Under the Eaves
The Wharf Rat Club
BY MARY LANCASTER INDEPENDENT WRITER

Many of Nantucket's buildings have changed in appearance and occupancy over the years, but The Wharf Rat Club is not one of them. Not only has the interior of the funky, Old North Wharf headquarters stayed the same, save for additional, decorative marine memorabilia, the purpose and atmosphere of the club, with its welcoming, open door policy, has remained as it was since its informal founding in 1915.

"This is just a social club. That's all we do - we don't do anything," said Paul Murphy, a member since the 1930s and now vice commodore. "It's not a men's club. We know women are rats, so it's no problem."

The club, now numbering approximately 185 members, began loosely when a rich quahog bed was discovered and a quahog shucking shanty was built on the south side of the wharf. It was not long before men who tied up at the wharf to unload their catches began congregating at the small building to talk about fishing or whatever else was on their minds.

Around 1923, the shanty was moved to its current location. Though it became Eugene Perry and Herbert Coffin's store selling fishermen's clothing and supplies, it continued to be a gathering place for catboat owners waiting to be hired, along with wharf boathouse owners, kids and others. On foul weather days, the pot-bellied stove, still a fixture, was lit to ward off the chill and dampness.

PHOTO ROB BENCHLEY / THE INDEPENDENT New Wharf Rat Club

There came a point when many local families found that single memberships at the Nantucket Yacht Club were beyond their budgets, yet the NYC declined to offer family packages. Austin Strong, then the NYC Commodore, told the families not to worry; that he and others would create another club. That was how The Wharf Rats officially came to be, complete with a distinctive flag designed by artist Tony Sarg depicting a white rat, casually smoking a pipe and leaning on a cane. The banner's design, with three stars designating a commodore in a boating organization, is now registered.

Though the club's motto is, "No reserved seats for the mighty," and membership includes men and women from all walks of life, the flag has gained notoriety and been flown from Admiral Byrd's ship during his expedition in the Antarctic, from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk in the Persian Gulf, hoisted above the deck of former honorary member, President Franklin D. Roosevelt's Amberjack II, and seen in other places around the world.

The marine clothing and supply store closed in 1955. According to a historic buildings survey, in 1957 the western half of the building was converted to living quarters and since then, the club has had exclusive use of the eastern portion of the uninsulated, unpretentious, one-story, shingled structure.

There is no longer any official waiting list, but membership hinges on the consensus of the club's board and may require guests to visit for up to three years before someone new is admitted. You cannot buy your way into The Wharf Rats and regardless of your station in life, you have to be willing to listen to all opinions presented, be of good humor and always relate to others as equals.

"You can't fill out an application to be a Rat," said the late Charlie Sayle, the club's eighth commodore. "There was a fellow from Standard Oil in Ohio who offered us $1,000 if he could join, but he never made it. You've got to be a 'right' fellow."

And while there are no dues or special privileges for members, who have included prominent court justices, lawyers, military officials, fishermen, taxi drivers, bankers, merchants, playwrights, carpenters and mechanics, the humor element is vital. A lot of jokes are told and retold at The Wharf Rat Club, among them, one by Murphy.

"A man went to visit a farm," he began. "He asked the farmer to show him around and the farmer said, "Sure. These are my horses and this is where I keep the cows. Here are the chickens and the sheep."

"Wait a minute," said the man. "What about that pig over there? That pig's got a wooden leg. How did that pig get a wooden leg?"

"Well," said the farmer, "that's some pig. One time when I wasn't here, my wife had a fire in the fireplace and after she went to bed, a spark flew out onto the floor. That pig went up and banged on the door with his wooden leg and woke up my wife - probably saved her life. Another time, my kids had supper and then went swimming in the pond. I told them not to go swimming on a full stomach, but they did and they got all cramped up. Well, that pig jumped in the pond and dragged them to shore. He saved their lives. I know he saved my life," the farmer continued.

"I was driving my tractor when it tipped over and fell on me. I was trapped underneath. Well, that pig dug under me with his hoofs and dragged me out. That's some pig." Still curious, the man said, "Yeah, but what about the wooden leg?" "Well," answered the farmer, "when you've got a pig like that, you don't eat it all at once."

The Wharf Rat Club more or less officially opens each year with a Memorial Day celebration, a solemn event at which the club fires a cannon salute to members who have passed on. Next is a Fourth of July party when members bring appetizers and wine and beer are served (no hard liquor) and a three-gun salute is fired by the club's cannon. After that comes the Commodore's Party in August, then the final special occasion on Labor Day.

"It's just a great group of people," said current commodore Maurice Gibbs, who added that the daily logs of harbor and club events kept by the earliest commodores have been given to the Nantucket Historical Association for preservation.

"They are priceless. We spent a bundle getting them conserved, but if you don't, you are going to lose all this history," he said.

The Wharf Rat Club's members and visitors mainly stop in during the morning, but Gibbs said the place may stay open until early afternoon, "if someone wants to jabber." The last member to leave unplugs the coffee pot and locks the door.

Club members still recline in deck chairs on the wharf facing Easy Street basin to talk in the warm months and hunker around the warm iron stove in their one-room headquarters when nature puts a chill in the air. About a decade ago, The Wharf Rats bought their building, hoping to ensure that this special, very democratic association will continue well into the future.

"It's a good friendship of people," said John McLaughlin, a member for about 50 years. "Every day you meet and talk about anything you want to talk about. It's a lot of fun." I