Small Business and Twitter


First off Facebook is the king.  If you want to promote online Facebook is far more accepted into folks lives than Twitter but I would just like to offer a tip to those small business owners that are using twitter either personally or to promote their business.

I use twitter and like twitter but I fully recognize the power of Facebook.  Google plus is just not seeing very much traction other than the folks who are signing up to check it out but very few are actually using it like they use Facebook.  If Google Plus came out at the same time as Facebook it would have eaten their lunch but so many folks are heavily invested in their Facebook network and aren’t about to abandon it any time soon for a network where there’s barely any activity.

If you only tweet promotions and never respond or add anything funny or interesting other than trying to pimp your product or service I’m highly likely to either unfollow you or skip right over your tweets figuring that it’s just another in a long list of pitches.

That may sound curt and it’s not to say that you shouldn’t promote your business occasionally but to just hammer away with sales pitch after sales pitch or 3-7 posts in a row, If people are like me they scroll right over your tweet.

Follow The Eurodam as it Leaves Cape Ann

Follow The Eurodam as it Leaves Cape Ann and heads to it’s next Port.

click on map or the links below

Click the Photo or this Link to follow the Eurodam to her next port.

RIP Greasy Pole From Bill O’Connor

Hi Joey,

I was downloading some pics from my camera tonight and came across these of the Greasy Pole from Sunday, September 25.  I remember thinking to myself that it was funny how I would photograph something that was always there and always would be…

That Greasy Pole served this community well, but the sea has reclaimed it – with it being rebuilt and reinstalled, it’s a whole new ballgame for Greasy Pole 2012!

~Bill O’Connor
North Shore Kid


All Dog Rescue- Comes to the Rescue!

Mary Lou of All Dog Rescue and Co-founder of the Gloucester Dog Park, speaks with us today to tell an amazing story of Marta who has been missing from her family for over a year. Marta was in All Dog Rescue’s care since March of 2011 and today she was reunited with her family.


Lexus aka Marta waits to be reunited with her family:

And the Reunion everyone was waiting for:


Lexus receiving belly rubs from her Mom, Christine:

You can learn more about helping Mary Lou’s passion by donating or adopting from All Dog Rescue at You can also donate to the Gloucester Dog Park at


May I Help You?

May I Help You?

I watched  an older couple, in the glare of the sun,

move slowly and carefully down the hard granite steps

of the Sargent House Museum.

When they reached the gate, they paused before determining

the safest way to negotiate the opening and descend the final few steps

to the street.

It reminded me of the time, earlier in the summer,

when I slowly and carefully made my way across the black slippery

rocks at Pavillion Beach soon after they had emerged from their

six hour tidal bath.

I must have appeared unsteady and unsure,

because from nearby came the voice of a woman who asked,

“May I help you sir?” as she extended her hand which

I thankfully grasped.

And The Winners Were

It was an insane time this morning at Mug Up and the First Annual GMG Bloody Mary Competition.  And this winners are:  1st Place, Kathy Chapman says of her winning recipe “lots of horseradish, lemon, worcestershire sauce and pickles homemade from my garden.”  She presented the drink in vintage cocktail glasses with dill pickle slices and flowers as garnish.  2nd Place went to Richard Rosenfeld of Rocky Neck who used Mrs. T’s with added lemon and tabasco.  The People’s Choice winner was Talitha Jackson whose drink came in a mason jar “fresh from her garden and canned with love”.  All entrants mixed up mean batches of Bloody Mary’s and the judges had a really difficult time picking, as did the People’s Choice award people, so congratulations to all who partcipated.

We’ve had alot of fun this summer at Khan Studio and the Good Morning Gloucester Gallery on Rocky Neck, and look forward to doing it again next year.  In the meantime, the gallery will remain open through Columbus Day with lots of great gift items available and on sale.

E.J. Lefavour

Wendie Demuth Is Sellin’ Stuff At Madfish Wharf


Kickoff extravaganza this weekend, October 1 & 2, through October 10th

The galleries on the wharf will be closing their doors October 15th and EVERYTHING… MUST… GO!

Sale will include artists’ remaining inventory at 20-50% off as well as second-hand furniture, clothing & various other collectibles and knick-knacks… all at CLOSEOUT PRICES!

→ Fine photography of all sizes, subjects & color schemes ranging from greeting cards to large custom matted and framed prints
→ Jewelry & Watches
→ Hand-painted furniture
→ Miscellaneous one-of-a-kind pieces including hand carved wooden chairs from Botswana & a custom designed stained-glass door
… and perhaps the kitchen sink!

For more information go to or check out the Wendie Demuth Photography page on Facebook ( Demuth Photography)

Gloucester Writers Center Wed. Oct. 5 @ 7:30 Poets & Laureates

GWC – Wed. Oct. 5 @ 7:30 Poets & Laureates

Join us to hear Poet Laureates Rufus Collinson and John Ronan, Writer/Teacher James Cook, and Poetic Musician Willie Alexander at Gloucester Writers Center, 126 Main Street, Gloucester. For further information go to our or contact Annie Thomas 978.283.7738

Parking across the street on Norwood Court.


I’m All In On This Sushi Tasting Platter Deal At Lat 43

I just bought two!!!! Here’s the deal


Japanese cuisine takes its visual inspiration from the natural world, designing sushi rolls, for instance, to perfectly mimic the sleeping bags where fish curl up each night. Dive into dreamy marine combinations with today’s Groupon: for $25, you get a sushi-tasting platter at Latitude 43 in Gloucester (a $54 value). Platters can serve as dinner for two or as appetizers for four, and groups of more than six can use two Groupons per table. Each platter includes:

  • One salmon roll (an $18 value)
  • One Samurai tuna press box (a $15 value)
  • One veggie harvest roll (a $13 value)
  • One california crab roll (an $8 value)

Latitude 43’s sushi-tasting platter beckons chopsticks to dive into a feast of fresh fish caught by local Gloucester fishermen. Salmon and wasabi goat cheese lie at the heart of the salmon roll, balanced by artistic flourishes of avocado, enoki mushrooms, and mango wrapped with daikon radish. In the Samurai press box, spicy tuna, tempura flakes, salsa, and micro greens perch neatly atop rectangles of rice, like the fancy lid on a Christmas gift filled only with packing peanuts. Latitude 43’s fishermen take a well-earned rest as diners sample a veggie harvest roll bursting with asparagus, avocado, shishito peppers, mangos, and mixed greens. California crab rolls traverse the West Coast, collecting palatable postcards of Alaskan snow crab, yuzu-teased aioli, cucumber, and avocado along the way.

Coast Guard Medevacs 32-year-old Gloucester Fisherman

Coast Guard District 1 NewsBOSTON—The Coast Guard medically evacuated a 32-year-old man from a commercial fishing vessel at about 2:45 p.m., approximately 60 miles southeast of Southwest Harbor, Maine, Saturday.

Watchstanders at U.S. Coast Guard Sector Northern New England received a call at 10:27 a.m., Saturday via marine-band VHF channel 16 from the 65-foot fishing vessel Diane Lynn II, homeported in Gloucester, Mass., reporting that a man on board was suffering from severe chest pains and a reduced pulse.

A Coast Guard Air Station Cape Cod, Mass., HU-25 Falcon jet arrived on scene at approximately 1:15 p.m. and maintained communications with the crew of Diane Lynn II. A Coast Guard Air Station Cape Cod MH-60 Jayhawk helicopter rescue crew along with a 47-foot Motor Lifeboat crew from Coast Guard Station Southwest Harbor arrived on scene and hoisted the man safely.

He was taken to Bangor International Airport, Bangor, Maine, to be transported to awaiting medical personnel.

“The Captain of the Diane Lynn II was able to establish communications with the Coast Guard by radio to alert us of this critical situation,” said Lt. Nick Barrow, command center supervisor at Sector Northern New England. “The distance offshore and weather conditions made this a challenging rescue effort but fortunately we were able to evacuate the ill crewman from the vessel to receive emergency medical care.”

THIS MORNING!!!! 10AM The Season Grand Finale Mug Up and Ryan & Woods Distilleries sponsored Bloody Mary Competition on Rocky Neck

The Season Grand Finale Mug Up and Ryan & Woods Distilleries sponsored Bloody Mary Competition on Rocky Neck (in case you didn’t already see it, forgot about it, or are on the fence about it), will be on Sunday, October 2 at 10:00 am.  Bob Ryan has very generously donated some awesome prizes for the creators of the winning Bloody Mary entries, including coasters, t-shirts, and Ryan & Woods Beauport Vodka (!!).  Also, for those planning to enter a Bloody Mary mix, so that we level the playing field and judging is based solely on presentation and mix, and no drink is heavy handed on the alcohol (it will be 10:00 am after all, and we have to protect our judges from inebriation), Beauport Vodka will be conservatively added to all mixes here before they go to the judges and attendees.  So no one has to go out and buy vodka and everyone’s entries will be made with only the best locally distilled Ryan and Woods Beauport Vodka.  Entrants only need bring a container of their best Bloody Mary mix creation and a glass with preferred garnishes for presentation to the judges.  In the best interest of judging time and the judges’ alcohol levels, we will limit the number of entries to eight.  Of course, entrants must be 21 years of age or older.  As always at Mug Up, there will be plenty of great coffee, deviled eggs and whatever other Mug Up type fare people bring along to share. Always a good time and everyone is welcome at Khan Studio and the Good Morning Gloucester Gallery, 77 Rocky Neck at Madfish Wharf.  10:00 am

Finally, there will be a Big Blow Out End of Season and Early Holiday Shopping Sale at Khan Studio and the Good Morning Gloucester Gallery from Saturday, 10/1 through Columbus Day, 10/10.  There will be many items under $20 to choose from.  Wendie Demuth Photography Gallery next door will also be slashing prices and she and other Madfish Wharf denizens have many great furniture pieces, clothes, household items, fishing gear and more for sale under the tent at Madfish Grille.  Plenty of free parking, and it is such a pretty and cool place to visit.  Other galleries and shops on Rocky Neck are still open too, so it’s a great time to visit and do some local unique holiday shopping while supporting your local art community.

E.J. Lefavour


The Joe Garland Tribute Post

If you have a story about Joe you would like to share send it in and I’ll add it to this post.

Joe “Stoga” Scola remembers Joe Garland in this video interview-




He was a bard of the Atlantic: A crusty, delighted, outraged, self-deprecating, sharp-eyed, ever-curious citizen historian of America’s oldest fishing port.  But it was an unforgettable trauma on land, nearly halfway around the world, that decades ago brought the legendary Joe Garland back home to Gloucester, and to Black Bess, his weathered old house on Eastern Point.

From there, Joe would gaze through his six-foot-high living room windows to the inner harbor, and consider two mortalities:  That of the Gloucester fisherman, and that of himself.

"I immediately felt a kind of kinship with the fishermen that evoked the kind of kinship that I’d felt as a soldier, with my buddies," Joe told me when I first met him in 1997. "And it was nothing that I had ever encountered or seen. Until I sort of discovered what these guys had been going through in Gloucester. So I found a strange kind of brotherhood."

Joe’s connection with the lethal risks to the Gloucestermen came through his own confrontation with death on the winter line at Italy’s Anzio beachhead during World War II. At Anzio, it was trench warfare, as Allied and German soldiers shot and shelled each other over mere feet of land. Joe was deeply scarred by this, and for decades, he worked on Unknown Soldiers, a memoir of his time in war. For years, while that narrative eluded him, he cranked out book after beautiful book about Gloucester and the North Atlantic: Lone Voyager, about fisherman Howard Blackburn, who survived a brutal winter journey, cut off from his mother ship and lost at sea in a tiny dory; Guns Off Gloucester, about redcoats and rebels on the North Shore of Boston during the Revolutionary War; and Down to the Sea, a history of the thousands of men who sailed out of Gloucester harbor and never came back.

"The American Dream has always been that joy and discovery and energy and activism and optimism are what have knit our society together and have brought it power and expansion," Joe told me. "But I reckon in a more profound way, loss is a more enduring kind of a social cement."

Like perhaps all trauma victims, Joe was witness to things he didn’t much want to talk about, but which nevertheless, for decades, he couldn’t shake. And yet he dealt with the loss – and the "shellshock," as people used to call PTSD – creatively: He wrote about it, over and over again, even if indirectly. (And, eventually, directly: Unknown Soldiers was finally published in 2009.) And, in the tradition of the many writers and artists who had came to the North Shore before him, he told great stories.

"Let me tell you about Helen!" Joe exclaimed to me on the day we met, as we sat at dusk in the living room, surrounded by ticking grandfather clocks, watching the blinking lights of the trawlers on the path to the open sea. An army buddy told Joe he needed a pen pal: Helen Bryan, his childhood neighbor from New Jersey. Joe wrote Helen nearly every day from Anzio. They fell in love by U.S. Army Post; in Joe’s mind, with the smoke of battle around him, they would get married nearly the moment he touched American soil. Provided he survived. On Thanksgiving 1945, Helen was waiting for him in pearls and a full length fur coat at Grand Central Station. But she wasn’t ready to marry; on her father’s orders, she would need to finish Sarah Lawrence College first. Joe was furious, dumbfounded, traumatized; he cut off the relationship, burned Helen’s letters, married someone else, raised a family. Decades passed. Helen married too, and had four children. Then, on July 5, 1978, Joe, at work on Unknown Soldiers, contacted Helen to see what she remembered. (After all, he no longer had the letters!) They met again, at the Thayer Hotel at West Point. And fell in love again. "And on my way home I pulled over to the side of the road and I cried my eyes out!" Joe nearly barked at me.

Many years later, when my former wife Lamis and I were living down the street in East Gloucester,, Joe and Helen Garland would hold court beneath the big chandelier in the dining room at Black Bess. There was always something urgent to discuss. Maybe it was the battle over Gloucester’s historicPaint Factory, which a couple of outsiders were trying to turn into condos. Outrageous!, Joe would bellow. What the hell do they think they’re doing? Or maybe it the gas pipeline going in on the Atlantic seabed, and how it might threaten the dwindling fishing stocks. Or it was the endless intrigue of the town’s mayoral politics. Or the battle over the future of Israel and Palestine, what Anaconda Corporation did to the Hudson River Valley, the indigenous politics of New Zealand, the legacy of Margaret Mead in the United Nations, the courage of a Catholic priest in India, or of cousin Billy in Scotland. Often, the conversation was about the decline of a kind of decency and fairness in American society and politics – a theme Joe frequently returned to, with genuine bewilderment and sadness.

Throughout these dinners, there was Joe, chewing his food ever so slowly (he was the world’s slowest eater), ever in his baggy, deeply faded jeans and blue-and-white-striped milkman shirt, his shock of white hair brushed absentmindedly across his brow: joking, inquiring, reminiscing, lamenting – and encouraging his younger visitors in whatever dreams they’d brought with them that evening.

I called Helen the other day to see how she was doing. We shared some Joe stories, and discussed the upcoming celebration of his life, which will take place today [Saturday] on Gloucester Harbor. And then she told me something surprising. Finally, at the end, Joe’s trauma was gone. After his war book – his recurring trauma – went out into the world, the PTSD began to dissolve. Daily, he was reminded of the poem his war buddy Frank Merchant wrote for Joe and Helen:

May this day, a diamond discovered

Glint from the old war and terror

"You saved my life," Joe told Helen, near the end. "You should have seen him," Helen recalled of his final hours. "You’ve never seen such change in a person." He was in the living room, looking out at the passing ships in the harbor. "It was magic. He was totally absorbed in something beautiful."

Sandy Tolan is a former resident of Gloucester and an associate professor at  the Annenberg School for Journalism and Communication at USC.  He is working on a book about music in the Holy Land.


Bruce Bonham-

Sadden to hear of the passing of Joe Garland.
A few years ago during one of our annual Gloucester and Cape Ann visits, I stumpled upon a Garland book up at a Newburyport flea market.
It was the history of Eastern Point. I immediately fell more in love with the area. I purchased a few more of Garland’s Gloucester and North Shore books, then during a September visit a few years ago gathered up courage enough to knock on his Eastern Point front door at Black Bess.
"Come on in!" was the sight unseen call from Joe’s wife, Helen. "You wanna see Joe? He out feeding the dog. He’ll be right in."
She took me to Joe’s perch at the back of his historic house with spectacular views of the harbour and city. I was there, on the premise of getting his books autographed (which he did, making me feel he was honoured to do so), but really wanted to meet the man who wrote the area’s interesting history.
Turns out we had lot’s to talk about. He began, he told me, as a newspaperman. I was a newspaperman too. Perfect!
Joe has touched many lives in his long years.
My experience will be forever cherished.

Bruce Bonham
St. Catharines, Ontario, CANADA


Bill Hubbard Writes-

My wife and I moved back to Gloucester in 1959 and into a home on Ledge Lane in E. Gloucester after living in Western Mass for three years.  I first met Joe that year at Drift In(now Sailor Stan’s) on Rocky Neck and saw him frequently there.

That winter I bought an unfinished banks dory from Burnham & Thomas and decided to make a sailor of her.  I sketched out a sail plan for her along with a centerboard and rudder and took them down to Capt. Bill Sibley’s shop at 15 Rocky Neck Av. – where my cousin Larry Dahlmer has his gallery today.  It was a cold day and Sib had the woodstove cranking and quite a gang was on hand to go over my plans.  Joe was there along with Capt. Tom Morse and soon-to-be-city councilor, Ed Flynn and Dick Hunt.  As I recall, we spent several hours discussing the plans and then Joe invited me to his home at Black Bess and we sat down and drew them up to scale.

Next Spring, Joe and Dick Hunt were on hand when I launched her at Wonsan’s Cove, stepped the mast and bent on the new sails made by Bob Enos and the centerboard cut by Ed Alexander at Beacon Marine.  Then Joe hopped in with me for the christening sail.

A few years later, at Joes’ urging, I wrote a short history of the “Michigan Bears”.  It was the story of the Michigan men who sailed their small boats and gillnets from the lakes to found the gillnet fishery in Gloucester in 1909.  They were led by Capt. Albert Arnold and included Dahlmer’s, Tysvers, Shores, Lasley’s and LaFonds, among others.  Joe was my inspiration for that article, contributed many anecdotes about the Bears. He also suggested I submit it to Joe Kakanes, “Gloucester Magazine” where it was published the following year. 

I probably saw Joe once or twice every week on Rocky Neck, especially at Sibley’s where many of us passed the time in deep conjecture on many topics important to the world, Gloucester and especially to us.  We moved to New Hampshire in 1969 and I only saw Joe occasionally when visiting relatives.  He was a wonderful person and with his books and projects contributed much to Gloucester that will be a lasting tribute to him.  He was one of the prime movers to restore Howard Blackburn’s and Centennial Johnson’s boats for future generations.  I think of him every time I visit Gloucester and drive onto Rocky Neck or Eastern Point.

Bill Hubbard

Visit my artists website at:


Tom Halsted writes-

One day in early October of 1991, I got a call from Joe Garland: “Can you take a day off to drive to the Catskills with me?” he asked. “There are two great rowing canoes we can buy cheap but I need to get there soon. I’m getting one. Do you want to get one too?  Can you get away on Saturday”? I did, and could..

By Saturday we had located a lightweight boat trailer I could tow behind our VW Dasher station wagon. I picked up Joe at about 8 AM, hooked up the trailer, and headed west.

Our destination: Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz, New York, 250 miles away. Joe and Helen had just returned from a memorable weekend stay there. It’s a mountaintop resort, with a large 1890s-era hotel, miles of walking and carriage trails, and a manmade lake on a mountaintop. In the lake were a fleet of newly purchased rowboats for guests to use, and in one of the carriage barns (which had once held 300 carriages and their horses) the older fleet of rowboats, all Old Town rowing canoes, was stored. Joe inquired whether any were for sale, was told that they were, and could be had for $50 apiece. The deal, in Joe’s opinion, was too good to pass up.

We arrived at the hotel around noon, and went in search of the manager Joe had spoken to a few days earlier. He was nowhere to be found, but a sympathetic assistant listened to Joe’s explanation and showed us to the carriage barn. There on racks were a dozen canoes in various states of repair. We poked and picked among them, and eventually found two in fairly good shape, and a couple of pairs of oars.

We loaded them on the trailer and then went in search of someone we could pay for them.  The same assistant manager eventually showed up, took our $100, and we were on our way back to Gloucester. We stopped in Vernon, Connecticut, outside of Hartford, for a dish of tapioca pudding Joe knew he could get at Rein’s Deli there, and eventually made it back to Gloucester, arriving at about 6. I stowed my canoe in my family’s barn in Manchester, we unloaded Joe’s at his house, I took the trailer back to its owner, and went home for supper.

Old Town rowing canoes were built in Old Town, ME from the end of the 19th century to the first few decades of the 20th century, and ranged from 15 to 20 feet in length. (Ours were 15-footers). They were built like canoes, thin cedar planks clench-nailed to flat split ash ribs, covered with canvas and painted dark green. They had bronze oarlocks and elegant spoon-bladed oars. They were heavy, but made to slide through the water with ease.

For one reason or another I didn’t get around to working on my canoe at first, but Joe dropped everything to put his in rowing condition as soon as possible.  In a few days he patched the hull, repainted the canvas skin, and painted the name “HOMONK” on the bow. Then he built an elaborate wooden railway from the top of the rocks down to the cove so he could launch the canoe by sliding it  along the planks down into the water at any tide. He was ready to do some serious rowing, and managed to get out for a couple of brief and satisfying excursions.

A few days later, on October 31, Gloucester was walloped by what came to be known as “The Perfect Storm.”  Huge waves crashed over the breakwater, tossing gigantic granite blocks into the sea, before sweeping across the few hundred yards to Black Bess. Railway and canoe were swept away in an instant. After the storm had passed Joe hunted for the canoe in the thicket that lined Eastern Point Boulevard on the landward side of the road.  He came upon a few scraps of green canvas and chunks of hull, one with most of the word “HOMONK” on it — all that remained of his once great Lake Mohonk rowing canoe.

As for my canoe, I never did restore it, but sold it a few weeks later to a collector, for $250. If I’d had any decency I would have split my $200 bonanza with Joe, but I have a suspicion I never did.  Sorry, Joe.

— Tom Halsted
October 1, 2011

imageA 15’ Old Town Rowing Canoe

One of Joe’s unfinished books was to have been the narrative of his life in the many boats — cutters, sloops and a schooner — that he had owned and sailed over the years. All but the last were built of wood, and usually well-used when he bought them. He lovingly cared for them and sailed them each season from the first warm days of spring until late into the autumn.  They were moored just off Black Bess, where he could admire them from the porch when he wasn’t sailing them, in Gloucester waters and beyond.

Joe’s next-to-last boat, acquired in 1986, was March Hare, a 23-foot wooden cruising sloop, designed jointly by famed yacht designers William Atkin and Starling Burgess. She was built in Long Island  and launched in 1932. She had an unusual “turtleback” hull design, the ribs forward of the cockpit completely encircling the hull and the rounded cabin top. The standing rigging was also unusual,  a forestay and two single shrouds. No spreaders, no backstay. Below decks there were four narrow bunks with sitting headroom, a sink and a head. A diesel inboard engine provided power.

One hot summer day in 1987, Joe invited me for a sail on “The Hare.” By the time we had rowed out to the boat, set sail and cast off the mooring, the breeze had dropped to about 5 knots. By the time we reached mid-harbor, it was almost undetectable.
But something was odd: March Hare didn’t seem to notice the flat-ass calm at all. Instead she heeled gently over onto the starboard tack, and glided confidently out to sea past the Dog Bar. The sails obligingly bellied out, water gurgled pleasantly along the hull, a frothy wake trailed off astern in a nice straight line.

“Joe”! I exclaimed, “this is incredible! If only there was another boat like this!”

“But there is,” said he. “Another one is advertised in WoodenBoat, for $5,000. It’s out of the water, in Scituate.”

As soon as I was home, I turned to the magazine, and there she was: Jabberwock, almost identical to March Hare except for the foredeck, which held a more traditional boxy trunk cabin, rather than the turtleback. The Alice in Wonderland-named boats were apparently two of a fleet of at least three; Atkins and Burgess’s first boat was named Dormouse. Surely there was also a Mad Hatter somewhere if still afloat, and perhaps more similarly named sister ships. A Walrus? A Carpenter?

I called Jabberwock’s owner, who told me where to find the boat. “She’s in fine shape,” he told me. “Sailed her everywhere, from Long Island Sound to East Quoddy Head. Wonderful, fast cruising boat.” The liar.

My wife Joy and I drove to Scituate and found the boatyard. The yard owner looked at us with a wry smile; it was clear no one else had been looking at Jabberwock in quite a while, and we soon saw why. There was probably a hefty yard bill.

The boat sat forlornly in an old cradle. She had obviously been there for several hard winters. Remains of a blue tarp hung in tatters over the cradle; there were big gaps between several butt joints and a large hole in the stem timber. A knife went into the stern post like butter. The forward hatch cover had blown off; the rudder hung precariously from a single remaining screw. What little varnish was still on the brightwork fluttered from it in long peeling strips. Rust stains dribbled down the topsides from every bunghole. Below decks, the bunk cushions were soaking wet, and the bilges contained a brew of rainwater, paint, empty bottles, an old chart, and a half-empty can of spar varnish; the other half had also spilled into the bilges. 

The mast, boom, tiller and engine had been removed and stored under cover. The spars looked somewhat better, but the engine looked tired. “To hell with it,” I told Joy. “Too far to go.” “Well —,” she said. Uncharacteristically, she obviously liked what she saw more than I.
We drove home and I reported the bad news to Joe. “It can’t be that bad,” he said. “Let me have a look at her.” Joy chimed in, “I really liked that boat.”

So it was back to Scituate the next day, with Joe. He climbed up on Jabberwock’s deck, squinted along the sheer and waterline, thumped a plank or two, and said “She’s in great shape. You really ought to get her.”

    We drove home. I called the owner. “You have ruined a beautiful boat,” I snarled at him. “You should be ashamed. How can you ask five thousand dollars?” Then, I don’t know what came over me, as I asked, “Will you take two”?

“Sure,” he replied in an instant, and I began to think I should have said “two hundred,” instead of “two thousand.” But it was clear he had enough to cover what must have been a healthy yard bill.

A few days later, I glumly followed behind a boat trailer, watching Jabberwock suffer each jarring bounce as the trailer bumped at high speed over every rut and pothole between the South and North Shore.  At dusk we arrived home, and set up the boat on jack stands in our back yard.

For the next fourteen months Joy and I labored over Jabberwock, with much expert help from Larry Dahlmer, Leon Poindexter and Steve Waldron, and sage advice from Joe. We repaired the stern post, replaced planks, butt blocks, and floor timbers, replaced hundreds of screws, bunged and planed off each screw hole, fashioned a new keel bolt out of a bronze propeller shaft and installed it, repaired and installed the engine, replaced dubious turnbuckles and chain plates, replaced all the running rigging, scraped, sanded, varnished, caulked and painted. Joy spent a long day painting below decks and cutting in a neat blue boot stripe.

At last, on October 14, 1988, we hauled Jabberwock to Hank Bornhofft’s yard at the head of the harbor, slung her in the travel lift, and lowered her gently into the ocean. Joe and Helen were on hand for the launching. We stepped the mast, bent on the sails, and watched for the next day and a half, as water poured into the boat through every seam, and gushed back out through a new bilge pump. But eventually the planks swelled, the gush slowed to a trickle and finally stopped, and it was clear Jabberwock would swim.

After a trial sail or two I called Joe to see how the two boats compared. We met on a sparkling November day off Black Bess, beat across the Harbor on a port tack, ran down to the Cut, jibed, reached up the Harbor as far as Smith Cove, reached back to Stage Fort, beat back to the end of Dog Bar on a starboard tack, and ran back downwind to Black Bess.

Jabberwock beat March Hare on every point of sail.  Joe graciously said, “It’s clear who’s the better skipper.” “No, no,” said I, “You’re the better skipper, but my boat has a cleaner bottom, and you’ve been in the water all summer.” So in the end we agreed we were both great skippers, and both had great boats. But I never did figure out how March Hare could have sailed so beautifully that windless summer day. Must have been that magic Garland touch.
— Tom Halsted
October 1, 2011

Jabberwock Leads March Hare, November 18, 1988

March Hare and Jabberwock, Winter 1989