A Visit to Breezy Marblehead Is Worth Its Salt

In 1895, Marblehead historian John Chadwick described the pleasures of driving out from Boston to Marblehead: “In the late afternoon of a hot summer day, so invigorating and so cool is the breath of the salt marshes and the sea . . . There are the great haycocks . . . and the winding creeks that turn from blue to gold and crimson as the sun goes down behind the Saugus hills.”

Today, most of the salt marshes are gone, along with the winding creeks and haycocks of salt hay, but the breeze blows as fresh and salty as ever when you come to the edge of the land and drive along the ocean to Marblehead.

The town lies 20 miles north of Boston on a small peninsula that juts into the cold waters of the Atlantic with the same stubborn determination shown by a fisherman named Doliber who first settled on its shores.

According to local legend, Doliber rowed across the water from Salem and lived in a hogshead on the beach. He was soon joined by other rugged individualists--nonconformists who rebelled against the repressive laws and strict Puritanism of Salem and Boston, and independent-minded fishermen and traders. By 1629, the tiny fishing hamlet had a name, Marble Harbor, later changed to Marblehead.

A day trip to Marblehead, isolated on its peninsula and bypassed by the major highways, can be an enjoyable part of any Boston visit. In the old historic district near the harbor where the first settlers lived, the houses are packed cheek by jowl along the narrow, twisting streets.

Geranium brighten the window boxes and rows of hollyhocks stand tall in the tiny gardens. In winter, a few sturdy lobster boats pull at their anchors in the sheltered end of the deserted harbor. In summer, they disappear amid the coveys of white-winged sailboats that usurp every possible patch of open water.

Marblehead is a sometimes incongruous mix of traditional New England village and upscale Boston bedroom community, where fishermen’s shacks near the harbor overflow with piled nets and stacked lobster pots, and a sign in the shoemaker’s window announces: “Closed For Two Weeks: Gone to Bermuda to Play Golf.”

The town abounds in history, but a history that is often a part of the present. Few of the historic buildings are museums, unlike many of those in Boston and Salem. Rather, they are still lived in by Marblehead families, some of whom have occupied them for many generations.

For a glimpse into a past that has changed little in 300 years, visitors should drive up Gingerbread Lane, a narrow, rocky road off Beacon Street that climbs Gingerbread Hill near the north end of the old part of town. At the top of the hill stands a red colonial saltbox believed to have been built in 1690.

Today a private residence, it was once a popular neighborhood tavern run by “Black Joe,” a free black man who had fought in the Revolutionary War, and his wife, Aunt Crese. For the half-century following the Revolution, they served rum and homemade root beer to the Marblehead fishermen and their families who climbed the hill to dance to Black Joe’s fiddling and to munch on Aunt Crese’s Joe Froggers, plate-sized ginger cookies laced with rum.

As you drive slowly past one of the oldest houses in Marblehead, you can almost hear the sounds of music and revelry and see in your mind’s eye the families picking their way back down the hill in the dark by the light of swaying lanterns.

At the bottom of Gingerbread Hill, turn right and follow Norman Street around to Redd’s Pond, named for Marblehead’s only witch, Mammy Redd. In 1792, the cranky old wife of a Marblehead fisherman somehow attracted the attention of the Salem witch hunters, was hauled before the magistrates and confronted with the children she had supposedly “bewitched,” and four months later was hanged. She lived beside a deep, rock-edged pond that today attracts ice skaters in the winter, and on summer Sundays, model boat enthusiasts who come to sail their craft.

If you walk beneath the willows to the far end of Redd’s Pond, you will come to Old Burial Hill. From the top of the hill you can see for many miles out to sea. The thin gray slates of ancient gravestones tilt down the hillside toward the jumble of roofs in Old Town. Here lie sea captains and sailors, fishermen and their wives and children. Black Joe is buried here.

During the 18th and early 19th centuries, the women of Marblehead watched from Burial Hill for the return of the Marblehead fleet, away for weeks fishing the dangerous waters over Georges Bank or the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. Often they watched with hope but an expectation of doom.

In September of 1846, their worst fears were realized. A fierce hurricane blew up across the North Atlantic, catching the fishermen by surprise. As the ships lay over the Grand Banks, preparing to haul their nets full of cod, the sky darkened.

Furious winds and mountainous seas slammed into the fleet, capsizing and sinking some of the ships, and casting others adrift. When it was over, 11 ships were missing, 65 men and boys were lost and there were 43 new widows and fatherless children in Marblehead. A white monument at the top of Old Burial Hill commemorates the event that marked the end of Marblehead’s great fishing fleet.

From Burial Hill and Redd’s Pond, drive back down to the harbor and along Front Street to the site of Fort Sewall. Situated at the entrance to the harbor and one of the oldest colonial forts in the United States, it is now a park with walkways and benches along the high, grass-grown earthworks where mothers push baby strollers and children romp.

But for almost 200 years, from 1644 until the mid-19th Century, the cannons were pointed out to sea, and look-outs watched for enemy ships as generations of colonists fought against the French and Indians and later against the British.

During the War of 1812, the Constitution--”Old Ironsides”--took refuge in Marblehead harbor after being chased by a pair of British frigates. The ship was steered through the rocky islets near the harbor’s entrance by Samuel Green, a Marbleheader and a member of the crew. The British, deterred by the guns of Fort Sewall and by the unfamiliar waters, withdrew. Crowded along the shore and on the headlands, and even up on the housetops, the townspeople watched and cheered.

From the fort you can stroll back along the harbor past a rocky shore where, on weekend afternoons in summer, a Marblehead lobsterman sells live lobsters from his dinghy. At The Barnacle restaurant, you can sit outside on the narrow deck and enjoy a bowl of thick chowder or a platter of fresh fish while looking across the water at the lighthouse on the tip of Marblehead Neck, a knobby finger of land that curves protectively around the town and harbor like a miniature Cape Cod.

Farther along Front Street, at the Town Landing, lobster pots are stacked on the wharf and a ramp sways down to the water for the loading and unloading of boats. Families lean on the railings, licking ice cream cones. Old men gather on the benches to check out the crowds and the passing boats. Out-of-town visitors line up to buy tickets for a whale watch or an hour’s harbor cruise.

A block up State Street, the Old Town House occupies the center of Market Square. An elegant, pale yellow building of great simplicity, with white quoins laced down its four corners, it was built in 1727 and was originally the town market hall, where produce and meat were sold from stalls on the first floor.

Although Abbot Hall, the “new” town hall, replaced it in 1876, the Old Town House is still used for meetings and exhibits, especially during the annual Marblehead Festival of Arts, held during the Fourth of July weekend. For four days (five last year, to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Festival) there are exhibits of arts and crafts by local artists, concerts in Crocker Park overlooking the harbor, lobster luncheons at local churches, street musicians, clowns, puppet shows and a variety of workshops for writers, artists, craftspeople and anyone else who is interested.

Another block away, on Washington Street, at the highest point in town, the red brick bulk of Abbot Hall dominates the horizon. Its pointed clock tower can be seen from far out at sea and has long been a landmark for fishermen and sailors. Visitors are welcome in the handsome Selectmen’s Room, with its lofty ceiling, tall arched windows and red velvet drapes, to view A.M. Willard’s Spirit of ‘76, the painting familiar to many of us from our school history books.

Washington Square, which was once the town common, surrounds Abbot Hall and is lined with the stately mansions of wealthy 18th- and 19th-Century Marblehead merchants.

On nearby Pleasant Street, only 80 years ago, cows plodded along a dirt road on their way to summer pasture on Marblehead Neck. Today, the street leads past antique shops, gift shops, banks and the movie theater to Ocean Avenue, the beach and the causeway.

Rebuilt many times over the centuries, after bad storms when the sea threatened to burst through the sandy isthmus into the harbor, the causeway connects the mainland to the Neck. Thickets of wild roses grow on the banks at both ends and add their fragrance to the salty sea air.

On either side, sea birds scavenge the tide pools and beaches. Cormorants spread their wings to dry, and sandpipers run their endless races with the breakers. From high in the air, herring gulls and great black-beaked gulls drop clams against the rocks to break the shells.

Out on the Neck, yacht clubs and palatial homes have supplanted the farmlands and pastures where Indians once camped and colonists grazed their herds. A few public spaces remain.

The Audubon bird sanctuary is tucked away in the center of the Neck off Risley Road, an unexpectedly wild area amid the well-manicured lawns and gardens. Situated on the Atlantic flyway, the sanctuary has paths that wind beneath tall trees, through grassy glades and past freshwater ponds and clumps of berry bushes that attract flocks of migrating birds in spring and fall.

At the far end of the Neck, on the outcropping of grass and rock that is Chandler Hovey Park, the lighthouse stands sentinel over harbor and town. At almost any season of the year, people park along the fence to read their papers, contemplate the view north of Cape Ann or simply indulge in the endless fascination of watching the breakers roll in over the rocks.

If you bring a lunch, you can join the families picnicking on the grass while fleets of racing boats pass in and out of the harbor below and scuba divers explore the depths off the point.

The original stone lighthouse, built in 1831, was replaced in 1896 by the present steel tower. Standing 130 feet high, it beams its green light steadily out to sea, a welcome and familiar beacon for navigators feeling their way in the dark along the coast north of Boston, and for Marblehead sailors coming home at night.

GUIDEBOOK

Finding Marblehead

Getting there: Buses leave from Haymarket Square in Boston every hour and make several stops in Marblehead.

Where to stay: There are no hotels or motels in Marblehead. Accommodations are limited to a few B&Bs; and inns. A list, with addresses, telephone numbers and rates is available from the Marblehead Chamber of Commerce, 62 Pleasant St., Marblehead 01945, (617) 631-2868.

Where to eat: Restaurants are numerous and varied, from seafood at The Barnicle, Northern Italian gourmet at Rosalie’s, and Thai and Vietnamese food at Tien’s, to the innovative sandwiches and platters and wide selection of teas, coffees, beers and wines at the King’s Rook or the “creative cuisine for playful palates” at Jacob Marley’s.

For more information: Free maps are available at the Marblehead Chamber of Commerce Information Booth near the YMCA on Pleasant Street in July and August, or year-round at the chamber of commerce office at 62 Pleasant St. Open weekdays, 9 a.m.-3 p.m.