Final Voyage: A Story of Arctic Disaster and One Fateful Whaling Season by Peter Nichols

I feel as though the title of the book is a bit of a misnomer. Though nominally about a whaling ship disaster in 1871, the book is far more a history of the rise and fall of the American whaling industry. In itself this is a very readable story, and Peter Nichols writes in a casual narrative that makes easy and enjoyable reading.

The narrative fateful 1871 trip that sailed in search of depleted whales and ended up icebound in the Arctic is woven within the story of whale oil boom that put New Bedford on the historical map. Whether it was due to lack of materials, which I suspect, or something else, the detail of the rise of the whaling industry is well-told and in-depth, but the “Final Voyage” itself feels glossed-over. There are a few bits and pieces, but it’s very impersonal and left me with the “oh yeah, I forgot about that” kind of feeling. I ended up not caring terribly much and I think that is the fault of the author trying to make a story without embellishing it but without enough to fill more than a few pages.

I think the story might have been better told as the narrative of the whaling industry with a couple of chapters covering the “Final Voyage”. I don’t think the book would have been any less interesting for that, though it may have lacked the appeal that a disaster-oriented title and tag line give it.

Overall a good book and a worthwhile read, but not for the reasons one might expect.

DAVE’S RATING : * * *

You can learn more about this book or order a copy at Amazon.com (click here)

Photo of the day, taken just meandering around downtown New Bedford:

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Dried hydrangeas

I could have grown up into a depressed cynic, who lost the happiness lotto because of life experience and baggage. But, deep down in me always lived the soul of a happy child and an almost boring stability. I was not particularly brave or articulate as a child, but a child nonetheless, like all the multitudinous hordes of children in the world today. As a former child, I remember what it felt like, and lucky for me, my personal stars aligned in such a way as to break the bonds of generations of sadness, and here I am, about to be 53. As Oprah says, “This I know for sure…” This I know for sure, the best things we are told are true, and only love lasts.

If you are randomly stumbling upon this blog you might want to know some of the back story. I grew up in the Philippines. Far from being half this and half that, I am 200%, Filipino to my cells, and American to my cells too. Some things I love like a Filipino, my family for instance. Don’t tell me that political dynasties or benevolent dictatorship is the only solution for my troubled heart-home. Something in me that endured an Atlantic voyage to a wild, untamed land balks at that. We can change our future. It’s un-American to think otherwise.

Which brings me, dear blog readers, to touch on a shadow in my childhood. My dear Daddy, God rest his soul, was afflicted with bipolar disorder before there was a term for it, before there was medicine. Certain things could trigger an episode, like Christmas.

Naturally, my siblings are split between memories of beautiful Christmases, and memories of sad Christmases. Christmas is a loaded time. I have found that the road of acceptance and open-heartedness is my path to a beautiful Christmas.

One time a medical intuitive who has a radio show told me that I have tried to recreate my own childhood positively. That is true. I wanted the big family, all the kids around the table. I married the most stable of men, but not before marrying one who killed himself.

Awareness is all. We don’t want to repeat what we don’t have to.

That’s enough about sad things. I always want to remember how happy my parents were when Daddy was stable. Nowadays, there is medicine, therapy, and many interventions that can give a bipolar person a long and happy life. The latest brain research shows that rumination, the reliving of sad events, messes up the brains’ frontal lobes. As my positive psychology class taught me, gratitude, faith, goals, and positive experiences are the upward spiral that counteracts the down-the-drain of negativity.

When I was little, just ten, we had a magical Christmas at Clark Air Base in the Philippines. Mama decorated the house with gilded red ribbon, a parol, poinsettias, a great Christmas tree, the Belen (Nativity Scene), stockings. We all had new red flannel nightgowns sewed by our live in seamstress. We went to midnight mass at the base chapel, and home to Noche Buena (the Philippine reveillion), and opened our presents.

I remember the music, the feeling of contentment and security, how we all were together. I remember how the next morning, the hot Pampanga sun baked the flowers outside and how the arch of the acacia trees shaded our house.

That year, on Christmas Day, we piled into the car with all the kids and a yaya (nanny) and went to Manila to visit Lola at Lourdes Hospital. I won’t forget that either. Lola, with her hair down, smiling sweetly from her bed. Lolo, sitting on the bed by the window. I remember Uncle Sonny coming in with Auntie Lou. Uncle Buddy and Auntie Lynne and my sweet little cousins.

Auntie Lynne’s parents lived near the hospital on Kanlaon Street. Their house was all wood paneled and dark with rooms and corners that were a place of endless fascination for me.

A few days later, my Lola Mercy died. She had been sick for about a year, and her death was unexpected. The whole world shifted when she died. It was my first encounter with death.

Two more Christmases followed that, one raucous in Albuquerque where my cousin D. came with her parents from California. She was an only child and all her presents came with her. She shared, though, as she always did- as she shares to this day.

The second Christmas was in Hawaii, and Daddy was hospitalized at Tripler Army Hospital. That Christmas Day was bright like the Pampanga Christmas, but oh so lonely. I couldn’t wait to return to the Philippines.

In that time of waiting for my uncles to raise our airfare back, one thought gave me courage. We were going to live in the old house in Baguio, Casa Blanca. In our Hawaiian kitchen there was a box of Lipton tea, with a picture of a tea cup and a hillside. It looked to me like Baguio. I would imagine sitting in the old dining room, looking out over Mt. Santo Tomas, and conjure the safety and security of that faraway place.

I recently looked on the net and saw that our old house in Kailua is a luxury home now. I hope the successive owners were happy in that house, with it’s indoor fish pond and beautiful garden. It was not meant to be for us. I remember a sunny kitchen and how even in Hawaii, the streets outside were quiet like the rest of America that I experienced. I missed the street noise and lively parade of people who colored our life in the Philippines.

The next Christmas, 1969, was spent back at Cresta Ola, my grandparents’ beach resort in La Union. It was a happy place and through these years via the Internet, I have heard from many former children who spent holidays there with their families. That Christmas was our first there since Lola died. I could tell the difference, but still it was jolly.

Lolo handed out presents to the staff, and I remember their glee at the gifts. When they went forward to claim them, it looked like a scene from a story about a good king, beloved by his people. Lolo sat in his arm chair, and the staff- waiters, maids, grounds people stepped forward with a kind of a bowing posture and gave heartfelt thanks. While watching it, I was thinking of how hard my own heart was, at 12, there were many things I wanted, but could not have. I noted how these humble people were so grateful and determined to grasp that elusive quality they had in abundance.

A few days later, Lolo died of a heart attack and the lights went out in our big family again.

The next year we found ourselves in Baguio. If you don’t know where Baguio is, let me tell you. It was a beautiful city built during the American era in the Philippines. It’s in a pine forest called a cloud forest by botanists. On some of the twisting roads you might think you were in New England, because so many of the places were painted white with green shutters. In that place, the air is pine scented. You could sleep under many blankets with open windows and breathe the beautiful air all night long. At sunset, the geographic location and the closeness to the ocean blended the air and sky for a spectacular show.

In my Baguio, there was a green-gold light as it turned from dusk to evening. The twilights were lavender, violet, purple. The sky was as colorful as the Aurora Borealis, with the tropical clouds colored orange and red. I have read that other cities in cloud forests, at similar latitude and longitude and proximity to water have the same phenomenon.

Christmas in Baguio was Filipino with a touch of Frank Capra. The old timers in Baguio, the older folks who set the city up, were largely still there. Their grandchildren were my friends. We owned the city with an affectionate hold, feeling far luckier than the Manila folks who only knew it for Holy Week, the summer break and the dash between Christmas and New Year.

In Baguio, the firewood was a local pine, sappy and resinous and aromatic as incense. This was the smell you inhaled with great breaths, if you took a walk on a cold night.

There was caroling. Finally in high school, we filled cars driven by big brothers and made our caroling calls on family and friends. All girls, singing away with hoarse voices, we wouldn’t stop and we were fed at each stop. Who could say no when we were greeted with tables laden with special treats? I am sure that today, the sound of “Give Love on Christmas Day” brings mist to the eyes of my classmates who are mostly away from Baguio now. Such is life in the diaspora.

No matter how difficult it was for me when my Daddy had an episode, there was the surrounding bounty of the city, my friends, relatives, and general nurturing culture of the Philippines. To make things better, my relatives had an attitude of making things happy for children at Christmas. Auntie Mary Anne comes to mind. There was no family time spent in talking about the upheavals. There was lots of family time spent in support of my mother, and attention to the festivities of Christmas.

So, during those difficult times, I simply turned a switch, and if things were too noisy at home, I simply escaped into my richly colored outside world. Unlike in America where people can retreat into madness and silence, the show goes on unabashed in the Philippines. The phone kept ringing with friends planning outings, the doorbell kept ringing with friends passing by, the relatives kept their Christmas visitation schedule. Life went on, in spite of the cross we carried.

Looking at this practically, given that there was no awareness of this illness, there was nothing we children or my mother could do, except surf with it and not judge it in the long run.

We all grew up and moved back to the United States, for a spell there were trips to California at Christmastime. We moved to California. Then, one year, Daddy died leaving a hole in our extended family.

Today, my older sister and cousin are the junior matriarchs in their region. They have a tribe, and the season is kept with light, color and food. There is a lot of togetherness, and distant folks are welcome to fly in. They keep the feast and have given their children an unbroken stretch of years colored by stability, bounty and family.

Our Christmases here in Massachusetts are happy ones. Always, there are the six children and their pets and their friends. There is music and food. No matter what twinges of memory there may be, I remember that I loved my Daddy dearly, and all that is best in my family culture, I owe to him.

Because of his illness, he was larger than life. He loved my children intensely, and that deep attachment shows in how they have taken pieces of him for their permanent selves. At my bravest I am my father’s daughter. At my most optimistic, I am his student of positive thinking. At my most stubborn, I am the one who will not compromise on that-which-cannot-be-bent. When he was dying, I spent so much time with him and made peace with all the past.

Two nights ago I dreamed of my sister, Lizzie who died in 2000. I miss her so much, not only because she was delightful, but because she was stalwart, faithful and true.

Last night, I was going through boxes in the basement and found stash of letters she wrote to me from Oxford. She wrote me every week, and I daresay I was the only one of our siblings she wrote that often, because at the time I was widowed and she was watching over me from afar. Her letters are funny, and full of her ganas. After she died, I sought to fill her void with my other sisters. They are so different from Lizzie that it is impossible. I love them but Lizzie and I spent years together with a shared vision.

I continue this road without her, grateful for the time we had together, and secure in the faith that she watches over us all.

In my dream, she was carrying her youngest child and looked so happy. She looked as she was in real life when she carried that baby. One of the treasures of this internet era is that I am in touch with her friends who share memories of her that are in perfect synchrony with mine. She made friends wherever she went, and was beloved by people. I daresay that if someone had a problem with Lizzie, there was something wrong with that person.

So this is how it is, at this age dear blog readers. All my Christmases are rolled into a giant ball of life. It is more jewels than coal. But for as long as I can remember, Christmas is the stretch from my birthday to December 25th. It’s an ongoing feast of memory and nostalgia, and missing and relishing. It is full of my babies, who tower over me, and their memories of Bud and me, and all our pets and this old house.

I still miss Baguio come Christmastime, but pine firewood is for sale in New Bedford, and we are really lucky we’ll have some snow during the season. God’s birthday is celebrated all over the world, and from where I type, grateful for my family and friends, that is a good thing.

Photo of the day, taken at Haskell’s Nursery in New Bedford, Mass.:

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Succulent

By JOHN N. GARFIELD JR. AND JAMES RUSSELL

The arts are an essential facet of our daily lives and form a vital component of the local economy.

Recent state and federal grant awards to the whaling museum are a case in point. A recent front-page article in this paper (Oct. 31) announced the Massachusetts delegation’s success in securing $1.5 million in federal funding for the Bourne Building, again engaging local construction services and creating jobs.

The grant was actively supported by Sens. Paul Kirk and John Kerry, Congressman Barney Frank and Mayor Scott Lang. It will be administered through the New Bedford Whaling National Historical Park — highlighting the great positive value of having this national park in the downtown.

The museum has directed a state-awarded, $617,000, donor-matched grant to hire a local construction company for a major renovation of the historic Bourne Building. State Sen. Mark Montigny and state Reps. Antonio Cabral, John Quinn, Stephen Canessa and Robert Koczera have actively supported this program through the state Cultural Facilities Fund.

A $147,000 grant from the Federal Institute for Museum and Library Services will allow the museum to hire two additional employees to catalog the recently acquired collection of Merchants Bank records.

For several years, the U.S. Department of Education has provided significant funding through Education through Cultural and Historical Organizations (ECHO), ensuring high-impact educational programming for thousands of local schoolchildren at the whaling museum and New Bedford Oceanarium. And across Bristol County, $347,000 in Massachusetts Cultural Council grants will support 57 schools and cultural organizations, including the whaling museum.

Projects in the cultural sector might not be as visible as highway construction, but each investment by the state or federal government helps build the creative economy and creates jobs here in our community.

None of these investments would have happened without the support of our elected officials.

Government initiatives like these illustrate just how important arts organizations are to the local economy. Investment in the arts and cultural sector pays enormous dividends: It attracts visitors to our community, strengthens our local economy, and enhances the quality of life for hundreds of thousands of local residents.

Residents and businesses in our community value the arts enough to invest countless volunteer hours and millions of dollars in personal donations or sponsorships. In the last 15 years, annual contributions to arts organizations in Bristol County have increased from $4.5 million to an astonishing $19 million. As a consequence, the number of arts organizations in the county has grown by nearly 50 percent.

These nonprofits run on volunteerism, further leveraging their financial investment. For example, volunteer efforts at the whaling museum translate to $336,000 in savings annually.

This, combined with federal, state and local government funding, is where the economic impact starts to be significant. The message we send to our elected officials is that by combining smart government investment with individual philanthropy, we accelerate new economic activity.

And New Bedford has a strategic advantage: Our cultural organizations work collaboratively — with each other, and with local government — finding common ground to mutually support diverse programs and activities for the community.

Government investment in the arts is smart, it is efficient, it creates jobs, and it keeps the fabric of our communities bound together during the worst recession since 1929.

(submitted to www.southcoasttoday.com)

I took a very long time last night putting together an audio slide show of fishing boat photos I’ve taken over the years.  If I were not such a perfectionist, I’m sure it would go quicker, but it’s like a mini online exhibit.  I want my best photos – and, of course, I am my own harshest critic, seriously – and I want them to be in a precise order, where no one image goes straight to another similar image.  I like contrast – close up to distant, colorful to muted, detailed to blurred, etc.

Fishing Boats

Today’s photo is fishing boats at New Bedford State Pier:

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Water colors

WASHINGTON — Health care and climate change are among the major issues before Congress. But with his approaching re-election bid, the financial sector is a high priority for U.S. Rep. Barney Frank, D-Mass.

As chairman of the House Financial Services Committee, Frank plays a key role in legislation that regulates the financial services and banking industry. As of Sept. 30, Frank’s 2010 re-election campaign had received more than $200,000 from individuals and political action committees associated with the financial industry — insurance, securities and investment companies — according to OpenSecrets.org, the Web site of the Center for Responsive Politics, a nonpartisan organization that tracks money and politics.

The New Bedford Standard Times has the story.

An application backlog at the Veterans Affairs Office for the Post 9/11 GI Bill benefits has  students struggling to make college payments. The story, on New Bedford Standard-Times.

In New Bedford, it was always down the the sea in ships

By Anne Wallace Allen, Associated Press   Originally published on 11/15/2009 at Projo.com

NEW BEDFORD, Mass. — Walk this city’s cobblestone streets and imagine the days when the whale-oil industry supported banks, mansions and small businesses. For 35 years, between 1825 and 1860, New Bedford, a city of around 100,000 on the Atlantic coast’s Buzzards Bay, was the busiest whaling port in the world.

Photo by Bob Thayer, The Providence Journal

And when the whaling industry declined, towns like New Bedford didn’t go away. They adapted to other uses of the sea. New Bedford became one of the busiest shipping ports in the country.

Now, with its blocks and blocks of original 19th-century buildings still intact, it’s a good place to visit with your family, a window into a vanished world only 35 miles from Providence. Start with the New Bedford Whaling Museum, where the specialized tools used to kill the whales at sea are presented in absorbing displays. The museum — the world’s largest, according to whaling scholars — also pays tribute to the huge creatures with three whale skeletons and a model of a North Atlantic right whale.

Whaling was dangerous, it was extraordinary, and it was cruel — to the whales, and to the seamen who shipped out to parts unknown, sometimes for years at a time. The museum doesn’t hide from that. One exhibit tells visitors that 37,000 whales were killed in 1934 alone.

“If you were a whaleman, that’s how you earned your living,” said Michael Dyer, the museum’s maritime historian.

Dyer noted that most maritime cultures have hunted whales. Museum exhibits document whaling 1,000 years ago by Vikings, Eskimos, and others. “It’s not unique to the American experience by any stretch of the imagination,” said Dyer.

The museum, on Johnny Cake Hill, lies inside the 13-block New Bedford Whaling National Historical Park, which offers free tours in the summer months of the many historic attractions nearby.

One popular stop: the Seamen’s Bethel, http://portsociety.org/2009/

seamens-bethel, a place of worship that has been open to mariners since 1832. Nearby is the nation’s oldest continuously operating custom house, an 1836 Greek Revival structure where seafarers and captains do the paperwork of their trade: http://www.nps.gov/history/nr/

travel/maritime/usc.htm.

Suitable for young kids is the brand-new Ocean Explorium, a modestly proportioned aquarium, museum and science center that opened in a former bank building in July. The Explorium, http://www.ocean

explorium.org, has six aquatic exhibits, including coral, scallops, sea horses, and a hypnotic jellyfish tank with a strangely soothing effect on footsore adults.

A few blocks down the brick sidewalks take you to New Bedford’s waterfront, where the 1894 schooner Ernestina is often in port and hundreds of fishing boats come and go each year.

New Bedford’s centuries-old banks and mansions tell the story of a town that made its living from the sea. During the whaling years, thousands of ships sailed out to oceans around the world, returning with valuable oil for use in candles, soap and lighthouse lanterns.

The city also produced and attracted nationally known artists such as Herman Melville, author of “Moby-Dick,” and supported sea-related businesses such as chandleries, sailmakers and coopers.

Another famous 19th-century resident was Frederick Douglass, an orator and abolitionist who traveled to New Bedford through the Underground Railroad and stayed there between 1838 and 1841, working as a caulker on the whaling ships. He preached at Zion Methodist Church.

At New Bedford’s peak in 1857, 105 ships returned more than a million pounds of whalebone and 200,000 barrels of sperm and whale oil. The next busiest port was New London, Conn., where 24 vessels returned that year, said Dyer.

The whaling boom started to decline with the rise of the petroleum industry, and by the 1850s, the investors started diversifying into other industries, such as textiles. Whaling all but disappeared from Massachusetts by 1915.

But with its deep water, New Bedford still claims to be the busiest fishing port in the United States, in terms of its catch value, according to Jessica Fernandes, the deputy director of the New Bedford Harbor Development Commission. About 500 commercial fishing vessels are in port at New Bedford at any given time, she said.

All that traffic gives the city a strong international flavor. New Bedford is home to a large population of Portuguese-speaking Cape Verdeans whose influence is seen in local specialties like coffee milk, linguica sausage, and the annual midsummer Feast of the Blessed Sacrament. Billed as the largest Portuguese celebration in the world, the multi-day event, http://www.portuguese

feast.com, features a parade, live bands, and an array of food and Madeira wine.

Away from the sea is the shady Buttonwood Park Zoo, http://bpzoo.org/, which has a mini-train to ride and a host of animal exhibits, from a pair of Asian elephants to some heirloom goats. Zookeepers are commonly on hand to talk about the animals and what they like to eat.If you go . . .

FROM PROVIDENCE, it’s about a 40-minute drive on I-195 East.

NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK VISITOR CENTER: 33 William St., nps.gov/nebe.

WHALING MUSEUM: 18 Johnny Cake Hill, whalingmuseum.org. Open daily 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Adults, $10; children 6-14, $6.

SCHOONER ERNESTINA: New Bedford State Pier, ernestina.org/news/.

FREDERICK DOUGLASS MEMORIAL: New Bedford City Hall, 133 William St., rixsan.com/nbvisit/attract/freddoug.htm.

Read the article in its original context here.

Life is a river of experiences. As we sail down the river, we encounter adventures. For me, so many things are adventures. Take cooking for instance. Far from a necessary task, cooking is alchemy, cooking is magic.

The kitchen is a place of enchantment. I don’t have a big or beautiful kitchen. But to me, it is perfect. I love it best in the cold weather when it is so cozy and filled with light.

A few days ago, dear blog readers, my college kids went to Garba night, an Indian festival, at their university, and brought home a plate of food. This is the second one they have attended. They’ve always come home with stories of the splendid saris and lively dances and the funny fact that very few American students attended. Oh, wouldn’t it be fun for everyone if they got out of their dorm rooms and went to this festival of dance and food?

I was standing in the front hallway when the big kids arrived from their adventures. JM handed me a paper plate full of treats. I suddenly wished that I had gone, but alas, we still had a sick child at the time. All week long the idea of Indian food was following me around. So today, I cooked up a feast.

When we were in New York several weeks ago, we had a lovely outing with Taz and her mom. We went to the Fairway market up in Harlem and then had a picnic lunch in the sun at a park overlooking the Hudson river.I asked her mom in detail how to make her best curry. I took notes. I followed the steps in my head. Oh the result was delicious today. Just delicious.

Then, a few weeks ago, we had an almost surprise visit from Bud’s college roommate Jim, and his wife Maggie. They brought us this wonderful chutney with the instructions to let it sit for a few weeks more. We opened it tonight. When Jim and Maggie were here, we had a meal and told stories of all the years that have filled our lives. I was so happy to spend time with these special people. Old friends are midlife’s gold.

The Google Pakora, is inspired by the pakora that was brought home by the kids. I googled several recipes to become familiar with the process. The problem was that our stores did not carry gram flour, ground garbanzo flour. I had the idea that grinding my own would work, since I only needed two cups. So I took two Goya cans of garbanzos, roasted everything on cookie sheets to dry it all out, and then put it all through the food processor to grind it into powder.

Jasmine rice is Rosie’s favorite, so we have it every single night of our life. One of our rice cookers is devoted to jasmine rice. The other is for brown rice.

The cucumber/yoghurt sauce is a tip from my kitchen advisor, Kiko. My mouth was burning last week because I put too much Tabasco in my soup. He quickly brought me a small glass of milk. It did the trick and cooled everything down.

The Lentil Dal was easy and delightful to make. I started the lentils in a separate pot, and fried the onions, garlic and spices in another. Then, I recombined them. It took on a beautiful color.

The last thing on the plate was mint relish, which came from the International Aisle at the supermarket. Just a tiny dab in the mix woke the whole plate up and took it to another place.

I heated the oil up in a wok, and used a thermometer to check the temperature. The Google Pakora batter was dropped in by spoonfuls and rewarded me with an excellent sizzle. They turned a beautiful shade of brown before my eyes and tasted just sumblime especially with a bit of chutney.

My friends who have sailed with me through parts of this river, will know that I just love new cuisines and am eager to try everything. Cooking is an act of love. As a child I stood wide eyed at the kitchen door and watched the ladies give orders to scampering maids.

When I was widowed in 1982 I was twenty-five. I was invited to live by my friends  in a student house in West Philadelphia humorously known as the Madhouse. We had a kitchen that was dominated by a table with two long benches. I cooked and cooked that year. We had dinner parties and we had a tape of “La Boheme” that played on a cassette player next to a little dim black and white television. We all took turns, but I helped all the time. It was something to do rather than talk. It was magical. The feeling of being together, the smells and the the tastes, the laughter and the stories all wove my heart back together and gave me a wonderful, unforgettable year. By the time a year had passed, I was ready to let go of these friends, and move forward with my own story.

Feeding people when your heart if broken is a palliative act. It takes you out of yourself, and you are doing an act of nurturing. Even if you don’t feel it, it makes you better.

After that year, I cooked my way through my fears of falling in love again, and right into Bud’s heart. I have a recipe for Chicken with Cashew Nuts that is from the Irene Kuo book, The Key to Chinese Cooking. That dish still makes him teary eyed when I cook it, and it was a birthday request from the children for years.

When my big girl moved to New York, I told her to feed people so she could feel at home at once, and grow her urban tribe. She did, is and she has a tribe.

In my own quirky kitchen, there is magic every day. And why not? We only have this day once. Children grow up too quickly, and before you know it, you are waving goodbye to them as they get on trains and airplanes with their hearts full of hope and their eyes full of dreams.

I always want to remember my life with my family. The smells, the cats underfoot, the hopeful dog, and Bud’s amazed face as he lifts the lids and looks inside the pots.

Taken yesterday while driving w/my mom:

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All is calm

The flu is back in our house, and I am making sure that it leaves for good. A sense of humor is always good at times like this, so we remember the now comical-to-relay episodes of the baby years when illness took our family down for almost a month at a time. As seasoned parents, we know the drill, the vaporizers, the Lysol, the bleach and the NyQuil, the softest tissues, the soup and the cozy bedrooms. There is a fire in the fireplace, extra trips to the health food store and pharmacy. There is a general reeling in from all the outside activities. Every evening reunion from the outside world to the home world brings questions of “How do you feel? Are you alright?” Everyone tries to get all the sleep they can.

This particular episode coincides with the most beautiful moon of the year. It is too cold to walk under it, and too busy in this infirmary to do anything but look at it in the coming and going of every day.

It hangs in the sky, like a great witness to all our life. I think of the moon in all the places I have seen it, and all the friends who I have admired it with. I remember its silver light on the mountains I grew up in, and the silver path across the China Sea. I remember seeing it hanging like an orb on a summer night in New York City in the early 1980’s and, being so removed from nature that I thought it was a new streetlight.

I remember a night in Cambridge when my big kids were howling babies. Nothing would stop them and we took them downstairs and into the garden where a huge moon was rising. Dumbfounded with beauty, the babies stopped screaming and sat on our elbows with the moonlight illuminating their round cheeks.

Tonight, when everyone is quiet and asleep I will pull the curtains apart and let the moonlight flood my room. From my pillow I will watch it dance off of the golden leaves outside. If the moon could see our house, with all its slumbering folk, it would smile. Here lives a family with many children and many pets. Here lives a man and his beloved wife. Here we live, all together. All is well.

The following blog post was submitted by Laura Franz, Chair, Design Department College of Visual and Performing Arts, University of Massachusetts Dartmouth.  Professor Franz brought her typography students to the New Bedford Whaling Museum Research Library in 2007 to get a sampling of historic materials to use as source material for their design projects. They were hosted by Maritime Curator Mike Dyer and Museum Librarian Laura Pereira.

Typography is the art of designing the written word. Type is ubiquitous. It is in the books, magazines, and websites we read, the street signs we use to find our way, the fonts we choose in our MS Word documents. Letters are everywhere. In the landscape, letters reflect the culture of a time and place. As a typographer I am interested in how letters and type “live” in society, and how they change as life around them changes.

For the last couple of years, I’ve been researching lettering in New Bedford, Massachusetts. New Bedford had enough wealth early on to finance documentation of the town. Later it gained enough international fame (when the movie “Moby Dick” was produced) to warrant continued historic preservation. These days, along with the National Park Services and the Waterfront Historic Action LeaguE (WHALE) — which help keep historic buildings intact — New Bedford has the Whaling Museum Research Library to keep historic documents and photos archived and available to those studying the history of New Bedford and the history of whaling.

New Bedford is an excellent source of inspiration because of it’s financial, social, and industrial past: originally settled by Quakers from Plymouth Colony, it has been the whaling capital of the world, a major stop on the underground railroad, and one of the biggest cotton textiles producers in the US. It is also a small city that fought urban renewal, and now struggles to revitalize it’s downtown and to re-assert it’s identity.

Finally, the longevity of the town allows me to map its history against technological, political, cultural, and even typographic developments.

THE PROJECT: TYPEFACES OF NEW BEDFORD

My early personal interests in New Bedford were linked to the landscape: how certain street corners or buildings changed over time. (I can’t help but revel in the fact that life goes on around these buildings. Generations of people come and go. Businesses change. Tastes change. Technology changes. And thus, signs change.)

Later, in order to expand the scope of my research, I enlisted the help of some of my students. [type]Faces of New Bedford is an on-going undergraduate research project I facilitate with Juniors and Seniors at UMass Dartmouth as a typeface design project. Working with students allows me to conduct research on the role of lettering, writing, and typography over a period of 300+ years in a single place. In return, the project allows the members of my “research team” to learn about the process of designing and producing a typeface, while learning more about the history of New Bedford.

We lose a part of our history when letters are destroyed without documentation. Seeing how type lives in the context of society helps me better understand the history of my own field, and I’ve found it helps my students to identify with those that lived in the area. They begin to connect with and better understand both the history of the landscape and the history of typography.

THE PROCESS

In 2007 and 2008, students conducted research on the history of New Bedford — meeting with representatives from the National Park Service, WHALE, and the New Bedford Whaling Museum Research Library. They identified inspirational aspects of New Bedford’s history and found examples of writing and/or typography related to the times/events they were most interested in studying.

Students then designed digital versions of their chosen writing/lettering and wrote abstracts explaining their research (both “scholarly” and “creative”). The final result: 30 working typefaces and a series of 30 posters, each highlighting a different time in the history of New Bedford (1705-2007).

STUDENT WORK

Thirty typefaces have been designed over the years.

Some typefaces represent lettering from buildings and signs: the Cherry and Company Building, circa 1920; Signage for the Brightman Stationary Store located in the A. E. Coffin Building, circa 1930; Lincoln’s Department Store, circa 1938; A Boiler Repair and Welding shop, circa 1958.

Inspiration: Art Deco lettering on the Cherry and Company building, circa 1920. Photo by Jennifer Soares 2008.

Inspiration: New England Boiler Repair and Welding (in the building where “Cork” is now located) circa 1958. Photo from the Library of Congress Archives.

Other typefaces represent lettering from printed materials: text from the New Bedford Mercury, circa 1807; a broadside for an anti-slavery meeting, circa 1853; a broadside for the labor party, circa 1920.

Inspiration: A section from The New Bedford Mercury, circa 1807. From the New Bedford Whaling Museum Research Library .

Many typefaces are based on primary sources students found at the New Bedford Whaling Museum Research Library.

Steve Hickey based his typeface on the writing of John Akin, a town clerk in Dartmouth in 1705. Steve’s typeface is from the oldest artifact — a 300 year-old page of handwritten notes. Steve had to negotiate which letters to “use” in his final design. When we write by hand, we often form our letters differently from word to word. You can see below how John Atkin’s “o” changed as he wrote. Steve had to design an “o” to work in the context of every word.

Inspiration: A section from notes written by John Atkin, town clerk in Dartmouth, Massachusetts, 1705. From the New Bedford Whaling Museum Research Library. Note: image modified for legibility and color by Steve Hickey.

Typeface designed by Steve Hickey, 2007.

Amy Williams was inspired by the logbook kept by Seth Barlow, Jr., keeper on the brig The Nancy. Amid the day-to-day accounts about the weather, who had gotten sick or died, and the ships they saw on the open seas, she found pages of experimentation with form. Some of the letters written by Seth Barlow, Jr. where elegant script, others were bold, blocky, Roman forms. There were literally dozens of “fonts” to work with. Seth Barlow was a born letterer.

Inspiration: Logbook kept by Seth Barlow, Jr., keeper on the brig The Nancy, circa 1807. From the New Bedford Whaling Museum Research Library . Note: image modified (color) by Amy Williams.

Eric Galvez was intrigued by New Bedford’s wealth during the periods of prosperity linked first to the Whaling Industry and later to the Cotton Textile Industry. He was amazed that New Bedford used to be the wealthiest city in the United States! He found examples of Old Dartmouth and New Bedford insurance maps at the New Bedford Whaling Museum Library — maps that represent land ownership during prosperous times. As Eric designed a “prosperous” typeface based on one of the insurance maps, he truly understood for the first time how a typeface can communicate something more than the words on the page.

Inspiration: Cover of a Fairhaven Insurance map from 1906 — the height of the Cotton Textile Industry in New Bedford.

Typeface designed by Eric Galvez, 2007.

THE FUTURE

Students continue to work on typefaces inspired by the history of New Bedford. We’ve currently narrowed our focus to signs, and are working toward the day we will have a full New Bedford Typeface — a collection of various lettering styles from different periods in New Bedford’s history.

Unlike “regular” typefaces (e.g., Times New Roman), New Bedford won’t come in regular, bold, and italic. New Bedford is a type family built upon the history of a place, and will offer styles related to history, such as New Bedford 1880, 1920, and 1950.

Every semester we get a little closer to bringing New Bedford’s history to life in a new way. Through the letters that “lived” in New Bedford — letters and signs that changed as life around them changed.

New Bedford 1920 is in production. It is based on the Art Deco lettering from the Cherry and Company sign shown earlier in this post. The typeface was designed by Jennifer Soares, and is being refined and expanded by Justin Lilak at University of Massachusetts Dartmouth.

New Bedford 1958 is in production. It is based on lettering from the Boiler Repair and Welding sign shown earlier in the post. Originally designed by Kayla Hardy, the typeface is being refined and expanded by Jimmy Lee at the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth.

Concerned Students of Richmond High

The police in Richmond California have arrested 6  people in connection with the rape and torture of a 15-year-old high school sophomore outside of the homecoming dance at Richmond High school.

Richmond High boast a multi-cultural group of students, all from diverse backgrounds and cultures. The students are from lower to middle class families, all hardworking and primarily blue collar.It resembles the demographics in many urban inner city communities in California, as well as my own community in Southern California where I live .

The following are the demographics for Richmond, California as of 2007…

Races in Richmond:

• Black (36.1%)
• Hispanic (26.5%)
• White Non-Hispanic (21.2%)
• Other race (13.9%)
• Two or more races (5.3%)
• Chinese (3.3%)
• Filipino (3.1%)
• Other Asian (2.9%)
• American Indian (1.6%)
• Asian Indian (1.2%)
• Japanese (0.9%)
• Korean (0.5%)
• Vietnamese (0.5%)
• Native Hawaiian and Other Pacific Islander (0.5%)

The estimated median household income for the citizens of Richmond in 2007 was $50,293 (it was $44,210 in the 2000 census), and the stats for California median household income was by comparison $59,948.

Estimated median house or condo value in 2007: $484,000 (it was $170,700 in 2000) while in the whole state, it averaged out to be $532,300, in that same year.

The average price of a rental was in 2007 was $1,012, and the percentage of residents living in poverty was in 2007 17.6%. For more statistics on the demographics for Richmond, click on my source below…
http://www.city-data.com/city/Richmond-California.html#ixzz0VZipWJH4

The point being is that Richmond is at no level a totally impoverished or in no way a minority community, as some  have so unfairly labeled it, due to their ignorance , but rather a diverse multicultural community where minorities, white families, and immigrants reside to form a community that resembles the racial melting pot here in America.

Only a racist would see it any differently.

It is in fact, not a white dominated community, which to some may seem like a black community, but that is just because they prefer an all white community over a diverse one that highlights several races of American citizens.Just old fashioned American racism.

This brutal rape was an issue of power, humiliation, and control,like most rapes, and race or poverty had absolutely nothing to do with it. The fact that some of the perpetrators were black, latino, and white is purely a coincidence, and not some genetically programmed predisposition to be a violent criminal gang rapist as some are publicizing.

If that were the case, then one would have to believe that all white people are genetically programmed to be high school mass murderers like the Columbine killers, or rapist and murderers that eat their victims like Jeffery Dahmer.

I am sure that the fact that they were white is purely coincidental. There crimes rank as some of the most reprehensible crimes of the 20th century.I am certain that  these crimes by these non-minority killers had an influence on these rapist, more than any other possible influence.

It is only logical, based on the media that the crimes garnered.

The police are reporting that one of six suspects arrested in the gang rape of the 15-year-old girl outside Richmond High School’s homecoming dance will be released after prosecutors declined to file charges, authorities said Friday.

The name of the released suspect is Salvador Rodriguez, 21, and was set free due to a lack of sufficient evidence to connect him to the crime.

Five other suspects remain in custody. The San Francisco Chronicle is reporting that…Cody Ray Smith, 15, of San Pablo; Marcelles James Peter, 17, of Pinole; and Ari Abdallah Morales, 16, of San Pablo are juveniles being charged as adults. They all face felony counts of rape in concert and penetration with a foreign object. Morales also is charged with felony robbery for allegedly stealing the girl’s jewelry.

Manuel Ortega, 19, of Richmond is charged with rape in concert, robbery and assault causing great bodily injury. He is being held on $1.2 million bail…

Police on Thursday night arrested Jose Carlos Montano, 18, near his San Pablo home in the 1800 block of 16th Street.

The spokesman for the Richmond police  said Montano played a “significant” role in the assault and police will request felony charges of rape, rape in concert with violence, penetration with a foreign object and a special enhancement requesting life in prison.

“The charges accurately reflect the severity of (Montano’s) actions,” the Richmond police spokesman said.

Crimes of this nature are unusual in communities like Richmond. The police and community are up in arms about the severity and devilish brutality, the like that are usually limited to the upper class, and wealthy suburban communities.

In 1988 Jodie Foster portrayed a gang rape victim in the Academy Award nominated film ”The Accused” which portrayed a real life gang rape and the victims quest for justice, which happened in 1983 in the wealthy and tony Upstate New York, which is predominantly white.

Jodie Foster plays the flirtatious Sarah Tobias, who goes to a local bar, flirts with some bar patrons, and then she is violently gang raped by several patrons of the bar, while many others watched, and did not intercede.

I would make a note that there were no black or mexican patrons in that bar to witness, or perpetrate this gang rape, and no rapist there was poverty-stricken, debunking any suggestion that this rape and torture is in any way due to race or poverty issues.

The real name of the real life gang rape victim portrayed by Foster, is Cheryl Ann Araujo. Click the link to find out more about Cheryls’ gang rape…

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheryl_Araujo

The racial demographics of New Bedford, the actual site of the rape portrayed in the ‘Accused’ movie is… 78.86% White, 4.39% African American, 0.62% Native American, 0.65% Asian, 0.05% Pacific Islander, 9.51% from other races, and 5.92% from two or more races…

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Bedford,_Massachusetts

This case is simply human brutality, which knows no racial boundaries, and the mere suggestion of that as even a reason for this violent rape, is patently offensive.

Here is a link to a review of the movie, which intelligently juxtaposes the Sarah Tobias Upper New York gang rape by white men against a single white female, to the gang rape of this 15-year-old Richmond High school student…

http://www.xomba.com/movie_review_accused_starring_academy_award_winner_jodie_foster

By the way, Jodie Foster won the Oscar for best actress for her portrayal of gang rape victim Sarah Tobias, which was great for Jodie, but may have sent the wrong message to the public, and may have influenced this gang rape in Richmond, unwittingly.

In 2005, Samuel L. Jackson portrayed Richmond High school’s controversial basketball Coach Ken Carter, who made national attention when the Richmond High  team was well on its way to the 1999 State Championship, when he  received the low grades of his players. Coach Carter  locked the gym and benched the whole team for poor grades.

Coach Carter received some praise and much more criticism for his decision.

The name of the movie was ”Coach Carter”…http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0393162/

In an interview Coach Carter gave on CNN  Friday, Carter spoke by telephone to Richmond High School Senior Class President Gina Saechad.   He promised Saechad he would return to the school to help.

When asked about his reaction to the gang rape, he told CNN that he could see it coming when he coached at the school 10 years ago.

“Someone (at the school) was asleep at the wheel,” he said.

He went on to tell Class President Gina Saechad that you are not what people think about you, but you are what you think about yourself…

He is arranging a fund-raiser in support of the gang rape victim, and vows to help out with the students at Richmond High, which holds a special place in his heart.

It would make a great impression on the students if they can see a role model and a leader in society that has come from their community, and had a positive, yet challenging experience there as an educator.

Who knows, maybe he can convince Samuel Jackson to stop by the school and deliver a talk about self esteem , love and compassion for your fellow-man, in any given circumstance. A visit by a movie star and the subject of a hit movie, Ken Carter could make a positive impression on the Richmond High students.

In closing, the only issue here is discipline, and compassion, which seems to be lacking in some of the students involved in this horrendously brutal crime against humanity.

As illustrated by the Jodie Foster movie, this type of barbaric behavior is not endemic to poverty or race as some media, and faux liberal political cartel blogs might want to portray it, it is simply a case of human brutality that no race of people is immune to,across the board. Any one perpetuating this myth, is a liar.

Read more at:

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/10/30/BAR01AD19F.DTL#ixzz0VZpkExGZ

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-banks31-2009oct31,0,41271.column?track=rss

The Accused-1988

Coach Carter movie poster

Richmond High School is accepting cards and donations for the victim to go towards her care. They can be mailed to the school at 1250 23rd St., Richmond, CA 94804-1011. Make checks out to the Richmond High Student Fund.

Former Massachusetts senator, Edward Brooke,  is awarded one of two of the highest civilian awards, the Congressional Gold Medal, by President Obama at the Capitol. The story, on New Bedford Standard-Times.

A New Bedford student wins a business competition and gets a “capital” prize. The story on New Bedford Standard-Times.

Some footage from this past weekend’s event-with some really great entries.

Lizzie Borden Tale Of Two Cities

Youtube entry by Rick Rebelo.

The Whaling Museum recently held a Paul Cuffe symposium, celebrating his life and his legacy.  Read this SouthCoast Today article, to find out how Cuffe’s story is one that is quite pertinent to today.

GUEST VIEW: Paul Cuffe: Not just old history

By David C. Cole  October 03, 2009 at SouthCoastToday.com

A symposium celebrating the life of Paul Cuffe is to be held at the New Bedford Whaling Museum today, Oct. 3. This symposium is, on one level, a commemoration of a very remarkable local citizen who achieved great success and recognition despite the fact that he had no formal education, was of mixed African and Native American heritage, and lived a life rooted in a coastal country village.

But on another level, his experiences two centuries ago shed light on the enormity of those combined tragedies — slavery, colonialism, suppression of Native Americans and pervasive racial discrimination — that plagued our civilization for most of the 19th and 20th centuries.

Silhouette of Captain Paul Cuffe, by Thomas Pole circa 1820 (1904.43)

Paul Cuffe strove for equal rights — to vote, to trade, to be educated, to own property, to occupy an open seat in a stage coach, to appeal to the president of the United States for redress of grievances, to appeal to British officials for release of an impressed crew member, and finally for his friends in Sierra Leone, who had escaped from slavery in America and discrimination in Nova Scotia, to have an equal voice in their own polity in Freetown.

His causes, reflecting those “self-evident” rights promised in the American Revolution, were to seek those same rights for all people, not just for the white, Anglo-European dominant class. In his time, Paul Cuffe was exceptional, but not unique. There were other free blacks in northern cities, such as James Forten and Richard Allen, as well as in Europe, who were respected leaders in the community.

But the continuing struggles in America over slavery and reconstruction, and the spread of European colonialism across Africa, halted the potential emergence of those black leaders and perpetuated their repression. It was only in the second half of the 20th century that African countries were able to throw off the colonial yoke, and blacks in America were able to vote freely and gain access to better education.

If Paul Cuffe had had his way, if he had succeeded in leading blacks in Africa, and in America, to, as he said, “rise to be a people” with equal rights and opportunities, what a difference it would have made in the world’s history.

How many Barack and Michele Obamas, Nelson Mandelas and others might have risen up during that long bleak period to advance the well-being of mankind?

There is a direct link between the causes pursued by Paul Cuffe and their ultimate realization in the election of Barack Obama. By gaining a better understanding of our Paul Cuffe, we can not only appreciate what an outstanding man he was in his time, but also be challenged to think how different our history might have been if his visions had prevailed from his time forward.

To read the article in its original context, visit SouthCoastToday.com.

“The real Whaling City: New Bedford makes a great day trip into the maritime past – and present”

By Anne Wallace Allen   Originally published on 10/4/2009 at TheDay.com

Walk the cobblestone streets and imagine the days when the whale oil industry supported banks, mansions, and small businesses.For 35 years, between 1825 and 1860, New Bedford, Mass., a city of around 100,000 on Buzzards Bay, was the busiest whaling port in the world. And when the whaling industry declined, towns like New Bedford didn’t go away. They adapted to other uses of the sea. New Bedford became one of the busiest shipping ports in the country.

Now, with its blocks and blocks of original 19th-century buildings still intact, it’s a good place to visit with your family, and a perfect destination for autumn.

To take stock of New Bedford, start with the New Bedford Whaling Museum, where the specialized tools used to kill the whales at sea are presented in absorbing displays. The museum – the world’s largest, according to whaling scholars – also pays tribute to the huge creatures with three whale skeletons and a model of a North Atlantic right whale.

Whaling was dangerous, it was extraordinary, and it was cruel – to the whales, and to the seamen who shipped out to parts unknown, sometimes for years at a time. The whaling museum doesn’t hide from that. One exhibit tells visitors that 37,000 whales were killed in 1934 alone.

”If you were a whaleman, that’s how you earned your living,” said Michael Dyer, the museum’s maritime historian.

Dyer noted that most maritime cultures have hunted whales. Museum exhibits document whaling 1,000 years ago by Vikings, Eskimos, and others. “It’s not unique to the American experience by any stretch of the imagination,” said Dyer.

The museum, on Johnny Cake Hill, lies inside the 13-block New Bedford Whaling National Historical Park, which offers free tours in the summer months of the many historic attractions nearby.

One popular stop: the Seamen’s Bethel, http://portsociety.org/2009/seamens-bethel, a place of worship that has been open to mariners since 1832. Nearby is the nation’s oldest continuously operating custom house, an 1836 Greek Revival structure where seafarers and captains do the paperwork of their trade: http://www.nps.gov/history/nr/travel/maritime/usc.htm.

Suitable for young kids is the brand-new Ocean Explorium, a modestly proportioned aquarium, museum and science center that opened in a former bank building in July. The Explorium, http://www.oceanexplorium.org, has six aquatic exhibits, including coral, scallops, sea horses, and a hypnotic jellyfish tank with a strangely soothing effect on footsore adults.

A few blocks down the brick sidewalks take you to New Bedford’s waterfront, where the 1894 schooner Ernestina is often in port. Just as interesting for visitors who don’t often visit a coast is the busy commercial wharf next door where hundreds of fishing boats come and go each year.

New Bedford’s centuries-old banks and mansions tell the story of a town that made its living from the sea. During the whaling years, thousands of ships sailed out to oceans around the world, returning with valuable oil for use in candles, soap, and lighthouse lanterns.

The city also produced and attracted nationally known artists such as Herman Melville, author of “Moby-Dick,” and supported sea-related businesses such as chandleries, sailmakers, and coopers.

Another famous 19th century resident was Frederick Douglass, an orator and abolitionist who traveled to New Bedford through the Underground Railroad and stayed there between 1838 and 1841, working as a caulker on the whaling ships. He preached at Zion Methodist Church.

At New Bedford’s peak in 1857, 105 ships returned over 1 million pounds of whalebone and 200,000 barrels of sperm and whale oil. The next busiest port was New London, Conn., where 24 vessels returned that year, said Dyer.

The whaling boom started to decline with the rise of the petroleum industry, and by the 1850s, the investors started diversifying into other industries, such as textiles. Whaling all but disappeared from Massachusetts by 1915.

But with its deep water, New Bedford still claims to be the busiest fishing port in the United States, in terms of its catch value, according to Jessica Fernandes, the deputy director of the New Bedford Harbor Development Commission. About 500 commercial fishing vessels are in port at New Bedford at any given time, she said.

Away from the sea is the shady Buttonwood Park Zoo, http://bpzoo.org/, which has a mini-train to ride and a host of animal exhibits, from a pair of Asian elephants to some heirloom goats. Zookeepers are commonly on hand to talk about the animals.

To read the article in its original context, visit TheDay.com.

Blood Relations written by Sharon Pollack and directed by Stephen Kay opens November 12th.  The play runs November 12-22 at the Your Theatre Playhouse at 136 River Street, New Bedford.

The play within a play structure in which, ten years after her acquittal, Lizzie Borden’s actress friend, Nance O’Neil acts out the crucial scenes, lends a fascinating sense of ambiguity to a familiar story.  For reservations call 508-993-0772.

For more about the play read http://www.enotes.com/blood-relations

Many years ago, my parents had a small place in North Dartmouth, Massachusetts — next to New Bedford in the southeastern part of the state. I don’t know what it is — perhaps it’s because this area is below Cape Cod, but they get a lot of fog there. And it was while spending time in North Dartmouth that I developed a fondness for fog–particularly foggy mornings.

And that’s a fortunate thing, because here in the San Francisco Bay area, we get a ridiculous amount of fog. The good news about living in the mid-Peninsula (about 25 miles south of San Francisco) is that it usually burns off by mid-morning. So we get the best of both worlds — that slightly melancholy, quiet, dark feel along with cool humidity that goes perfectly with a strong cup of hot coffee and some straight up jazz…followed by brilliant sun.

As a matter of fact, I wrote every sentence of this post until this one…very early this morning. But it’s now nearly 4 p.m., and blazing hot outside. Stay thirsty my friends, and have a great weekend!

The most interesting thing about the New Bedford Whaling National Historical Park is the large number of old buildings that have been moved into the park from their original locations. These are not small wood shacks, but rather entire buildings of stone or brick. On one street, most of the buildings came from somewhere else. Much of this relocation is due to the efforts of WHALE (Waterfront Historic Area LeaguE), which has an impressive record of historic preservation.

One building which has not been moved is the New Bedford Custom House:

It was completed in 1836 and is the oldest continuously operating custom house in the United States. The New York Times had an interesting article about the custom house:

New Bedford is also home to the Seamen’s Bethel:

Herman Melville wrote about the bethel in chapter VII of Moby Dick:

In this same New Bedford there stands a Whaleman’s Chapel, and few are the moody fishermen, shortly bound for the Indian Ocean or Pacific, who fail to make a Sunday visit to the spot.

He also described the cenotaphs (from the Greek for empty tomb) that adorn the bethel’s walls. Here’s one:

Melville wrote of the chapel’s pulpit:

Its panelled front was in the likeness of a ship’s bluff bows, and the Holy Bible rested on a projecting piece of scroll work, fashioned after a ship’s fiddle-headed beak.

Here’s how Rockwell Kent illustrated it:

And here’s Orson Welles preaching from the pulpit in the 1956 movie:

The only problem was that the real Seamen’s Bethel did not have a pulpit like that—at least not until throngs of tourists arrived there asking to see the pulpit. Now it has one:

New Bedford’s working waterfront is alive with all sorts of fishing boats. Fortunately for us we were there on a Sunday—there was not much work happening, but there were tons of boats at the docks:

There was also a most-interesting fountain of a Greek god standing atop all sorts of sea creatures:

New Bedford is also home to the schooner Ernestina, ex-Effie M. Morrisey. For some reason there are no booms or gaffs on the masts of this 115-year-old boat (perhaps due to current restoration work?), so this is the most nautical shot I could get:

Today’s South Coast Today puts Lizzie in the Press again with coverage of last night’s “Mock Trial”. Read the story at http://www.southcoasttoday.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090925/NEWS/909250337