Eastport Architecture Book

Eastport

Eastport
Photography by Thaddeus Holownia
Text by John Leroux
Tides Institute & Museum of Art
The Anchorage Press

Contents
Preface 7
Hugh French
I. Place 11
II. Borders and Boundaries 47
III. Change and Continuity 61
IV. Design and Detail 97
V. Tradition and Memory 157
VI. Traces of Nature 183
John Leroux
Historical Notes 209
Hugh French
Acknowledgments 215
Credits 216

Preface
This book is, in one sense, long overdue: it is the first in-depth architectural
look at Eastport, Maine, a place that has withstood a century-long decline,
including an eighty percent loss of population, while transitioning over the
last several decades to a new future. This place is located at the tip of the
eastern Maine coast, bordering New Brunswick, Canada, a one-hundred-mile
stretch of coastline that is sometimes described as Maine’s ‘unknown coast’
because of the relative lack of study, and consequent lack of understanding, of
this coast’s artistic, architectural and cultural legacies. It is remarkable that so
many of the historic structures of this coast and this place have survived. Poverty
is the great preserver, the saying goes. Perhaps this is true. A survey completed
twenty years ago looked at about a thousand buildings in Eastport that were fifty
years old or older, and determined that nearly seventy percent of the structures
would be considered historic, in the sense of having been preserved in their
original forms.
So, on one level, this book draws back the curtain on the built landscape of
Eastport, revealing it in significant detail and comprehensiveness. The book
shouts out ‘we are here’ and ‘see what we have’ to those who are willing to
listen, read and look. We may not have the larger and more elaborate residential,
commercial and civic structures found in larger urban settings, but there is an
integrity to the architectural legacy of this place, and there are good examples,
here, of structures that reflect shifting American architectural styles over time.
During the course of the eight years spent developing this book, many new details
about this place came to light. For instance, the two earliest religious buildings in
Eastport, the 1819 North Church and the 1828 Seaman’s Church, both feature rooftruss
building techniques not found elsewhere in New England. Why is this? Was
it an influence from Canada? Why has it taken so long to learn this?
In addition to being about Eastport, this book is about place writ large; it
is about a particular place at a particular point in time, but it is also about the
uniqueness of every place. It is not a guidebook to the architecture of Eastport,
but a journey into the broader physical soul of this city. This is the focus of the
six thematic essays by John Leroux that follow. Yes, the book is about historic
structures, but it is also about their wider landscape and community setting.
Historic structures don’t live in isolation. They stand next to other structures,
human and natural. They have builders and owners and a community within
and around them. Thaddeus Holownia’s photographs, too, are attentive to these
connections: in addition to architectural portraits of individual buildings, there
are portraits of old trees; there are wider landscape- and streetscape-views;
there are wonderful detailed views of interior and exterior building details, in
which the work and community of Eastport’s builders and craftspeople are
evident.
Why has it taken so long for this book to happen? Why has it taken the
extended expertise, passion and goodwill of a photographer and architect
from neighboring New Brunswick, Canada, to give Eastport its due? This was
perhaps inevitable given the perception in some quarters that this place is too far
removed from the American mainstream for there to be anything worth studying
here. But perhaps also it testifies to the long-standing connections between
Eastport and Canada, through trade, immigration, and culture: for instance, the
architect who designed most of the buildings of our downtown came here from
Saint John, New Brunswick. Most of the masons who built them did, too — as did
most of the original brick.
In fact, the book could not have had two better people to undertake the
work and bring it to fruition. Photographer Thaddeus Holownia has spent
decades documenting and portraying, in large-format fashion, the remarkable
landscapes of Atlantic Canada. His work has also brought him to the middle of
the U.S., to Walden Pond in Massachusetts, and to Paris in France. The books
that are outgrowths of his photographic practice are works of art in their own
right, beautifully designed and exquisitely produced. Holownia brought his skills
and care to this place, making dozens of trips, in all seasons. With his trusty
tripods and view cameras he walked all over the island and visited with dozens
of building owners who welcomed him in to see the interiors and virtues of
their homes. He even had a room at a local B & B, where he often stayed, that
became known as the Holownia Room. For seven years, he made an annual trek
to Eastport for the occasion of the Fourth of July celebration, to make a viewcamera
portrait of the assembled revellers.
Architect John Leroux grew up in New Brunswick and then studied,
traveled and worked elsewhere in Canada and the U.S. before returning to New
Brunswick. He has almost single-handedly built a cultural appreciation and
understanding of New Brunswick’s architectural legacy, serving as lead author
and editor of the first significant book on the architecture of the province, and
undertaking numerous more detailed studies and book projects, ranging from a
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guidebook on the historic architecture of St. Andrews, New Brunswick, to books
on the architectural legacies of Mount Allison University and the University
of New Brunswick. Like Holownia, he made numerous trips to this place, even
appearing once in costume for the annual Pirate Festival held here. When
architect and photographer traveled with me by boat to look at the architecture
of neighboring Indian Island, New Brunswick, Leroux alone was somehow able to
convince a Canadian customs officer, on the phone from Ottawa, to allow the boat
to land.
Above all, I hope this book will stand the test of time: that it will abide as a
record of this place and time; that it will continue to show how this community is
both like and unlike other communities; that it will continue to say ‘we are here’.
–Hugh French, Director, Tides Institute & Museum of Art
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I. Place

I’ve never lived in Eastport, but over the past decade it has claimed a part of
me. Like so many others, I feel fiercely connected to this place through its mix
of grit and gorgeousness. As a city that flourished under nineteenth-century
industry and commerce, Eastport attests in its form to human aspirations,
tempered by the cycles of boom and bust that are inescapable in this part of
coastal Maine. There is a particular story of America here, shaped by struggles
between tradition and progress, war and peace, immigration and exodus, quality
and shoddiness, and the sacred and the secular.
Eastport’s name unashamedly conjures its raison d’être. The community was
once a cosmopolitan gateway to Maine where opportunity emerged among
crowds of sailors, builders, artisans, businesspeople, factory workers and
fishermen. But Eastport is now smack dab in the middle of the road less traveled,
to borrow from the poet Robert Frost. Although many seem to have forgotten,
this road was feverishly traveled within living memory. At one time, the city
was built upon the catch of millions and millions of sardines: sparkling, silvery,
and seemingly endless. Its location was a junction between America’s eastern
seaboard and Canada’s Maritimes during the golden age of sail and steamships.
Set in the heart of Passamaquoddy Bay, the city was perfectly positioned
along the once-thriving Saint John/Portland/Boston maritime corridor. It was
a flourishing place of business and trade that in some cases got first-run
Hollywood films before the ‘big theatres’ in Bangor.
So why does a once-thriving seaport that has endured more than its fair
share of tough years compel people to care about its revival? The sardine trade
that was the lifeblood of the city bottomed out; this was followed by the gradual
closing down of the canneries. And yet, even though the population of Eastport
has dwindled to a fraction of what it was at its peak a century ago, hints of vitality
are everywhere. While some of these convey a melancholy longing for what
was, they also point the way forward. A small city at the northeastern edge of
America, Eastport hovers under the radar, yet its virtues are precious beyond
measure: architecture, history, culture, nature, enthusiasm, and a pluralist
ethos that has sustained strong ties between two neighboring countries for
generations. It may seem trite to talk about the dignity of struggle, but this corner
has lived it, continuing to fight for every ounce of opportunity in a world that
hasn’t been easy on such places.
There is something distinctly ‘here’ about here. Eastport never succumbed
to the need to be something it wasn’t. Instead, its people had the foresight
and good fortune to reach for a balance between factory town and center of
culture — some might say between refinement and mobility. Critical to this
balance is Eastport’s scale. Here, individuals could find their place but wouldn’t
lose themselves as they might in a larger, more hectic center. I am reminded
of the great artist Alex Colville’s observation that a small town outside the
bookends of attention is not only liberating; it can be the best spot to find
genuine advancement. At the height of his creative output, Colville remarked
that “universality comes from the particular … and by immersing oneself in the
particular, it is possible to be universal.”
Eastport’s streetscapes reflect the layered complexities of a working port, one
that evolved at a time before today’s zoning regulations prevented the building
of a fish cannery directly opposite an affluent neighborhood. It’s all stubbornly
idiosyncratic and remarkable. A tactile rawness mingles with a designed
elegance almost everywhere you look. Architectural treasures of the wealthy
white collars are bookended by structures of the working class, as these two
groups lived almost side by side. Eastport bears out Jane Jacobs’ assertion, from
her seminal book The Death and Life of Great American Cities: “Cities have the
capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when,
they are created by everybody.”
The irony is that, even as our world becomes more pluralistic, specific
corners are becoming less unique and distinctive. Far too much of North
America is evolving into the same amalgam of highway exits, coffee chains,
slick boutiques, and strip malls. Communities that manage to hold onto their
social and material heart are irreplaceable. They testify to our ability to conceive
beauty and to form exceptional spaces that connect and inspire. This is why
Eastport matters. – John Leroux
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II. Borders & Boundaries

The first time I traveled to Eastport was on the ferry from Deer Island, New
Brunswick, in 2008. I had been encouraged to visit this small island city at
the eastern tip of Maine to see how it had retained its heritage and sense
of community. To my delight, the ten-minute ferry ride showed off the teeming
sea life of Passamaquoddy Bay. We spotted porpoises, seals, and even a minke
whale not far off the port bow. As I landed at the tiny border station and walked
up Water Street, an architectural margin became very clear. Certain traditional
building styles that are rampant in New England essentially end here in
Washington County, emerging only occasionally, if at all, in border communities
across the bay in New Brunswick.
Walking into town moves you squarely past the towering 1890s customs house
and post office with its solid granite walls. Designed and built as a keystone
of the city, it is border architecture exemplified, a bastion of nationalist power
and pride. As a visual anchor, the customs house speaks volumes about the
international affairs and ambitions of this place, attesting to the enormous
significance of Eastport a century ago.
The border is marked in other ways, as well. Eastport is actually on a coastal
island known as Moose Island — although it was connected to the mainland by
a causeway in the 1930s. The island’s landscape is dotted in seemingly random
locations with carefully placed concrete pyramids that mark the jagged frontier
between the eastern tip of the United States and the Canadians across the
bay. As sculptural anomalies, these red-and-white mini-pyramids channel their
much larger, ancient Egyptian precursors. Each marks a specific spot based on
a complex geometry; they symbolize the power and dominion of the state; they
are highly visible; and they endure. Implying lines that run miles away over open
water, these pyramids help physically define the Canada-U.S. relationship. It’s an
affiliation that is intricate, complex, and critical to understanding Eastport’s prior
highs and lows.
The military history of Eastport, evident in lingering fragments like the Barracks
Museum and the crumbling stone powder magazine, primarily involves the foreign
land facing the harbor. Moose Island and the surrounding region were occupied
for several years by the British army during and after the War of 1812. There were
exceptions, but it was mostly a nonviolent affair. Civility reigned, and trust has
prevailed for most of the ensuing two centuries, during which the United States
and Canada have understood that they have a great deal in common.
For much of Eastport’s history, the border has been more emotional than
physical. Eastport and Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s beloved Campobello Island,
on the Canadian side, are just a dory-row apart, a perfect metaphor for a
boundary that was once as fluid as water. Canadian cannery workers rowed back
and forth every day as if the border didn’t exist at all. Steamships traded in goods
and passengers from Saint John, New Brunswick, in one direction and from
Boston in the other. After Eastport’s disastrous 1886 downtown fire, an American
architect named Henry Black rebuilt Water Street. He came from Saint John,
where he’d been living and working for almost a decade, having helped to design
and rebuild that sister city after its own cataclysmic fire in 1877. One of Black’s
local jewels is the former Eastport Savings Bank, a wonderfully restored red brick
Italianate building from 1887 that is now home to the Tides Institute & Museum of
Art. The Tides Institute is a superb example of a local initiative whose reach has
stretched far beyond its own community. The Institute has acquired a significant
collection of artifacts and artworks from both the U.S. and Canada, sponsored
and hosted international workshops and artist residencies, curated outstanding
exhibitions, established a downtown working-studio building, promoted heritage
preservation, and, most importantly, strengthened cultural ties between eastern
Canada and the United States at a time when other forces have sought to erode
them.
With its rich and eloquent historical legacy, Eastport stands at the frontier —
an American figurehead astride an invisible line, confidently awaiting its next
transnational calling. – J.L.
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III. Change & Continuity

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There’s no denying that change hit Eastport hard over the course of the
twentieth century. Significant losses of jobs and opportunity scourged
this city, which boasted over five thousand citizens in 1900. Each
subsequent decade saw a decline of around five hundred people until the
population leveled off in the 1970s. Cities aren’t designed to function if their
population dwindles by two thirds, but Eastport had a solid foundation that
allowed it to press on. Though they certainly didn’t anticipate such downswings,
Eastport’s nineteenth-century builders and patrons handed this island
community a collection of civic monuments, emblematic of shared sensibilities,
that have given it the means to sustain fundamental transformation in the
twenty-first century.
One of Eastport’s great advantages is its commercial core along Water
Street, a five-block stretch of surviving commercial buildings, listed since 1982
on the National Register of Historic Places. Designed with a stoic elegance that
wouldn’t be out of place in an Edward Hopper painting, these two- and threestory
brick and wood buildings would be the envy of any Main Street in America.
While lack of post-war development and urban renewal may have left
Eastporters feeling out of the loop, the absence in this city of the demolition
that elsewhere accompanied modernization and ‘progress’ turned out to be a
godsend. I think of this every time I pass the venerable local library, still very
much in use, its decorated brick entry arch welcoming you like a much-loved
family member.
This is not to say that Eastport has been without losses. While its many
churches are gems of period architecture, one can’t help but grieve when
looking at photographs of the gorgeous Unitarian Church, for instance, that
succumbed to flames in 1946. The sardine and pearl-essence plants that were
unceremoniously demolished or destroyed in recent times would be the envy of
any New England waterfront today. These losses make it that much more crucial
to protect the built heritage of Eastport that remains.
A downtown facade-improvement program has been led by the Tides
Institute, resulting in the return of many of the late nineteenth-century brick
buildings to their original forms. Historic structures like the North Baptist Church
and Norwood House are being carefully restored, and efforts to repurpose
others are either successfully completed or gaining traction. Take, for example,
the Eastport Arts Center, the Congregational Church, the Old Eastport Savings
Bank, the Eastport Nursing Home, and the Barracks Museum. In an era when the
massive textile mills of Lowell, Massachusetts, are becoming valuable office and
residential developments, and the obsolete elevated-rail system in Manhattan
can transform into the hugely successful High Line, one has high hopes for the
abandoned can factory downtown on Eastport’s Sea Street, one of the last and
most visible reminders of the region’s sardine industry. A refurbishment of its
tenacious brick shell, concrete deck, and post-and-beam structure could drive a
broader waterfront architectural project that would make any port city proud.
It may seem small at first, but the spark effect of a new business infusion or an
owner restoring a property is enormous. The current rejuvenation of Eastport’s
downtown has been more than successful, with new restaurants, a pet store, a
bakery, storefront artist studios, and even a candy store cropping up alongside
Eastport stalwarts like the Waco Diner, which has stood on Water Street since
1924, and S.L. Wadsworth & Son, the ‘nation’s oldest ship chandlery’, which
has been there since 1818. On a larger, industrial scale, there’s optimism for the
shipping industry and cargo port on the west side of the island. The 1930s vision
of tidal power has also been newly revisited. The lobstering industry and salmon
aquaculture are thriving, and there’s been a noticeable upsurge in tourism and
arts-related attractions. Just ask the many thousands who make the pilgrimage
to Eastport every year for the July Fourth celebration or the September Pirate
Festival. These success stories deserve place alongside that of the nationallyrenowned,
heavy-timbered Raye’s Mustard mill, whose original millstones have
ground mustard seeds for over a century now.
The average age in Eastport is older than in many places in America, yet
young families are coming and staying. Though their numbers are a fraction
of those of a century ago, many locals still work in the port, in fisheries, and in
boat repair. As well, numerous artists and craftspeople of the early 1970s who
‘discovered’ Eastport as a safe, creative haven set apart from big-city America
have stayed put. The citizens who’ve left have done so out of perceived necessity
more often than not, but those who’ve remained, like the newcomers who’ve
lingered, have made it clear that this is where they belong. – J.L.
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IV. Design & Detail

Design in Eastport takes many forms, and it is far from limited to the high
design of artists or trained professionals. The city contains equal worth
in the common places that don’t often get a second glance. Eastport
was awash in wealth and material riches for much of the nineteenth century,
but the aesthetic impulse is evident even in the houses and structures of those
less well-off. Maybe this arose from Eastport’s intimate connection to makers
and laborers — from the packers in the sardine canneries and the heavylifting
longshoremen of the seaport, to the fine lithographers in the shops that
printed beautifully designed sardine tin labels. This was a place where things
were made, traded and shared. The builders and artisans of Eastport have
left a legacy that reflects the city’s high regard for the dignity and talent of the
craftsperson. Their acts of building and making have become a testament to the
endurance of community.
I was surprised and overwhelmed by the sight of an early twentieth-century
Tiffany mosaic of Christ holding a lamb, in the local Baptist church. The artwork
is as fine as any you’d see in the great museums of the world. Walk into the
almost temple-like Peavey Library and you can feel its wealthy donor’s devotion
to the people of this place. Nearby, the sprawling civic graveyard is filled with
carved white marble monuments that testify to the wealth that permeated the
island. The same graveyard maintains an enigmatic Masonic structure of two
brick pylons capped by domed and pyramidal roofs, an item as fascinating in its
uniqueness as it is unsettling in its cryptic form — a silent evocation of Eastport
clinging tightly to its secrets. At the customs house, a riveted steel water tank
hidden in the timbered attic bespeaks the same attention to detail as does the
open wrought-iron staircase that visitors were actually meant to see.
The local wooden houses and churches present equally inspired forms and
construction elements, to say nothing of their eclectic interiors and furniture
collections. In an almost encyclopedic sweep, all significant New England
architectural styles from the late 1770s to the early twentieth century are
represented in Eastport and on the surrounding islands: the eccentric filigree
of Elm Cottage, the elegant Greek Revival Norwood House, the stone-walled
Italianate Babb House, the sprawling Queen Anne Capen House, the large
saltbox on Indian Island, the Dutch Revival homes of Quoddy Village, the
geometric variety of the Shingle Style Warnock House, the ancient Revolutionera
bones of the Todd House, the graceful open spaces of the North Church
and the Congregational Church …. But the commonplace is reflected here as
well. Four-bay side-entry cottages are ubiquitous in Eastport (many refurbished
with early twentieth-century concrete block foundations); there are the plain
tourist pods overlooking a stunning view of the bay; and there is any number of
working-class Cape Cod cottages whose owners still found the resources to add
decorative entry surrounds.
In many cases, the tale of Eastport’s architectural and environmental heritage
has been one of survival by luck and benign disregard as much as by care and
conservation. During the postwar years, the city’s downtown wasn’t valuable
enough to tear down, which ironically enabled its preservation. This is not to
imply that it was always ‘preservation by neglect’, but there are enough instances
of this to show that the lack of refurbishment pressure was a blessing in disguise.
But for every mothballed Havey & Wilson drug store, with its marble-topped
soda fountain so intact that chocolate sprinkles can still be found in the counter
dispensers, there was a Wilbor Theatre laid waste. The latter’s art deco facade,
fronting the main business strip, had a character so exotic compared to the rest
of Eastport that it seemed straight out of an outlandish, streamlined future. This
peculiar building, once an essential part of daily city life, was deemed obsolete
and demolished in 1980.
As expressions of craft and meaning, the houses, sheds, churches and public
buildings of Eastport are much more than just tangible artifacts left for posterity.
An architectural detail, a carved gravestone, a raw brick wall — these are
devotional offerings from those long since departed. – J.L.
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V. Tradition & Memory

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In a narrow alley off Water Street, remnants of a hand-painted wall
advertisement point to a shoe repair shop behind an old brick building. The
business closed long ago, but the sign’s scoured testimony remains. When
I first came across it several years ago, I was fascinated by how this trace
articulated so much more than the evidence of a long-forgotten cobbler. To
me it embodied the tenacity of Eastport’s culture and values. The lettering has
shifted over the generations from usefulness to abandonment and then to near
obscurity, but through the luck of survival it matters once again, perhaps more
than it ever did. Eastport’s roots persist through what you can touch and feel.
As our world becomes increasingly ephemeral, measured in seconds on small
backlit screens, I’m somehow reassured that this timeworn wall painting might
outlast me.
By safeguarding what’s been left, Eastporters connect with one of the
most powerful of human endeavors: the careful creation and sustaining of a
community. If establishing a settlement is an act of faith, then engaging with the
world though a community’s labor has a resonance far beyond the daily chores
and trivialities that we often associate with a particular place. The remarkable
thing about Eastport is that it has spent so much of its life looking outward.
Boosted by the twin riches of fisheries and shipping, the city was a prosperous
hub for a century and a half. When the world stopped looking back, the city was
forced to take stock of the paths it had taken. Character is rarely tested in the
best of times; it shows itself in adversity. Worn and toughened, Eastport has
earned its survival through an instinctive embrace of integrity and innovation,
and through an understanding of community will.
Eastport is old enough to have lived through various complete cycles: trade,
war, peace, exploitation of the sea, rebuilding after fire, and recent flirtations
with obsolescence. Luckily, the people of Eastport have had the wherewithal to
understand that the spaces and places of the city, even if abandoned for years
with no commercial savior on the horizon, were crucial as a foothold for a certain
way of life. The survival of these spaces and places testifies to the relevance of
the past, shedding light on how we might live today in a society that often moves
too fast for us to understand where we’re going. Eastport attests to the capacity
of a historic town to move into the future not as a static museum, but as a vital,
hopeful presence in a contemporary context.
Quoddy Village at the northern rim of Moose Island is a half-occupied, halfabandoned
clapboarded town that a thousand enthusiastic young Americans
once filled with life. Created under the auspices of President Roosevelt and his
New Deal relief projects, it was designed by the esteemed Maine architects John
Calvin Stevens and John P. Thomas. Quoddy Village was conceived as a model
community to house, feed, educate and entertain the staff, engineers, draftsmen
and laborers (along with many of their families) tasked with building the nearby
Passamaquoddy Tidal Power Project — which was to be the world’s largest tidal
dam. A victim of tightening congressional budgets, the dam never made it, but
Quoddy’s remaining Colonial Revival buildings and Dutch Revival homes speak
of an era not so long ago when Eastport was flanked by an entire second town.
I have to admit that I often dwell too much on what’s long gone in places like
this. Quoddy and the vanished canneries cast a wide shadow, but what persists
in Eastport is considerable. Boats are still built and repaired here; fresh lobsters
crowd the holding facility at Prince Cove; S.L. Wadsworth & Son just entered
its third century of operation; kids still go to Shead High School; and fishing
vessels line the breakwater, floating with the tide. I can’t help but smile when
local woodworker Jim Blankman drives around town in his carefully restored 1947
Dodge ‘woodie’ bus, which used to haul sardine packers to their workplaces.
There’s a reason that the city explodes in size every summer for the largest
Fourth of July celebration in the state. A population of thirteen hundred does
not grow to ten thousand for a day because of cheap hot dogs and lobster
trinkets. Maine senators, governors, and even U.S. Navy battleships descend
upon Eastport for their annual pilgrimage because of the burst of vitality and
authenticity that a place like this provides. On special days like this, it’s good to
see people remember. –J.L.
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VI. Traces of Nature

I
left Eastport’s IGA Foodliner carrying an unremarkable bag full of local
mustard, potato chips and iced tea, and was stopped dead in my tracks. I had
walked in and out of that supermarket many times, distracted by the normal
head-down pattern of getting back to my car and driving off. I had never taken
the time to see what was right in front of me, past the plate glass exit doors.
A house across the street looked as if it was about to get swallowed up by a
mountain – an enormous granite tidal wave bursting out of the backyard and
lashing at the base of a wooden foursquare home that would never stand a
chance. This is a city where geology rules, subjugated only by the slow erosion
of thousands of years of water, ice and storms. This house with its looming stone
wave was a reminder that we’re only borrowing this place. Nature was here
before, it’s here now, and it will be here long after we’re gone.
You can tell by the map of Eastport that the first colonial settlers and
surveyors wanted to build a clean rectangular grid of streets like that in St.
Andrews across the bay, but the ground wouldn’t let them. A fractured rock
outcrop here and a rolling hill there made for a bowed and erratic lattice of roads
and properties, all under the dominance of Clark’s Hill, its peak calling for a fort
in the nineteenth century and, thankfully, for schools in the twentieth.
Nature looms large here. In an environment where billions of gallons of
ocean tide rise and fall like clockwork twice a day, shorelines and small islands
like Clark’s Ledge incessantly emerge from and then disappear under the salt
waters. Near the Ledge, the ‘Old Sow’, between Harris Point and Deer Island,
is the largest tidal whirlpool in the western hemisphere. Outside of the normally
deserted peak of Mount Katahdin, Eastport proudly claims the United States’ first
sunrise every morning. This distinction gave the Wabanaki (a confederation of the
Mi’kmaq, Maliseet, Passamaquoddy, Abenaki and Penobscot First Nations) their
name: “people of the first light.” The Passamaquoddy, who have been here for
thousands of years, traditionally called themselves peskotomuhkatiyik, “people who
spear pollock.” They identified themselves with the bounty of the sea and lived
lightly on the land in shelters made of birchbark and wooden ribs lashed together
with spruce roots. Canoes were built with the same materials.
Although the twentieth century saw most of Moose Island developed, due
to the spread of the city, airport, and marine terminal, and the establishment of
Quoddy Village, there are still some exceptional places that remain untouched.
The northeastern forest at Kendall Head is balanced by unspoiled Shackford
Head at the southwest tip of the island overlooking Cobscook Bay. Fine hiking
trails traverse what is now Shackford Head State Park, leading through woods
to a rocky headland high above the sea and the beaches below. Ornithologists
have documented twenty-eight different bird species here, including warblers,
thrushes, bald eagles, common terns and spotted sandpipers. It’s the kind of
place that you couldn’t imagine being anything but protected.
Still, for much of the 1970s, Eastport was consumed with division over a
proposed oil refinery, set to occupy the Shackford peninsula. In a place that
couldn’t afford to be split in two, families, friends, and leaders of the city were
caught in a maelstrom of corporate economics, fighting what some felt was a
fierce civil war over oil. The prolonged episode generated a groundswell of soulsearching,
and also cemented the difficult conviction that, if Eastport was truly
to survive, certain things couldn’t be given up. Ultimately, in the early 1980s, the
refinery proposal was abandoned, and several years later a land trust helped
keep the area a wildlife refuge and public park.
The trees that adorn the landscape of Moose Island reveal their particular
personalities. Some are tired and gnarled, some carefully set and pruned. A few
remaining mammoth copper beech trees, planted over two hundred years ago
by occupying British soldiers, grow and shade the quiet streets, and the white
gravestone teeth of the Hillside Cemetery are perfectly counterpointed by the
sheltering trees that pepper its rolling lawn.
The relationship of this place to nature has never been easy or straightforward.
Recurring storms have wreaked havoc on Eastport, from the 1869 Saxby Gale
that ripped down the original steeple of the Congregational Church to the 1976
storm that destroyed many of the last downtown wooden wharves. Yet amid
these changes, the clam flats at Carrying Place Cove are harvested exactly the
same way they have been for thousands of years. The people digging with their
backs hunched over the wet sandy mud are proof that some connections to
nature here are not about to change. –J.L.
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Historical Notes
Front cover. View of backside of Key Street houses from Shackford Street.
Page 3. Hand-split wall laths exposed during plaster restoration, North Church
balcony, 82 High Street [1819].
10. Camperdown Elm tree, Hillside Cemetery.
Clockwise from upper left:
12a. Gravestone, Hillside Cemetery: “William Mulno, Died July 12, 1851, Aged 57
yrs. 6 ms. Mary, his wife, Died June 10, 1866, Aged 52 yrs.”
12b. Gravestone, Hillside Cemetery: “Lorenzo Sabine. Transplanted. Born, Feb.
28, 1803, Taken, Apr. 14, 1877.” Once described as the “John the Baptist of Loyalist
studies,” Sabine lived in Eastport for over twenty-five years in the early-nineteenth
century. Here his proximity to neighboring Canada allowed him to research and write
his book The American Loyalists, or Biographical Sketches of Adherents to the British Crown
in The War of the Revolution; Alphabetically Arranged; with a Preliminary Historical Essay,
which was published by Charles C. Little and James Brown of Boston in 1847.
12c. Gravestone, Hillside Cemetery. “Capt. Robert E. Wooster. Died at New York,
Aug. 7, 1860. AE 38 yrs. 2 mos.”
12d. British gravestones, Hillside Cemetery. Eastport was occupied by British
forces for four years (1814–1818) during and after the War of 1812. Left gravestone:
“Walter St. John, Esq. Lieu. 102d Reg. died May 29, 1815 in the 29th year of his age.”
Right gravestone: “To the memory of Mr. Thomas Raymond, Master in his Britannic
Majesty’s Royal Navy, born in Aldborough Suffolk England.”
13. Stairway to balcony, North Church, 82 High Street [1819].
14. Marble fireplace on second floor of U.S. customs house/post office building,
2 Washington Street [1891]. Designed by Willoughby J. Edbrooke, U.S. Treasury
Department architect.
15. Rear addition [c. 1900] on Elm Street side of Coombs House, 27 Boynton Street.
16. Gunnison House, 11 Boynton Street [1849].
17. Eastport Port Authority tugs docked at Fish Pier in downtown Eastport.
18 & 19. West side of Hillside Cemetery.
20. Blakey Memorial United Methodist Church, 74 High Street [1884].
21. Former Eastport City Hall, originally built as the Boynton High School, 78 High
Street [1847]. Designed by Gridley J.F. Bryant of Boston. This is Bryant’s earliest known
work in Maine.
22. Remnants of wooden wharf near foot of Clark Street.
23. Net laid out for repair, Eastport Port Authority Estes Head Cargo Terminal site.
Port conveyor system is in background.
24. Boat model found in wall of Stevens House, 35 Boynton Street [c. 1810].
25. Fourth of July parade on Water Street with U.S. Navy sailors.
26. Central Congregational Church showing its three front entrances and
corresponding second-story windows, 26 Middle Street [1829]. Designed by Daniel Low
of Eastport. Building is now owned by the Tides Institute & Museum of Art.
27. Central Congregational Church, 26 Middle Street [1829]. Designed by Daniel
Low of Eastport. The original steeple blew over in the Saxby Gale of 1869 and was
replaced with the current steeple of a different design. The clock was made by G.H.
Holbrook of Medway, Massachusetts in 1836 (the pendulum is labeled “1837”). The
building is now owned by the Tides Institute & Museum of Art.
28. Fishing boats at Moose Island Marine boatyard, Deep Cove.
29. Wooden sailboat hull undergoing restoration and repair. Moose Island Marine
boatyard, Deep Cove.
30 & 31. American Can Building, 15 Sea Street [1908]. The plant manufactured
metal cans used in the sardine industry.
32a. Temporary floating slips for small boats, Broad Cove. The Port of Eastport
Estes Head terminal is in the upper left, with a freighter docked at the pier.
32b. Floating dock facing the Western Passage and Canadian islands. Seaview
Campground, Norwood Road.
33a. Reflections from mooring posts along waterfront in downtown Eastport.
33b. Wooden keel of boat. Former boat school grounds, Deep Cove.
34. View from Shackford Street looking at backyard of 16 Water Street [c. 1825].
35. Camperdown Elm tree, corner of Shackford and High Streets.
36. 5 Shackford Street [c. 1840].
37. 15 Third Street [c. 1850].
38. Cargo freighter loading at Eastport Port Authority’s Estes Head Cargo Terminal.
39. Steel mooring hanging from tree at Carrying Place Cove.
40. Staircase in Stevens House, 35 Boynton Street [c. 1810].
41. Concrete columns and beams underneath the American Can Building, 15 Sea
Street [1908].
42 & 43. Remains of steamship wharf on Sea Street.
209

46. U.S. Customs and Border Protection seasonal border crossing, Little’s Cove
[c. 2010].
48. U.S./Canada Boundary Range Mark, Todd’s Head. Seven-foot high concrete
pyramid [1919].
49. View of Water Street and downtown Eastport from the top of the American Can
Building at 15 Sea Street.
50. Sutler’s House/Barracks Museum, 74 Washington Street [1822]. This building
was originally the Sutler’s House at Fort Sullivan in Eastport, and later became part of
the Officers’ Quarters. Fort Sullivan was decommissioned in 1873 and this part of the
Officers’ Quarters was moved to its current location in 1877. The building is now owned
and operated as a historical museum by the Border Historical Society.
51. Copper beech tree, 17 Boynton Street. Planted by British forces during their
occupation of Eastport during and after the War of 1812.
52. U.S. customs house/post office building, 2 Washington Street [1891]. Designed
by Willoughby J. Edbrooke, U.S. Treasury Department architect.
53. Eastport Savings Bank building, 43 Water Street [1887]. Designed by Henry
Black of Boston and Saint John (New Brunswick). The original and restoration
sandstone came from the same Wallace Quarry of Wallace, Nova Scotia. The building
is now owned by the Tides Institute & Museum of Art.
54 & 55. View from Huston’s Cove looking out over Passamaquoddy Bay with
Campobello Island (New Brunswick) in the distance.
56. Second floor staircase, Chaffey Saltbox House on nearby Indian Island (New
Brunswick) [1818].
57. Temporary directional marking on Norwood Road.
60. L to R: Leavitt, Trefrey, and Sharland blocks, 109, 103 and 93 Water Street [1887].
All designed by Henry Black of Boston and Saint John (New Brunswick).
62. Gravestone, Hillside Cemetery. Although there is no date on the stone, it is likely
mid-nineteenth century. The back is engraved with the epitaph: “Little Willie. Son of
Edward & Abby Mabee. AE. 4 mos.”
63. Window showing interior staircase, former Washington Street Baptist Church,
36 Washington Street [1837]. The church was raised with ground level vestry space
added in 1882. It has been recently repurposed as a community arts center under the
auspices of the Eastport Arts Center.
64. Mabee Lumber Yard, 9 Dana Street [c. 1935].
65. Grindstone, Raye’s Mustard Mill, 83 Washington Street [1903]. The Raye’s
business began in 1900 to provide mustard for the canning of sardines. When the local
sardine industry disappeared, Raye’s repositioned itself to produce a range of mustard
varieties for a gourmet market. Still used daily, these mill grindstones are the original
ones obtained from France in 1900. Raye’s is North America’s last remaining traditional
stone-ground mustard mill.
66 & 67. Interior of American Can Building, 15 Sea Street [1908].
68. Masonic Block, 32 Water Street [1887]. Designed by Henry Black of Boston and
Saint John (New Brunswick).
69. Detail of eroded concrete support column beneath American Can Building,
15 Sea Street [1908].
70. Cummings Garage, 21 Washington Street [1956].
71. L to R: Sentinel and A.B. Davis Blocks [1887]. Designed by Henry Black of Boston
and Saint John (New Brunswick). The Sentinel Block had later brick facade refacing.
72. Jackson House, 70 Washington Street [1882]. Designed by A.C. Fernald
of Boston. At the same time, Fernald was one of the architects employed by the
Campobello Company in the construction of the Owen Hotel on nearby Campobello
Island (New Brunswick).
73. Foot of staircase in Patrick Whalen House, 7 Key Street [c. 1820]. Design
attributed to Daniel Low of Eastport.
74. Frontier National Bank, 30 Water Street [1882]. Designed by Charles Kimball of
Portland (Maine). This was the only downtown building to survive the fire of 1886 that
leveled the business core and waterfront.
75. Frontier National Bank with c. 1910 addition at left, 30 Water Street [1882].
Designed by Charles Kimball of Portland (Maine).
76. Fiberglass sailboat hull undergoing restoration and repair. Moose Island Marine
Boatyard, Deep Cove.
77. Fisherman statue, Water Street. Initially meant to be temporary, the statue was
actually a prop from the television series Murder in Small Town X filmed in Eastport
in 2001. A plaque was installed on it to commemorate Ángel Juarbe, Jr., the winner
of Murder in Small Town X and a Bronx firefighter who was killed in the World Trade
Center collapse on September 11, 2001, one week after the series finale.
78 & 79. Three styles of Eastport architecture. L to R: Italianate style Tuttle House at
17 Key Street [1880], Greek Revival style Norwood House at 15 Key Street [c. 1824], and
Federal style Central Congregational Church at 26 Middle Street [1829].
80. 13 Middle Street [c. 1840].
81. Veterans Memorial Hall, 6 Green Street [c. 1820]. View of upper floor with its
mid- to late-nineteenth century painted murals. Built as the Free Will Baptist vestry,
after the American Civil War it became home to the Grand Army of the Republic and
later the American Legion. It is now owned by the Tides Institute & Museum of Art.
82. Ocean Renewal Power Company tidal generator turbines. Former boat school
grounds, Deep Cove.
210

83. Remains of powder magazine of Fort Sullivan/Fort Sherbrooke, McKinley Street
[1814]. Built by British forces during their occupation (1814–1818) of Eastport during and
after the War of 1812.
84. Former Episcopal Parsonage, 2 School Street [1887]. Designed by Francis
Fassett of Portland (Maine).
85. Huston House, 6 Third Street [c. 1850]. The house incorporates an earlier Red
Store that originally stood on a nearby wharf. The mansard roof, bay windows and front
portico were late nineteenth-century additions.
86. Door in Noyes/Mabee House, 34 Washington Street [1820]. This narrow
stateroom door was salvaged from the steamship Winthrop.
87. Staircase in Noyes/Mabee House, 34 Washington Street [1820]. This staircase
was salvaged from the steamship Winthrop.
88. Basement fireplace, ‘Type Z’ permanent residence building, Redoubt Hill [1935].
Designed by John Calvin Stevens and John Howard Stevens of Portland (Maine). Part
of the Passamaquoddy Bay Tidal Power Development Project.
89. King post detail in the attic of the Central Congregational Church, 26 Middle
Street [1829]. Designed by Daniel Low of Eastport. With a sophisticated heavy timber
truss design using purlins, rafters, diagonal struts and king/prince posts, the ingenious
structural solution found in the church is not only incredibly strong, it is unique in all of
New England.
90 & 91. View of Broad Cove from Shackford Head State Park. Salmon aquaculture
pens can be seen in the cove.
92. Waco Diner, 47 Water Street. The original diner began as a lunch cart at this
location in 1924. The Waco is the oldest diner business in Maine, although its current
building is late-twentieth century.
93. 18 Broadway Street [c. 1890].
96. Detail of push plates on inner entry doors, Albert Peavey Memorial Library, 26
Water Street [1893]. Designed by Rotch and Tilden of Boston.
98. Todd House, 1 Capen Avenue, Todd’s Head [c. 1770]. This Eastport’s oldest house.
99. 15 Third Street [c. 1850].
100. Warnock House, 34 Shackford Street [1899].
101. Warnock House, 34 Shackford Street [1899].
102 & 103. Pews and stained glass windows of the North Church, 82 High Street
[1819]. The oldest church in Eastport, the original North Church was raised in 1881 to
allow for a vestry floor beneath the sanctuary. The c. 1920 stained glass windows were
designed by Spence, Bell and Company of Boston. The building is being repurposed by
the Tides Institute & Museum of Art as a space for small performances and larger-scale
art and multi-media installations.
104. Masonic Tomb at Hillside Cemetery [1828]. The City of Eastport took over the
north (left) entrance in the late-nineteenth century.
105. Elm Cottage with later gingerbread trim, 2 Elm Street [1817–1818].
106. Collection of Passamaquoddy baskets, Todd House, 1 Capen Avenue, Todd’s
Head.
107. Iron staircase, U.S. customs house/post office Building, 2 Washington Street
[1891]. Designed by Willoughby J. Edbrooke, U.S. Treasury Department architect.
Staircase built by Tacony Iron & Metal Company, Tacony, Philadelphia (Pennsylvania).
108. Yeaton-Spates House, outer Washington Street on County Road [c. 1840].
109. 35 Clark Street [c. 1820].
110. 24 Capen Avenue [c. 1780].
111. 22 Third Street [c. 1840].
112. Brooks House, 17 Shackford Street [c. 1820].
113. ‘Type Y’ permanent residence building, Redoubt Hill [1935]. Designed by
John Calvin Stevens and John Howard Stevens of Portland (Maine). Part of the
Passamaquoddy Bay Tidal Power Development.
114 & 115. Downtown buildings, L to R: Albert Peavey Memorial Library, 26 Water
Street [1893], designed by Rotch and Tilden of Boston; Frontier National Bank
building, 30 Water Street [1882, with later side addition], designed by Charles Kimball
of Portland (Maine); Masonic Block, 32 Water Street [1887], designed by Henry Black
of Boston and Saint John (New Brunswick).
116. Book stacks, Albert Peavey Memorial Library, 26 Water Street [1893].
Designed by Rotch and Tilden of Boston.
117. Tiffany glass mosaic panel, Cornerstone Baptist Church, County Road.
Originally installed and located in the Washington Street Baptist Church at 36
Washington Street, this magnificent artwork was moved upon the completion of
the congregation’s new church in 2005. The bottom cast panel reads “To the Glory
of God, In Loving Remembrance of Samuel Stevens and his family and of Emory
Lyon.”
118. Detail of fused pew and column in the Central Congregational Church, 26
Middle Street [1829]. Designed by Daniel Low of Eastport.
119. Detail of fireplace in Hawkes House, 15 Shackford Street [1816–1818].
Clockwise from upper left:
120a. 188 Water Street [c. 1890].
120b. Livermore House, 20 Key Street [1821]. Designed by Daniel Low of Eastport.
120c. 5 Green Street [c. 1840].
120d. 116 Water Street [c. 1915].
211

Clockwise from upper left:
121a. Siebert House, 5 Customs Street [2003]. Designed by QA 13 Architects of
Eastport.
121b. Shackford House, 10 Shackford Street [1841]. The porch and tower were later
nineteenth-century additions.
121c. 15 Green Street [c. 1887]. This is believed to have been a ‘temporary’
building constructed after the great fire of 1886 that leveled Eastport’s downtown and
waterfront. The building has been recently renovated into an artist’s studio.
121d. Weston House, 26 Boynton Street [1810]. John James Audubon stayed here
in the early 1830s, as Eastport served as the base for his trips to Labrador.
122. Door with rounded top in Brooks House, 17 Shackford Street [c. 1820].
123. Spiral staircase in Hawkes House, 15 Shackford Street [1816 –1818].
124. Panel of cabinet doors and portrait of George Washington, U.S. customs
house/post office building, 2 Washington Street [1891]. Designed by Willoughby J.
Edbrooke, U.S. Treasury Department architect.
125. Stetson-Starboard House, 13 Boynton Street [1821].
126 & 127. Victorian Row, showing three late nineteenth-century replacements
of earlier buildings that were swept away by the fire of 1886 that leveled Eastport’s
downtown and waterfront. R to L: Kilby House, 122 Water Street [1889]; Holmes House,
120 Water Street [1887]; Bucknam House, 118 Water Street [1887]. The latter was
designed by Henry Black of Boston and Saint John (New Brunswick).
128. Harris Point Cabin, Harris Point [c. 1930].
129. Storefront details, L to R: McMahon Building and Jackson Block [1887]. Both
were designed by Henry Black of Boston and Saint John (New Brunswick).
130. 56 Washington Street [c. 1840].
131. Double parlor, sliding doors and marble fireplace. Norwood House, 15 Key
Street [c. 1824].
132. Bibber House, 72 Washington Street [1883].
133. 17 Adams Street [c. 1880].
134. View from Washington Street of rear of Hayden House, 17 Boynton Street
[1805], showing late nineteenth-century mansard roof.
135. Shead House, 21 Middle Street [1819]. The mansard roof and bay window were
late nineteenth-century additions.
136. Window and shutters of ‘Type A’ temporary residence building, Quoddy
Village [1935]. Designed by John Calvin Stevens and John Howard Stevens of Portland
(Maine). Part of the Passamaquoddy Bay Tidal Power Development Project. There
were seven shutter-cutout designs for Type A residences with “one design for each
house, varying so that no two adjacent houses will have the same design.” This detail
shows a crescent moon design.
137. Late-nineteenth century barn behind N.B. Nutt, Jr. House, 18 Shackford Street.
138. Holmes House, 120 Water Street [1887].
139. Kilby House, 122 Water Street [1889].
140. Delesdernier House, 7 Franklin Street [c. 1807]
141. Finch Double Tenement House [1901]. The wainscoting and flooring of this
house were salvaged from the U.S.S. Minnesota, a Civil War ship that was burned for
scrap at Broad Cove in Eastport in 1901.
142. Hayden House, 17 Boynton Street [1805]. Additions made in 1882 included the
mansard roof, two-story bay windows, and front and side porches; extensive interior
renovations were also done at this time.
143. Later porch addition of Patrick Whalen House, 7 Key Street. Original house
design attributed to Daniel Low of Eastport [c. 1820].
144. Gravestone, Hillside Cemetery. Carved image of a sinking sailing vessel. The
gravestone marks the loss at sea of the Crosby family, with husband Capt. Mariner S.
Crosby, 44 years of age, wife Sarah B. Crosby, 33 years of age, and their four children
(Mary, Lucy, Jacob and infant son), when their vessel, the brig Sarah B. Crosby, sank
in October, 1867. The epitaph reads: “How sad their fate amidst oceans waves, Where
they all sunk to watery graves, But in God’s word sweet hope is given, That we shall
meet again in Heaven.”
145. Staircase in Bibber House, while the house was undergoing restoration, 72
Washington Street [1883].
146. View looking west at roofs of lower Key Street houses from the third floor attic
of Shackford House, 4 Key Street.
147. 2 Lincoln Street [c. 1900].
148. Staircase, 16 Water Street [c. 1825].
149. Fanlight above front door, Brooks House, 17 Shackford Street [c. 1820].
150. Detail of original interior store shelving, Rumery Brothers Building, 56 Water
Street [1887]. The shelving runs the entire length of both sides of the main floor.
Building designed by Henry Black of Boston and Saint John (New Brunswick).
151. Babb House, 9 Key Street [1869]. This is the only stone house in Eastport.
152. Oliver Shead/E.A. Holmes House, 130 Water Street [1802]. This is the oldest
full two-story house in Eastport, although the Gothic bay window is a later addition.
153. Staircase in Capen House, 16 Key Street [1894].
156. Early twentieth-century painted alleyway sign on the Witherell/Holmes Block,
48–50 Water Street [1887].
212

158. Fireplace with implements, 16 Water Street [c. 1825].
159. Detail of staircase that runs inside the large central chimney in Elm Cottage. 2
Elm Street [1817–1818].
160. Rear of Stevens House, 35 Boynton Street [c. 1810]. The door and surrounds
leaning on the house are from a mid-nineteenth century farmhouse in nearby
Pembroke (Maine) that was demolished in 2016.
161. Iron fence, Norwood House, 15 Key Street [c. 1824].
162 & 163. Federal Row, showing three early nineteenth-century houses. L to R:
Hayden House, 17 Boynton Street [1805] (1882 additions included the mansard roof, bay
windows, front and side porch and extensive interior renovations); D. Kilby House, 15
Boynton Street [1820]; and Stetson Starboard, 13 Boynton Street [1821].
164. Stevens House, 35 Boynton Street [c. 1810].
165. Mowe House, 1 Adams Street [c. 1820]. The portico was added c. 1905.
166. Samuel Wheeler House, 9 Washington Street [1806], with later nineteenthcentury
‘Stick style’ porch addition.
167. View of downtown buildings from breakwater pier. U.S. customs house/post
office [1891] is at right.
168. Detail of barn, Middle Street wing of Hobbs House, 11 Shackford Street. The
first floor of the original west wing [1816] was by Isaac Hobbs, who later built the main
house, in 1823. The second story of the west wing was added in 1849.
169. Third floor windows with decorative woodwork, Babb House, 9 Key Street
[1869].
170. Staircase and window in Kilby House, 122 Water Street [1889].
171. ‘Type Z’ permanent residence building, Redoubt Hill [1935]. Designed by
John Calvin Stevens and John Howard Stevens of Portland (Maine). Part of the
Passamaquoddy Bay Tidal Power Development Project.
172. James Wheeler House, 13 Washington Street [c. 1837].
173. Staircase in Holmes House, 120 Water Street [1887].
174 & 175. Walking trail at Shackford Head State Park. This trail section was
originally part of a road for a planned late-nineteenth-century summer cottage
development project that was never realized.
176. Kendall Hall dormitory [1935; destroyed by fire 2017]. Designed by John Calvin
Stevens and John Howard Stevens of Portland (Maine). Part of the Passamaquoddy
Bay Tidal Power Development Project.
177. ‘Type D’ temporary residence building, Quoddy Village [1935]. Designed
by John Calvin Stevens and John Howard Stevens of Portland (Maine). Part of the
Passamaquoddy Bay Tidal Power Development Project.
178. ‘Type F’ temporary residence building, Quoddy Village [1935]. Designed by
John P. Thomas of Portland (Maine). Part of the Passamaquoddy Bay Tidal Power
Development.
182. Foursquare House, 71 Washington Street [c. 1900].
184. Norway maple tree, Bayside Cemetery.
185. Black willow trees, Capen Avenue.
186 & 187. White birch trees, western end of Deep Cove Road; near Matthews Island.
188. Norway maple tree, Hillside Cemetery.
189. Little leaf linden tree, Hillside Cemetery.
190. Masonic tomb at Hillside Cemetery [1828]. The City of Eastport took over the
north (right) entrance in the late-nineteenth century.
191. Saw blade leaning on Eastport Waterworks Pumping Station Building [1888].
193. Norway maple tree, 215 Water Street.
194. Shoreline along Rossport Farms, Quoddy Village. Remains of wharf from
Passamaquoddy Bay Tidal Power Project.
195. Apple tree, 255 Water Street.
196. Clark’s Ledge near the foot of Clark Street. New Brunswick islands in the
background are, L to R, Deer Island, Indian Island, and Campobello Island.
197. High tide covering Clark’s Ledge near the foot of Clark Street. New Brunswick
islands in the background are, L to R, Deer Island, Indian Island, and Campobello Island.
198 & 199. Low tide, Carrying Place Cove with Mathews Island at center.
200. Trailer and trees on Staniels Road.
201. View of backside of Washington Street houses from Sullivan Street.
202. Remains of wooden ship keel at Huston’s Cove.
203. Norway maple tree, Bayside Cemetery.
204. 247 Water Street.
205. Jim Blankman’s tree house, off Redoubt Road [c. 2000].
206. Granite and bronze Civil War monument, Washington Street. The plaque
reads: “1861–1865 GAR [Grand Army of the Republic], Erected in Memory of the Men
who served the Union on Land and Sea by the Citizens of Eastport under the auspices
of the Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War.”
–Hugh French
213

Acknowledgments
The photographer and author would first like to express our sincerest gratitude to and
deepest admiration for Hugh French, whose love for and loyalty to Eastport know no
bounds. His commitment to the life of this place was not only what compelled us to
invest our time and energy on this nine-year project, it has effectively helped revitalize
an entire region through culture, integrity and community.
We wish to convey the importance of the steadfast support of our partners, Gay
Hansen and Meghan Leroux, and our families. In this journey, we have benefited from
the kindness of so many of Eastport’s individuals who have gone out of their way to
help us with their recollections and open their homes to our curious gazes and bizarre
photographic equipment, and who have quite simply shown us amazing hospitality
and good will. There are many individuals to thank, especially: Kristin McKinlay and
the staff of the Tides Institute & Museum of Art, Winnie French, Jim Blankman, Ruth
McInnis, the Waco Diner, John Melby, Matthew Tolatovicz, William Boone, Wayne
Wilcox, Paula Kovecses, and John Holt. Others include: Amanda Jernigan, editor of
this book; Robert Tombs, designer of this book; photo assistants Christie Lawrence,
Evan Rensch and Karen Stentaford; and also Andrew Steeves, Michael Fralic, Gary
Leroux, A.J. Ripley, Carol Wilson, Edward Leger, and Arron Sturgis.
We wish to thank deeply the supporters of this project and publication including:
ArtPlace; the Elmina B. Sewall Foundation; the Eaton Foundation; the Washington
County Fund of the Maine Community Foundation; the Elliot Fishbien Fund of the Maine
Community Foundation and Scythe Supply of Perry, Maine; John Seelye, professor of
American literature and donor, with his wife Alice, of two historic Eastport buildings to
the Tides Institute & Museum of Art; the Roxanne Quimby Foundation; Marie Holmes;
William and April Mullins; and Robert Tuckett. –Thaddeus Holownia & John Leroux
215

Published by
Tides Institute & Museum of Art
and the Anchorage Press
ISBN 978-0-692-13206-7
Tides Institute & Museum of Art
P.O. Box 161
Eastport, Maine
04631
http://tidesinstitute.org
The Anchorage Press
P.O. Box 6393
Sackville, New Brunswick
E4L 2S4
https://anchoragepress.ca/
Edited by Amanda Jernigan
Designed by Robert Tombs
Printed by the Lowe-Martin Group