The other day when Hurricane Earl was heading for southeastern New England, Providence TV's Channel 7 interviewed the harbor master in New Bedford, the city where I was born and where I went to high school. Many years ago they built a large and expensive hurricane dike to protect New Bedford Harbor and after the predictable complaints about the cost and some six or eight years of no need for it some people considered it a boondoggle.
But when Earl looked like he was going to make landfall at the mouth of the Acushnet River (he eventually went to Nova Scotia instead) there were boats from all over the coast heading to New Bedford because, as a sailor from a gorgeous tall ship out of Baltimore said, New Bedford's harbor is more sheltered than the others around there and with the dike . . .
They showed photos of the New Bedford fishing fleet, every boat of it in the harbor in anticipation of the storm. The young reporter went on about how the boats were berthed four, five, and six deep along the wharf. Imagine that!
Hard indeed to imagine for those of us who remember the harbor in the 1950s. In those days Fisherman's Wharf and the State Pier were lined like that every day when three quarters of the fleet was out fishing George's Bank. How the mighty have fallen!
New Bedford has gone through this boom and bust three times over the last 350 or so years, starting with whaling, which was once the city's major industry with a fleet of some 500 whaling ships. For a time the city had the largest per capita income in the country based on whale oil.
But Spindletop put an end to the hunting of sperm whales (just in time for the whale population) and the money from whaling went into big cotton mills that for a time made New Bedford the place where much of the country's fine cotton cloth was manufactured. (Think Wamsutta and Berkshire Hathaway.)
In the 1920s and 30s unions were formed in New England textile mills after the post World War I drop in cotton prices and a resulting drop in wages for mill workers. And the money and the mills went to North Carolina. It was easier to build a new mill with up-to-date equipment down there than to upgrade the old mills in New Beford, Fall River, Lowell, and Lawrence and the workers were not as unionized in the south.
It is during that time when the mill owners were manipulating wages and the workers were out on strike that the climax of Rebecca Chace's new novel, Leaving Rock Harbor, takes place. The major characters are Winthrop Curtis, the son of a wealthy mill owner, Joe Barros, the son of Portugese immigrants who works in the mills after school and on weekends, and Frankie Ross, the daughter of a skilled mill worker, an immigrant from Britain, who has come to Rock Harbor from upstate New York to find work as an engraver.
Because his father has political ambitions, Winthrop goes to the public high school where he becomes friends with Joe and Frankie. Both boys fall in love with Frankie and the relationship between these three reflects the political tensions between the city's various populations of French Canadian, Portugese, and English immigrants and the predominantly Yankee mill owners.
My grandfather, an Irish immigrant, worked in the cotton mills as a jacquard weaver, and I've heard many tales of those days when Anne Burlak, "the Red flame" was organizing workers for the Communist Party. Chace's book brings those days vividly to life.