddington Cove, Patuxent, Port Judith and Parts Unknown hosted the other minor attacks.

Blood spills in Rhodey, though. In what will prove to be a repeatedly bad decision throughout this article, two guys took a small dory and put a little space between themselves and the larger fishing vessel they were occupying in 1895. One of them- Charles Beattie- then multiplied the risk by going swimming off of the small dory. He came up in distress.

His friend threw him an oar and jumped in to save him. Remember, this was before Jaws (before movies, even), and people didn't instinctively fear sharks. A very literate man at the time may have thought Moby Dick had arrived. The rescuer lost a tug o' war with a human rope to the shark, who pulled Beattie under and got to snackin'.

The shark was never actually seen, but sharks had been captured in the area prior to the attack, and you have to call a duck a duck once it quacks enough.

Weekapaug was known as Noyes Point (a Mr. Noyes was a prominent Rhodey Resident at the time) for much of her pre-20th Century history, and the account often is found listed as going down at "Noyes Point."

Weekapaug is also the source of a Phish song, and the town is referenced on Family Guy now and then.


MAINE & NEW HAMPSHIRE

Maine and New Hampshire have not, according to the Shark Attack Database, had a shark attack in their histories. This includes non-fatalities.

Although both states have cold Atlantic water suitable for Great Whites, they have been safe so far. Cape Cod serves as a barrier beach for them, to a certain degree.

Keep in mind that New Hampshire has like 10 miles of coast, and Maine is inhabited by hardcore lobstermen (and women) who probably don't call a scientist when a shark bites them on the hand. They fix that ish themselves, most likely with random stuff from the boat and sea dog savvy.

Mattapoisett, MA (I went in the winter, sorry for the snow)
Mattapoisett

This sleepy little town on Buzzards Bay got hit up with a nasty attack in 1936. This attack is often ascribed to Buzzards Bay, which is correct in a body-of-water sense but not in a name-of-town sense. The village of Buzzards Bay is actually on the other side of Wareham from Mattapoisett, but that matters very little to a shark.

The Mattapoisett maiming is, to my knowledge, the most recent fatal shark attack north of Carolina. It took a Dorchester kid who had no idea what shark attacks were and made a historical footnote out of him.

It's good to be famous, generally... unless you're famous for being in the Shark Attack Database. That's bad.

Joseph Troy was swimming out to meet a boat that was off of Holly Wood Beach in Mattapoisett with a friend. Troy was seized by the leg and pulled below. He resurfaced momentarily, unconscious and mortally wounded. He was brought to shore, and sent to a New Bedford hospital. He died during surgery.

Swimming had only enjoyed widespread popularity for a half century or so before Troy was attacked, and that all came to a halt for a while once the details of Troy's attack became known. A chunk of meat "the size of a five pound roast beef" had been torn from his thigh. Troy regained consciousness long enough to let the doctor know that the scariest part was being dragged down into the sea, away from the sun.

This sort of closed the books on shark attacks in Massachusetts for a while.

These stories make me nervous, because the last two fatal shark attacks in Massachusetts went down a bit north of my old house and a bit west of my current one. It's like the damned things are triangulating me.

Holly Wood Beach, Mattapoisett, MA

MODERN TIMES

Massachusetts, and New England in general, had a lull in shark activity after the Mattaposett mauling. Seals had long been an enemy of the local fishermen, and bounties drove down their numbers wildly. With the food source gone, the shark activity lessened in our waters.

The seals have been coming back recently, as it is now illegal to shoot one if anyone official is looking. With the seals come the sharks, and- lo and behold- people are swimming in record numbers this time around. There's a very real chance that Troy was the first human the shark who killed him ever saw. That won't be the case now.

Massachusetts has had several high-notoriety shark attacks recently. We've had 10 shark attacks in our history, and one- 40 miles south of Nantucket- almost doesn't count. A trio have been fatal, and we have already discussed them. The other six went down off Nahant (1922), Rockport (1965), Truro (1996), Chatham (2001, about when the seals started coming back), Truro II (2012) and Manomet (2014). No fatalities went down in these attacks.

Nahant involved a pack of sharks damaging the stern of a boat. A four-foot shark attacked the Rockport victim while he was scuba diving, and he was bitten on the leg. The first Truro attack victim was ridiculed for his report, with locals telling him he was bitten by a bluefish. History vindicated the victim, and the database lists his attacker as a 6 foot Great White. The Chatham attack involved a 14 foot Mako slamming into a fishing boat, no injuries.
Duxbury Beach, MA, courtesy of Sara Flynn

Another fish bite wound- off a Dartmouth beach- may have been a shark, but it doesn't make the database. It could have been a seal, a bluefish... only one God and one fish know for shore sure, and neither of them are talking.

The second Truro attack involved a Great White sampling the legs of a boogie boarder. People stopped laughing at the 1996 guy right about here. This was the first confirmed attack of the modern Seal era, and a taste of things to come.

The Manomet attack involved a Great White (almost certainly the one seen swimming off of my old Duxbury Beach house a week earlier) knocking two women out of a kayak. The girls had been checking out seals up close, a very bad idea these days. They escaped with a scare, although the kayak had a bite taken out of it.

However, any modern shark attack- even one where nobody was harmed- will surpass the fatal ones of bygone eras in impact. A well-shot video of an attack on a Cape Cod beach would get like 10 billion views, and might fatally wound tourism as an industry on Cape Cod. "We dare you to swim in our shark-infested waters" is hardly a good ad campaign title.

The seals- and the sharks- aren't going anywhere. Experts like Dr. Gregory Skomal fully expect them to diffuse into Cape Cod Bay as the seal population expands. This will put big Porkers off of Duxbury, Plymouth, Bourne, Marsh Vegas, Kingston, Sandwich, Barnstable, Hingham, Scituate, Cohasset, Hull, Quincy, Weymouth and even Boston.

Every town I listed is a popular beach locale, fully stocked with swimming humans. We're very much due for another fatal attack, if you crunch the numbers the right way. Take solace in the numbers, do nothing at all seal-like, and stay alive long enough to read the Shark Week articles we'll be dropping later in the week.

Bon Appetit!

Duxbury, MA, courtesy of the Massachusetts State Police