Smith Island Christmas

Smith Island Christmas

If there was a sacred week for Smith Islanders, it would have been  the time between Christmas and New Years Day.

Living in a protein paradise of fish, terrapin, crab, oysters, duck, and geese guaranteed that there would generally be something for Islanders to eat. However, there was always a need for cash as well, the same as for any family.

The major commercial enterprise for the Island was the oyster harvest in the 19th and 20th centuries up until recent decades. Oyster harvesting had been done ever since the island was settled. The most basic method was the use of hand "tongs." The tongs are several feet long and built on the same principle as a pair of scissors. Here is a Smith Islander with a set of hand tongs. If you look closely you see that there are two handles each attached to a toothed rim that will scrape across the bottom as the handles of the tongs are puled together. The teeth or "tynes" are needed to dig into an angle and to remove the oyster from its attachment on the bottom.

Terry Laird of Ewell demonstrating hand tongs.

The tongs have been used and brought topside.

The second photo shows the oyster fisherman about to lay out the contents of the tongs on the sideboard of his boat where the oysters can be culled and the dirt from the bottom brushed back over the side of the boat. In the foreground is a plastic dairy case being used to hold the newly fished oysters. Imagine the wind blowing 15 miles an hour and ice sickles on the dairy case.

Hand tongs would have been an essential part of any family's fishing gear on the island, but there were two technological advances in the early 19th century that changed the oyster fisheries. The first was the appearance of the railroad and the ability to ship highly perishable oysters inland as far as the Midwest. The second technology was canning. Baltimore became one of the major canning centers of the United States in about 1840. Vegetables from hundreds of squares miles of local farms were canned during the summer and oysters were canned during the winter months.

The oyster obtains its food from the surrounding seawater which it draws into its gills by means of microscopic beating cilia. Plankton and particles suspended in the water are trapped in the mucous of the gills and transported to the mouth. A single oyster can filter more than 30 gallons of water a day. Prior to 1850, it is believed that the entire contents of the Chesapeake bay were filtered by oysters once or twice a week. Today, it may take an entire year rather than a few days.

The Chesapeake Bay is the world's largest oyster producing body of water. With the new markets for oysters in the 1840s came an influx of fisherman, many from New England and New York, who had developed their own technology for exploiting the deeper oysters, those beyond the reach of hand tongs. The increase in fishermen and advances in boat and harvesting technologies put heavy pressure on the oyster beds. The state tried several measures to reduce harvesting by "outsiders" but none were successful. Finally, in 1865 Maryland adopted a law that forbade the use of internal combustion machines in the scraping of the oyster rock itself. This law required the use of sail for harvesting, an example of a law that demands inefficiency rather than closing off certain areas or using daily limits for fishermen and boats. 

The Maryland law set off a wave of experimentation with a number of types of sailboats and the "Skipjack" became the most commonly used commercial harvester.

Traditional Chesapeake Bay Skipjack

The boat had many advantages including a shallow draft for access to most places, relative ease of sail-handling, good cargo capacity, and the ability for watermen to build them locally using a cross-planked bottom rather than one that was laid parallel to the keel. In their heyday, more than a thousand Skipjacks were working oyster beds in the Chesapeake at any one time. Here is a photo from Baltimore in the 19th century showing a number of them moored in the harbor.

Skipjacks on the Baltimore Waterfront in the 19th Century.

In the fall, almost every Island man acquired a job for the winter in the oyster industry. Many of them captained their own skipjacks or worked as mates aboard the boats of family and friends. The lowest level of the pecking order on the boats was the deckhand sometimes recruited from the bars of Baltimore to fill out a crew. Each of the crew received a "share" in the profits of the oyster boat. There are stories of disreputable oyster boat captains who managed to dispose of complaints from crew members by disposing of the crew members. If one were to be a deckhand on an oyster boat, it would be best to find a captain with whom you or your family had a relationship.

At the beginning of the season, there was a great dispersal of Smith Island men to hundreds of villages and fishing areas throughout the bay and the major rivers, such as the Potomac. Some of the fishermen were fortunate and lived within striking distance of the Island and could make it home on weekends to relax and spend time with their families. Most did not.

The work on the boat was brutal. One was exposed to the winter weather and spray on the open deck of a boat that pulled a large, toothed oyster rake and net over a part of the bottom believed to be an oyster bed. The rake and net assembly were called a "scrape." The shells were pulled away from the bottom into the net and, periodically, the net would be pulled up and the contents dumped on the deck of the ship. The crew worked to separate and save the oysters from the unwanted material which was thrown back overboard.

The men slept below decks in close, unheated quarters. There were no formal bathroom or shower facilities--buckets tossed overboard and cleaned out would be the rule. One of the crew was generally the cook. I think I have described elsewhere the most common meal--salted cod, fried bacon, potatoes and onions, and biscuits might be breakfast and supper with fishcakes made from the leftovers and served at noon.

Oysters are perishable with a life expectancy of a few days after removal from the water. As a public health measure, the State of Maryland forbade the keeping of oysters on fishing boats overnight. Oysters had to be sold to oyster houses on land or to "buy boats," vessels that were quite a bit bigger than the fishing boats and that made their way among the fishermen offering to purchase the catch.

Omar Evans, Lemons to Lemonade
In 1933 Omar Evans was 19 when his father died on Smith Island. On the way to the funeral, Omar had a panic attack and turned back to his house and missed the service. Over the course of the next few weeks, he suffered an increasing number of attacks and found  it difficult or impossible to leave his house. And so he stopped trying and remained within 150 feet of his kitchen for more than 50 years.  He lived in fear of having his next panic attack. Today we call this condition Panic Disorder.


Given his Panic Disorder, Omar had greatly limited his job options. However, his home was right on the water at the Ewell Thoroughfare. Since he couldn't leave home, he needed to work from home. He decided to expand his house and to build an office, an oyster house, and a "shucking"  room where oysters could be opened, removed from the shell, and packaged for particular markets, such as restaurants and bars.


When I met him 50 years later, he had never seen the Ewell Church that was less than 300 feet from his house and that was completed after the death of his father. Throughout life, he had managed to be treated by a different set of rules than others. 

• He was never drafted or forced to leave the Island for a draft physical during World War II. 
• When he developed cataracts, the ophthalmologist came to on the Island to do the surgery. 
• I found him to be anemic and I transfused him in his home. 

Omar was always at home. If you were an oyster fisherman and you had oysters on your boat at nightfall, those oysters needed to be sold. No matter where you were, you had an available buyer at Omar Evans Oyster House.


Omar's Panic Disorder was called his "condition" by his family. This "condition" had controlled much of his life and his family's life as well. Every business plan could use help from such an effective mental disorder.


Over the lifetime, his condition was in very good condition.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jz3yhYYV5MQ

Home For Christmas
Smith Island tradition required that the oyster fishermen return home by Christmas Eve. There are stories of freeze-ups that required walking over the ice for several miles in order to reach the Island. Skipjack captains returned as well, and there may have been as many as 100 ships of the oyster fleet scattered in thoroughfares and creeks around the Island.

The return of the men signaled a week's celebration of feasting and visiting. There would be gossip and sharing of stories from all over the Chesapeake. Looking at it from the past as an interested listener, I came to believe that the Christmas week had been the most significant time of spiritual and communal renewal. But in 1983, the oyster fleet was gone and replaced by hydraulic tonging rigs attached to the work boats. The men worked singly or in pairs and were almost always home a day or two a week where they managed to do catch up on boat repairs, do their laundry and clean-up to get ready for another week. Generally, they sailed off again on Sunday afternoon to return to their particular fishing grounds.

One of the beautiful things about doing medical work on the Island was the opportunity for an unhurried pace (at least in most cases). A large portion of my practice was with widows, many of whom were living in slowly deteriorating houses. It was not uncommon for a patient to stake out a few rooms in the house and to ignore the rest. A part of me was there for the stories where I was able to view the Island's past through the eyes of its oldest citizens and through their wonderfully expressive voices.

Miss Dolphia was more than 80 when told me about her favorite Christmas. Dolphia's family was barely getting by. It was not unusual for lack of clothing to keep the children in bed keeping warm while her Mom did the laundry and washed the only good set of clothing. Her father was a crew member on a Caribbean freighter that made runs to Baltimore. However, she remembered a Christmas when her father had returned for Christmas. When she came downstairs in the morning, she discovered that she had received an orange. As she told the story I first imagined one of those not particularly interesting round things that accumulated in the toes of my Christmas stocking when I was a boy, but for Dolphia as a child, this orange was magical-- and there remained wonder and gratitude in her voice as she described that scene from more than 70 years later.

Starting A Tradition
Somewhere in the dim past, the women of Smith Island became concerned about impoverished and struggling families, such as Dolphia's. On the Island, almost everything is known about your neighbor. The poor child would have to bear the absence of gifts on Christmas and know that other children had received in abundance.

The women were practical. They began the tradition that every child on the Island receive a  gift from Santa Clause. By 1983 when I arrived, this tradition was decades old.

It is a rare event to see a snowflake on Smith Island, so the reindeer were not very helpful animals for maneuvering Father Claus around. Instead, Santa used the Island fire-engine to make his way.

I've had the pleasure on one evening a few days before Christmas of sitting in the Doctor's house listening to the wail of a distant siren and clanging of bells while watching my own children's excitement increase minute by minute until finally the Old Man was at our house and bursting through the front door. Of course the kids no longer believed in Santa Clause but they did for a few minutes that evening.

Christmas Eve Service
Smith Island doesn't do a very good job of separating the Church from the School. In fact, there is no attempt to do so. The overlap is not as obvious as the Catholic schools of my childhood, but it is blatant.

I have no problem with this. The Island has been a Methodist community for about 200 years. The Church is responsible for many of the community services such as street lights and roads. I choose to look at the Church-School connection as cultural. I'm not a believer but I respect tradition. As long as the believers respect my right to dissent, I have no wish to do anything to detract from their enjoyment of their traditions.

Tradition on Smith Island is an extended Christmas Eve service that incorporates a church service celebrating the Savior's Birth, an individual recital of poetry and a singing of hymns by the children, and the appearance of Santa Clause for a brief walk through the Church wherein he wishes all a Merry Christmas and rings a sleighbell.

For a few weeks before Christmas, the children began to use some part of the school day to prepare for the Christmas Eve ceremony at the Church. They have to learn "their speeches."  I asked my children if they wished to participate and they said they did.

So this was the traditional Christmas Eve service, the way it had been done for many years.

A More Fundamentalist Point of View
In 1985 Henry Zollinhofer left Smith Island as the preacher. I don't think he really wanted to go. He had a deep love for the Islanders and their traditions. He appreciated their rare blend of human earthiness and piety. He had married into one of the prominent families that were partial owners of a very successful Seafood Business on Maine Avenue in D.C. I have a suspicion that there are some jealousies about that success and this may have played into whatever happened. I'm happy to say that he is still going strong in 2011 and approaching age 82. He and his wife have small ministry and church. Both sound wonderfully optimistic. If I had to have a preacher, Henry would be my choice if only for lack of airs. If I have my ashes scattered in the Church Graveyard on Smith Island, I hope Henry will be there.

The replacement preacher for Henry was a female of a more fundamentalist variety and a secret cigarette smoker as well.

I think that being the replacement for a previous preacher is a lot like being the replacement for a previous doctor. It is very easy to for a physician to show contempt for the the work of others. My rule is to do everything possible to avoid making changes on the first visit, or, at most, to change one thing that I think is important. We all have different ways of doing things. I'll have time enough in the future to demonstrate my particular skills as a physician and I don't have to do it by putting another down.

The female preacher let people know very quickly that she was not pleased with the spiritual condition of her flock. A lot of "earthiness" had crept into the practice of religion on Smith Island. A particular target was that pagan figure "Santa Clause" who even had the nerve to appear in Church on Christmas Eve. There would be none of that this coming year. Christmas was going to return to its Christian values. It was to be about the Birth of Jesus and there was no room for Santa at the Inn (I mean the church).

The Christmas service for 1985 looked very much like 1984 in the Ewell Church. There were prayers and carols to begin the service. The children recited their poems. Then the formal Christmas Eve service began. About 20 minutes in, Father Clause appeared in the midst of the service with his sleigh bells. With several Ho Ho Ho's he made his way through the congregation and beneath the glare of the preacher and wished us all a "Merry Christmas."

The children were past the age of belief in Santa but they returned from the Christmas Eve service laughing and talking about the sudden appearance of Clause in Church. They were very much aware of the tension within the village and they were relieved that Santa had overcome.

What I Remember from Christmas 1985
A few weeks before Christmas, Brian and Keith were playing in the front room with three of their friends. They were all at their boisterous best and they started talking about the perfect gifts for their friends. When they came to Gary, someone recommended that they buy him a skirt because he liked to cross-dress. They laughed at this but went on to another subject.

Everything was out in the open. Gary had told them about his enjoyment wearing girls' clothes. The other boys thought it was funny in some way, but accepted that this was the way that Gary was. How beautiful! How accepting! Gary was still part of the gang, but he was a little different and that was okay. No need to hide it or pretend that it didn't exist. Isn't it wonderful how kids find such great ways of solving problems or refusing to let them come into being in the first place?

I saw a lot of that acceptance on Smith Island. There is a man, Milton, who would now be in his mid to late 50s. Milton may be the most handsome man on the Island and he has an IQ that is about 50. If he is still alive and still there, every day, you can see him walking on the road from Rhodes Point to Ewell at about 12:30 P.M. He is going to the county dock to meet the Ferry Boat where he helps unload the freight. He had assigned himself this job in his teens and he invariably does his job.

Sometimes Milton is horny. One Sunday I saw him accost an attractive, young Island couple using some nasty four letter words. On the mainland among strangers, this would be a dangerous scenario, ripe with testosterone, a fight almost sure to follow. But in this case, the man and woman were able to address him by name and turn his interest aside in a gentle fashion.

When I think about the fundamentalist preacher and the assessment of the spiritual condition of the Islanders, I've already decided who is really living in the dark ages.
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As I write this, I am looking at the obituary for Christopher Hitchens, perhaps the most vocal and well-known aetheist for my generation. It is hard for me to believe that aetheists have a credibility similar to rapists in the United States and that it would be impossible for an admitted aetheist to be elected to high office. Yet, that seems to be the state of the U.S. at this time. Thank you, Mr. Hitchens, for being with us for 62 years and sharing you opinions.