Historic Preservation?

A couple of years ago, I took a class on Historic Preservation. One of the interesting ideas brought up by the teacher was preserving mid-century modern buildings as they age. As time goes by, those buildings from the 50s and 60s become eligible for historic labels.



It really got me thinking about preservation. While most people understand preserving a Victorian beauty, and appreciate the significance of its architecture chances are the average person scoffs at preserving something more modest and more recent.


There has even been a movement afoot to preserve Quonset Huts! throughout the US, intended to be quick and they are scattered easy shelter for GIs but now they house families, storefronts, churches and even a theater in lovely Carmel, California. There is a debate about tearing it down or preserving it. Quonset Huts do not meet the National Historic Register qualification of ‘integrity of place’ because they were built one place (here in RI!) and moved to other locations. But people throughout the US are trying to get them named to the local historic districts in their areas.

What about preserving the beautiful shimmering glass and steel buildings of the 50s? This photo shows one scheduled to be demolished! Built in the 50s as a Gunner Mate’s School in Great Lakes by renowned architects Skidmore, Owings & Merrill.

Mid century buildings do not always have the readily apparent appeal and striking qualities most agree are worth saving.

These buildings require a whole new set of skills other than what we are familiar with – artisans who work with wood and plaster, the rare person who can fix a slate roof, those who can recreate intricate details in floors and banisters. Who will work on the steel and glass beauties? Will anyone even care?

How about a strip mall? The little ranch house? All have their place in architectural history.

That Old Black Magic

Do you sometimes need a little help? I know I do. That’s why I got so excited when Erzulie’s Authentic Voodoo Shop, over on Franklin Street, opened earlier this year – thank god, I said to myself, at last there’s a pipeline to major supernatural powers right here in town. No more dithering around with those weak & ineffective mainstream religions. It takes the Black Arts to sell real estate in this market! Naturally, I immediately ran over there to check it out.

One thing you should know right off the bat, if you go: Don’t touch anything. I mean it. There are stern signs all over the shop commanding you not to. If you want to pick anything up, open a book, examine an object, sniff an essential oil or a soap or a candle, go to the “sample tables” in the back room. Non-compliance with this rule will earn you a brusque, whats-the-matter-with-you-can’t-you-read type of scolding from Anna, the proprietress, a gorgeous, red-headed goddess-type who, for some obscure reason, goes by the moniker, “Root Queen”. I was an immediate fan of her you-idiot approach to the buying public, and if you’ve ever spent five minutes behind a cash register, you’ll be too. A no-nonsense, early thirties-something type, Anna is the brains behind the whole operation, with shops in New Orleans and London and now Newport, RI. In whatever that leaves her for downtime, she’s also a practicing Voodoo priestess, and claims to be able to voodoo-istically help you with ANYTHING. That’s right, ANYTHING.

Tempting, no?

But for those not yet quite ready to turn their lives, their hearts, and their immortal souls over to the Root Queen, Erzulies offers plenty of items for the do-it-yourselfer. Wangas (what’s that you ask? I say, go in yourself & find out!), voodoo dolls (what the heck, I bought two, Papa Legba & Sirena), fetishes, charm bags, handcrafted oils and essences, ritual candles, and several truly fabulous sequined cult flags from Haiti, works of art in themselves and serious dream finds for the ethnographic collector. I don’t know if it’s magic-magic, but it sure is shopping magic; Eurzalie’s is probably the most interesting new store to open in Newport in years. And top it all off with a resident high priestess who can disappear all your troubles and you’re talking about a force to be reckoned with…!

Quiet Island Living

Seclusion, privacy, peaceful surroundings....

are the essence of this private farm house in Middletown.

The 1.5 acre property is unique in scale, elevation and location.

A quarter-mile, stone wall-lined private drive leads you here.

An incredible 15-foot high natural wall of glacial puddingstone provides a dramatic backdrop.

A splendid variety of Heritage Trees graces the property.

There is a stable designed for 3 horses.

Scenic riding and hiking trails lead to spectacular beaches.

A retreat for family, artist or writer.

Available for the first time in 30 years.

This property is described as magical by those who know it.

Leave the outside world behind and enter another.

Really Good Mortgage News - REALLY!!

When you read this you’re going to think it sounds too good to be true.

We all hear about mortgage interest rates going up and down. In recent weeks there has been a rather significant dip. I began to wonder if there was an easy way to refinance from 6.75% to the current much lower rates. I called my lender (Wells Fargo) and asked a flurry of questions, to which all the answers were “yes.”

I was told I could refinance whenever I liked with no fees, no closing costs, no cost at all. I could refinance now, and again next month, or next year, or next week if rates changed again – as many times as I wanted. He asked me all the relevant questions about employment, income, etc. and processed the application in just a few minutes. The approval was given instantly and they’ll send me the paperwork to sign and have notarized.

The bottom line? I’m saving $195 per month in interest just because I asked. In my book – that’s big!!! I feel like I just found $195 in last winter’s coat pocket. So many things I’d rather do with $195!!

Call your lender now, so you don’t spend a penny on interest that you don’t have to. I hope your lender is as friendly as mine.

Feng Shui Buddies

Like a lot of other earnest, hard-working people, I hope to maximize my potential both at home in my personal life and at work in my career. Phew! What a mouthful!

So, in an effort to make the most of what we have, my officemate, Kim, and I, put the time-honored and revered practice of feng shui to use in our office.

We are in a difficult position since we have a small (but beautiful!) office with hardwood floors (love them), a big window (love it), a fireplace (love it), and three doors! No blank, plain walls at all.

We think we should not have our backs to a door, or a window so we are in a tough spot. (My former boss from Malaysia and a long practioner of feng shui told me to never, ever have my desk positioned so that my back was toward a window.)


Somehow, we maneuvered our desks so that neither of us have our backs to the doors or window. Now we face each other. We felt better right away! We hung a mirror in our prosperity corner (not sure what it is reflecting but we will check on that!) – also not easy to determine which corner is what but we used the door most often used as our main entrance.

We added a plant for some life (other than Kim and I) because sometimes we are very, very tired so we want to stay on the safe side. We have books, our awards and achievement certificates, modest as they are. Next will come the tiny bells to dispel any lingering bad spirits. Who knows – it might work!


Kim and I threw away lots of stuff we didn’t need any longer to declutter our office and our minds. Ahh, it’s great. Serenity, now!

My other feng shui buddy, Annie, gave me a great book about feng shui for Christmas last year. She thought it was just what I needed and I do refer to it often. It inspired me to clean a few closets and drawers and I felt better immediately. It really does have an effect on you. Clutter never works for the positive.

As for Kim’s and my office, next we hope to paint it a lighter, brighter color. Right now, it is kind of a fiery terra cotta. It is not what I would call ‘soothing.’ In fact, if I were a Shogun warrior preparing to do battle, it would be the perfect color. (Hmmm…..??) We’re both thinking of a sandy gray color infused with light. We’ll do it ourselves as soon as we get the OK from Mel and John.

The Library Comeback

Libraries - dusty and musty no more.

Libraries are back in Style.

Big books, old books, red books, green books, leather or paper, used or rare, it's a fashionable stylistic mash up. A recent article in the The Wall St. Journal reports that people are not reading more books, but the library is staging a huge comeback. Why? A desire for a sanctuary, a picture room, a 'memory room'.

What is the most popular room in new big houses? What d0 63% of home buyers (according to the National Assoc. of Home Builders latest survey) consider essential? - The library. Craftsmen are building elegant libraries in exotic woods, even with secret doors. Sometimes two! His and hers libraries, why not? My favorite books are cherished and my husbands books are what made him smart, he is a veritable walking encyclopedia. His collection fills a room , and the floor.... and I know better than to disturb. Our books do not commingle, I expect to find my books exactly where I place them on my bookshelves, and I marvel that he can find anything at all. We're perfect candidates for his and hers libraries.

"You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me" - C.S. Lewis, I'll second that.

"A library may suggest a certain level of erudition, but only if the books have actually been read", - my husband. A big room, housing a big library, means a big adventure. Classics, children's books, dictionaries, Gatsby and Ulysses, first editions, cover worn dog-eared paperbacks, rare gems, and poetry. Careful not to touch! Those old leather backs are trouble, not to mention messy, they can disintegrate in your hands.

For those who do not want to reveal titles, some bibliophiles turn the spines to the wall showing only the mysterious ivory pages of the books. Now that is a look, I admit never to have seen, my husband says it was a popluar thing to do at Columbia. You have to know exactly where every book is placed, or just like the rich warm color of paper.
To add a library to a house is to give that house a soul.- Cicero

A perfectly wonderful library is found in Wrentham House. This 1891 Richard Morris Hunt stone mansion on the highest elevation along Ocean Avenue, has a soul and then some.

The Wrentham House mahogany library, with wood carved fireplace, high plastered ceilings, circular tower room with built-in seats, and spectacular ocean views, is ready to be filled with books and memories, why not make them yours?

The tower of power

The symbol of Rhode Island par excellance has for me always been the Old Stone Mill. When I was growing up, in New York, for many years my mother - whose father's family came from Newport - had a Newport souvenir letter holder/bucket-y sort of thing on her desk in the bedroom, and decoupaged on its side was a misty, greenish image of the Old Stone Mill. Whenever I would go into her bedroom to fiddle around with the things on her desk, I used to examine it closely, in the curious and accepting way of children, wondering to myself WHAT exactly was being depicted, although I can't recall it ever actually occurring to me to ask about it. The letter holder just sort of sat there, day in, day out, one of the insoluble mysteries of the adult world that would one day stand revealed in all it's glory to me.

That day is now here. Yikes. It's almost like that letter holder foretold my future. For the past 30 years, there probably hasn't been a day in my life that I haven't driven past the real Old Stone Mill, ensconced there in all its legend-shrouded glory behind it's railing in Touro Park.

Like all good symbols, the Old Stone Mill has always succeeded in being all things to all people. Pick your romance. Viking raiding tower. Remains of a Portuguese settlement. New England Stonehenge. Native American meeting place. Colonial windmill. Each successive Newport generation has had its own version of the Old Stone Mill. A thousand years from now they'll probably be interpreting it as a cell phone tower. These days archaeologists and scholars are convinced that the mill was originally a wind-powered grinding mill, built by Governor Benedict Arnold in the 1660's; back then it would have been faced with "parjet", a stucco-like covering, & would have had a large wooden superstructure that connected the wind-driven sails to an enormous grindstone within. Nowadays the only things moving inside are the indefatigable flocks of pigeons that call the place home, but in Arnold's day the area would have been a hub of bustle and activity, supporting a lifestyle most of us can barely imagine (grinding corn? when was the last time you needed to do that?).

But whatever the Old Stone Mill once was, it has the amazing quality of having survived all the intervening centuries, and moreover of connecting us to them and to ourselves and to the stories that are important to us. Behind that black wrought iron railing in Touro Park, link upon link pile up, some meaningless, some not, the past, the present, the real, the imaginary, all jumbled together. The Vikings. Portuguese dreams of exploration and conquest. The flickering flames of a Native American camp. Governor Arnold- progenitor of the notorious & much later Benedict Arnold - cutting his way up through the trees and the brush, from his roughly clapboarded house on Thames St to what is now Bellevue Avenue. The actual truth matters far less than these other, more symbolic realities. I look at the tower and for a second I'm carried back into my own distant past, a little girl again, with a letter holder in my hands. The sails might be gone, but the wheel still turns.

A Hard Day's Night

When I was not quite 14 years old, in the summer of 1964, a friend’s father produced something that to this day, I still cannot get over. He gave us 4 tickets to see The Beatles, live, in concert, at the Boston Garden for the evening of Saturday, September 12, 1964. I was about a week into my high school career and to say that I loved The Beatles is a huge understatement. Actually, I still love them. But I don’t scream anymore when I see a photo of them. Honestly. Really, I don’t.

Mr. Caron worked for a company named Bessie Fruit Drinks. If you lived in Rhode Island during the 60s, surely you remember that company as it was advertised heavily on the teen stations of WPRO and WICE. Both AM stations, by the way, as FM had not come into existence yet. Holy cow. That is just the way it was.


My freind's name was Linda and it was really funny because we hung out for only that one summer. Other than that, we both went our separate ways. Her dad worked for the company and they were giving away tickets as a radio promotion. I guess he held aside four for his girl and her friends. What a guy. Talk about our hero.

Another friend named Susie, Linda, me (another Susie) and Linda’s cousin whose name escapes me, all went to the Garden to see the loves of our lives. We were driven somewhere and put on a subway (T line) to the Garden with strict instructions on how to get back.

We had good seats, but I want to tell you that the second the Beatles came on stage, struck a cord and started singing, every kid in the place leapt up, started screaming her head off and ran toward the stage as if in a hypnotic frenzy. It was bedlam. I still don’t know how I made it back to the car but needless to say when we got there, we were one kid short.

The other Susie was missing. We waited until the last T arrived and still no Susie. The dad bringing us home was fit to be tied. It wasn’t even his kid that he lost - someone else’s. Not good, not good at all.

Remember, there were no cell phones then. I know it is hard to believe but somehow we survived. I guess more miracles happened back then as we were more needy and God pitied us because all of a sudden Susie materialized, sheepish, but with a back stage story! So who cared! Let the adults threaten to skin us alive – Susie made it backstage at the show. She, of course, was immediately carted off to a holding tank in the back of the stage and missed the whole show but, WOW! She tried to muscle her way onto the stage. You have to admire her guts. She did look a little shell-shocked as she got out of the taxi or, maybe it was even a police car. Kind of the same thing. We were from the tiny little town of Cumberland, at the time very rural and quaint.

That’s my story. Sometimes I mention it to people and they say ‘ The Beatles never toured in Boston’ Oh, yes, they did. But it was early on and easy to miss. Thank God, I got to see my guys. I love them to this day. And my son loves them almost as much as I do! (PS The date of this blog is just an eerie coincidence.)

Thoughts of strange and beautiful things

Thoughts of strange and beautiful things. What makes people love frogs? What makes people collect them?
Do all frog collectors have some sort of fairy tale image of them? I actually kissed a frog yesterday, it was an immediate reaction! Of course, he was being held up to my face by a nine year old who was thrilled to have temporarily captured him. How gorgeous! Strong was he, and steady were his eyes. A handsome frog indeed.

I have a very limited frog collection, I love my frogs, I admit it. There happens to be some pretty dreadful frog art in the world, outstretched frog arms and legs, in silly poses, Frog Buddhas, Santa with frogs. Once a well meaning beau gave me a Christmas of everything frog, the relationship did not last, he did not get the 'it' of good frog collecting... one simple well done frog piece would have been welcomed, instead I was faced with a house and garden full of wierdo frogs dancing and jumping in every room, yikes! It was bad enough to put me off frogs forever, until a true frog collector took the dancing lot at a yard sale, whew! Occassionally there is something that I spot and must have, and sometimes it's even a toad.

As a kid, in a rural village, a big day in summer was when my neighbor Tommy would pull a great big frog out of 1st Pond, 2nd Pond or 3rd Pond and we would all gather round to admire his splendid find, then all the children would enter their own big frogs for a frog jumping contest after dinner. I remember reading Mark Twain's story about a celebrated jumping frog named Daniel Webster and thinking that was a good story. Ours was not a small southern town, but we also took bets, drew lines out of chalk and set our fiesty amphibians off. I can't ever remember winning a frog jumping contest, but clearly remember those long extended graceful legs and transluscent webbed feet hanging in the air as they took off and just kept going, going, going, across the finish line, across the grass and straight back to their ponds. The race course was always set in the direction of the ponds, to motivate our competitors. At night, the sound of a multitude of croaking bullfrogs is a heavenly chorus to go to sleep to, if you are used to it.

Not that Newport resembles my small hometown in any way, except for the fact that here we call our beaches 1st Beach, 2nd Beach and 3rd Beach... is it only in Rhode Island that we name our geological locations by number?.... and the sound of bullfrogs is replaced with the fog horns of spectacular cruise ships as they leave the harbor.

Of Little Consequence

Sometimes I spend time thinking about things of little consequence but it bugs me a little so I keep thinking about it.

One thing is silly but I notice that some people insist on parking their cars facing our of the driveway - like, they have to back in so the cars are facing out.


I always drive in at night and then when I leave in the morning, I have to back out. I find that most people do this.


But there are those few people who always back in - and in the morning, I guess they save a few precious seconds and can zoom out, face first into the world, while I am slowly backing out, making sure I don't hit my fence, run over the hose or bend my mirrors in (at least not too often). By the way, the guy who invented the fold-in mirrors is a genius. I have bent mine in several times on the narrow streets of Newport. It is a bit of a shock - boing! - what just happened?? Oh, no problem, nothing damaged, my mirror just bent in. Phew! It's not broken and hanging by a wire and I did not hurt anyone else's property. Pop - it's out again.

But back to the driveway thing - I have noticed it is mostly men that do this. At least in my neighborhood. I think it makes them feel nice and orderly and in control. What a fantasy! but like John Lennon said, Whatever gets you through the night....


There are a couple of homes where the cars are all lined up, grills facing out to the street. Is this a used car lot or a home? I don't like the way it looks. The focus is all wrong. For me, it is all about coming home. Maybe for others, it is all about getting the heck out as fast as you can.

I know it is silly for me to worry about it but it got me thinking about why someone would do this. One reason could be that they can't see around a bush or something. But that is the only reason that makes sense to me.

Like I said, inconsequential.

Phone duty in Newport

Phone duty. Ever wonder about the people who call in?

This afternoon a man called up inquiring about a couple of properties listed on Ocean Ave in Newport. He introduced himself & said he was here on vacation from D.C. and just driving around. Looking at houses, had a few questions...which of course were about the usual suspects, Sandcastle and Wrentham House. Anyhow, we chatted a little, and he suddenly interrupted whatever it was we were talking about and said, "Excuse me, but can I ask you a serious question?". Well OK, sure. "Well then," he continued, "do you have alligators here in RI?"

I assured him that we didn't.

"Oh, but I think you do," he pressed on, "because there's a huge alligator right here in the road in front of me - Jeez, it must be 15 or 16 ft long...! Wait, now it's sliding into the Cove...there it goes!"

I was speechless. Yet right up until then he'd sounded so...normal. Who was he? For that matter, who are any of these people we talk to? Was this guy some kind of nut case? An urban myth disinformation terrorist? An actual eyewitness to a 15 foot alligator roaming up and down Ocean Drive? Do you know how BIG a 15 foot alligator is? That's practically Guiness Book of World Records material - I don't think they even get that big in the jungles of South America, that's huge.

So. That was my day. How was YOUR last phone shift?

A Great Deal in 1866

The Newport Public Library has posted a link to America’s Historical Newspapers. You can find articles from the early Newport Herald, Newport Mercury (back to 1758), Providence Gazette and many more Rhode Island and early American newspapers.

Whether you have research to do or you’re just generally interested in getting a feel for life in a different age, newspapers are a wonderful source. Not just the news stories and the photos, but the advertising also.

How about this ad printed in the Newport Mercury on April 7, 1866 for house lots on the Point? This agent was absolutely right! Those lots are worth hundreds of times what he was selling them for then.

Go to http://www.newportlibraryri.org/ and enter your library card number. Enjoy!!

Renovating the HDC from the inside out

For many years now, the City of Newport's Historic District Commission has been the bane of the existence of those who own property in the neighborhoods within the Commission's jurisdiction. The absence of any real qualifying professional standards for Commission members, the utter lack of clear guidelines, an arbitrary, capricious, and nepotistic approach to enforcement, application & fee structures without rhyme or reason, and of course, the hell of having to sit through interminable Commission meetings, waiting for your name to be called in order that you might present your "case" for replacing that old window in your garage or rebuild your front steps - these are to name just a few of the procedural inequities that have turned this initially laudable effort at architectural preservation into a mind-blowingly hateful experience that smacks of Big Brother. Untold hundreds of Newport property owners have suffered untold annoyances at the hands of these fools. The received wisdom around town was that if your interior decorator or your contractor or your next door neighbor didn't sit on the HDC, you were pretty much out of luck.

But hopefully, all that is about to change. Late last spring the City Council empaneled a task force whose purpose is to review and REVISE the historic district ordinance. This task force - which has been meeting regularly several times a month - is comprised of a group of selected residents with professional backgrounds in the fields of architecture, building, history, preservation, and law. That group subsequently split into several sub-committees, which have been meeting once a week. All of the meetings are posted and open to the public. Save for the committee members themselves, the meetings are invariably poorly attended. Come on, folks! For all of you who've been complaining about the workings of the HDC - or have ever complained in the past - this is your big chance to help these hard-working volunteers set things right, finally and once and for all.