See you all in the morning. Day #2 of weigh-ins. Go catch some fish.
Big happenings here at Cape Ann’s Marina Resort and Mile Marker 1.
The Bluefin Blowout is under way and promises a weekend full of fun!
Come have a great time and support an even greater cause. This year the tournament is donating funds to The Alzheimer’s Foundation.
See the full calendar of events and read more about the organizers, sponsors, and history at the link below.
We have our first fish!
Congratulations to Captain James Dolan and his crew! Shark Bait has officially weighed in the first fish of this year’s tournament.
A beautiful 485 pound and 95 inch bluefin tuna!
Email them here email@example.com
Friend Nubar writes, “Hi Kim, Thought you might be interested in this story for GMG. Our friend and neighbor, Renata Greene made a quilt. She was in a fabric store in Auburn, MA and asked if they wanted to see it. They loved it, took a picture of it and posted it on their FB page. The numbers are astounding: more than 1.4 people reached, 6.3k likes/wows/loves, 973 comments and 17,000 shares. Here’s the picture they posted and a photo of the quilt itself.”
Additionally, Renata is selling images of the quilt printed on tote bags, t-shirts, cell phone cases, coffee cups, and more. The proceeds from the sales will go towards helping her son and his fiancee go to Scotland for their honeymoon! Go here to order your Honeymoon Heart Bargello Images
We’d like to thank all of you once again for your support of this project. While we did meet the initial objectives of the Kickstarter campaign – to create a finished Pilot for the series, develop a strong presence on social media, and pitch the Pilot coast to coast, there have yet to be any offers to pick up the program from traditional broadcast outlets. It was received with great interest (including a possible appearance on the Ellen DeGeneres show), and as some of you know from the SAAU Facebook page, it received third place at the Red Shed Film Festival in Rockport, MA.
Nubar and his production company, Walker Creek Media (WCM), have been in touch with a producer who loves this project and believes it can be a success. Based on his advice and his own success with non-traditional media, WCM has created the first episode of Science All Around Us, which will be available for sale online as a Video On Demand (VOD). The idea here is to build a measureable audience…..10,000-30,000 downloads…. at $2.99 each. This is not simply about money, but about demonstrating to advertisers the strength and commitment of the audience for the series. The funds for the next episode will come from a monthly fee from advertisers on the SAAU website. (As an example, the producer mentioned above has a show on YouTube about woodworking with 30,000 subscribers and generates a daily average of $1324 from advertisers.) To view Science All Around Us Episode 1 click here.
Meanwhile, Collin has continued to be buoyed by all the support and interest and has moved forward on several other avenues. He has maintained his interest in science, providing a weekly Science public announcement for his school this year. He has participated in the science fairs each year – doing some really creative research and exciting other students with hands-on activities on sound and the science behind 3-D images, started his own computer company Coltch Computing and learned to fly a plane. He’s also been invited to be the student keynote speaker at the MassCue in October of 2016 at Gillette Stadium, a conference for “computer use in education.” And this is the short list of what he’s doing.
Olympics open tonight
With Rio’s challenging current events and Olympic travails, I thought Mashable did a good job on this Olympics round-up:
There’s at least one person from Gloucester in Rio for the Olympics in an official capacity. I know this because I read Nick Curcuru’s interesting article from today’s Gloucester Daily Times: Ben Richardson Heading to Rio as US Sailing Olympic Committee Chairman
Remember to toast James Brendan Connolly
I wrote about the very first Olympic winner in 1500 years having a Massachusetts and Gloucester connection, author James Brendan Connolly. Connolly won two gold medals in the Athens Olympics in 1896: Before he was a Harvard spurner, a Veteran, a Gloucester Master Mariner, a sea tales chronicler and beloved writer, James Connolly was one of 14 American athletes to compete in the international Games of the I Olympiad in Athens, Greece, 1896.
I wonder about other Olympic athletes with Gloucester ties.
Will you watch any Rio events? cue GMG poll
AVP Announces 2016 SHOW
Beauty and the Beast
Performances: August 9-14, 2016 @ 7:30 pm
Tickets are now on sale!
For more information please follow the link below.
CAPE ANN SISTERHOOD EXHIBIT AT
NORTH SHORE ARTS ASSOCIATION
AUGUST 5 – SEPTEMBER 18, 2016
OPENING RECEPTION – FRIDAY, AUGUST 5TH, 5:00 pm to 8:00 pm
From August 5th to September 18th, the Cape Ann Sisterhood will be presenting an exhibit of paintings at North Shore Arts Association, 11 Pirates Lane, Gloucester, MA 01930 (tel, 978-283-1857) Open weekdays and Saturdays, 10:00 am to 5:00 pm, Sundays noon to 5:00 pm.
The OPENING RECEPTION will take place on Friday, August 5th from 5:00 pm to 8:00 pm.
Public is invited to attend.
A Visual Feast:
A multi-media, juried exhibition of contemporary works by 28 artists chosen by Juror, Ellen Wineberg ~ August 4-Sept 11, 2016
Artists Reception and Juror Awards:
Saturday, August 6, 5:00-7:00 PM
Closing Reception and Viewer’s Choice Award:
Sunday, September 11, 4:00-6:00 PM
The Rocky Neck Art Colony is pleased to present “A Visual Feast” a multi-media, juried exhibition of contemporary works by 28 artists chosen by Juror, Ellen Wineberg. Their work will grace the gallery walls of the architecturally historic Cultural Center for six weeks beginning August 4 and continue through September 11, 2016. The public is invited to meet the artists at the Opening Reception on Saturday, August 6, 5:00-7:00 PM and to vote for a favored artist who could receive the “Viewer’s Choice Award” at the closing reception on Sunday, September 11, 4:00-6:00 PM.
The Cultural Center at Rocky Neck
6 Wonson Street, Gloucester, MA 01930
Gallery Hours: Thursday – Sunday, 12:00-6:00 PM
Fitz Henry Lane Walking Tours
at the Cape Ann Museum
Get your art fix outside.
The Cape Ann Museum is pleased to present its new and improved Fitz Henry Lane walking tour, Fitz Henry Lane: On Foot and Online, on Saturday, August 6 at 10:00a.m.
Experience 19th century Gloucester history as this tour leads you through the neighborhoods and waterfront that inspired the artwork of native son Fitz Henry Lane. Learn how Lane rose from modest beginnings in the pre-civil war era to worldwide recognition as a marine painter and why, even today, numerous artists journey to Cape Ann to capture its unusual light, first immortalized by Lane.
Old House Doctor
Have your house questions answered by our experts!
The Cape Ann Museum is pleased to present a day with historic house and garden experts on Saturday, August 6 from 10:00a.m. to 2:00p.m. at the Museum’s White-Ellery House. This program is offered in conjunction with the exhibition, Design/Build: The Drawings of Phillips & Holloran, Architects (on view at the Cape Ann Museum through October 9, 2016) and in collaboration with Historic New England.
Preservation experts at this drop-in event will answer questions about preventive maintenance, researching an old house, identifying architectural styles, creating historic gardens and choosing paint colors that enhance historic houses. Visitors are invited to bring photos or images of their homes along with their questions to share with the “Old House Doctors.” The White-Ellery House (1710), maintained and operated by the Cape Ann Museum, will be open to the public during this event.
A $10 donation is suggested. For more information, please call (978)283-0455 x10 or email firstname.lastname@example.org.
The White-Ellery House(1710), located at 245 Washington Street in Gloucester, MA is owned and operated by the Cape Ann Museum.
Sunday, August 7th
The Cape Ann Big Band, Directed by Carlos Menezes, appears in concert on Sunday, August 7, at 7pm at the Antonio Gentile Bandstand, Stage Fort Park, Hough Avenue, Gloucester MA. This outstanding local big band delivers a great evening of Big-Band Jazz, Swing and Ballads.
This concert is sponsored by Institution for Savings
The concert is free to the public. Parking is free and the venue and rest rooms are wheelchair-accessible. Bring a blanket or chair and perhaps picnic dinner.
The rain date is Wednesday, August 10. For further information please visit DavidLBenjamin.com or call 978-281-0543
Dancers from American Travelling Morrice perform twice August 13th- once at St. Peter’s (2:30pm) and later Harbor Loop (6:15pm). They’re on their 41st tour which you’ll read on as you wander; this poster I snapped was displayed at Jalapenos. I wonder who created the woodcut? I also wondered if multi-talented Rose Sheehan, Cape Ann Contra Dance, was involved. Yes. And her son Colin de la Barre (another name befitting a pursuit!) Gloucester Daily Times has the story.
You might fill your Aug. 13th dance card. Whether audience or participant, one could make it a daylong celebration of beauty, sport and nature. Not 41 years, but pretty darn close, the Celebrate the Clean Harbor Swimis 38 years young and scheduled earlier that morning. Reminds me: check the GMG calendar for options. Every weekend in Gloucester is like First Night. A few of the other special events planned for August 13: Cape Ann Museum has a walking tour and White Ellery contemporary installation. Cape Ann Community Cinema features two films. Gloucester Stage has a live theater show for kids in the morning and 2 shows for Songs For A New World (one is pay what you wish).
I bet you can reel off a few of the chart topping rock groups circa late 1970s. Who knew that there was a 1979 American folk dance held in St. Ann’s parish hall? The dances were started by Patricia and Norris Marston who hoped to build interest for regular square dances in Gloucester and perhaps raise funds to hire bands. One night Roger Whynott was a featured caller. On another evening it was Charlie Webster calling out folk, square and contra. – Gloucester Daily Times
The colors last night after the sun set were more than photos could capture and the horizon just seemed to glow. Here is my view last night from Lighthouse beach.
The Starbound sank 130 miles off Cape Ann August 5th, 2001
It was six months after that fateful night fifteen years ago today when my cousin Joe Marcantonio sat down at his computer and wrote down exactly what happened the night his herring boat was run down by the oil tanker Virgo and his three crewmembers were lost to the sea.
Joe trusted me and our platform GoodMorningGloucester to tell the story that had been locked away and never been told to anyone for years. He wrote this account of the events that led up to the sinking of his boat so that his family and the families of his crewmembers would know exactly what happened. The sinking of Joe’s boat the Starbound happend 23 years after Joe had lost his own father to the sea in the sinking of the Gloucester Dragger the F/V Captain Cosmo. The entire crew including Joe’s father Captain Cosmo Marcantonio were lost at sea in September of 1978. 23 years later- ten years ago Joe would recount the events and what was racing through his mind.
When I first thought of putting together a tribute to my good friends lost on that hot August night I was afraid that I would fall short of my attempt to commemorate their beautiful lives. As I began to write I realized that time has faded some of the memories. My blurry recollection motivated me. Knowing that no one truly dies if they live in our memories I pushed through my fear and bring you the following. I will surely never portray who exactly these three men were to everyone, but with the stakes this high I want to share a bit about MY relationship with them.
Mark Doughty was my best friend. I first met Mark on the Stinson Seafood dock in Rockland, Maine. I am not exactly sure what year that was, but we were both very young and we were both new to fishing. I had just started with my step-father on the Western Wave, and Mark had just joined his dad in the crew of the Atlantic Mariner. However, it wasn’t till we were both in our mid- twenties and he joined the crew of the Western Wave with me that our great friendship began.
After his second daughter was born, Mark, like me, was hungry to make lots of money so he could provide his two beautiful children all they wanted. . He fished with me for over 10 years, longer than any other shipmate I sailed with. Since then I’ve always felt that I was able to become the Captain I was because I had Mark as my first mate. He was a very smart, funny and hard-working young man. He had an infectious personality, and he was loved not only by me, but by everyone who had the pleasure of meeting him. As the years passed, he became more than a friend. I loved him like a brother. My world became lesser by his passing.
My earliest memory of Jimmy was during our freshman year of high school on the football field. We became friends as well as teammates. Our bond grew even stronger A little later when Jimmy lost his dad to a heart attack. I remember the day I found out. Jimmy was drawing pictures of an old wooden eastern-rigged dragger that his dad and brother had owned. The picture caught my eye and when I asked him about it he told me what had happened. This connected us. My own dad had died earlier, and my interest in the fishing life had faded, but not Jimmy’s. Becoming a commercial fisherman seemed to be all he wanted to do, even back then. Jimmy started fishing with his brother when he was very young, and by the time he joined me on the Starbound he had nearly 20 years of experience. Along with his experience, Jimmy was formally trained and he had received his USCG captain license, with the radar and firefighting-at-sea training endorsements. Jimmy was a great man as well as a great fisherman. What I remember most about him is his passion for his fishing career, which was only surpassed by his even greater adoration for his new family, especially his new baby son. Jimmy was a dedicated, hard-working, loyal friend that I miss every day.
I remember that when I was a young boy, probably six or seven years old, I met Tom for the first time. He was older but very friendly. We both played street hockey in the church parking lot on Proctor Street. Shortly after that, my family and I moved out of the neighborhood, but a bond had been established. Tom and I never forgot each other. Tom had 2 sons that he loved very much. He took them everywhere. As the years passed, now and then, I would run into him and his children, and I would always admire his nurturing way with them. I remember seeing them once, when his kids were little, at public skating. Tom was chasing them around, skating faster than anyone else in the place. When I caught his attention, he looked at me with his big smile and then he laughed out loud.
If you knew Tom, you knew he worked hard and, for a long time in his life, he played even harder. At the time I had hired him, Tom was tired of playing and he wanted to change. He wanted out of his old life, and he looked at his joining us on board the Starbound as his chance to turn things around. And, although it was a few short weeks, turn things around he did! Immediately, he started an exercise program, working out, which wasn’t easy, considering our fast-paced fishing schedule. He would jog up and down Tillson Avenue while we took on ice. During the steam-out, he would do push-ups and sit-ups when he wasn’t shadowboxing on deck. For the short time he was with me on board the Starbound, I believe, he was indeed happy.
I have been hesitant to include the short piece I wrote about the night of the accident because it’s about me and on this day I want it to be about Mark, Tommy and Jimmy. However, I have no other way for me to tell you what happened to them without telling you what happened to me. The essay is short, condensed and describes a few minutes of this long nightmare. But they are my words…it is what happened the night of August 5, 2001.
Storm on a Calm Night
“Just a little bit longer and I’ll have enough fish to go home,” I thought to myself as I towed the net toward the east, approaching the Canadian border. Fishing on Georges Banks was slow that day and I was already late. It was almost dark, and that comforted me because I knew the day was nearly over. The stress of fishing was starting to get to me. As the captain of a commercial herring trawler, my responsibilities were many, and the time and focus they took was consuming most of my life. Little did I know that the problems I thought I had, all of them, would soon be dwarfed by a sudden storm that would come roaring out of this calm night. In a flash, everything would change forever. What happened before would happen again, and what was, would be no more.
When the net finally broke the surface, the boat listed sharply to starboard. From this I knew that there enough fish to fill the boat to capacity. But my brief sense of relief was quickly replaced by concern. Remembering again how late it was, I knew that we wouldn’t be in time for the morning cutting line at the cannery.
But the true knot in my stomach came from something different. It came from the deep-rooted fear that I felt every trip I took to Georges Banks. It was here, twenty-three years ago, almost to the day, that my father, Captain Cosmo Marcantonio, and his ship were lost without a trace. I had turned 35 years old last October, nearly his exact age when he died. Like him, I had three children. These days, fishing 135 miles off the coast of Massachusetts had became a little scary.
The weather was calm, however, and the boat was loaded, so I set the course for home. With a sigh I gave up the wheel to Mark.
Tom had been cooking the sauce all afternoon, so the whole boat smelled of sweet tomatoes, with hints of garlic and basil. I was more tired than hungry, but I knew if I didn’t eat, I would wake up with hunger pains after only a few hours. At the table, the conversation was mostly about pasta sauce, how to make it, what were the absolutely necessary ingredients, whose mother or grandmother made the best. In between bites, I explained to Tom that although his was really good, I thought the sauce that my grandmother had taught me was the very best.
Jim finished eating first and immediately went to the wheelhouse to relieve Mark. On my way to my state room, going though the pilot house, I stopped to talk with Jim at the wheel, asking him to check the refrigeration system to make sure I had turned it on properly. I told him, “If the phone rings, I want you to wake me up.”
Looking at the radar, I made a comment about some showers that were showing up.
“I think they’re going to the south of us,” he said.
“OK, wake me if anything comes up,” I told him, and proceeded to my room.
As I lay on my bed, exhausted, the usual thoughts of the next trip were alternating with my concerns about my family. The kids were growing older as I kept sailing the ocean, always away from them and my wife, always gone from the house, always absent, as my father had always been.
Finally, fading off to sleep, I hoped for better dreams than I’d been having.
I awakened suddenly, startled by a yell. I jumped up and dashed for the door. Up three steps, I turned to the left, toward Jim. “What’s the matter?” I asked him.
He was standing in front of the wheelhouse chair, a counter full of electronics blocking his lower body, but I could see his arm stretched forward, pointing a little to port. He screamed, “What the f#$K! What the f#$K!”
I was opposite him, across the pilothouse, on the port side of the boat. Holding onto the pipe rail, facing the stern, I turned forward to see what was putting that look of horror on his face.
The view was partly cut off at the top by the overhang of the pilothouse roof. What I saw, I saw so quickly that it was like a subliminal message hidden in just a few frames of film. I didn’t understand it, but it was a large dark bulbous shape rolling towards us, plowing through the sea, slamming the bright blue phosphorescent water off to either side.
It was impossible for whatever it was to miss us. I grabbed onto the rail and I braced myself.
It didn’t help. I was thrown to the floor, onto my back. The Starbound was jerked around and shaken, as though it were being tossed from one giant hand to another.
It lasted only a few seconds, and then I was jumping up, stunned but not hurt. I looked toward Jim. Still standing, he was coming out from the front of the steering station. He began to yell, “I was trying to get out of his way Joe! I was trying to get out of his way!”
I said, “It’s all right, Jim. Just get the guys and the survival suits and go on deck.”
I turned towards my stateroom, raced down the stairs, and opened the locker to the right of the door. For some reason that I didn’t understand, I felt very focused and controlled, as though I were in the middle of some military exercise. I grabbed my survival suit from the locker and ripped it out of its bag. As I turned and went back up the stairs, I could see spits of water shooting up the galleyway. And there was a horrific whistling sound –the air in the boat being displaced by the water rushing in. At the top of the galleyway, Jim was bent over the rail and yelling down in vain to the men below.
Both of us could see the water, a huge black welter of it, churning and spitting as it came bulging up the galleyway.
The floor started to fall forward and to the port, and with three large steps I raced to the door at the back of the wheelhouse. I could sense Jim right behind me. I felt the water first on my legs when I took the last step. At the door, as I clambered over the transom, that wall of the cabin fell forward and I ducked my head under the jam. Out of the corner of my eye, over my right shoulder, I saw a black column of water shoot out the galleyway as though it had been fired from a cannon. It crashed against the wheelhouse ceiling. And then I was under the water.
My hand was clutching the survival suit, and the boyancy of the suit jerked me up into the sea. I was holding my breath, my fingers tense around the suit, trying with all my might to hold onto it. Then the suit must have hit the rigging as the boat sank, because suddenly my arm was wrenched downward and the suit was ripped from my hand. Pushing down with my arms, kicking my legs, I swam to the surface.
The night was dark and the sea was calm as I spun in circles, treading water, screaming the names of the crew. “Jim, Mark, Tom!” I shouted.
Then a loud hissing noise caught my attention. Spinning around, I saw the life raft inflating itself, and it was then that I could see the stern of that murderous ship fading away into the night. Quickly, I swam in the wake of this large freighter to the rubber boat, and I climbed in.
Kneeling in the raft, my back to the ship sailing away, I kept yelling while I scanned the darkness. “Jimmy, Mark, Tom!” I shouted.
Jim must have got out, I thought. He had been right beside me.
Again and again I called out his name, and Mark’s, and Jims, until I noticed the faint flash of light from the Starbound’s Emergency Position-Indicating Rescue Beacon (EPIRB) just ten yards away.
“I’m going to need that,” I thought, and lifted my leg up onto the edge of the raft – I was going to jump in and retrieve it. But then fear overcame me, and I kneeled back down, leaning over the edge, and I began to paddle with my hands. I rowed frantically, but the raft moved slowly until I finally got to the beacon. Pulling it in, I looked around again and I saw something else floating nearby. I paddled to it. Only an oil bucket. I saw something else, back where I had just been, and I paddled back there. Only the raft cover.
The raft was very difficult to move using just my hands, but then I saw something else and I paddled over to it. It was only the life ring that had been attached to the side of the wheelhouse.
I shouted some more, but nothing. Only silence. Kneeling at the edge of the raft, I held myself still, so I could listen. Thinking that just maybe someone would make a noise off in the distance.
It was then, I think, that the thought first entered my head. The though that no one would be making a noise. That everyone was dead.
I was wearing only my underwear, and suddenly I realized that I had gotten very cold. My body was shivering.
Cold and wet, I finally turned to look under the canopy of the life raft. I could have really used a towel right about then. Something to dry me and warm me up. I saw a canvas bag and, of all things, two plastic oars. Quickly, I unzipped the bag and took inventory. When I found the flashlight, I stopped looking immediately and stood up. Sweeping the beam from right to left, I searched and I yelled.
Another thought came to me: “Dad, did this happen to you?”
I realized that I was crying.
I looked around me. All the spinning in the raft had gotten me confused. I didn’t know in which direction the tanker had disappeared, or where the Starbound had sunk. Sad and frustrated, I couldn’t control my shivering.
I needed to get warm. I needed to survive.
Back under the raft’s canopy, I used the flashlight to take a more careful look inside the bag. There were flares, small bags of fresh water, some first aid stuff, and, in a plastic package, a thermal hooded poncho. When I first opened it, I was disappointed to find that it was made out of the same material as a cheep blue painter’s tarp. I was freezing, and I would have loved to have a real blanket. Of course, there wasn’t one.
When I first put the pancho on and zipped it up, it was clammy and uncomfortable against my cold, soaked skin. Sitting down, I put my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around my legs and waited to feel some warmth.
My mind started to move again. Thoughts of my childhood raced through my head, thoughts of my father and his crew, thought of my friends, my own crew, and thoughts of all their families, all the memorial masses over the years, all the tears after the years.
“GOD,” I cried, “is this really happening?”
It was September 1978 that Joe’s Father and his crew on The Captain Cosmo were lost to the sea. Greg Cook details the events and more about the families lives that were devastated in that loss on his blog entry from his Gloucester Times Article
I wrote the article about the Captain Cosmo for The Gloucester Daily Times in 2003. The occasion was the 25th anniversary of the boat’s disappearance. (That February, I also wrote a big, two-part article for the Gloucester Times about the 25th anniversary of the loss of the Can Do.) Many folks were kind enough to talk to me about the tragedy. I tracked down family members of each of the men lost on the Captain Cosmo, as well as a couple skippers of other boats who were in touch with the Captain Cosmo during that voyage. I dug through all the old newspaper clippings I could find. And I asked the Coast Guard for anything they had too, but I don’t recall that turning up anything, or at least anything much. I was 30 then, and had been writing for newspapers around the North Shore for several years, and had learned a few things about reporting and telling stories. And I did my best to tell the astonishing and sad tale of the loss of that ship.
25 years ago the Captain Cosmo disappeared
September 10, 2003
The Coast Guard began searching for the dragger Captain Cosmo around midday that Monday after the skipper’s wife reported that the 86-foot-long ship and its six-man crew were overdue from a week-long fishing trip to Georges Bank. The ship had been expected home that Friday or Saturday, 25 years ago this week, because 21-year-old deck hand Benjamin “Benny” Interrante of Gloucester, Mass., had to be back to attend the wedding of his oldest sister, Rosemarie, that Saturday. “So he wasn’t really supposed to take this trip,” Interrante’s mother Mary says. “I told him to take the trip off.” But Interrante told his mother that the skipper, Cosmo Marcantonio, had promised he would bring him for the wedding rehearsal on Friday, even if he didn’t have a full catch. But then a big storm blew up on George’s Bank that Friday. “I had a weird feeling when he didn’t come in on Friday and Saturday,” Mary says. “I kept calling the skipper’s wife. Something didn’t feel right.” The boat’s tardiness cast a pall over Rosemarie’s wedding in Gloucester Saturday. Everyone who came through the receiving line told Mary, “He’s going to make it. Benny’s going to make it.” That Monday, Sept. 11, 1978, Coast Guardsmen telephoned around the city’s waterfront and contacted other New England ports but couldn’t locate the ship. That afternoon, two Coast Guard planes flew over the course the dragger might have taken home to Gloucester from its last known position about 180 miles east of Cape Cod, but they found no sign of the vessel.
“The first time (Cosmo) went out on a boat he went fishing with my uncle Busty Scola when he was 9 years old, on the J.B. Jr.,” Marcantonio’s brother Joe says. “Summertime he went with my uncle. He loved fishing. I think he was about 17 when he took his first command of a boat, the Estrella. He loved the sea. That’s all he thought of.” Growing up, Marcantonio spent a lot of time with his grandmother on Commercial Street in the Fort, even though his family lived on Prospect Street. He loved visiting the old Sicilian neighborhood. Cosmo attended St. Ann’s School and then played quarterback for the Gloucester High School football team, but he quit school after two years to go fishing. His father and uncles were all fishermen. He and Joe went down to Cape May, N.J., in the early 1970s to pick up the ship that became the Captain Cosmo. She was an eastern-rig trawler, painted black with white trim. The pilot house was at the rear of the long narrow, two-masted ship. The 36-year-old Magnolia resident usually tied up the 35-year-old ship at Star Fisheries where Captain Carlo’s now is located on Harbor Loop. Sometimes he moored near the Gloucester House restaurant. Mike Linquata, the owner of the Gloucester House, says Marcantonio commandeered one of the bar stools from the restaurant and put it in the Captain Cosmo’s pilot house so he wouldn’t have to stand all the time when he was steering. Six Gloucester men were aboard the vessel when she steamed out of Gloucester on Saturday, Sept. 2, 1978: Marcantonio; Interrante; John Burnham, 33; Salvatore Barry Grover, 30; Vito Misuraca, 61; and Jerome “Smoky” Pallazola, 50. They all helped on deck. Grover also cooked. Pallazola — Marcantonio’s first cousin — was the engineer. The wooden boat was loaded with fishing gear, ice, diesel fuel and provisions for about 10 days of fishing. It also carried a life raft, which had been recently checked by the Coast Guard, and floating, insulated survival suits.
To read the rest of Greg’s blog entry click here
Gloucester Stage Company’s NeverDark Series hosts two powerhouse writer/director/actors: Brendan Hughes and Brenda Withers this August. Their presence marks the beginning of a promised collaboration between two capes: Cape Ann and Cape Cod. On Tuesday, August 9 at 7:30 pm Brendan Hughes performs The Pizzicato Effect, a comic one-man show he created. On Tuesday, August 23 at 7:30 pm Gloucester Stage presents a staged reading of Brenda Withers’ newest play, String Around My Finger.
When Managing Director, Jeff Zinn, took the helm at GSC in October, 2015, he brought with him a network of artists from his longtime association with another seaside theater, Wellfleet Harbor Actors Theater (WHAT.) Hughes was first hired to direct several productions at WHAT and later served as “impresario” of the Harbor Stage venue. There, he formed a company-within-the-company, attracting top flight actors including Brenda Withers, already well known for penning the play Matt & Ben with Mindy Kaling.
Continue reading “Gloucester Stage Never Dark Series Brings Together Two Capes”