maritime

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Chestertown, Maryland’s 2016 Downrigging Festival was a beautiful fall weekend for celebrating the most beautiful wooden boats on the Chesapeake Bay. Whether local ladies like the Sultana or the Elsworth, city girls like the Pride of Baltimore or the Sigsbee, or vessels from further afield like the Kalmar Nyckel, the ships are stacked up on the dock sometimes two-deep to allow visitors from around the country the chance to see and sail on these magnificent craft. 

It’s an event that marks the end of the tall ship season on the Chesapeake- and afterwards, many of the buyboats, bugeyes, schooners and clippers return to their home port to be unrigged, hauled and worked on over the winter. With fireworks, bluegrass, and some stately trips down the Chester River, thousands of people celebrate the year’s last hurrah for these charming watercraft. Hulls gleaming and flags standing proud in a warm fall breeze, they are reminders of a time not so distant when these ships were the Bay’s most essential connection between small Chesapeake towns and a vast maritime world. 

It’s a past worth celebrating- and a beautiful one, at that.


Images by author. All rights reserved.

19th century postcard depicting Baltimore Harbor, with the steamboat Chester in the center of the image. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.On this day, May 31, in 1872, a Chesapeake steamboat was the object of one of the earliest pre…

19th century postcard depicting Baltimore Harbor, with the steamboat Chester in the center of the image. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

On this day, May 31, in 1872, a Chesapeake steamboat was the object of one of the earliest pre-Jim Crow cases in Maryland. Josephine Carr, an African-American school teacher from Kent County, sued the steamboat Chester for an assault. The incident had taken place on May 14, when Carr sat in the steamboat’s main cabin- a space reserved for white passengers. When Carr refused to move, the captain and crew dragged her to the black-only forward cabin, where Carr declined to wait. Instead, she moved to the bow, where she stood until the Chester reached Chestertown and Carr disembarked. She would later file a libel suit against the Chester for her mistreatment.

Carr won her landmark case, and was awarded $25 damages. Carr’s case was one of several in which 19th century courts ruled in favor of blacks on transportation accommodations- a precursor to many such standoffs, which Rosa Parks would someday make famous.

Savoring the Bay Through Historic Menus

1901 Breakfast menu from the Hotel Chamberlin at Old Point Comfort, Virginia. Collections of the New York Public Library.

Like the rest of the online world, we at CBMM have spent our time virtually plundering the treasure trove that is the New York Public Library’s newly digitized online collections. Over 674,000 items have been scanned and uploaded, for anyone to enjoy, and the site is full of thousands of rabbit holes to descend into, delightfully. One such rabbit hole is the Buttholph collection of menus, which encompasses almost 19,000 pieces of restaurant ephemera from 1843- 2008.


Princess Anne Hotel menu from Virginia Beach in 1897. Collections of the New York Public Library.

The menus have been sourced from around the country, and the Chesapeake examples are particularly delightful. The strong representation of seasonal harvests is clear, from the planked shad and oyster fritters served up at the Princess Anne Hotel to stewed oysters and clam broth (for breakfast, no less!) on offer at old Point Comfort’s Hotel Chamberlin.

1900 Supper menu from the Chesapeake Steamship Company. Collections of the New York Public Library.

White tablecloth service and the Bay’s bounty weren’t only available on land, however- Chesapeake Bay steamboats were renowned for their elegant meals and world-class service. Diners enjoyed their sumptuous repasts in lavishly paneled dining rooms under crystal chandeliers, and tucked in real linen napkins at their collar. Liveried waiters brought courses of oyster pate, tongue, pig’s feet, pin-money pickles, and other substantial fare for the reasonable price of seventy-five cents.

1901 Baltimore Masonic Temple menu. Collections of the New York Public Library.

The menus also indicate that both citified and country folks alike savored meals built around the ample harvests sourced from the Chesapeake Bay- many of which are illegal or restricted today. Shad, for example, was a popular 19th century dish that has been a closed fishery in Maryland waters since the 1980′s due to low populations. Green turtle soup, made from sea turtles harvested at the mouth of the Chesapeake, is another example of bygone fare- the species is now endangered, largely due to harvesting for that very dish.

These fascinating examples of Chesapeake material culture are just the tip of the proverbial iceberg in the New York Public Library’s digital collections- where carefully-saved documents create a paper trail that leads us right to the Chesapeake’s rich, delicious past.

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(top) Baltimore harbor from Federal Hill, 1850.

(top middle) Baltimore harbor from Federal Hill (facing Fell’s Point), 1870.

(middle) Baltimore harbor from Federal Hill, 1902.

(bottom middle) Baltimore harbor from Federal Hill, 1948.

(bottom) Baltimore harbor from Federal Hill, 2014.

These five images show the dramatic transformation of Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, all taken from the vantage point of Federal Hill. From the 1850′s, when the city had just started to feel the impact of the Industrial Age, to the 1870′s, when oyster packing filled the harbor with skipjacks and bugeyes, to the early 20th century, when the last of the steamboats plied their routes throughout the Bay, to today, when most of the traces of industry have been replaced by museums, malls, and leisure craft- Baltimore’s harbor has remained an essential element of Maryland’s largest city.

 In our recent exhibition at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum, “Broad Reach: 50 Years of Collecting,” one treasured item in our collections really stood out- a silent film, taken at the beginning of the 20th century, depicting what was then a series of quotidian scenes of steamboats arriving and departing from Chesapeake wharves. The filmmaker was a Washington, DC resident, Herman Hollerith, had a family home on Mobjack Bay.

The wealthy son of an inventor, Hollerith would later become one of the founders of the Norfolk and Mobjack Bay Steamboat Company after service to Mobjack Bay via the Old Dominion Line was ceased in April of 1920. He was also apparently a bit of a techie (as much as you could be in that era) and with his own hand-cranked movie camera, Hollerith set about capturing the everyday activities along lower Chesapeake wharves.

The product is astonishing- a turn of the century Chesapeake, captured like a moth in amber. These were the days so many old-timers fondly recollect, when the rivers were highways of commerce and of transportation, and the tiny communities they connected by steam were isolated enough to develop their own character. Even though the film lacks sound, it is still so incredibly alive- watermen use a hand-pump to bail their boat, a crewmen scrapes his supper off a plate, a gleaming thoroughbred hesitates before it boards the hold of a steamboat. Though much has changed about the Chesapeake since Hollerith made his little film, from the Bay’s boats to its occupations, it is reassuring that even today, the Chesapeake still occupies a central place for many along its tributaries.

A few of the many standout shots:

0:01 Unloading steamboat at rural wharf- Note that deckhand workforce is African-American

0:21 Loading thoroughbred racehorse

0:41 Steamboat General Mathews backing away from wharf

1:25 Deckhands loading barrels aboard in orderly succession

2:23 weighing fish—buying from watermen

2:58 bailing boat

3:21 Tug with railroad barge on the hip

3:33 aftermath of fire on General Mathews
• Burned March 22, 1930 at Norfolk Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company

4:23 steam Pilot boat and Hotel Chamberlin at Old Point Comfort

5:11 black deckhand handling a (heaving?) line

5:18 captain at starboard engine room telegraph

5:44 automobile exiting steamer

6:05 steamboat Annie L. Vansciver, built 1905 Camden NJ

6:14 back to Old Point & the plush Hotel Chamberlin

6:30 Annie L. Vansciver leaving Old Point wharf

6:50 large steamer with dark star on stack

7:12 sidewheel steamboat Annapolis, Built 1892 Baltimore as Sassafras (renamed when lengthened in 1902)
• Owned by Tolchester Beach Improvement Co, burned October 29, 1935

7:19 tug on C&D Canal

7:25 large motor yacht with crew clad in white on a dressed ship

7:43 lift bridge opening, possibly in Chesapeake City

7:55 tug with canal barge

8:27 motor yacht with white steel hull passing under lift bridge

“Tonging Skiff Gypsy Girl 7,” by Robert de Gast, collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.In this 1969 image, Tilghman Island waterman Ben Gowe gingerly follows the state icebreaker back to safe harbor after a day’s tonging duri…

“Tonging Skiff Gypsy Girl 7,” by Robert de Gast, collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

In this 1969 image, Tilghman Island waterman Ben Gowe gingerly follows the state icebreaker back to safe harbor after a day’s tonging during a cold snap. In icy winters, the state works to keep the Chesapeake’s principal channels open to navigation and deploys small icebreakers to help watermen return safely to port. Photojournalist Robert de Gast rode the icebreaker while documenting the Chesapeake’s oyster industry in 1969 and 1970 in preparation for a book, The Oystermen of the Chesapeake.

Louis Feuchter’s Chesapeake Bay

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Skipjack and Steamboat by Louis Feucher. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

Some of the most captivating artwork in the collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum is by a maritime artist, Louis Feuchter (1885-1957), who worked in the early 20th century.

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Log canoe race by Louis Feuchter. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

Feuchter was born in 1885 in the Patterson Park neighborhood of East Baltimore. At age 12, his talent was so promising that he won a scholarship to the Maryland Institute of Art, where he was formally trained in color, line, and technique, all deeply informed by the work of the late 19th century Impressionists. Feuchter went on to work as a silver designer for Baltimore’s renowned silver makers Kirk and Sons, and later worked as a sculptor, making clay models for decorative plasterwork. Laid off during the Depression, he lived the rest of his life in a tiny Baltimore rowhouse, caring for his ailing mother and creating art in a cramped bedroom.

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Wharf and steamboat scene by Louis Feuchter. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

There were a few respites from Feuchter’s retreat into the confines of his little Baltimore house. During the summers, many of his happiest days were on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, when he vacationed at Wade’s Point near St Michaels. Maryland. There, a love of the Bay’s byways, landscapes and wooden boats was sparked that Feuchter would nurture for the rest of his life. Feuchter’s passion was ardent, but it was also well-timed. He captured the very end of the era of commercial sail on the Chesapeake, when lumber, grain, and other goods were still carried to markets by schooners and steamboats. His paintings depict with careful detail the world of the Bay in that last of its working era, and the quiet beauty of Chesapeake coves that had yet to be developed. 

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Eastern Shore waterfront scene, Louis Feuchter. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

Feuchter seldom left Baltimore except for his summer jaunts to the Eastern Shore, traveling by steamboat. Exploring the small, working communities of the Nanticoke, Choptank and Miles Rivers, he found pastoral settings for Chesapeake boats—bugeyes, schooners, log canoes and more—that he documented in precise detail. Feuchter’s paintings conveyed  the peaceful, humid stillness of the Eastern Shore’s waterfront communities, their impressionistic strokes recreating the solace of an evening at anchor. Sensitive and filled with light and color, Feuchter captured the Chesapeake’s many charms without sentimentality or nostalgia.

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Bugeye and log canoe in a Chesapeake cove by Louis Feuchter. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

In 1929 Feuchter commissioned a small sailing yacht, a sort of miniature skipjack, from Eastern Shore boatbuilder George Jackson.  He used the boat to sail away from Baltimore down the Patapsco River in search of rural settings for his paintings of Chesapeake boats, and his own boat became the subject of many of his works.

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Chesapeake pungy schooners by Louis Feuchter. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum

One of Feuchter’s contemporaries, the photographer Hans Marx, wrote that he was, “a mild and unassuming man, with none of the airs you associate with artists.” Unfortunately, Feuchter’s softspoken demeanor may have been charming but it did little to bolster sales of his luminous paintings. His paltry income forced him to economize, and Feuchter often painted watercolors on scrap paper- old letters, bills or even calendars- to save money on costly canvas and oil paints.

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Pungy schooner with full sails, by Louis Feuchter. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

Feuchter had some successes during his lifetime. A friendship with Mariner’s Museum curator Robert Burgess lead to a series of commissions of ship’s portraits in oil. It was exacting work, and Feuchter excelled at capturing the precise details of each vessel type, from bugeyes to crabbing skiffs, corresponding frequently with Burgess and other maritime experts to get elements like reef points and trailboard colors exactly right.

By the 1950′s Feuchter’s mother had died, and alone in the rowhouse, his own health began to deteriorate. Feuchter was confined to quick sketches of animals in nearby Druid Hill Park. His paints were put aside, and other than a few paintings that hung inside his home, the gentle spread of the Eastern Shore’s meandering marshes was now just a memory.

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A log canoe on an Eastern Shore cove by Louis Feuchter. Collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

Feuchter died in 1957, leaving a legacy of work that represented the Chesapeake’s last days of sail. Serene, radiant, yet carefully detailed, his paintings evoke a Bay of beautiful, timeless simplicity. Elegant log canoes, burly bugeyes and saturated reflections of sky and trees wink like pennies in a wishing well, reminding viewers of what is there, just below the surface of the Chesapeake’s very near past.

The unusually warm weather has created some incredibly beautiful foggy mornings around the Chesapeake this week. This image, taken in Chestertown, Maryland, is just one example of the lovely way that fog, early light, still water, and the tangled ar…

The unusually warm weather has created some incredibly beautiful foggy mornings around the Chesapeake this week. This image, taken in Chestertown, Maryland, is just one example of the lovely way that fog, early light, still water, and the tangled architecture of wooden boat masts and rigging seamlessly intersect on these fleeting few dawn moments.

On a day that feels firmly sliding into winter, an image that is pure summer- CBMM’s new log canoe, Bufflehead, on the Miles River during her inaugural sail this summer on June 9th, 2015. No shirt required onboard, but a stiff breeze and a certain a…

On a day that feels firmly sliding into winter, an image that is pure summer- CBMM’s new log canoe, Bufflehead, on the Miles River during her inaugural sail this summer on June 9th, 2015. No shirt required onboard, but a stiff breeze and a certain amount of devil-may-care adventurous spirit is critical.


Image by Tracey Munson.

Maryland’s Iconic Smith Island

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In the wide open waters of the Tangier Sound, a 30-minute ferry ride carries you from the closest town, Crisfield, to the classic charm of Maryland’s Smith Island. The low land is framed by endless water and sky, and the island is surrounded by thick, verdant wetlands roamed by egrets the color of bleached bone. Today, Smith Island is also home to a few hundred souls in several small towns that still largely rely on waterwork as the main economy.

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240 residents live year-round in three communities of Ewell, Tylerton, and Rhodes Point— a significant drop from the island’s heyday when over 800 people lived on Smith and supported themselves well through the booming harvests of  crab, fish and oysters. Today’s Smith Islanders, though less in number, still make a living from the Chesapeake—scraping for soft shells in summer and dredging for oysters in winter— but as the Bay’s environment declines, the number of watermen dwindles every year.

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Mark Kitching is one of these watermen-  in fact, he’s the head of the Smith Island Watermen Association. He grew up on the island and raised his family there, and acknowledges that though its a challenging place to live sometimes, we wouldn’t trade it for the world. Kitching loves the traditions on Smith Island, but he’s also willing to experiment— he and a partner have been growing a few thousand oysters on a new lease just a little north of where he docks his scraping boat. Unless Smith Island embraces some change, with new harvests or new kinds of people, he asserts, then the island won’t be around in 100 years.

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Smith Island’s fisheries aren’t the only reason people are leaving the island. The Chesapeake’s insatiable tides have eroded away huge portions of the shoreline, and the Bay has rushed inland, inundating once-dry yards, homesites, and roads. The US Army Corps of Engineers estimates that in the last 100 years, Smith Island has lost 3,300 acres of shoreline, and scientists warn that the entire island could wash away as early as 2030. On the island, this truth is everywhere. Houses stand empty and abandoned, and stagnant pools collect beneath their mired foundations. Especially on the western side of the island, which bears the brunt of the erosion, once-handsome homes are quietly decaying into the marsh. Their paint peels and clapboard sags even as ornamental pomegranate trees in their jungly yards drop overripe fruit to the sodden ground.

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But in each community, a nucleus of activity and life still thrives. Neighbors greet each other in the evenings on the streets where trucks without license plates haul fishing gear and golf carts trundle along. The Methodist Church is a community hub, busy with the goings-on of small town life from spaghetti dinners to funerals. Unleashed dogs roam in friendly packs as their owners enjoy constitutionals and greet each other. The one restaurant in town serves up mean soft-crab sandwiches and coffee, which some old-timers linger over around lunchtime.

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Over at the Smith Island Center, tourists watch an informational video about the history of the island, browse exhibits exploring the island’s traditions and former residents, and admire a custom set of ‘Crab-opoly’ created by a waterman one long winter, years ago. Tourism— from photographers, environmental types, students and weekenders— is a force on the island, although it is unsurprisingly seasonal. All summer long, visitors arrive on the ferry from Crisfield, ready to demolish a buttery crab cake at the Bayside Inn restaurant or a slice of the renowned Smith Island layer cake. Once temperatures drop, however, it’s back to a long winter of familiar faces and the occasional isolation of a deep freeze.

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Small, friendly, and approachable, Smith Island is a place that represents the essence of what makes the Chesapeake unique. Life lived at sea level means one deeply connected to the Bay’s seasonality, its currents and its vacillating moods. It also has created a close knit community whose residents can rely on each other for a cup of sugar or to fix a workboat, yet still welcome outsiders with warmth and acceptance. These old-fashioned, small town values in a quintessentially Chesapeake setting are Smith Island’s most charming, resonant qualities— and fortunately, even hurricanes haven’t yet been able to wash those away.

All images by author.

Hey beautifulswimmers fans, the author of this blog, Kate Livie, has written a book! It’s the epic story of the long, tangled story of Chesapeake oysters- and their role as a survival staple, mainstay of the economy, and cultural catalyst. If you’ve…

Hey beautifulswimmers fans, the author of this blog, Kate Livie, has written a book! It’s the epic story of the long, tangled story of Chesapeake oysters- and their role as a survival staple, mainstay of the economy, and cultural catalyst. If you’ve enjoyed her posts on the Bay’s history, culture and the environment, it’s worth a look. You can purchase it on Amazon, or Maryland residents can grab a copy at local retailers or book events throughout the state. The Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum will be hosting a free book event for “Chesapeake Oysters” on November 20th at 5:00 PM- more information on that program is available at cbmm.org.


Happy reading, and as Kate would say, “Believe in bivalves!”

In the late 19th century, the Chesapeake produced more oysters than any other region in the world. The oyster-packing industry was centered in Baltimore, and Roy E. Roberts was just one among scores of oyster packers in the city. To individualize th…

In the late 19th century, the Chesapeake produced more oysters than any other region in the world. The oyster-packing industry was centered in Baltimore, and Roy E. Roberts was just one among scores of oyster packers in the city. To individualize their brands among such stiff competition, packers used distinctive names and imagery for their products to make them memorable to the consumer. Although Robert would later market most of his oysters under the “Maryland Beauty” brand, he briefly used the “Wild Duck” brand- making it among the rarest, most valuable, and most collectible oyster cans in the world.


R.E. Roberts, Inc., “Wild Duck Brand Raw Oysters,” R.E. Roberts, Inc., c. 1920. Lithograph on tinplate, 18.4 x 17.1 cm. Museum purchase, 2002.40.69. Digital image by David W. Harp © Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

This ethereal submission to our upcoming #cbmmsnapshots exhibition comes courtesy of Peter Lalor, who captured log canoe Island Blossom during a race on the Miles River in September. “Following log canoe fleet in Sunday morning race, in Steve Huntoo…

This ethereal submission to our upcoming #cbmmsnapshots exhibition comes courtesy of Peter Lalor, who captured log canoe Island Blossom during a race on the Miles River in September. “Following log canoe fleet in Sunday morning race, in Steve Huntoon’s yacht out of MRYC. The morning started sunny but by 11 there was a lowering sky and very interesting light.”

To submit your own photos or to learn more about our upcoming Snapshots to Selfies: 50 Years of Chesapeake Summers exhibit, click here:http://bit.ly/1c2t2bT

Headwaters

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The mouths of rivers get all the love. They’re where you find watermen and pound nets, where it’s deep enough to swim and sail and maneuver a motorboat. They’re accessible and friendly and well-frequented.

But there’s a magic when you head upstream, an intimacy about the upper reaches of Chesapeake Bay tributaries. Shady, with still waters, these headwaters are remote and verdant. The houses built along the riverbank are far more modest than the stately homes found a few miles downstream, and sometimes just a few lawn chairs at favorite fishing hole are the only sign that people have been there at all.

Where rivers narrow, the chance at a close encounter with wildlife becomes increasingly likely. Herons squawk, outraged at being disturbed from their afternoon of fishing, and smaller creatures retreat into the underbrush, just slowly enough to be glimpsed.

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It’s easier than it might seem to get lost as you head upstream. Many small tributaries connect to the larger river main stem, and each small branch has its own charms. Some may conceal stands of blooming marsh hibiscus, or streams where the water is so full of Bay grass and so remarkably clear that you feel like 400 years have suddenly slipped away.

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The vehicle of choice on headwaters is small paddling craft. Canoes or kayaks- vessels that can thread the exquisite, jewel-like streams and needle deep into the twisting switchbacks and oxbows. The slow pace lends itself to closer observation of the river. Plants, birds, and small mammals can be seen at close range when a kayak quietly approaches. It’s startling, how much bigger a small stream seems when you’re on eye level with the landscape. A rare river otter, breaching out of the pondweed just past the tip of your paddle, seems as large and hearty as a Chesapeake Bay retriever.

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Headwaters are where much of the Bay’s life begins, from the shad that spawn on the shallow, gravelly bottoms to the slender elver eels that lurk under submerged tree trunks. Thick with plants, narrowed almost to a tunnel, these marginal areas for humans are vibrant habitat for many plant species, which riotously proliferate- milkweed, cardinal flower, wild rice, pickerelweed, tuckahoe. These, along with the submerged meadows below the waterline, act as filters, absorbing nutrients, contributing oxygen, and settling sediment that runs off the higher ground.

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As summer winds down, the open waters of the Chesapeake will crowd on the weekends, as people fit in that last fishing trip, that last sail to Kent Island or St Michaels, or that last day to run the river on a jetski. It is the perfect season to turn upstream, and seek the solace of your river’s headwaters.  Cicadas, damselflies and water bugs will herald your arrival as you approach the heart of the Chesapeake itself. A river’s beginning, located centrally in the absolute middle of nowhere.

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All images by author. Many thanks to Chesapeake Semester at Washington College’s the Center for Environment and Society, who acted as guides for this trip up the northernmost part of the Chester River

Not all Chesapeake watermen are actually men. This image taken by Lila Line in 1981, is a perfect example of the tenacity, tirelessness, and work ethic of plenty of the Bay’s water-working-women. While many women work off the water in watermen famil…

Not all Chesapeake watermen are actually men. This image taken by Lila Line in 1981, is a perfect example of the tenacity, tirelessness, and work ethic of plenty of the Bay’s water-working-women. While many women work off the water in watermen families, picking crabs or placing orders, some women choose to follow the example of their fathers or brothers, buy their own boat, and make a living from what the Bay provides. In this photo, Kathleen, a Tilghman Island waterman, is heading out for a long day of crabbing, despite being heavily pregnant. She continued to work until three weeks before her son, Noah, was born.

Image by Lila Line, collections of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

Miss Freedom Cuts a Figure

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One of the most-recognizable objects in the collections here at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum is not a skipjack or a lighthouse- it’s an amply endowed, brightly painted figurehead. “Miss Freedom,” as she is known familiarly here at CBMM, is undoubtedly one of the highlights of any visit to our campus. But behind her carmine pout and myopic gaze is a history of generous proportions.

Where did such a big figurehead come from? Although her scale would indicate she was intended for an enormous ship, “Miss Freedom” was always, in fact, a bit top-heavy. She was made for a relatively small vessel—the 88-foot schooner yacht Freedom. But when  yacht designer John G. Alden built Freedom in 1931, he never intended for her to have a figurehead at all.


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“Miss Freedom” adorning the prow of the schooner Freedom, ca, 1955.

Just before World War II, the schooner was given to the U.S. Naval Academy to train midshipmen in sailing. One of Freedom’s captains requested a figurehead, and the Academy’s patternmaker, John M. Cook, made a sizeable one. Boasting a starry headress with gilded eagle’s wings, the figurehead was eye-catching. It was also quite obviously out of proportion to the modest schooner, dominating most of the vessel’s prow. 

After a few years, “Miss Freedom” had to be removed. Her statuesque bulk added 450 pounds to the bow and was vulnerable to damage. Retired from her life on the water, she was then installed at the Naval Academy Museum for the next chapter in her life.

“Miss Freedom” and her obvious charms proved to be quite a popular addition to the Naval Academy. Carver John M. Cook later recalled, “Midshipmen entered the Museum where the Freedom figurehead was and rubbed their hands on the large bosoms for luck.” He continued, “One Midshipman wrote his mother and told her what he did and the luck he had. Apparently his mother didn’t agree.  She wrote the Admiral a letter, and the Admiral’s orders were, ‘Move it.’”

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A young visitor to the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum poses with “Miss Freedom” in the 90′s. Image courtesy of Allison Speight.


Needing a new home for the buxom blonde, the Naval Academy Museum arranged to loan “Miss Freedom” to the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. She’s spent the last 30 years as the unofficial ‘hostess with the mostest,’ featuring in countless family photos with her iconic physique and winning patriotic flair. This year, she’ll be installed in a place of honor in our Broad Reach: 50 Years of Chesapeake Collecting exhibition, as one of the 50 top highlights of our collection. Surrounded by priceless artifacts and fascinating images, she holds her own- "Miss Freedom,” a woman with a Naval past and a ruby-lipped Chesapeake future.

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Don’t miss this beautiful, haunting elegy for the last house on Holland Island in the Chesapeake Bay. The song and images depict a real working community that slowly washed away with the tide. To learn more about the history of the house and the island on beautiful Swimmers, click here: http://bit.ly/1C1Tp7q

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Scenes from our boatshop here at Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum, where a whole company of skilled shipwrights use traditional techniques to keep our wooden Floating Fleet above the waterline. 

From hewing whole logs for our log-built bugeye, buyboat and log canoes to repairing planks that were made from Eastern Shore pine 100 years ago, the boatshop is a hive of activity. It’s also where cedar shavings form small mountain ranges, full of tools a time-traveler from St Michael’s shipbuilding heyday would find familiar. 

Sometimes, after the work is done, it’s also a place where you can find a some tunes being scratched out on a guitar and a banjo, dexterous carpenter’s hands coaxing tunes instead of oak. The boatshop is a special place, a Chesapeake place, and overall, a lively place, where traditions live and breathe, coexisting peacefully in our modern world.

Workboats all lined up and ready for dredging at a marina in Chance, Maryland, way down at the marshy islands on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. It was a windy, rough day and the watermen didn’t go out, providing a dockside view of their winte…

Workboats all lined up and ready for dredging at a marina in Chance, Maryland, way down at the marshy islands on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. It was a windy, rough day and the watermen didn’t go out, providing a dockside view of their winter gear and oyster mud.

Dredges are still a common tool for oystering in the Maryland part of the Chesapeake, even though they’re a gear type introduced in the 1840’s. Blacksmiths and gear netters make the frames and the rope “baskets,” just as their fathers and grandfathers did.

Oystering, the oldest Chesapeake fishery, still represents a seasonal portion of the waterman’s livelihood, with some of the strongest intact traditions, methods, and technology. Although simple and sturdy, these dredges represent an integral and dwindling part of the Bay’s iconic heritage.

Bumper Politics

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Bumpers are prime locations to display your opinion du jour, and the Chesapeake has its own twist on this proud American tradition. Somewhere between rolling billboards and a protest placard, local bumper stickers can provide a flicker of insight into the regional politics, grievances, and causes. Whether pro oysters or clams, open to environmental restoration or closed to outside influence, a lively debate is aired in public every time the rubber hits the road. They might not always be politically correct, and some are downright unfriendly, but a few little inches of adhesive can communicate volumes about the issues and causes that touch lives and inflame tempers in the Chesapeake’s working communities.


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