Our Yarmouth Libraries : a brief history

The first formal private library on Cape Cod was in Yarmouth. It was organized on March 16th, 1807 at Elisha Doane’s tavern, a building still standing on the corner of Route 6A and Playground Lane. Called the Union Library, shares were two dollars each, and yearly dues were eight cents a share, payable to the librarian. The committee was admonished not to accept any second hand volumes when purchasing books.

The former Elisha Doane Tavern.

Fifty-six individuals initially bought shares; seven others purchased them later, and three women were subscribers. HSOY owns the original regulations and documents, along with the lending history of each subscriber, which were found as part of Prince Matthews’s journals; he lived at 1 Strawberry Lane and was the last clerk (a previous blog post was about those very journals). The records indicate the conditions of books upon return, including “grease stain on page 304,” “folded corner on page 11,” and “slight tear on page 25.” At least four men were tardy returning the book, “Self Controlle.” Circulation slowed considerably after the War of 1812, and the library was disbanded in 1817.

The current Yarmouth Port library was organized by 20 men at the home of Yarmouth Register editor Charles Swift as a subscription library, with shares costing $10 each. Henry C. Thacher offered a plot of land and a former law office was moved there in August of 1866 to house the books. Six hundred volumes were purchased and William J. Davis was chosen to be the librarian.

Late in 1870 Nathan Matthews, a native of Yarmouth, offered to erect a $9,000 brick building on the property in memory of his father, along with a large cash endowment, on the condition that the library be free to all the inhabitants of Yarmouth. The offer was quickly accepted and the shareholders relinquished all rights. The new building, in a gothic architectural style, included an apartment for the librarian, a common and attractive feature as pay was low. The former law office became the kitchen for the apartment. 

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The Yarmouth Port Library building with its original tower, late 1800s. Librarian Lydia Matthews is standing on the front steps. Click to enlarge.

The library was blessed with fine librarians. Mary Bray followed William Davis, and then for a brief time of four months in 1889 a Mrs. Stearns took over. She was followed by Mrs. Lydia C. Matthews who held the position from 1889 to 1937. Finding a replacement for someone who had served 48 years would seem no easy task, but Martha Usher White was asked to serve and she stayed 53½ years, meaning that for over 100 years there were only two librarians. Forty-seven of those years Martha and her family lived in the apartment in the library. It isn’t well known that the librarian at that time was expected to clean the building as well! 

Librarian Martha White, right, at her retirement.

Under her tutelage, major positive changes occurred. The tower on the original building was taken down in 1945 when found to be unsafe. In April of 1951, the John Simpkins wing was added, funded by Mabel Agassiz, followed by the Mary Thacher children’s wing in 1958. A genealogy room and a local history room were created on the second floor, and a librarian’s office was created downstairs. Martha convinced the board to allow her to select the new books (rather than a trustee who lived in Boston and only sent reference books) which greatly boosted circulation. The library is still a community hub today.

South Yarmouth Library

The South Yarmouth Library had its beginnings in 1865 when a ladies library association was formed. Historian Daniel Wing became the librarian and had charge of a collection of 212 books.

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The South Yarmouth Women’s Club at 200 Old Main Street.

Four years later it was reorganized as the South Yarmouth Social Library, with annual dues of 50 cents. For the first 17 years it was run out of a ten foot square shed behind Peleg Akins’ house on Pleasant Street, then in 1882 the collection moved to the second floor above the Wing brothers’ store on the corner of Main and Bridge Streets. The store closed in 1901 so the library moved downstairs to occupy that space for 25 years (see cover image, top), then moved to the second floor of 200 Old Main Street, the former Women’s Club, which was rented for $10 per month.

E. L. Jenkins

One noted library booster during the early 1900s was E. Lawrence Jenkins. After returning to his home town from Boston to care for family, he began writing plays that were performed in the Owl Club for the library’s benefit. He also organized a literary society and wrote articles for the Yarmouth Register on Yarmouth’s history. In his obituary in 1923 it was suggested the “local and well equipped library should be called “The E. L. Jenkins Library.” It is he, chiefly, who has made and cared for it.”

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The South Yarmouth Library

Finally, the library found its current home in 1935, when the collection moved to the Cape style house formerly owned by Zenas Wood, built about 1830. The library has since been renovated and expanded several times.

West Yarmouth Library

This little library had an informal start in 1863 when a group of young people gathered some books and created a small village library in the West Yarmouth school building. An association was formed in 1891 by a group of seven individuals, five of who were named Crowell, a very common name in town. They set annual dues at ten cents per person and the librarian received a salary of $10 per year.

The West Yarmouth Schoolhouse, left.

The library operated out of this building until 1965 when Harold and Frances Castonguay offered a new library building in memory of their daughter Ann, who died suddenly and tragically in her sleep in 1947 at the age of 17 from a heart condition. The old schoolhouse was moved back to another plot of land to make way and the new building was constructed where the school originally stood. The family also donated 600 books for children, a beautiful collection of carved birds, and later built an addition.

The West Yarmouth Library.

The three Yarmouth libraries were separate entities under private management, though awarded some town funds, until the 1990s when all three branches came under the umbrella of one director. They operated that way for about 10 years until the financial crisis in the late 2000s when Yarmouth Port again became private. It remains so today. Changes may be coming as Yarmouth has been polling residents about a new, more centrally located library building with more space and modern facilities that can better serve the community. This proposed library would replace the South and West Yarmouth buildings, creating a new chapter in the town libraries’ history.

Written and researched by Duncan Oliver and Nancy Mumford

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Lucy Howes of Dennis and the Chinese Pirates

The following letter was written by Lucy Lord Howes of Dennis to her sister, describing her firsthand account of pirates boarding the ship Lubra in 1866, which her husband Benjamin P. Howes owned and captained. The letter was published in the Yarmouth Register in January 1867 and subsequently appeared in newspapers across the country.

Lucy Lord Howes

October 21, 1866
My dear sister,

This being a stormy day I will endeavor to pen you a few lines. I have already written to Father and Lydia. I really dread putting pen to paper to write of the terrible trouble which has come upon us. It is just four weeks ago tonight, since it all happened. I do not seem to realize it yet, it was so sudden, but I will try to give you a brief account of the affair as I saw and heard and felt it. All day Benjamin and myself had been chatting, sitting, and walking together, so happy. I remarked we had not been together so much for a long time before.

We had supper on deck that night, about 6:00, and had just finished our tea and were walking the deck, when our attention was called to a small Chinese junk coming directly toward us. She was seen within speaking distance, and it was almost calm. The junk could sail when we couldn't make any progress. The captain of the junk hailed us wishing to know where we were bound and if we wanted a pilot. By this time we began to mistrust his character, and as they ranged up alongside, Benjamin told them to keep off or we would blow them out of the water, all to no purpose. Benjamin and the mate found their pistols unloaded and useless, and just as they got on deck again the pirates were boarding us and throwing their stink pots. Benjamin told me to go below, and I did as he directed. Carrie was lying down on deck. I called for her and Benjamin rushed up just in time to save her, for as he came below the shots were flying about his head.

The pirates, to the number of ten, I should think, now rushed into the cabin upon us, and demanded gold and opium.

We were terribly frightened. Benjamin told the mate it was no use to fight, for they would overpower us and kill all hands. The pirates said if we were not would not fight they would not hurt us. Benjamin told them there was no gold or opium on board, and I told them the same, and they seem to pay more attention to me than to him, because I was so frightened I suppose.

The pirates now became very much excited, searching every hole and corner in the cabin. My trunks were turned inside out, and my room the same, and even the bed was torn all to pieces. They then threatened us with death if gold and opium were found on board the brig. After a while the pirates all left the cabin and went forward and between decks, to search among the cargo.

A painting of brig Lubra in Hong Kong harbor. Image from the archives of the Dennis Historical Society.

We had a Chinese cook and steward, and it seems they talked with them, for after awhile they came below quite excited, demanding the gold. They repeated this demand two or three times. Two stood by me, one with a drawn sword in his hand, and the other had his in the sheath. The rest of the gang seized Benjamin and tried to force him on deck threatening all the time to take his life. They struck him twice with the flat of their swords; still he resisted and denied the existence of any gold in the brig. I was dreadfully frightened. The man who stood by me with his sword and sheath attempted to draw it and started toward Benjamin. I laid my hand on it to stop him, but he turned upon me very fiercely, without speaking, and drew his sword. I now thought it my best plan to keep quiet, but I believe my interference saved his life for the time being, but oh my God what a fearful night…..

We were left unmolested for a couple of hours, I should think. We both sat on the sofa with little Carrie between us, she asleep a part of the time. I asked Benjamin if he thought we should have to go through the same scene again. He answered that he could give me no courage to the contrary. He did not seem to think they would kill me and the children, at least, but we made up our minds to meet our fate and all go together. We both hoped to be shot as that seems the most merciful way of being killed…..

Chinese junk.

At this time the man who guarded the cabin door pointed a musket right at my head. The cabin door swung open now and Benjamin said “it is our fate Lucy and we shall meet it.” A few seconds after this one of the men came into the cabin and spoke to us. He said they were going away then and seemed very solemn. I sat up and spoke to him too begging him to spare our lives but he paid no attention to me, but went again on deck, immediately, thereafter, there was a shot. It was so near my head I thought I was hurt. Carrie was crying but I heard nothing from Benjamin. I looked at Benjamin and found he was dead. He never groaned or moved a muscle. I took his pulse to see if any life remains and just then one of the pirates came down. I dropped on Benjamin's shoulder and let the blood flow over me, at the same time holding down Carrie, for I fancied he had come to dispatch us. I lifted my head and told him to shoot me. He lighted a small piece of candle and sat it within inches of my head on the table, and then went on deck,

The thought now flashed across my mind that Carrie - her dead father's pet - was alive, and for her sake I ought to live, so I blew out the candle and holding Carrie, I am hushing her under my breath all the while, I saw no more of them. but before leaving, one of the pirates threw a block of wood weighing 6 lbs in at the window which struck Carrie's head, and hit me on the side. Carrie's head was badly swollen and discolored, and my side considerably bruised. It is a wonder the child was not killed. I fancy he meant to kill me, and as I kept so still, I suppose they thought me dead. After this I heard no more of them. All was quiet now for a few minutes. Directly I saw someone creeping cautiously around aft, and soon recognized the second mate. I took Carrie and went on deck meeting him at the door. I told him the captain was killed, and asked him who was alive. He answered, Mr. Hall, the mate, is dead, but there are two men beside myself alive. My nurse, I learned jumped overboard, but first laid the babe down by the captain on the top gallant forecastle. The nurse, I suppose, was killed or drowned

There was powder in the hold. The pirates had laid trains and set the vessel on fire, putting on the hatches, besides staving both boats. While the second mate and myself were talking Mr. Hall made his appearance. He had a very narrow escape. He was hid in the forward locker where they could not reach him handily, although they would have done so if they had known of his whereabouts. All hands now worked hard to extinguish the fire. One of the men now brought little Jenny to me. The little darling was wide awake, with two fingers in her mouth. 

We got asked and made preparations to leave the vessel, the men at the same time trying to extinguish the fire. I now had to go below alone, and I got first a box of tools out to assist in patching one of the boats. I also got provisions and such as I could find. I worked very hard and as those of us alive had escaped death so far, it seemed hard to be blown up after all. However, we got through the night, and it was near daylight when I changed my clothes. I then sat down by the man at the wheel in my rocking chair, with Jenny and my arms, and Carrie asleep in her cradle by my side. I did not find relief and sleep until 12:00 the following night, when I was on board the A. M. Lawrence, which ship has been my home since we arrived.

Grave of Benjamin P. Howes, Hong Kong.

My husband's remains were removed to the hospital the same night, and the next day he was buried. There was the largest funeral ever known in Hong Kong, for he was well known here. A great many people came to see me and offered their services, and anything I stood in need of. I have been to the jail twice to see some prisoners, and expect to go again as I am the only person that can identify the pirates, being the only one from the cabin. I expect to have to attend court, and it is really bad business. The authorities are doing all they can to get the pirates, for they are anxious to hang them. This coast is getting very dangerous for small vessels, armed or not, it is all the same. There sister, I have given you the best account of our capture I could under the circumstances. My health is rather delicate, but be encouraged, I shall be home by and bye, I trust.

With much love to you and all our friends. I remain your affectionate sister,
Lucy J. Howes 

Baby Jenny sickened and died in Hong Kong and was buried next to her father. Lucy and Carrie returned home, and Lucy remarried in 1868 in Maine. She later moved to Oregon, then California. She died in San Diego in 1926.

Cranberrying in the 1890s

The day after Labor Day was memorable for two things: the exodus of the city people and the beginning of the cranberry season. I was not so fortunate as the children of Marjorie Ann, our washwoman. They went "up Westward" to Carver for a month or six weeks and returned with new clothes and marvelous accounts of camping out and of the workers on the big bogs. My eyes grew large at tales of high words and fist fights over best rows and scoops from somebody's tops. My father’s pickers worked because "it was so healthy to be out of doors;" some, because it was "great fun;" and others, as they frankly admitted, because they liked a little extra money for Christmas, for a trip to Boston, for a winter coat, or for lace curtains for the Parlor. Father boasted that he had college students, professors, and millionaire's daughters among his cranberry gangs.

Bright and early I was out at the head of the lane. I wore my pink sunbonnet, my blue denim apron, my armlets of black stockings, my little calico bag for checks. In my shining new six quart measure I had packed my rubbers, gloves, finger stalls [finger guards], my birch bark luncheon box that Aunt Georgia from Oldtown, Maine, had sent me for Christmas, and, best of all, a bottle of the usually prohibited coffee.

Down the schoolhouse hill came rattling a blue cart with seats along the side. These were Father's own invention: instead of the back-breaking boards laid in rows across the cart, our seats consisted of two long boards fastened by small pieces in the middle and at the ends, allowing quite an elastic spring. The ends stuck out in front just far enough not to hit the horse, and in back over the road. We youngsters loved to sit on those projecting ends that rocked so delightfully and dangerously. The oldest and stiffest ladies stood on a box to climb up the back of the cart, but we exulted in swinging ourselves up by the seat-ends.

Head gear ran from caps to sunbonnets or immense farmer's hats, decorated with colored ribbons or strings. All wore armlets to protect the wrists from scratches from the wiry vines; some fastened their finger stalls to the stocking armlets; others preferred old gloves with stalls of unbleached cotton cloth. On wet days, when the bog reverted to its original swamp, we wore yellow oilskin aprons, which we discarded as soon as the sun came out to dry the bog off with amazing rapidity.

By eight or half past we reached the bog, which had been already lined off, and where the screen had been set up on empty barrels. Some growers lined off the sections between the ditches into individual rows but Fred, our overseer, made the rows wide enough to admit four between the lines; a more social arrangement. To be the one to take up to the screen the first full measure of the season was a coveted distinction. Fred, our hired man, was the fastest picker anywhere about. He could pick a barrel — sixteen six-quart measures — a day with his bare hands. He would sit down beside me and silently work his hands like little machines, and soon in a marvelous way the measure would be filled and properly heaped — a level measure would not be accepted at the screen. We must heap up the berries until not another one would stay on the pile. Old Mrs. Taylor, who presided over the screen because she was too stiff to pick, was the life of the bog with her little jokes when we climbed up the bank with our measures to get our checks.

In our day cranberry raising was an avocation; Father was a doctor; other owners were sea captains, store keepers, or carpenters. It was the thing to have a little bog where you could raise enough cranberries for winter, to pay for the care of the bog, and a little interest on the investment. Consequently the bogs were far from uniform in character and yield. Old bogs were sanded to keep the vines short. To leave bottoms; to pick dirty measures thick with leaves, vines, and sticks; not to heap the berries; these were the signs of the poor picker. The season lasted for about a month according to the size of the crop and the weather.

Before the first day was over we began to complain of backache and cramps in our legs. We could work faster kneeling but we had to stretch out sometimes as at a Roman banquet to ease the intolerable pain in the knees. We became more hardened as the season wore on. Usually we did not nibble at the berries; their acidity was their defense. But sometimes we grew thirsty or were bored by sparse picking. When we had swallowed one cranberry, the charm was broken: however puckery it was. we must take one more and then it was hard to stop. The last year that I picked, we carried huge wooden scoops with wooden teeth. We rested them on the ground and rocked them back and forth as we pushed them through the vines. Each held three or four quarts and filled the measures with amazing rapidity. On the other hand we received less pay for a measure. From ten cents, we were reduced to six cents for the six quarts.

"Knock off!" shouts Fred, and we dash up the bank for our baskets stored in the cart or hanging on the pine boughs. Substantial food it was: thick meat sandwiches with crusts intact, hard boiled eggs, pies, cake, cookies, gingerbread. The first salad that I ever tasted was one of the delicacies exchanged at the bog - a favorite place for swapping food and recipes. The older pickers gossiped the noon hour away. We children ate rapidly in order to have time for our favorite game of duck-on-a-rock. I can't remember that we ever played it at school. It just went with cranberrying.

Cranberry pickers enjoy a lunch time picnic in West Yarmouth.

At five o'clock we knocked off for the day and received white quart checks for the contents of our measures. Every night we tied these up into packages which we could exchange for measure checks or we tied them all into dollar bundles.

Though the picking season was short, the care of the bogs was a year-long duty, with dangers from frost in winter, multitudes of worms in summer, drought or too much rain. Long after the berries were harvested, the women screeners worked in our barn. At one end of the long screen was the winnowing machine, which got rid of sticks and dirt; at each side of the screen, which rested on barrels, were three or four women, who picked over the fruit, taking out frosted, rotten, or withered cranberries, so that when the board was removed from the mouth of the screen by the last screener, a stream of clean hard berries poured into the waiting barrel.

Screening cranberries

Captain Parker next door used to save his crop until March to obtain high prices, but so much fruit rotted away during the winter that the loss hardly warranted the delay. Growers had all sorts of ideas about raising cranberries and defended their pet theories at the expense of friendship. Should the bogs be flooded in winter? How early should you let the water off? What was best for worms? Away down in our field was a huge iron kettle, a regular witches' cauldron, where the hired men steeped tobacco juice to spray over bogs in summer.

The berrying wound up with a gala day, when we picked the small North Dennis bog. We consoled ourselves when berries were scarcest and knees were crampiest, by thoughts of the good time ahead - the long ride, the visits from Dennis friends, and the special treat supplied by Father - watermelon, ice cream, candies. It was a real picnic. There was so much feasting and fun that with difficulty did we succeed in getting the patch picked at all. Usually at the end we let some piece go. It was dark when we reached home after our slow ride through the woods. "Goodbye!" we shouted to one another. "See you again at the bog next year! or with less gusto, "See you at school next Monday." How good the baked beans and Indian pudding that Mother had kept warm for us in the oven! After supper I put away my last bundles of checks, packed up my trusty old measure, added up once more my hard won riches, as much as fifteen or twenty dollars - a tidy sum it seemed to me and it went a long way in the nineties. Later on, I would go with Mother on an excursion to Boston, where I would invest in a new coat, dress, or muff and tippet [a long, wide shawl or scarf] - and then have five dollars left for Christmas gifts.

Cranberrying was over until next year.

Excerpted from an essay by Caroline R. (Pulsifer) Siebens (1881-1970).
Caroline’s father was Dr. Thomas Benton Pulsifer, town doctor for Yarmouth in the later 1800s. They lived at 382 Route 6A. Caroline is the smiling girl in the cover photo and below on the dark horse. Read more about the history of cranberry cultivation on Cape Cod in this article in Cape Cod Life magazine.

The Pulsifer family at home.

Yarmouth's Seven (or more!) Golf Courses

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Wayside Golf Links Members - members of the Thacher family.

The first people to ever play golf on Cape Cod were from Yarmouth. That makes sense because the first golf course on the Cape was Henry C. Thacher’s private 9 hole links course called “Wayside” which he had built in the late 1880s. It was primarily on the land that is now the nature trails of the Historical Society of Old Yarmouth. The 7th hole crossed Strawberry Lane and the 9th green was up on the edge of the back parking lot of the Congregational Church. Some descendants of Henry C. Thacher used parts of the course until the 1950s.

Yarmouth’s Bass River Golf Course is one of Cape Cod’s best and oldest courses. Opened in 1900 as a private nine hole club, the course has grown and flourished over its more than 100 years. In 1914 a noted golf course architect was commissioned by the club to redesign the course. The signature hole is #9, a 169-yard, par 3, which plays across part of Bass River.

Bass River started as a cow pasture which was rented by eight summer residents. They built fences around the greens they created so the cows wouldn’t trample them, and they hired a local farmer to mow the grass. In the 1920s, the players bought the land they had been leasing, banned the cows and removed the fences around the greens. They increased the course to 18 holes. The only hole in its original 1900 position is today’s 10th, and its tee was built over an Native American shell midden.

Playing through the cow pasture at Bass River, 1910s.

The Depression, World War II and gas rationing, which limited the ability to get to the course, coupled with devastation from the 1944 hurricane, led the group to sell the club to South Yarmouth businessman Charles Henry Davis in 1946. Davis lived in the “House of the Seven Chimneys” on the corner of Pleasant and River Streets, and he had money to rebuild the course. Davis died in 1951 after substantially improving it. His death caused uncertainty, the town of Yarmouth purchased it in 1953 for $85,000 and it became the first town-owned golf course on Cape Cod. In late November of 1957, the clubhouse burned to the ground. It was replaced and there was a realignment of holes at the same time. Automatic watering sprinklers were installed in 1969, replacing a 1937 system.

Another early view of Bass River Golf Course.

The two nines are very different; the front is short and tight while the back is long and open. The front nine is the part designed by Donald Ross, but how much remains is uncertain. Several of the greens remain as Ross designed them.

The Great Island Golf Links was founded in 1902. It started as a nine hole course and expanded in 1905 to 18 holes. It was supposedly the first course ever to be watered, having windmills on many of the holes. A steam roller was used to make sure the greens were flat and smooth. The 18 holes were 5121 yards, with the longest, #11, being 557 yards and the shortest, #12, being 110. Intriguing hole names such as Trout Pond, Hoodoo, Misery, Rocks, Ghost’s Walk, and Circus made the course even more interesting. President Grover Cleveland was a frequent visitor to Great Island during his administration and supposedly caught a trout in the trout pond that weighed three pounds. The course wasn’t built until after Cleveland left office and while he continued to come to Grey Gables in Bourne, it isn’t known whether he ever played golf on Great Island.

Great Island’s Aberdeen Hall which had its own golf course.

The next course was located near Lewis Bay in the Englewood section of town. It was built as a private course by Simeon P. Lewis, probably in the early 1900s. The only reference to it anywhere is one sentence in a book “ Collector’s Luck – A Thousand Years at Lewis Bay, Cape Cod,” written in 1967 by Betty Bugbee Cusack. In the first paragraph she wrote, “... in 1955, we bought our little cottage ...overlooking Lewis Bay – on what was once Simeon P. Lewis’ private golf course.”

The Depression and World War II stopped all golf construction, but the influx of tourists after the war led to Blue Rock Golf Course which opened in 1962. It was designed by Geoffrey Cornish. It measures 3,000 yards in length from the professional tees and features four challenging water holes. Holes range from 103 to 255 yards, with the ninth hole as the signature hole. It was rated in 2011 by Golf Magazine as one of the top ten par 3 courses in the U.S. Blue Rock is part of Red Jacket Resorts.

An aerial view of Blue Rock Golf Course.

Kings Way Golf Course has tweaked its name several times since opening in 1988. The executive course was designed by Brian M. Silva and is 4,023 yards from the longest tees for a par of 60. One hole is par 5 and five are par 4. It offers Scottish bunkers, undulating greens, and some magnificent views of Cape Cod Bay and its marshes. One interesting fairway has a 19th century smallpox cemetery located by it.

Small pox cemetery near Kings Way golf course.

The Bayberry Hills Course was first envisioned by town golf committee members who saw 200 acres just west of Old Townhouse Road as being a possible golf course. It was designed by Geoffrey Cornish and Brian Silva. There was thought of trying to make 27 holes, but ended up with a “roomy 18.” The design is not the typical straight, flat, back-and-forth track. It has some serious challenge with a par of 72 on 7100 yards. Built in 1986 and opened July 1988, the original course offers 18 holes with a water hazard on the 4th hole.

An additional 9 holes, The Links 9, was opened in 1999, officially in 2000. Until 1991, the area where the Links course ended up was the town dump. Drivers on Route 6 remember all the seagulls between Exits 7 and 8. When the course was built, it was called the largest recycling project in the state. The state helped with a one million dollar grant in 1996. The 50 foot tall landfill which covered 57 acres contains 40 wells which collect methane gas. On top of the trash is a six inch layer of sand, covered by durable black plastic sheets fused together. Another 18 inches of sand covers the plastic and it is capped by eight inches of topsoil. More than 240,000 cubic yards of sand were used. In some cases, more sand was used to provide better contours for the course. Being a Links type course, it is treeless.

A view of Bayberry Hills, built over the former landfill.

Building this course was part of a $17.5 million dollar project that included two soccer fields, two softball fields, bocce, horseshoe pits, a play yard, and a bike trail, all located in the area of the former dump.

The layout of Bayberry Hills now includes three 9-hole courses, The Red Course, White Course and Blue Course. The Red and White were the original Bayberry Course, and the Blue was the Links course.

The next time you’re with a local golf expert, ask them if they can name the seven golf courses in Yarmouth. Chances are they can’t, and won’t know that golf was first played in Yarmouth, before Highland Links or Cummaquid Golf Course.

P.S - Part of the Cummaquid course is in Yarmouth and their legal name until a few years ago was “The Cummaquid Golf Club of Yarmouth and Barnstable, Inc.” Should that be counted as our 8th course?

As a side note, you might also be interested to learn that the first miniature golf course on the Cape was in Yarmouth too! At the Englewood Hotel in West Yarmouth.

Researched and written by Duncan Oliver.

Memories of South Yarmouth Village in 1905

I was eight years old in 1905 and everything about the village at that time is vivid in my mind. The main street was lined with silverleaf poplar trees, some over 2 feet in diameter. I was told that the saplings were brought from England. As the years went by these trees had become a nuisance. They grew to large shady trees but were too prolific, spreading everywhere and hard to control.

The only large public buildings in 1905 were the village school, the Methodist Episcopal church, the Standish Opera House and the Baptist Church in the Lower Village. The town hall or office was a medium-sized building situated half way between the village of South Yarmouth and Yarmouth.

The school was set back from the street between the Methodist Episcopal Church and the home of Orlando Wood. Children started going to school at 5 years of age. There were two sidewalks leading up to it, one on the right for the boys and one on the left for the girls. The center was kept green and mowed. The boys’ playground was on the north side of the building and the girls’ on the south side. There were nine grades in the school, three each in the primary, the intermediate and the grammar school upstairs. A section of the grammar school was partitioned off for the Sloyd or wood-working classes. Each room had only one teacher, and special teachers came once a week to teach music, drawing, sewing, and woodworking. I was in the fourth grade in the intermediate room in 1905. Each room contained a large wood or coal burning stove for heat.

South Yarmouth School.

On St Valentine's Day we exchanged Valentines with our friends and enemies. Some were very fancy and beautiful and some were horrible. On Memorial Day, May 30, we always had a special program in our flower decorated school rooms to which our parents were invited. Afterwards we marched two by two to the cemetery, a boy drummer at the head with a girl carrying our flag. The rest of the children carried flowers from the room decorations to place on the soldiers’ graves.

All during May we hung beautifully trimmed May baskets to our friends, knocking on the door and hiding outside, usually in the early evening. After we were found, we generally went inside and helped eat the goodies they contained.

There were kerosene lamps on Main and Bridge streets. The lamplighter came at dusk every day to fill and light the lamps. Many families had lamp posts in their own yards and also hitching posts for horses out in front. Kerosene for the lamps was bought at the grocery store usually with a small potato on the spout to keep it from spilling. There were a lot of horses in 1905 and a town pump and horse trough was situated on Main Street in front of the school. Every day the janitor brought a pail of this fresh water to each school room where it was placed on a low shelf with a tin cup beside it. Some of the children brought their own collapsible tin cups and kept them in their desks.

Most every family raised chickens and some fattened pigs to be slaughtered in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Our family invariably had roast stuffed chicken at Thanksgiving with cranberry sauce, vegetables and a choice of mince or pumpkin pie. At Christmas we generally had roast loin of pork with applesauce, homemade yeast biscuits, vegetables and always a suet pudding with whipped cream. Our recipe for this was brought by my grandmother from her home in New Hampshire.

We rarely had snow before Christmas but plenty during the next 3 months. The snow plows came early and cleared the sidewalks so the children could get to school by 9:00 a.m. The plows were a triangular contraption made of wood, weighted down by a huge rock and the driver. The plow was hitched by chains to the horse's harness.

The bridge across Bass River was constructed of wood and the toll house was still beside it, but it was not used then as no tolls were collected in 1905. One day I stood on the bridge and watched the packet David K. Akin sail up the river and anchor at Fuller's Wharf. It was quite a thrill to me as this was the largest boat I had seen. The cargo was mostly coal, grain, and flour for Fuller's grain store. Not far from the bridge was a very busy place, the village blacksmith shop. Next to that was a paint store and the undertaking parlor beside the Bass River Savings Bank.

David K. Akin packet ship.

The post office was a small building on the corner of Main and Bridge street. The railroad station and freight buildings were situated beside the track on Station Ave. The stage from the village met the trains and carried the passengers and mail.

Christmas time at the Methodist Episcopal Church where I went to Sunday school will always remain a happy memory. Each Sunday during December we studied the Bible story of the Lord's birth, learned to sing Away in a Manger and many other Christmas hymns, also learned recitations to be given at the Sunday Christmas church service.

On Christmas Eve all the Sunday school and their parents attended a party held in the sanctuary. A huge beautifully trimmed tree nearly reached the ceiling. It was placed in the back of the altar rail. Parents secretly brought many gifts for their children and teachers which were placed among the branches or under the tree. After singing Christmas songs we were asked to keep very quiet to see if we could hear Santa Claus coming. Soon sleigh bells could be heard coming nearer and old Santa came bounding in to distribute the gifts. Over his shoulder he carried a bag which contained boxes of hard candies for each child. I had reached the age to notice that Santa looked surprisingly like a man in town. Very few people had Christmas trees in their houses. We never had one. We had a green wreath with red berries on our front door, gave gifts and sent greeting cards to our friends and relatives. We children always hung our stockings on the mantle before going to bed Christmas Eve. In the morning we always found an orange in the toe besides apples, nuts, candy and small gifts. The oranges were very special as we rarely had one.

 In midwinter came the job of cutting the ice on Long Pond. There were two ice houses, one on each end of the pond. Several men were employed to saw the ice in large squares which were packed in layers in the ice houses, each layer separated and covered by straw. This was sold during the summer to the townspeople to fill their ice boxes and refrigerators.

Summer time in 1905 in South Yarmouth was a lovely place to be. There were a few summer visitors in the village but it was still quiet and plenty of room at the beaches for swimming and picnics. There were strawberry festivals and church fairs and bean suppers and also the local baseball games with plenty of buttered popcorn. 

Independence Day however was quite noisy as all kinds of large firecrackers, rockets and cap pistols were allowed.

I would like to close now with this excerpt from a poem written by Henry W. Longfellow:

“Often I think of the beautiful town

 That is seated by the sea,

 Often in thought go up and down,

 the pleasant streets of that dear old town, 

And my youth comes back to me.

By Maude (Weekes) Boesse (1897-1990)
(from our archives)

Maude Boesse

Our Beloved Boardwalk - a history

One of the most photographed scenes of Cape Cod is a weathered boardwalk reaching across the marsh from Bass Hole to Clay’s Creek on the north coast of Yarmouth. It is also a favorite locale for birdwatching, weddings, viewing the sunset, and stealing kisses in the moonlight.

Thomas C. Thacher, an early environmentalist, would be well pleased. 

Thomas C. Thacher

When T. C. arose in the town meeting of 1911 to propose creating a small park at Bass Hole and extending the old boardwalk across the marsh and Clay’s Creek, he probably never imagined such popularity. But he had an eye for the town’s scenery.

"There is lots of beauty in Yarmouth and we want the citizens of the town all to share it and enjoy it," he said. "We propose to take the landing, convert it for public purposes and keep it up in a high grade way."

But Tom and other town fathers had a more compelling reason for extending the boardwalk. They wanted to reach Gray’s Beach across Clay’s Creek. No, not the small swimming basin at the end of Center Street which we now call Gray’s Beach, but the original Gray’s Beach -- a broad shimmering expanse of white sand extending from the entrance to Bass Hole southwestward along the marsh for more than a mile to toward Mill Creek. 

In T. C.’s day, the man-made swimming hole did not exist. That area was all marsh, with a short boardwalk reaching to a small boat landing in Bass Hole. The town actually kept a boat there, so that anybody wanting a swim could row across to Chapin Beach in Dennis. It must have been annoying when other would-be swimmers arrived at the Yarmouth dock and hollered. You were duty bound to row back across Bass Hole to pick them up. 

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The early boardwalk. Note that in contrast to today, the boardwalk went north toward Chapin, the went west along the end of the marsh. Click to enlarge.

The Thacher family offered $300 for half the cost, a substantial sum in those days, and the Selectmen appropriated another $300 for the full cost of the project. 

Bath houses at Gray’s Beach

In their 1912 report the Board of Selectmen noted that "the generosity of the Thacher family" brought about an extension of the boardwalk by some 1000 feet making it possible to walk to Gray’s Beach at any tide. It also included building "a string of bath houses and suitable benches which makes this a delightful place for bathing and all shore recreation."

The late Guido Perera, descendant of early Yarmouth settler Antony Thacher, and benefactor of the Historical Society, described the Gray’s Beach of his boyhood as "a sand peninsula which extended from the entrance of Mill Creek all the way to Bass Hole, with an interruption for Lone Tree Creek. There were no high dunes, but a broad white sand beach running along the marsh, where we usually went swimming."

Helen Dolan on Gray’s Beach, with the boardwalk in the background.

By the 1950s, the old Gray’s Beach had washed away in a series of storms and changing tidal forces, but fortunately for the pleasure of later generations, the Boardwalk continued on. 

Of course there were occasional interruptions caused by powerful storms and there were several reconstructions of the boardwalk.

While hurricanes of 1938 and 1944 wrought considerable damage to Cape Cod, the Bass Hole area was relatively spared except for "damage to flakes and poles and the bridge" across Clays Creek.

But the story was quite different with the three-day northeaster of February 1978. Furious winds and tide-driven ice floes pushed up pilings and ripped out major sections of the historic boardwalk. Due to the time required to get federal disaster funds and contracts, it was more than a year before the marsh lovers got their boardwalk opened again. 

Meanwhile, the beauty of the scene -- with no parking fees -- got around so that popularity steadily increased. In summertime a mobile bridge was installed across Clay’s Creek -- at low tide the base pilings are still visible -- so that visitors could walk all the way across the marsh to the bay shore. Of course they were dive-bombed by angry terns if they got too close to their nesting grounds in the few sandy stretches still left. In winter the bridge was removed to storage. 

Eventually the removable bridge became so rickety that the whole structure needed to be replaced. In town meetings during the 1980s, the citizenry turned this down because the increased traffic was damaging the marsh. 

This lack of a bridge became a problem for a couple visiting from Hamburg, Germany, who parked their car on Chapin Beach in Dennis and waded across to the Yarmouth marshes at low tide on a summer day. When they tried to return, however, they found the tide had come in. 

According to George Smith who witnessed their predicament from the boardwalk, they then made their way eastward toward the Bass Hole parking lot until -- aha!-- they came to Clay’s Creek also flooded by the tide. Undaunted, the couple stripped, held their clothes over their heads and crossed the creek. According to Smitty, a woman on the boardwalk made loud complaint about this "indecent exposure." When George mentioned this to the couple as he gallantly drove them back to the Chapin parking lot, the German lady, much amused, commented "we should have charged admission."

In August 1991, our boardwalk escaped the wrath of Hurricane Bob, only to be decimated by a three-day storm starting on October 30, and known as the "Halloween Northeaster” or the “Perfect Storm". Storm surges and high winds ripped the superstructure off the pilings and swept it across the marsh toward Thacher Shore Road. The wreckage had to be collected by helicopter. 

Pieces of the boardwalk flung into the marsh after a storm.

Once again it took a year to raise the money and reconstruct our favorite walkway. In January 2018, the end was again destroyed in an early January storm, but quickly repaired and opened the following July. Long may it stand!

Researched and written by Haynes Mahoney

Destruction of the boardwalk in January 2018

Presidents who visited Cape Cod - it's more than you think!

No US President visited Cape Cod prior to the Civil War. Was it because of the terrible press that Cape Cod had endured? Before the war, the Cape was mocked both for its scenery and its people. Author Nathaniel Willis wrote that Cape Cod was “the earth’s most unattractive region.” Others said there were so few trees that Cape Codders used fog for shade. Herman Melville in Moby Dick, used chapter 14 to disparage Nantucket. He even went so far as to say that Nantucket had so few things that grew that they even had to import weeds. An 1863 children’s book said Cape Cod’s landscape was a symbol of emotional deprivation. 

Cape people also were attacked. John Werner said that Cape seamen as a class were more addicted to vice than many others. Nathaniel Willis bemoaned the fact that Cape women were not shapely, and even Ralph Waldo Emerson noted that Chatham opposed lighthouses as they hurt the salvage wrecking business (untrue!). Thoreau frequently disparaged the mid-Cape people.

In view of this, it’s easy to see why people wouldn’t visit. Of course, it also may have been that the railroad didn’t cover the entire Cape until after the Civil War and there was less available steamboat transportation until then.

In any case, the first President to visit us was Ulysses S. Grant. In August 1874, Grant and his entourage arrived on Martha’s Vineyard. The next day they steamed to Hyannis where they rode a train through Yarmouth to Provincetown. They later returned by train to Sandwich, then to Woods Hole and back to Martha’s Vineyard. Grant was the first to make the Cape a vacation destination. Grant’s wife Julia was treated kindly by the Cape press, never mentioning that she had strabismus, a condition that made her cross-eyed.

Grant visiting Martha’s Vineyard in 1874.

President Chester Arthur was on Nantucket in 1882 for a lunch, being the second to visit. President Grover Cleveland made Cape Cod his summer home. He purchased Gray Gables in Bourne in 1890 (it burned down in 1973). It was his summer white house during his second term in office. Cleveland loved to fish. Charles Cory had developed West Yarmouth’s Great Island both for game and for fishing, and he stocked the ponds with trout and other game fish. To ensure sufficient water flowing through them, he built an underground piping system with water pumped by windmills. President Cleveland visited Cory and for four days the two fished the ponds where Cleveland caught a three pound trout.

Cleveland’s Gray Gables.

Aside from President Kennedy, Cleveland is probably the best known president on Cape Cod and stayed more time in Yarmouth than any president. In between Cleveland’s two separated terms as president, President Benjamin Harrison paid a brief visit to Nantucket. 

It was Teddy Roosevelt who next came to Cape Cod. His first visit was only into the waters of Cape Cod Bay near Barnstable where he watched, from the deck of a battleship, the US Navy take part in target practice with big 12 inch guns, rattling windows all along the bay. Provincetown was a major naval base during this time.

Teddy didn’t come ashore during this review, but in 1907 he did attend the laying of the cornerstone of the Pilgrim Monument and gave the main address. He had sailed into Provincetown harbor that day on the presidential yacht Mayflower, accompanied by his wife, son, and daughter. The entourage took two carriages to the monument.  Three years later, President William Howard Taft came to Provincetown to celebrate the monument’s completion.

Theodore Roosevelt at the 1907 Pilgrim Monument cornerstone ceremony.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt didn’t become president until 1932, but he visited Cape Cod 18 years earlier. Roosevelt, as Undersecretary of the Navy, was aboard the destroyer McDougall during the parade of ships through the Cape Cod Canal when it opened in 1914. Later, in 1933 while president, he was supposed to visit Provincetown aboard his yacht Amberjack II, but poor weather made him by-pass Provincetown on his way to Gloucester.

FDR was on hand for the opening of the Cape Cod Canal in 1914.

The next visitor was President Woodrow Wilson, who in 1917 went to Nantucket on a private visit to see his daughter.

There is a question as to whether President Calvin Coolidge visited Cape Cod looking for perfect clams. However, it appears that two Cape Codders took those clams to Washington and he ate them there.

George H. W. Bush

George H. W. Bush first visited the Cape as a Navy pilot during World War II. He was stationed at the airport in Hyannis where he perfected his take-offs and landings on a simulated carrier strip at that airport. It was the only night lighted civilian airport on Cape Cod before World War II, and during the war was a very busy training facility. It operated three 4,000 foot paved runways, built by WPA workers. President Bush also visited Mashpee in 1990 and in 2005 visited Martha’s Vineyard.

Before being elected president, General Dwight Eisenhower, visited General Lucius Clay in Dennis on Wrinkle Point. The two swam across Bass River to the a dock belonging to Sally Parker. Not recognizing them, she told them to leave, they were on private property.  Word went around that Ike could cross the English Channel and invade Europe, but couldn’t secure a landing in South Yarmouth! In 1957, there were rumors that Ike was going to celebrate the 4th of July in Osterville. Did he? This writer never found out.

The next visited Cape Cod in 1950, more than 20 years before he became President. Jimmy Carter was stationed in the Navy in Provincetown for a year. Wife Rosalyn recalled their time there in her memoir – First Lady From Plains. “We rented an upstairs apartment in a big old house, and there the children and I could sit at the breakfast room table and watch the submarines operate and dive just off shore. ... And we bought the boys their first sleds even though they had to compete with us to use them.” Apparently the Carters didn’t know the Cape ditty – “Cape Cod boys they have no sleds; they slide down dunes on codfish heads.”

Jimmy Carter on board a submarine.

 We all know John Kennedy’s attachment to Cape Cod and his lifelong love of sailing the waters around the Cape. He also played a crucial role in creating the Cape Cod National Seashore. Plan a visit to the Kennedy Museum in Hyannis to get a full account of his life and times on the Cape. 

President Bill Clinton made four trips to Martha’s Vineyard during his presidency, landing at Otis Air Base and then transferring to the island.

The Obamas spent several vacations on Martha’s Vineyard while he was President, again landing first at Otis. Cape newspapers reported almost every sighting of him, every time he came.

Donald Trump visited the Cape as a candidate in August of 2016, stopping on Nantucket and then in Osterville. There is no record of any tweets that he might have made.

President Joe Biden has visited Nantucket every Thanksgiving since 1975.

Adding it up, nearly two-thirds of US Presidents have visited Cape Cod and/or the islands since 1870. Only two have missed us in the last 40 years. Their loss!

Researched and written by Duncan Oliver

Presidential yacht Mayflower at Marblehead, 1925.