Memories of the Harthaven House

Martha Moore

My earliest memories of Grampa’s house are of the furnishings.  He had traveled widely and brought back dining room chairs from Spain that were straight-backed and ornate, painted red, green and gold.  He had a set of  Spanish hand-blown glasses that rippled along the sides and flared out at the top.  Their colors were entrancing:  a  rich claret red, cobalt blue, gold, and mauve.  Leaded glass stars with 3-facet points and a little door in the middle through which you could insert a light bulb hung in the living room and hallway.  These came from Mexico.   A pair of Mexican porcelain elephants decorated with gold and blue trappings stood on either side of a small round pool in the center of the garden.  When we were little we liked to ride them and roll down the hill from the deck to the flat lawn in front of the garden.

Bill Hart lived next door to the south of Grampa and owned a 42’ schooner called “Stormy Petrel” which he docked in front of his house.  Sometimes he invited us for a sail in the Sound.  In those days the harbor was larger and Bill could take the schooner to the north end and turn her around in order to have her face south again when he returned to his dock.  There weren’t many docks at that end of the harbor then so he was able to maneuver without much interference.

My father inherited the house after Grampa died in 1956.  Having been in the Navy in WWII, he was ecstatic to be on the water.  He tamed a herring gull he called “Gus” who reappeared every summer for 27 years. Sometimes we’d feed Gus hard, stale jelly donuts from Walmsley’s Bakery in Oak Bluffs and Gus would dip it in the pool water and stretch his neck over and over to get the donut down.  He liked our sandwiches and dog yummies and could catch the latter when we threw them from the deck to the railing where Gus stood.  One year Gus brought a female my father named “Augusta” and she returned for many summers and then disappeared.

Our daily routine in the morning was to go to Buoy Beach bordering the first inlet to Sengekontacket where all our relatives and friends swam.  All the old people wore rubber shoes in the water. There was a raft with tower that was exciting to dive from because it was so high.  After a couple of hours at the beach we returned to wonderful lunches on the deck where we made sandwiches of everything extracted from the refrigerator, an ancient, heavy  multi-door affair that my mother was always wanting to get rid of and which my father didn’t want to part from. She did manage to banish the mangle that my Grandfather’s housekeeper used to feed clothes through after washing them in the kitchen washtubs. I was always afraid of getting my fingers caught between the rollers.  There was a coffee grinder attached to the kitchen wall which we liked to crank.  Grampa’s Swedish cook, housekeeper and chauffeur were lovely to us and treated us like their own children when we visited.

In the afternoon we fished in the Sound from an Erford Burt fishing boat docked in front of the house in the harbor.  When we bottom fished we caught scup, flounder, sometimes sand sharks, sea robins that grunted, and blowfish that blew up when you tickled their stomachs.  We trolled for blue fish and striped bass.  I remember crabs climbing up the dock pilings which made me fearful of swimming in the harbor.  The nearest beach was across the harbor overlooking Nantucket Sound.  I liked lying on warm sand and listening to the repetitive lapping of little waves.

comment from Lisa Hart - next door neighbor at the boat house” - 'Clarence' the seagull would wait ALL DAY until we returned with the Lucy Lee (yes, also an Erford Burt boat) full of bluefish and bass. After cleaning the fish on the dock, old Clarence would have his fill. That bird was the buddha of patience.

E. A. Moore 1956 courtesy Sharry Stevens Grunden

The White House

by Martha Moore

   In the mornings we awakened to the smell of toast wafting up the crooked back stairway from a toaster in the kitchen that had flaps on either side.  Often we went to the balcony and looked down the long walk to the harbor and sound where the sun made sparks on the water.  We either descended the back stairs for breakfast or slid down the banister into the newel post on the front stairs.  Once I fell off the banister onto the corner of a wooden chest below.

   Beyond the back west porch were mosses of different colors and textures, all soft to touch.  Some looked like miniature trees.  Gay and I pretended these were fairy gardens and we spent a lot of time making up stories about them.  On the porch a bedspring and mattress hung from the ceiling on 4 chains.  One day we all got on it and made it swing forward and back as if we were steering the ferry.  Our black pug, Minnie, was on the mattress with us and someone said, “Blow the whistle!” and poked a finger into Minnie’s Adam’s apple and Minnie threw up.

   Wicker chairs on the porches were all kinds and sizes.  A small brown armless one, shaped like a bent ellipse, had high rockers and never tipped over sideways.  We could rock it so fast and hard it tipped right over the head end. We dared each other to tip it over.  Another chair was the “Queen” chair with wicker sides above its arms that rounded over our heads like a stiff canopy.  We fought about who could sit in it.

   At naptime I liked to study details in brown curtains with big thistle designs next to my bed. Our curtains at home didn’t have any pictures on them. I could shorten naptime inventing stories about thistles.

Trips to the Vineyard

by Martha Moore

   Often we were awakened while it was still dark and dressed in warm white cable sweaters Mom knitted for us.  We drove in two cars because we had dogs and cats as well as luggage to haul.  By the time we reached Providence, Gay, Sandy and I invariably got carsick so Mom and Pop had to stop and let us out.  Once when Sandy got out, Pop yelled at me and said, “Go help your brother!” and I wondered how you helped someone get sick.  On another trip Mom’s horn got stuck and we couldn’t take time to stop and have it fixed because we had to catch the ferry.  When we ascended one of the high Providence hills with horn blaring, we followed a hearse.  The driver pulled over to the curb, got out thinking his back door was open and the coffin was falling out but the door was closed and Mom was still honking. He waved his fists at us as we passed.

    Once when we returned to our car from the upper ferry deck, we discovered that one of our cats was missing.  Mom sat in the driver’s seat ready to disembark.  A large heavy man in greasy overalls emerged from the boiler room holding our cat by the nape and yelled, “WHOSE IS DIS?”  I could see that Mom was torn between a confrontation and not claiming the cat. We made her get the cat.

   On a rainy windy August day when we were leaving the island, the ferry was cancelled so we parked outside a restaurant near the terminal to have lunch. As we ate, we watched in horror as our cat, who was on a leash, climbed out the car window and was hanging outside the car because the leash had hooked over the inside door handle.  We flew out of the restaurant to save her.

Harthaven - by John Stobart - courtesy of Peninsula Galleries

limited edition prints available - Google it.

Latter from martha Moore to her son Max, 1915

Bert and Martha are here as you probably are aware and are so happy in their new house - Burt is having lots of fun cleaning up his new door yard - has made great improvements so far - he is now going to turn his garage around and back it up to the north about ten feet - they could not be satisfied with the present location - it is going t cost him about one hundred dollars to do it but think it will pay for the satisfaction and we all think it will look much better - they are getting things settled pretty fast and their house looks quite home like already - I found a woman here to help her and so they are very happy to be here when it is quiet and peaceful - and it will be such a help next year to have the house all ready. Mr. Buzzele (sp?) to build a garage for Ed and has already made the concrete foundation, so that will soon be finished so they can store their material for their cottage - Mr. Dixon is coming tomorrow to talk to Mr.  (Kidder?) about buying material for the same - I think Mr. Kidder is to build it anyway.

Martha Hart

Mrs. Wiliam H. Hart