Category Archives: Looking back

Chabad Lubavitch Makes An Unorthodox Move

After more than a century as a restaurant — and with parts of the building dating back over 200 years, to its days as a stagecoach stop — the former 3 Bears will turn into a Chabad Lubavitch synagogue.

Or not.

A January 23 Norwalk Hour story said that the 9,180-square foot property, on 2.73 acres at the corner of Wilton Road and Newtown Turnpike, was “poised to change hands and become the new home of Chabad Lubavitch of Westport.”

The Three Bears was a famed restaurant/inn — with 6 fireplaces — from 1900 until February 2009. It reopened for about 5 seconds as Tiburon restaurant, but the property was soon abandoned. Weeds sprouted on the once-stately site.

The Three Bears, after abandonment.

According to the Hour, John Zervos of DVB Commercial Realty said that Chabad — an Orthodox sect based in Brooklyn, and by some estimates the largest Jewish organization in the world — was “not planning on changing the outside, and the inside works really well for them with the big open spaces of the dining rooms.”

The Hour paraphrased Zervos as saying that while the group had already moved their offices into the new space, they had not yet applied for permits with town officials “to use the space as a religious institution in order to officially close the deal.” (They appear to be leasing, not buying, the building.)

The Three Bears, in its heyday. (Postcard/Cardcow.com)

The story noted that Westport’s Planning and Zoning Department received a complaint on January 4 from a neighbor “regarding activity taking place at the former restaurant.” A January 11 inspection revealed work being done on the premises without permits.

A letter sent January 13 cited violations of zoning regulations, said P&Z director Laurence Bradley. Chabad’s attorney requested a 30-day abeyance for more time to submit paperwork. It was granted, giving the group until February 23 to file its application.

Bradley noted, “they have been working and doing things without a permit. It’s been a restaurant since probably before there was zoning, so if they want it to become a synagogue, they will have to go through an extensive review and public hearings.”

Chabad attorney Ken Gruder told the Hour that the space will be used for an outreach group that includes prayer services, educational programs and religious discussions.

“It’s not a synagogue in the traditional sense, it’s so much more,” Gruder added.

But the story does not end there, with applications simply pending.

Yesterday afternoon, I received an email from a longtime Westporter. Attached was a letter the resident sent a day earlier to Bradley.

The interior of the Three Bears, also from its glory days. (Postcard/Cardcow.com)

It said: “Without proper permits for use of the premises as an office or house of worship, the group appears to already be working in the building, often at night, although the nature of their activities are unclear.” Apparently, there are 6 to 10 cars there each night.

The resident added that an “extremely bright outdoor security light in the parking area” was infringing on neighbors.

The writer expressed concern about traffic, parking and wetland impacts, and noted that the building — currently enjoying a “pre-existing approval for non-conforming use as a restaurant in a residential area” — would need a new P&Z approval process for any change of use.

One more concern: exterior alterations to historic building.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-94), famed Chabad leader.

In the email to me, the resident added more information: Several years ago Chabad was embroiled in a lawsuit in Litchfield, over proposed renovations that would turn a Victorian house in the town’s 1st synagogue. At one point, according to the Register-Citizen newspaper, Chabad filed suit against the town in federal court, alleging anti-Hasidic prejudice.

Right now, Chabad occupies a house on Kings Highway North that faces the medical complex.

Will they apply for permits by February 23? Will there be hearings — and if so, how contentious will they be?

Will Chabad move a mile or so up Wilton Road? Will the site of what was once Westport’s oldest restaurant become our town’s newest synagogue-or-something-like-it?

And why — despite a story last month in a Norwalk paper — is no one talking about this in Westport?

1 Road, 3 Neighbors, 50 Years

In 1952, Mike and Galy Starzyk moved to Drumlin Road.

Two years later, Gordon and Dot Hall moved in across the street. Nine years after that, Bernie and Barbara Dorogusker bought a house next door to the Starzyks.

Much has happened since then. Countless families moved in, had kids, raised them, moved away. Decks were built, 2nd floors added. Trees have grown tall (and fallen).

But nearly 50 years later, all 3 families still live on the horseshoe-shaped drive near Hillspoint and Green’s Farms Road, just south of the railroad tracks (and the “Connecticut Turnpike” — I-95 — which was still being debated when the former cow pasture was developed back in 1952-53).

There may be no other place in Westport where 3 neighbors have lived so close together since the Kennedy Administration.

A 1952 ad for "Compo Manor: A Residential Community Situated in Westport, Beauty Spot of Southern Connecticut" shows "The Perfect Three-Bedroom Rancher" model home. It is "Priced at $14,500. Complete."

The Starzyks are the only original owners left. Mike and Galy were living in Bridgeport. With 2 children, they needed more room. Galy’s brother-in-law — Art Reale — told them about a new development, “Compo Manor.” The lots were small — 1/4 acre — but the $14,500 price was perfect.

Better yet, nearly all their neighbors were like the Starzyks: young, and with kids.

In 1955, Gordon and Dot Hall’s daughter was not yet born. Married 2 years, and both teachers — he at Bedford Junior High School, she at the brand-new Coleytown Elementary — they had rented “tiny, ramshackle places” elsewhere in town.

But they saved their pennies — “literally,” Gordon notes — and loved the little ranch house that was for sale. Other tract homes they’d seen — on Reichert Circle, Bauer Place and Tamarack — all faced in the same direction. The 43 Drumlin homes were built with the same 2 or 3 floor plans, but they were angled uniquely. And each setback was different.

The asking price was $20,600. The Halls paid $19,600. On their salaries — he made about $3,000, she $2,900 — that was manageable. But for 4 summers, when they took graduate courses, they rented the house out. The extra cash helped make ends meet.

“There were lots of strollers, and there was lots of sledding,” Dot recalls. “Everyone was very sociable, because (the adults) were all around the same age.”

Gordon and Dot Hall's house in 1957 (left) and 2012 (right). The 3 families that have been neighbors for nearly 50 years share the mailboxes in the photo at right.

Barbara Dorogusker is the “newest” of the 3 neighbors — but she’s got the longest local connection. A 3rd-generation Westporter, she grew up on 6 acres on Sturges Highway. Her grandmother (a former indentured servant in Poland) lived next door. The property included a pond and barn.

After graduating from Staples in 1952, Barbara married a man from New York City. They wanted to buy a house, but without much land. Bernie was a sailor; proximity to the Sound was key.

With $2,000 in the bank, they searched for a while. Finally they saw a place on Drumlin. With a big field in back — off Jennie Lane — they could look at nature, but not have to take care of it.

“It wasn’t our dream house,” Barbara admits. “But every house is a compromise.”

Her parents were “appalled. They thought we  were moving into tomorrow’s slums because the lots were so small.” But, Barbara says, “it was perfect for us.” And Cedar Point Yacht Club was just down the hill, at Compo Beach.

They built a big sunroom, and a deck. They had 2 children. “We wanted them to grow up surrounded by friends,” Barbara says. “They sure did.”

The kids created secret pathways between bushes. An empty school bus would pull up to the foot of Drumlin Road. It drove away filled.

Every summer, the Drumlin Road neighbors have a block party. Last summer's event showed an enormous span of ages -- but plenty of smiles.

Over the years, the road changed. There were many “older couples, divorced people, one-child families,” Gordon says.

Miraculously for Westport, there have been only 2 demolitions — and both were caused by accidents. One house burned; the other had a tree fall on it.

Of course, many homes have been remodeled. They’re a bit larger than they were (Gordon calls them “mini-mansions, not McMansions”). So they’re once more attractive to young couples. “We’re seeing bicycles and strollers again,” says Dot.

But not every house has been sold, re-sold, and re-re-sold.

“Why would we ever want to move?” Barbara asks. “Everyone looks out for each other here. We’ve got one story, which is great.” (She’s 77; Bernie is 85.)

“And with housing prices going to pot, why leave?”

Similarly, after the Starzyks’ kids grew up and moved away, Mike and Galy stayed. “We were comfortable,” she recalls. “There was no reason to leave.”

Sixty years later, they’re still on Drumlin Road.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in this world,” 93-year-old Galy says. “But I have no plans to move.”

Nor do her neighbors. After 49 years together, there’s no place like home.

“Bonjour, Jean. Comment Vas-Tu?”

Right now, there’s a proposal on the table — la table — to eliminate middle school French within 3 years.

Mon dieu!

While that’s not the extent of my French ability, it’s close.

It’s all ALM’s fault.

If you didn’t go to school in the 1960s, you missed out didn’t miss anything. ALM was a language instruction method rooted in rote repetition. Wikipedia says it was “discredited as a teaching methodology in 1970,” but those of us who suffered through it then (and after) in Westport have it seared in our brains.

“Où est Sylvie? A la piscine.”

“La neige est belle aujourd-hui.”

And something about mounting a balcony. Plus, of course, Monsieur et Madame Thibault.

Other victims students from that era have similar ridiculous and basically useless sentences embedded in our memories, crowding out anything remotely resembling vocabulary, grammar or the rest of the French language.

Which is not to say that learning French at Long Lots Junior High School was not memorable.

My 8th grade teacher was Carmen Delgado. A large, imposing and very loud woman, she was — as her name implies — not French, French-Canadian or even Cajun, but rather Puerto Rican.

Louis Pasteur, a French scientist who gained fame for inventing a cure for rabbis.

English was probably her 3rd language, which is why she said such things as “Louis Pasteur invented a cure for rabbis.”

At least that is understandable. What were 13-year-olds to make of “Daniel, what is it you are staring at? The moon of Valencia?”

I have obviously remembered at least as much English from Mademoiselle Delgado as I have French.

Also cemented into my cerebrum is a play we produced, “Astérix et Cléopâtre.” Based on what Mademoiselle assured us were very popular French cartoon figures, it probably broke every licensing law in the books. How she had the cojones to charge admission — it was only $1, but back then that was real francs — to watch us mangle the French language is beyond me. Yet that was part of Mademoiselle’s charm.

As it turns out, I have not had many opportunities to show off my lack of French. I have traveled to 5 continents, and over 3 dozen countries, but only one of them was French-speaking. (It was France, of all places). It did not snow there, and I did not need to know that Sylvie was at the pool, but I managed to eat, drink and find the bathroom (salle de bain).

I even was able — thanks to Monsieur et Madame Thibault — to know which door to use.

The snow is beautiful today. Is that Monsieur Thibault on his bicyclette?

The Cold War’s Hot Exhibit

The 1950s: McCarthyism. The Cold War. Nike Sites, fallout shelters and elementary school “duck and cover” drills.

Those were the days!

Well, yeah. In many ways they were — especially around here. We had a real-live Main Street, with actual grocery stores, hardware stores, and merchants who knew your name. Kids romped in the woods free from parental worries.

And Westport was growing rapidly. Every day, it seemed, another family moved in. Many were arts-types: novelists, TV writers, playwrights, admen. They were drawn by the town’s reputations as an “artists’ colony” — and as each one arrived, more followed.

Starting this Sunday (January 29), you can revisit those days. The Westport Historical Society presents 2 exhibits looking back on that golden/scary era.

“Next Stop: Westport, The Inspiration for 1950′s TV & Film Writers” takes its title from “A Stop at Willoughby,” one of “Twilight Zone”‘s most memorable episodes. In it, an ad executive on his way home to suburban Westport repeatedly finds himself in a pastoral town called Willoughby — in 1888.

Westport’s role in “The Twilight Zone” was no coincidence. Rod Serling wrote the episode when he lived in Westport.

Fellow residents included novelist Max Shulman, whose Rally ‘Round the Flag, Boys! satirized life in a suburban town when the Army selects it for a missile base. (Which actually happened here; the subsequent film led Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward to move to Westport.)

It was quite a time. There were so many creative types, says Linda Gramatky Smith — the daughter of “Little Toot” creator Hardie Gramatky — that there were regular writer-vs.-artist basketball and softball games.

The Historical Society exhibit features all that, and more — like Sloan Wilson’s novel The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, which was set here (the subsequent movie, starring Gregory Peck, was filmed here), and the final year of “I Love Lucy,” when the Ricardos and Mertzes move to town.

Video of a different kind will be shown at the WHS too. “The Cold War in Our Backyard” — a fascinating, chilling (and at times laughable) film compilation by Lisa Seidenberg, including everything from instructions on removing radiation from food to the still-frightening “Twilight Zone” episode on barbarism in a fallout shelter — will play in a continuous loop. (You can also click here to see it.)

Nearby, images and artifacts will recreate the fears that filled that “golden” era.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” Charles Dickens wrote.

He didn’t live in Westport.

But so many other famous writers did. Starting Sunday, the Westport Historical Society shares their stories with the world.

(The exhibit’s opening reception is this Sunday, January 29, 3-5 p.m. Click here for more information, or call 203-222-1424.)

Susan Wynkoop Walks The Talk

If you’re going to lead an organization, you should walk the talk.

The CEO of Ford should not drive a BMW. The Secretary of Education should not send his kids to private school.

And the head of the Westport Historical Society should not live in a brand-new McMansion.

Susan Wynkoop does more than just walk the talk. She sprints it.

Since 1990 the new president — she takes over from Dorothy Curran this Sunday (January 29) — has lived in a house built around 1683. It’s not only the oldest house in Westport — it’s the only pre-1700 structure in the entire town.

The Wynkoops' home: 187 Long Lots Road. (Photo by Larry Untermeyer)

Though she’s a native Virginian, Susan is not one of those I-always-wanted-to-live-in-the-past people. As a child, she says, “I visited Williamsburg. But there weren’t a lot of pre-Revolutionary houses where I grew up.”

She worked first for Wachovia, then the FBI. (There’s a connection: While she represented the bank at a recruiting fair, an FBI agent at an adjacent booth convinced her to switch careers.)

Serving in the agency’s New York office, she met her future husband, Morgan (aka “Dutch”). After they were married, he inherited his mother’s home — the oldest structure, at 187 Long Lots Road. He asked Susan if she’d like to live there.

The rest is history (ho ho).

Susan, Katherine and "Dutch" Wynkoop.

Over the years, she’s become passionate about preservation. “It’s hard not to let an antique home get in your blood,” she says.

Two years ago, the Wynkoops embarked on the long process of gaining WHS “local landmark” certification for their home. As a result, she says, “it can never be torn down.”

Voluminous research by the Historical Society’s Bob Weingarten revealed that the house was nearly a century older than previously thought. The dating process included examination of wood beams (possibly from ships sailing to America), and the foundation. Susan has “no idea how it survived all these years.”

Her mother-in-law bought the house in 1971, saying, “It’s stood for hundreds of years. It won’t come down now.” It’s so well built, in fact, there are almost no water leaks into the basement.

The original home consisted of 2 rooms downstairs, 2 above them. More rooms and baths were added in the 1800s, but the house has remained essentially the same. The Wynkoops have done some work — “you could see daylight through a few beams,” Susan says; they’ve modernized the upstairs, and re-insulated — but the outside looks the same.

An upstairs bedroom in the Wynkoop home. (Photo by Larry Untermeyer)

Inside, the exposed chestnut beams and original dining room pine flooring look just as they did in 1683.

“It’s not for everyone,” Susan admits. The ceilings are low, the stairs steep. But she wouldn’t live anywhere else.

“It’s been my home for 22 years — longer than anywhere else,” Susan says. “I find it very warm and welcoming. I can’t imagine a new house, where all the lines are straight and everything is perfectly plumb.”

Her involvement with the Westport Historical Society is, however, relatively recent. She’d always been a member, but not until the landmark designation process did she realize how important the organization is.

She went on the 2010 Holiday House tour, met many interesting people, and was drawn in.

Her job as president will involve fundraising and education — including raising awareness of the importance of historical preservation.

Another challenge will be increasing the Historical Society’s membership. There are many new young families in town. The WHS needs to reach them to grow.

Some live in large new homes — built on the sites of torn-down older ones. Susan Wynkoop — owner and proud resident of a 329-year-old home — will gladly invite them in.

Downstairs in the Wynkoop home. (Photo by Larry Untermeyer)

It’s Now Allen Raymond Lane

It’s not easy telling an 89-year-old something he doesn’t already know.

But Allen Raymond was genuinely surprised yesterday afternoon. The Westport Y told the former board president it’s renaming the entry road to Mahackeno — the future site of the Y itself — “Allen Raymond Lane.”

The announcement — and presentation of an actual road sign — came at a party celebrating the trustee emeritus’ 89th birthday.

Allen Raymond: The man, and his sign. (Photo by Scott Smith)

Celebrants noted that the year 1923 marked 2 very special events: the opening of the Y in downtown Westport, and the birth of Allen Raymond.

“For the past 88 years, these 2 ‘local institutions’ have remained steadfast in their commitment and dedication to our community and its residents,” Y officials said. “Allen truly embodies the heart and soul of Westport and the Family Y.”

The Y is only one of Raymond’s many civic commitments. In the 1950s he was instrumental in the town’s purchase of Longshore, and development as a town park. He’s devoted countless hours months years serving the Library, Westport Historical Society and Earthplace, among many other organizations.

But it was the Y that honored him yesterday.

Allen Raymond

Rob Reeves — who also knows Raymond through the Green’s Farms Congregational Church and Rotary — credits him with “getting me up to speed quickly” when Reeves took over as the Y’s CEO.

“Allen told me a lot about the history of Westport, and the Y,” Reeves says. “He brought me around, and introduced me to people the Y has been important to. He was such an important connection.”

But despite Raymond’s fondness for (and many links) to history, he is hardly stuck in the past. “He speaks often about how change is good,” Reeves notes. “He’s not afraid of moving forward.”

Renaming Sunny Lane “Allen Raymond Lane” is perfectly good change, Reeves adds.

“Allen has said that when he was a kid, his goal was to live in Westport.

“He not only did that — he also made Westport better in so many ways.

“We’re honored to be able to give something back to him, in some small way, for all he’s done for the Y, and for Westport.”

Click below for a YouTube video: Y chairman Jim Marpe surprising Allen Raymond with the news of his new lane.

Jeri And John Skinner’s Westport Holiday

In 1969, John Skinner was a pilot for Pan Am.

His base was moving to JFK. He and his wife Jeri came east, to look for a new home town (and home).

They looked all around New Jersey and Connecticut, but grew discouraged. “Bias of all kinds was pretty prevalent,” Jeri recalls.

Finally — on their way back to the airport — they read a Holiday magazine story and stopped in Westport.

Holiday Magazine used this photo to illustrate its 1969 story on Fairfield County. And yes, that is a helicopter nose in the left side of the shot. (Photo by Slim Aarons)

The rest is history. The Skinners moved here; became involved in many aspects of town, and over the next 4 decades made quite a mark. (One example: They founded Builders Beyond Borders.)

The other day, Jeri sent me that 1969 magazine article that changed their lives — and ultimately so many others’.

Titled “New York’s Best Address,” it’s a long look into Fairfield County — or, as the subhead says, “The Connecticut county that is fast becoming the bedroom of the affluent New Yorker.”

Author Stephen Birmingham — who wrote over 30 books, many about America’s upper class — began by noting that a Greenwich woman said she lived in Fairfield County “because we’re so rich.”

Birmingham described suburban Fairfield County as “one of the most beautiful residential areas in the country.” He noted the “jagged, rocky coastline with hundreds of tiny coves and harbors, secluded beaches and deep-blue water dotted with diminutive offshore islands and, on any summer weekend, clouds of sailboats.”

Inland, “the land rises in a series of wooded hills threaded by bright streams and narrow, winding roads.”

Birmingham described many towns in detail — without shying away from issues like anti-Semitism at country clubs. Most communities were isolated from each other, he said.

For example, said Westport actress Bette Davis:

Bette Davis

My God, I’d never be invited to a party in Southport — unless they wanted me there as some sort of curiosity. After all, I’m unmarried, a woman who works for a living, and one who makes her money in the entertainment industry. If I lived in Southport I’d never be accepted. Here, of course, it’s quite different.

Westport, Birmingham wrote, “has always been different.”

Early in the 1920′s (it) was discovered by New York writers and artists who began coming there for the summer. Soon they were buying and restoring old farmhouses and barns….

At one point most of the celebrated Algonquin Round Table had houses in Westport. They were joined by people from the theater and films — June Havoc, Eileen Heckart, Ralph Alswang, and David Wayne.

To this rich brew were added infusions from the worlds of radio and, eventually, television and book publishing.

To top it all off, a large contribution has been made to the population from the world of advertising…. This has given Westport the feeling of a bright, brash, assertive — raffish, but very well-heeled — artists’ colony.

Downtown Westport, Birmingham said,

abounds with what are called “fun” shops. There are fun dress shops, men’s shops, gourmet-foods shops, gift shops, ice cream shops, cheese shops, delicatessen and grog shops — and many others.

Collectively the fun shops of Westport exude an aura of franticness. The fun totters on the brink of hysteria, as though the shops were not at all sure how they were going to pay the bills for the fun merchandise. One suspects they are as overextended as, indeed, many of their best customers doubtless are.

Birmingham spent time describing 2 important elements of Fairfield County: zoning and transportation.

Ad executives Tom Wright and Frank Gromer wait at Grand Central for the train home. Just above Gromer's head you can see "Westport & Saugatuck." (Photo by Slim Aarons)

Commuting, he said, “has developed into something of an art form, and each train has a character and conveys a status all its own.” The 6:58 and 7:37 out of Westport were for the “bright, aggressive, ambitious young man on his way up.”

The 9:13 was for “the bankers, the lawyers, the heads of companies whose first engagements of important on any given day occur not much before lunchtime.”

Returning to Westport, Birmingham said, “wives wait tensely at the wheels of cars, motors racing, while their menfolk sprint across the Tarmac.” Of course, certain commuters told their wives they were taking the 7:18, when they actually arrived at 6:03 and spent “the intervening time at the station tavern.”

Birmingham noted that “the celebrated ‘rural character,’ so carefully preserved, does not make a particularly good place to raise teen-age children.”

It has been said — albeit facetiously — that if all the students in Westport’s luxurious Staples High School who have sampled marijuana and other drugs were expelled, there would be no school to run….

On the streets of Westport after school, a group very much resembling Greenwich Village hippies hangs out, looking bored and disaffected. There have been incidents of vandalism and breaking and entering — all laid to teenage boredom.

To ease the problems of isolation, Birmingham said, many parents give their kids their own telephones, cars — and charge accounts with taxi companies.

Bored Westport teenagers -- just like those described in Holiday magazine -- hang out in the library park ("Needle Park") on the corner of Main Street and the Post Road.

But, Birmingham concluded, “for all its shortcomings, Fairfield County is, to those who love it, a very special sort of place. They regard it with a special affection very close to love.”

Reading about that type of place — in 1969 — John and Jeri Skinner were attracted to Westport.

Holiday Magazine is long gone. Westport is no longer an artists’ colony, and in the intervening years the Skinners not only formed B3, but grew it into a huge organization and then gave up its reins.

Some things have not changed. Zoning and transportation remain huge issues; so does teenage boredom.

It’s interesting to look back, and re-read one travel writer’s view of us 43 years ago.

And it’s interesting too to speculate on the chance effect one magazine story had, on one couple from California. They read that piece, were intrigued by our town, moved here — and made it their home for the rest of their lives.

Sherwood Island And The Mill Pond: The Prequel

Monday’s “06880″ unraveled a bit of the mystery of the house on the island in the Sherwood Mill Pond.

Now Elwood Betts adds even more details — including some history about the adjoining property, Sherwood Island State Park.

Or, as Elwood called it back in the day, Sherwood’s Island Farm.

Elwood Betts, at Evergreen Cemetery. His interest in genealogy led him to help renovate this cemetery, as well as undertake research into the history of Sherwood Island and the Mill Pond.

He should know. An 86-year-old Westport native — he was born in a house on Imperial Avenue — he is an amateur genealogist. Elwood literally knows where all the bones are buried.

And — with the help of Loly Jones — he’s written a few short histories about his ancestors, and the Westport that once was.

Growing up during the Depression, he heard stories of the great American sailing ships that dominated world commerce in the 1840s and ’50s, and the members of his family who captained them. A painting of the packet ship “The Adeline Elwood” — of which his great-grandfather Charles Elwood was captain — hangs proudly in Elwood’s Park Lane home.

He and Loly wanted to find out more. Research at the Westport Library led to the grand list of 1917. Fannie Elwood — a descendant of Capt. Elwood — was one of the top taxpayers in town, assessed $30,350 for “Sherwood’s Farm” on the island bearing the same name.

The original gristmill.

The island was not far from the site of a gristmill on what we now call the Sherwood Mill Pond. In 1705, the 1st mill had been built on what was then called Gallup Gap Creek. (Gallup Gap itself was located where the Sherwood Island connector is today.) In 1790 Daniel Sherwood bought the mill.

After his death in 1828, it was rebuilt. It thrived for years, specializing in kiln-dried corn meal shipped to the West Indies, on boats that docked right at the mill. Oysters were also grown and harvested in the Mill Pond, fetching up to $20 a barrel at the Fulton Fish Market.

The gristmill has been replaced by the house on the right. Back in the day, ships sailed right next to it to load cornmeal, oysters and other goods.

The growth of railroads cut into business, though, and after standing idle for a while, the mill was destroyed by fire in 1891.

Meanwhile, back in 1787, farmland on Fox Island had been given to Daniel Sherwood Jr. as a wedding present. It became known as Sherwood’s Island, and he and his wife Catherine Burr farmed onions and potatoes there.

The Sherwoods had 11 children. The youngest — identical triplets Franklin, Francis and Frederick — all had long and storied careers as sea captains. In 1865 Franklin retired, and became a gentleman farmer on Sherwood’s Island. Indentured servants — immigrants from Russia, Greece and Switzerland — worked the land and helped with household responsibilities.

When Franklin died in 1888, his daughter Fannie Sherwood Elwood inherited the entire 24-acre property. She was the wife of the son of Elwood Betts’ great-uncle, Captain John B. Elwood.

The productive land was surrounded on all sides by unusable marshlands. By the end of World War I, farming there wound down. In the 1920s, it became difficult to support the taxation on the large assessed valuation of the property.

Elwood remembers swimming there with his Sherwood cousins, and visiting the homestead on the island. It provided a great vista, all the way to Long Island. Traveling there — on a winding path — seemed “a journey into a distant world, set apart from the (Westport) community I was accustomed to.”

In 1932, Aunt Fannie sold her property to the State of Connecticut. The house fell into disrepair; the farmland became overgrown. By the late 1930s, it and other open farmland throughout Westport started growing quickly back into wooded areas. Elwood calls this a “dramatic change in the landscape.”

A 1930s map showing subdivision possibilities for Sherwood Island.

Gradually, the State of Connecticut bought more and more property — eventually 234 acres. The 1st parcel — adjacent to Burying Hill Beach — had been purchased in 1914. In the decades that followed, influential landowners in the Green’s Farms area fought the state. By 1937, however, key parcels were acquired — remarkable, considering the dire straits of the Depression. The 150-year-old homestead was demolished. Sherwood Island — the 1st state park in Connecticut — opened to the public.

Had the state not prevailed, a housing development — with hundreds of homes — may well have been built on the land. Westport would look far different today.

In fact, much of the nearby Sherwood Island Mill Pond looks not greatly different from the 1930s — or decades, even centuries, earlier.

Ships no longer dock there, and the “old mill” itself is gone. But the tidal pond is there. Sherwood Island — “Sherwood’s Island — is one marshland away.

And Elwood Betts remembers it all.

Sherwood Island Mill Pond today. (Photo/Wendy Crowther for WestportCT.gov)

From Busytown To Downtown

“06880″ has been buzzing recently with news and comments about a variety of Westport connections in books, movies, plays and TV shows.

A Westport Historical Society exhibit opening January 29 looks at Our Town in TV and films in the 1950s, through the eyes of writers who lived and worked here.

Now comes this, from alert “06880″ reader Larry Perlstein:

This may be common knowledge, but I just noticed that on the inside cover of Richard Scarry’s “What Do People Do All Day?” is a picture of downtown “Busytown.” There in all its glory is the Remarkable Bookshop — with “E. Kramer, Prop.”

The Remarkable Bookshop -- "E. Kramer, Prop." -- is in the lower right corner.

If you’ve just fallen off a turnip truck — or moved to Westport yesterday, or never read “06880″ before — you should know that the Remarkable Book Shop was for decades a downtown icon . It was in pink building on the corner of Main Street and Parker Harding Plaza (today it’s Talbots).

(Today it’s also become a flashpoint for “06880″ commenters. Some lament its demise, calling it a symbol of the loss of mom-and-pop shops. Others say, “Get over it. That’s the way the world works.”)

Oh, yeah: Remarkable was owned by “E. Kramer.” (The name of the store is a play on Esther’s last name, spelled backwards.)

Larry asks: “Is this well known? Does anyone know the connection between Scarry and Westport? I can’t find anything on the Wiki.”

I can’t answer that. But I’m sure “06880″‘s remarkable readers can.

Bannerman

Denise McLaughlin’s husband likes to grab a book from the library rack at the train station.

The other day he picked up The Bannerman Solution, by John R. Maxim.

Published in 1989, the novel’s hero is Paul Bannerman, a covert agent. Suddenly, according to Maxim’s website,

death is running in Westport, Connecticut — one in a nationwide network of secret “halfway towns” where the country’s most dangerous former agents have been “retired.”

At war with powerful elements within his own government — a war not of his making — Bannerman has been lured to this place of yard sales, minivans, commuter trains and murder. The plan is for Bannerman and those he ran to die here, quietly. But Bannerman has other plans.

Denise says much of the action takes place at Mario’s — hey, covert agents like steaks and martinis too. The book also highlights “the town librarian.”

Maxim’s next book — The Bannerman Effect — is also set in Westport.

Hidden behind a Maginot Line of safe houses and front operations in quiet Westport, Connecticut, are Paul Bannerman and his elite group of contract agents. They don’t look any different from their neighbors. They run restaurants, a medical clinic, a travel agency — until something big brings them out of retirement.

Two more novels — Bannerman’s Law and Bannerman’s Promise — don’t mention Westport (at least, Maxim’s website doesn’t). But then — a decade later — came Bannerman’s Ghosts.

Paul Bannerman was back — and back in Westport.

They’re called Bannerman’s People, and they could be the bartender, the gardener, or the librarian–but, in fact, they’re former operatives who’ve “retired,” en masse, to the sleepy, affluent community of Westport, CT. It’s the peaceful life they crave–and they’ll go to any lengths to protect it and one another.

Now a Machiavellian entrepreneur sets his sights on one of their former associates — a “ghost” named Elizabeth Stride, long rumored to be dead — Paul Bannerman and his neighbors must mobilize. Very quickly they discover that their mission is about much more than fealty and friendship, as they find themselves in the midst of a terrorist’s deadly game.

According to his bio, Maxim was an advertising executive who lived in Westport.

John R. Maxim

One night, sitting in the bar car on his commute home, he decided to quit and try writing. (Presumably he stopped at Mario’s too, to fortify his decision.)

His first novel, Platforms, sold within 6 months — without an agent. Bannerman soon followed. (And Maxim moved to Hilton Head.)

Denise McLaughlin — whose husband picked up The Bannerman Solution at the train station (across from Mario’s) — wondered if I knew anything about the series. I don’t. In fact, I’ve never heard of it.

Ask me about The Swimmer. Or Rally ‘Round the Flag, Boys! Or The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit – all stories set in Westport (and all later made into movies).

They were written decades before the Bannerman series. But somehow Maxim’s novels never seeped into the Westport oeuvre, the way those other tales did.

Then again, what happens at Mario’s, stays at Mario’s.