The Dory

It's hard for a landlubber to settle on a meaningful image of the dory, with its plain lines and pocket size, removed from contests with the sea where it excels in giving one or two men a fighting chance at their industry.

Fishermen at "the Gutter," Folly Cove, latter nineteenth century.
Site of the shipping pier at the base of the Halibut Point quarries.
Sandy Bay Historical Society, photographer unknown

This photographer has coaxed  gentlemen in Sunday attire to a static and unaffectionate pose with their water craft. We have, in our collective memory, halcyon scenes of dories pulled up on a beach, by Fitz H. Lane. More helpfully we have various moods and dramas from Winslow Homer. But how can we participate in the full life of the dory, except through story?

Gill Netter, Ipswich Bay
Martha Harvey photograph, Cape Ann Museum

Carefully posed artistic renderings please the eye. Weather-beaten surfaces on man and boat point to the deeper story we sense but don't see, of gritty utility and daily occupational challenge. Marvelously, the dory allows the man to stand and lean into his work, scarcely tipping.



A dory with seating for passengers

     

   Most observers would say that the dory is an indigenous New England type, and so it is in a way. But in another sense, a dory is built on a model that is so fundamental and natural that it is hard for any age to claim it.... Its popularity stems from its natural simplicity. The sides of dory-type boats are essentially "developable," that is, they can be sprung to shape from a flat surface. The straight plank bent in an arch and set on an angle can become a dory side. The most common and simple dory can be built with one-piece sides. The bottom is flat with a slight rocker, and the number of frames is minimal, perhaps only four.
   The dory is, to use a New Englander's description, "cranky" when
light, but gains in stability as she is loaded. It established a reputation for seaworthiness as a line-trawling boat for the old Banks schooners of the nineteenth century. ¹

 

"The ship was rolling so much, her four yellow masts swinging like pendulums against the grey, wet sky, that I feared some of the dories must be smashed. These men were experts at getting boats away and a perfect drill had been worked out, probably centuries earlier. The schooner's low sides and low freeboard were a help. The dories were plucked from the nests by overhead hooks which fitted into the protruding grommets spliced into bow and stern. These hooks were manipulated by simple tackles led aloft, with the hauling part by the rail, so that a man or two on each tackle could swing a dory easily from the nest to the rail. Here its doryman hurriedly adjusted its thwarts, saw that the plug was in, climbed the rail and jumped in himself." ²

 

"As the ship rolled towards that side, the tackles were let go at just the right moment and down went the dory with a rush and a thwack upon the sea. Immediately the iron hooks disengaged themselves, alert mariners hauled them back inboard, the doryman shoved off from the side for his life, and dropped astern. Once clear of the ship's side, his little dory seemed smaller than ever, and dancing and leaping in the sea, he rigged his mast and little oiled sail, and away he skimmed towards the horizon." ²

 

Fishermen, Lane's Cove, early twentieth centuryOld Lanesville Photos, vol.1

A good many Cape Ann schooner crews risked the long trips to the North Atlantic. The dories stayed nested on deck until they dispersed with trawl lines on the fishing grounds. The more individualistic, home-tethered dorymen took their chances by rowing out from the shoreline. Harbors and coves gave them relative hospitality.

Comrades, shacks and dories. Lanes Cove fish market at left.
Old Lanesville Photos, vol.1

Dories could be kept on less-sheltered shorelines, such as Folly Cove, with an eye to the weather. Alert fishermen would make a mile-long dash for Lanes Cove in anticipation of a nor'easter. Poor bets on the odds may have given Folly Cove its name.

Dories at the Folly Cove 'beach'
The Clements/Hale Collection, Sandy Bay Historical Society

The design elements, flat bottom, size and rugged construction aimed to make the dory one-man manageable under most conditions. He could unburden it and get it temporarily to berth.

Stowing the dory mast and sail, Folly Cove
Martha Harvey photograph, Cape Ann Museum

Two men could roll and drag the dory to relative safety on the rocky coastline.

Dories at the Folly Cove fishing shacks, 1887 ³

The design of the dory evolved with conditions, the nature of the fishery, and with the daring and determination of the fishermen.

A few years ago many of our dory fishermen went without any sail and depended only on their oars, The few that used sails had them made with about ten yards of cloth or less. The sails were only used when the wind was fair. The dories were much smaller than many now in use, being from 13 to 15 feet in length. At the present time the dories are built from 15 to 20 feet long, with centre boards, and are rigged with jib and mainsail, and some of them spread from twenty to twenty-five yards of cloth. They carry stone ballast and are ready for any wind and show themselves very smart in beating to windward. It is now quite common to hear the owners of these clipper dories discussing the sailing qualities of their respective craft, and when one gets beat he will tell his rival to "wait till I catch you when it blows, and I will show you who has the best sailing dory." It is expected that next season there will be a grand dory regatta in the [Ipswich] Bay. Some of the dories now cost $60, all ready for use; formerly they cost from $12.50 to $15. ⁴ 

A well-crafted boat was worth expense and expenditure. 

Mr. Wm B Parsons, 74, started from Swampscott [for Pigeon Cove] between 11 and 12 o'clock, rowed 25 miles to Rockport arriving 7:30. This morning he is about his work as fresh as ever. The dory a new one built for George W. Tufts by Mr. Ivory Emmons. It is by far the most perfect boat of its kind we have ever seen. ⁵ 

Any work of the hand ideally honed to its purpose is a beautiful thing. The dory has been adapted to many purposes. Where design and craftsmanship have met the purpose, aesthetics have been fulfilled.

      The sweet lines of some of them all but took my breath when I saw them for the first time, out of the water in all their naked elegance.

      Next to possessing a boat is to possess her lines, carefully laid out on paper, neatly and painstakingly faired.

      Thus my recording of dories began as an intensely personal experience in which the aesthetic element bulked large. I wanted those shapely, svelte, round-sided boats for myself. ⁶

______

 1. Thomas Gillmer, A History of Working Watercraft of the Western World, 2nd ed., 1994.

2. H. W. Tilman, Mischief in Greenland, 1987.

3. A drawing from "History and Methods of the Fisheries," The Fisheries and Fishery Industries of the United States, ed. George Brown Goode of the Smithsonian Institution, 1887.

4. "The Dories of the Past and Present" - Lanesville, Bay View and Annisquam - Cape Ann Advertiser, November 30, 1878.

5. Gloucester Daily Times, September 18, 1894.

6. John Gardner, The Dory Book,  Mystic Seaport Museum, 1987.

Winter Reflections

Season by season, day or night, the stone seems constant.

Other elements fluctuate in rhythms and responses.

The tilt of the earth governs the organic cycle through the year.

Water changes state, the agent of creation and destruction.

 

 

Light transfers energy and images, re-shaping reality.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The experience of color plays endless variations  over static scenes.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We perceive time, like the air, by its effects.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Law and Order underpin the elements, but imagination buoys novelty, and the stone floats. I return to the multitudes of Halibut Point.

 

 

 

 

Tributes to The Cat Lady

Yes, I loved reading all your story -- I remember you from the bus - remember knowing you were the 'Cat Lady' when we'd stop across from the Old Farm Inn so you could get on or off.  But I never knew anything more about you.  I live in the old Shakespeare  Inn at the other end of Folly Cove, and often walk past your house when strolling around Halibut Point.  Thanks so much for writing and sharing the story and pictures. 

Sarah  

      Reading The Cat Lady's Confessions is delightful! Although I haven't yet met her, her vivid reminisce makes me feel as though I am listening to her in her wild garden! 
 
Rona
 
      Meow, meow, meow!!! Thanks for your wonderful reminisces!  You and they are a great gift to us all and an important addition to the human history that has surrounded us. They are not just stories to amuse, inform and delight but an enduring record of who we are and have been. Precious memories entering the record for people to experience forever. Thank you again,

William

      I often saw you at the park during early morning walks in past years. I especially remember a poignant episode when you were searching for the remains of one of your cats who was attacked by coyotes so that you could properly bury it. As a cat lover myself, I admired your devotion to all your cats. Please accept my sincere good wishes.

Sylvia

      I have greatly enjoyed these memories shared by the 'Crazy Cat Lady'. I am a cat and nature lover myself so can relate! If I didn't live in a one bedroom apartment, I might have a herd however, I am limited to one. They are wonderful creatures!

Bonnie

 
      Another intriguing account of the Cat Lady. It’s interesting to know that she bought the house where Jack Callahan had a study. There is a house on South Street near my home where the artist, Jack Callahan, also resided and had a studio. 
 
David
 
      I have greatly appreciated & have been entranced by your thoughtfully wonderful stories, captured on the internet, about life on Gott Avenue, Pigeon Cove... & especially your delightful adventures with the feline population!  The photos, too, have been marvelous! I have never been officially introduced to you but have passed by you a few times over the years on the pathway leading from Gott Avenue onto Andrews Hollow & out to Phillips Avenue. I do remember your sister Jane. She was a senior when I was a freshman at  Rockport High School. Jane was a good friend of Evelyn Jylkka; they were both bright scholars. I also recall the Callahan family members who once lived in your parents' house. Thank you, Phyllis!  We're very grateful to Martin Ray for putting your enchanting musings into print form for countless of us to read, re-read, and savor. Happy rest of the winter!

Betty
 
      I am an avid birder and, as I walked around Halibut Point when you were living there, I made sure to check out the birds in your yard. Even with a blind cat, it was a magnet for all sorts of birds. Thank you for sharing your memories with Martin; his wonderful series of stories about Halibut Point would not be complete without yours.

Peter
Good morning Phyllis 
 
      Such a delight and so wonderful of Martin to let us all enjoy his fantastic photos and your wonderful memories!  You made so many cats and other animals around Halibut Point feel loved and cared for in an era where not that many cared...

      I grew up on Granite St. in Pigeon Cove....lived with my parents, sister and grandparents....and spent most of my time outdoors....in the woods in back of the house or at “ the rocks”..on the ocean. am also of what I call a “granite disposition” ...fiercely independent and stubborn....naturally drawn to like kind....catsof course!

 
      Thank you, Phyllis for the wonderful stories.  I enjoyed them and admire a person so "comfortable in their own skin. " Best wishes. 
 
Margaret

Confessions of the Cat Lady (6) - The Benign Weirdo

I definitely was a Benign Weirdo. I always admitted that I was a Crazy Cat Lady. I even have a nightshirt that says Crazy Cat Lady on it. I never minded it. There's worse things in the world. It is sort of like being a weed. I had a cartoon of my fridge that shows a guy riding a horse that said, "You don't know what lonesome is until you try herding cats."

I came to Halibut Point in 1953. I was young but I wasn't a kid. Twenty-four? What did I want to be when I grow up? I don't know. I lived with my parents. It was not a good idea. After a while I did buy the little house next door. It wasn't perfect but it was a place that was mine.

Phyllis as Sandy, sister Jane as Dusty c. 1950

The little cottage had been the studio of Jack Callahan. He also owned the house my parents bought, but the little house didn't go with it. I nice woman named Olga Hartwell had bought it and spent the summers there. She asked me if I wanted to buy it. It was a long time ago and it didn't cost that much. I had saved up $1,000. For a $4,000 house, that was enough for a down payment on it. Then I went to the Granite Savings Bank, got a mortgage, figured out how to pay the taxes. It took about twenty-five years. I paid it off and it was my house. It had knotty pine paneling and a cathedral ceiling. That's flattering it. It had a pointy ceiling and beams going across.

Pets were my dependents. I like them. We were all in it together. I'd go to the store to buy food for them. It was money I had, not money I didn't have.  People would laugh at all that cat food. Young men who were bagging groceries would say "Meow, meow." You just have to shrug that off. I planned carefully so all the time we had something to eat, both me and the animals. We were all so warm in the big house with a good oil burner.

Phyllis and Jane with The Melody Ramblers

I had a big strong, sturdy tiger cat named Merle. If he was a human he may have been a wrestler. If he was a dog he may have been a Rottweiler. A big tough cat with no neck. He was a very sweet, sweet cat. I was pointing him out one time to someone I worked for who brought me home. I was telling her about the feral cats. I said, "Look, there's one now." Merle--the guy's name was Merle--walked across the street. She said, "Oh, the poor skinny thing. How awful." He was the size of a house! She had it so much in her mind that they're all scrawny, ratty-looking that she just thought he would be.

Merle. He was named after Merle Haggard. I always tell people he's a tough cat because he's named after a guy that did hard time for armed robbery, don't mess with him. I play the guitar myself. I connected the two interests anyway. There's a song, "What's Your Mamma's Name, Child, What's Your Mamma's Name?" A woman sings about a man who comes looking for his kid in New Orleans. It turns out he's looking for his little girl. His girlfriend said, "You have a daughter and her eyes are Wilson green." Well I named all the cats so their last name was Wilson. My mother kept saying, "What's this one's name. What's this one's name?" I always said, "It's something about a Wilson." I named them after weeds like Tansy Wilson, Mugwort Wilson. Some cats have funny little faces.

The Halibut Point moors, November, 1983
Family photo.

I never drove. I walked a lot. Took the bus. Walked miles and miles in all kinds of weather. Got a cab once in a while. Backpack, sports bag over my shoulder. There were all different ways I did it. Some were better than others. I worked at housekeeping. Walked the dog. Took care of the chickens. Sometimes walked to Land's End. A tough old single lady and cats get along very well. We're a match made in heaven.

Ruth Spoor was one of the Cape Ann "old maids." She was a tough old girl. Wouldn't put up with any foolishness from anybody. There were several old maids. People would say snotty things to them. They had to give as good as they got. I was sort of in training for it. I never minded the life, the choices I made. Stayed single. I would have been a terrible parent. I did okay with the pets. I don't regret the weird things I did. I probably should, but I don't.

I tell everybody I was the Cat Lady. I was wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt and a red bandana and boots.



Phyllis, 1943

***If you would like to thank Phyllis for these stories, please reply by return email, and I will bundle them off to her at Seacoast Nursing home.***

mandkray1@gmail.com