The Lighthouse Keeper
BY DANIEL W. DRAKE ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER

Tuckernuck is a tight little island, or so it is said. The bottom line is that Tuckernuckers treasure their seclusion and privacy above all else. At one time, life on the island was pretty rustic: kerosene lamps, hand pumps and outhouses. Some still live that way, but others have imported all the modern amenities from airplanes to generators to indoor plumbing.

However, it doesn’t seem to matter whether the facilities are indoors or out; the islanders don’t like to be stared at as they go about their lives. They also don’t really want anyone to know whether they still rough it, or if they sit on the veranda watching the sunset, sipping Tuckernuck Tomalis and waiting for the cook to call them to dinner, prepared on their six-burner, restaurant quality stove.

Of course, any sensible person understands that the more mystique there is about this small island with its forty or so houses, the more tempting it is to try to storm the shores. The less brave go in winter, but even they return pale and shaking. The more intrepid – or foolish – who land in the summer are met with all manner of impediments to an enjoyable stay.

The stories about Tuckernuck denizens’ unfriendliness to the casual visitor are almost as legend as the tales of Madaket Millie. Signs which say “Don’t Tread on Me” line the dunes at the end of Whale Island (the inhospitable, shifting sandy spit at the east end of the island, which no one has yet claimed as their own); boats have been cast adrift; booby traps abound; Uncle Jethro’s civil war musket has been brandished; and, it is said, one poor intruder spent an entire summer chained to a hand pump. All these defenses are among the possibilities that the curious face if they trespass on that bastion of property rights.

In this context, imagine the collective shudder that reached across the land to every Tuckernucker — almost all of whom have now abandoned their little island for the winter to the sea gulls and specially trained watch rabbits — when, at last week’s selectmen’s meeting, the island’s name was mentioned. Imagine the shock, soon turning to rage, as cell phones buzzed with word that the basic elements of the island’s way of life are under attack.

The volcano erupted, metaphorically speaking, during an ordinary update being given to the selectmen on the One Big Beach program. Selectman Whitey Willauer questioned why the new brochure for the program only refers to “Nantucket Island” and not to the Nantucket Islands of Tuckernuck and Muskeget. Are they not part of the Town of Nantucket, and therefore part of the One Big Beach program?

The response was that indeed they are and their omission from the brochure was, perhaps, an oversight. Chairman Glowacki sensibly weighed in that in discussing priorities for the program, the focus was on the island of Nantucket and not on its smaller neighbors. And so on.

After considering the responses, Willauer raised his hand again and, cutting to the chase, asked whether Nantucket’s leash law applies to the other islands, because “I was on Tuckernuck last summer and there are dogs running all over the place and endangered species.” After a couple of people piped into the discussion, Town Counsel, with book in hand, opined that since the leash law applies within the “confines” (was, I believe, the word) of The Town of Nantucket, and as Tuckernuck and Muskeget are part of the Town of Nantucket, “confines” applies to them as well.

Well, if there is something that Tuckernuckers hold almost as dear as their insularity, it is their dogs. On Tuckernuck, it is rumored, dogs form a sub-stratum of the society, much as the children do. They sleep late. They eat way too much. They travel in packs from house to house to catch up on the latest news and smells. They go to the beach for a swim and lie on the family towels on the sand in the sun. And in the twilight, they repair to the porch with the rest of the family for cocktails, canapés and a good scratch.

While Willauer’s questions seemed innocuous and even a bit quixotic to the casual observer, it struck a chord with those tuned in to Tuckernuck mentality. When that mentality itself was confronted with these happenings, the immediate and unanimous reaction was defensive. “What do we do?” “How do we stop it?” “There must be a law!”

The moderates began with a reasoned approach. “*&** ^%^*! We are taxpayers and citizens. They can’t treat us this way. Representation, with or without taxation, stinks. All it takes is getting an Article on the Warrant for Town Meeting. We shall get ourselves exempted from all laws, programs and other perditions. And oh, by the way, while we are at it, we will make trespassing a Class B felony.”

The less moderate, mostly those who are from away and can not claim the right to vote, immediately took a more aggressive stance. Their radicalism was, in part, fueled by their basic distrust of anything that goes on at Town Meeting, where they believe everything that is enacted has a qualifier and where all sorts of rules are made that aren’t enforced. (Of course, in that context, in their discussion they ignored the benefits of not having had the leash law enforced to-date on Tuckernuck.)

In addition, most of those calling for a take-itinto our-ownhands approach, tend to be somewhat feisty, particularly after two months on a small island with nowhere to go.

There was unanimity in agreement that Willauer would never be invited back to Tuckernuck. Beyond that, all of them confess to being a bit befuddled by any attempt to include their little island in the One Big Beach effort.

After all, they own all the beaches and all the land leading to the beaches. No one is going to complain about not being able to access beaches from the land, because there is no one there with standing to complain. You can’t complain if you own. If some fool wants to anchor and enjoy his day at the beach below the mean low water line, well, perhaps that is tolerable, but it is also dumb!

Then someone suggested that perhaps One Big Beach would result in Port-a-Potties being placed at Whale Island. The gasp was immediate and unanimous: “That’s preposterous! They can’t do that. We will spirit them out to sea and set them for lobster traps.”

The dog issue, however, was what really galvanized people. “This is private property. We can do whatever we like with our canine brethren. They are family”

The realization that cross-border passage for dogs could be stopped, at least in theory, has brought on the beginning sketches of battle plans to meet the poor enforcement officer sent to check out the situation in the guise of checking the air pressure in the tires of the fire truck. “Beagles on the left side; Labs on the right flank; mutts in the middle with Melody Broadbottom’s Chihuahua at point; all golden retrievers on the porch,” was the preliminary order of battle.

Fortunately, over the past weekend, cooler heads prevailed. “Who wants to go to the beach in November?” “We have time. There are no dogs on Tuckernuck now and won’t be until next summer. Even they are smart enough to know that.” “Let’s finish our holiday shopping; we can get to this when we get back from Machu Pichu.” “We should really discuss this when we are all together again at the July 4th all-island picnic next summer and then there will be so many other things going on, it will be forgotten.”

And so the cell phone discussions have turned to other interests. In one case, an islander resumed a conversation with his builder about how to add a movie theater, complete with popcorn machine, onto his house without his neighbors knowing it. “Their kids and dogs will eat all the popcorn and shed on the seats.”

It may seem quiet now, but revolutions have started over less.

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The “Lighthouse Keeper” reflects the views of the author and does not represent the editorial position of The Nantucket Independent. Please send any comments to drake@nantucketindependent. com.

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