CLOSE TO THE EDGE: FINDING THE HAMMERHEAD BAR

GREGORY NOWELL

Bachelor of Fine Arts Southeastern University North Dartmouth, Massachusetts 1976

SUBMITTED TO THE DEPARTMENT OF ARCHITECTURE IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENTOF THE REQUIREMENTSFOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARCHITECTURE AT THE MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY FEBRUARY 1989

@ Gregory Nowell 1989 All Rights Reserved.

The author hereby grants to MIT permission to reproduce and to distribute publicly copies of this thesis document in whole or in part. AA

Signature of the author lb GREGO3RYNOWELL Department of Architecture JanCe -e, 1

Certified by BILL HUBBARD, Jr. Assistant Professor of Architecture Thesis Suerviso

Accepted by IMRE HALASZ Chairperson, Department Committee for Graduate Students

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The images contained in this document are of the best quality available. CLOSE TO THE EDGE: FINDING THE HAMMERHEAD BAR

GREGORY NOWELL

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MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY

2 CLOSETO THE EDGE: FINDING THE HAMMERHEAD BAR

GREGORY NOWELL

SUBMITTED TO THE DEPARTMENT OF ARCHITECTURE ON JANUARY 18, 1989, IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARCHITECTURE

Abstract

I believe that it takes only three things to do architecture-- an intact sensibility, a deep understanding of the qualities of a place and a specific intention. This thesis explores this premise and presents a project inspired by it. The thesis begins by showing things shaped for various human activities-- things which have influenced the shaping of my sensibility. As a prelude to introducing the site, I show how others before me have built in similar locations-- close to an edge. Then, I reveal the site, a place so vulnerable to the ravages of hurricanes that almost everything built there is eventually left in ruins. Central to this thesis are my thoughts about ruins, for they set the stage for the presentation of the building which emerged from my explorations. Imbedded in the sand on a wind-swept beach, the Hammerhead Bar, designed with intention and shaped by my sensibility, invites both the reader and the next hurricane alike to "Take your best shot!"

Thesis Advisor: Bill Hubbard, Jr. Title: Assistant Professor of Architecture

3 4 Contents

Abstract 3 Dedication 7 Acknowledgments 9 A Note to the Reader 13

Interlude: Flying 19

Sensibility 23

Interlude: Sailing with Bob 57

Close to the Edge 63 Site 81 Hurricanes 103 Ruins 127

Interlude: The World According to Guido 153

The Hammerhead Bar 161

Interlude: Good Intentions 193

Appendix I. Vicinity chart, coastal charts and Beaufort Scale 203 Appendix II. Locus, site model, elevations, plan and sections 215

Coda 235

Notes on Images 251 5 Bob Baker building Peggotty at Warren, Rhode Island, 1977.

6 Dedicated to the memory of Robert H. Baker

They didn't understand you, either.

7 8 Acknowledgments

I have two incredibly generous friends-- Mike and B. They share their lives with me as well as a house and a boat. As B puts it, "Our stuff is your stuff." B has a short-list-- you know, one of those lists you make when you imagine being stranded on some deserted island and you can only have so many other people with you. Mike and I are on that list. Fearing that I might end up marooned on the forsaken island of Thesis, I drew up a short-list of my own. I offer heartfelt thanks to my stalwart crew for the successful completion of an often stormy voyage.

Michael Taibbi and Beverly Schuch for the sanctuary of their house, a berth on Carifia and all it implies.

Bob Lewis for the use of his studio to make the castings, the inspiration I gather from his work and the hangovers.

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Sailing with B in the British Virgin Islands. 10 Anne W. Baker for sharing her sensibility.

Cordelia Richards for her letters which inspire the courage to create.

Laura Duffy for her careful editing of the text.

Todd Gieg for his patience and perception during the three weeks it took to photograph the model.

Josd Sama for naming my project and knowing when to stop.

Bill Hubbard for his unerring criticism, skillful navigation and unequivocal support, without which there would be no thesis.

11 12 A Note to the Reader

This thesis skates on thin ice. The title, while offering the reader a clue as to the location of the site and the name of the project that I have envisioned for it, might also describe my general state of affairs after having endured four years of graduate study at MIT. This thesis is not steeped in analysis, nor is it overlaid with diagrams showing a process, resulting in an assemblage which might be called a building. It is rather like a good story and is meant to be enjoyed as such. In a small coastal town, tucked away in southeastern Massachusetts, is a truly magnificent beach. By its very nature, this beach has qualities which intensify any human experience. Though they are difficult to name, they are readily felt. It was here that I set out to explore the possibility of finding forms which might act as an analogue for the experience of the place itself. The forms I discovered possessed the qualities of a ruin. And as I looked at them, wondering what they might hold within themselves, it suddenly occurred to me that this just might be the place for the ultimate hurricane party.

13 14 This thesis has a hidden agenda as well. More than a story about the making of a building, it is a story about the making of an architect- for that which I once sensed unconsciously, I now do consciously, with conviction. This is what having a sensibility, and using it, is all about.

15 16 17 18 Flying

Sometimes when I'm driving down the highway late at night

I imagine I'm flying a plane-- that I could just pull back on the wheel and feel myself being lifted into the air, watching the ground begin to fall away under my feet. I glance over both shoulders and see the wings glinting in the moonlight. It's a good night for flying. I can sense the air streaming past the fuselage. I can feel the lift of the wings. As I begin a slow, ascending right-hand turn, I see the flicker of the aileron on my starboard wing, buffeted by the rushing air. Simultaneously, I can feel the port wing lifting and the tail sliding to my left as the plane climbs in a seemingly eternal arc.

19 Beryl Markham's Vega Gull The Messenger after she crash-landed in Nova Scotia in 1936, becoming the first person to successfully complete a solo trans-Atlantic flight from England to North America.

20 It feels as if my mind and body are at the center of all these sensations-- that I exist at the pivot point. The nose rises in front of me, the tail falls below, one wing rising as the other lowers. I can feel all around me the effects of even the slightest action of my hands and feet on the controls.

I level-off out of the turn and slowly pull back on the throttle.

The nose rises and the tail falls as the plane begins to slip just a little.

I flip off the ignition switch and push forward gently on the wheel.

I begin to glide through this moonlit night. I can feel myself falling and picking up speed. I sense only motion through this incredible rush of air.

Then, I hit a pot-hole going down into the tunnel on the expressway.

I had been thinking about architecture again.

21 22 Sensibility

The author with his sister Sharon, 1953. Early on in life, we learned that the heavy stuff goes into the ground first.

23 24 I have a sensibility. I was born and raised here. When I got smart enough I left home, drawn to the coast, the edge. I dropped out of art school. I worked on a fishing boat for a couple of years and taught myself how to sail. I lived in old New England houses and spent a lot of time studying how they were built. While helping rebuild a cottage on , I met a boatbuilder and thus began a friendship and working association that would grow until his untimely death. We shared a love for old things and their making. He and his wife had been resurrecting and restoring old houses and barns for years. They would gather them up and assemble them lovingly in the landscape. And scattered throughout the place, some meticulously restored and tucked away in sheds, some composting out in the fields, was his collection of boats. What to some people may have looked like a ramshackle collection of buildings and boats was to my eye a composition of exquisitely arranged shapes.

25 26 I began to realize a commonality between boats and buildings-- the shape on the outside was the space I felt within. I also enjoyed the juxtaposition of their shapes-- the lines of a hull against the orthogonal shape of a boatshed. I could also appreciate the obvious differences. Boats, after all, are shaped for human activity on the water. Life and work began to fall in step with the cycle of seasons. Winters were spent working in the boatshop. After the spring thaw, when it was again possible to start putting in foundations, I would head out with one crew or another to start building again. We would often use stone for foundations-- it had always been a New England thing to do. The framing timber and lumber came from local sawmills. By the time we had completed raising a timber frame on a granite foundation, a pine board would feel very light in my hands.

27 28 The nature of these materials and their inherent structural capabilities established themselves at the the core of my design sensibility. I would begin to intentionally express structure in my buildings. I would seek to call out the differences between the light stuff and the heavy stuff. And I would begin shaping my buildings to please my eye-- adjusting, combining, or juxtaposing shapes until they felt right. I also began to have a lot of ideas. I believe that there is a fundamental difference between building and architecture. Building is space ordered by needs. Architecture is space ordered by an idea about human activity. Building has allowed me to develop a strong sensibility. My ideas about building have made me an architect in everything but name.

29 Landscape is a slippery word. It means more than scenery painting, a pleasant rural vista, or ornamental planting around a country house. Shaped It means shaped land, land modified by generations for permanent human occupation, of human activity for dwelling, agriculture, manufacturing, on the land-- government, worship, and for pleasure. A landscape happens not by chance the quintessential but by contrivance, by premeditation, New England landscape. by design; aforest or swamp or prairie no more constitutes a landscape than does a chain of mountains.

John R. Stilgoe, "Common Landscape of America, 1580 to 1845."

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Baker Boat and Launch Works, Westport, Massachusetts.

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D. W. Dillion admiring the sailing canoe Piccolo designed by Robert H. Baker. Built at Baker Boat and Launch Works, 1982, by Bob Baker, Julia Ferguson and the author. 34 in IL'

F Shaped by a long tradition of coastal sail.

A small schooner in the works, Thomaston, Maine. 36 1-00 The colonial house is a marvelous house. It has an eternal plan in my opinion. No matter how much variation you put into it, it's still an eternal plan. It has a hall and a stairway which goes up to the bedrooms. A landing that is a room for the old man to stop and rest on the way up. You can get in the front and you can also get in the back. The dining room is separate and when you really have this separation, it means independence, independence even for the mother who is setting the table. Shaped Today, we put the dining room in the living by very sharp room and when the guests come they see the table. The hostess is constantly tools. rushing in and out. She may go gracefully from place to place, be charming and all that, but the charisma of the house is disturbed. I say today you can still use the colonial house, the room separations make responsive places. One can become the place where you go away while somebody else is doing something else. If you blend spaces in the colonial way, you have a society of rooms in which each one has its character, allowing delicate differences to express themselves. In a way, people meeting in them are different people from those who live in divisionless spaces. Doorway in a New England house, South Dartmouth, Massachusetts. Louis I. Kahn Built by the author, 1979.

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Bob Baker's skiff resting high and dry at Hulda Cove, Westport Point, Massachusetts.

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41 Shaped for a livelihood on the ocean.

Captain Scotty Fryer's Fetcher tied to the wharf at Cuttyhunk, Massachusetts, 1975. Normally engaged in the local lobster fishery, she is here shown rigged out for a winter season of long-lining codfish in and . 42 I

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43 Shaped to move at very high speeds on the ground.

Porsche 911 Coupe.

44 I: Shaped to move through air. Not as fast as a Porsche.

One of several fully-operational DC-3's still flying passengers and cargo throughout the Caribbean. St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands.

46 ow Shaped to move through air like a bat-out-of-hell.

F -104 Starfighter at the Aerospace Museum, Los Angeles, California. Frank 0. Gehry, architect.

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49 Shaped to move through water at a place where wind still plays a critical role in every individual's life.

Weathervane atop the cupola of the Methodist Church, Cuttyhunk, Massachusetts. 50 V

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51 Shaped to an ideal of perfect beauty.

Bronze statue enlivening a courtyard at UCLA. 52 *1 b.

53 54 55 56 Sailing with Bob

My friend Bob had a piece of paper taped to his drawing light upon which was written this thought-- "Just ease her when she pitches."

It was originally intended as a bit of cautionary advice to sailors for what to do when the wind stiffened and began to bury the le'ward rail.

Just let off on the sheet a little. Spill some of the wind out of the sail and get the rail out of the water. She'll sail better and you won't empty the contents of the lockers onto the cabin floor. It is also good advice for people in relationships and perhaps a healthy prescription for a sane life.

57 The catboat Koorali of Beverly, Massachusetts, out for an afternoon sail, ca. 1890.

58 I worked for several winters with Bob in his boatshop, where I learned

almost everything I know. Every once in a while Bob would take me

and anyone else who was around at lunchtime out for a sail in Susie,

the company yacht. Going for a sail in Susie with Bob at the tiller

was like stepping into a Victorian snapshot taken in some place

like Vineyard Haven. You felt like putting on a bow tie. You imagined

the women all decked-out in white sailing dresses instead of Levi's.

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Bob Baker patiently waiting for a breeze aboard Peggotty shortly after her launching. Warren, Rhode Island, 1977.

60 When there was enough water, the thing to do was to sail the edges of the marshes. There was always so much to see. He'd keep Susie so close to the edge that it was like he was drawing an underwater contour on a navigation chart. He could do this because he was always acutely aware of both the velocity and direction of the wind and the flow of the tide over the bottom. And he knew intimately the lines of Susie's hull and the cut of her sail. He was simply the most elegant sailor that ever was.

Remembering this, I am inspired.

61 62 Close to the Edge

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Summer cottages at Horseneck Beach, Westport, Massachusetts, ca. 1930.

63 64 I am drawn to edges like a moth to a flame. I have travelled every inch of the New England coast, a lot of it cruising along in a boat. In California with a rent-a-car (nobody walks in LA), I got as far south as Laguna Beach before I turned north, heading up the coast through Big Sur, finally stopping to take it all in at Point Reyes. After landing in London, I hopped a train to Emsworth down on the south coast and then another heading east towards the cliffs of Dover. In The Netherlands, I followed the canals by bicycle to Rotterdam. I have a constant fascination with the things built at edges-- their range of size, material and use. At the old Navy Yard, immense buildings and drydocks of stone, concrete and steel were built to accommodate big things like battleships. Far up the coast in Seal Cove, Maine, a busy cluster of wooden storage sheds, repair shops and a small marine railway handle the much smaller craft of the local lobstermen and the summer yachting crowd.

65 66 Interspersed between places built in service to marine- related industries, individual livelihood or coastal defense are places built solely for the purpose of experiencing a life at the edge. Whether that place be The Breakers in Newport, a house in the Hamptons or an Airstream trailer propped-up on concrete blocks at East Beach in Westport, Massachusetts, their owners have all come for similar reasons.

67 A light wooden box elevated above the sand, surrounded by wind, anchored to a footing.

Being up in the box over the beach feels very different from being in the 55 gallon drum on the beach.

Lifesavingstation on the beach at Santa Monica, California. 68 As Tall concrete boxes imbedded deep into the sand, built to resist any wind.

WorldWar II vintagecoastal observationtowers on GooseberryNeck, Westport,Massachusetts.

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r Light wooden boxes attached to the land, propped-up over the water.

The length of the pilings indicates a substantial tide.

Fisherman'scottage and baithouse,Friendship, Maine.

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The length of the pilings indicates a lesser tide.

Houseon the waterfront, Bolinas,California.

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75 Light wooden boxes attached to the land, propped-up over the water. Within a dimension of twelve feet they go from being of the street to over the water.

By now, you might have figured that this sort of thing appeals to my sensibility.

Fishermen'scottages, Stonington, Maine.

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77 A light wooden box surrounded by a splendid porch, nestled in the dunes, overlooking the ocean.

Who could ask for anything more.

Summer cottageat HorseneckBeach, Westport, Massachusetts, ca. 1930.

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A gaff-riggedsloop reachingout of WestportHarbor, ca. 1920.

81 82 Horseneck Beach Westport, Massachusetts

Welcome to my beach. It is a barrier beach about two and a half miles long, shaped in a sweeping curve, protecting a harbor, a river and the village of Westport Point from the periodic fury of the Atlantic Ocean. A spine of constantly shifting dunes stretching east to west from the Gooseberry Neck causeway to the harbor mouth separates the marshlands of the Westport River to the north from the broad, sandy beach along the south. Here is a wilderness shaped by the wind. The prevailing winds blow from the southwest. They pump up warm, moisture-laden air from the Gulf which accounts for the often impenetrable fogs which enshroud the coast during summer and for the occasional unseasonably mild days which we experience in winter. When the winds blow from the northwest originating high up in the Canadian plateau, they bring us crystal clear days in the fall when we can almost read the names on the mailboxes out on Cuttyhunk, and in winter, after they dissipate, they leave behind frigid Arctic air which envelops us in a bone-chilling stillness. When the wind comes around to the northeast bearing down from the Maritimes, we know that we're in for three days of weather, either torrential rains or a classic New England blizzard. These are the fabled "Nor'easters."

83 84 Wind is so much a part of our lives that it's the still days without so much as a whisper of breeze that are uncommon, whether they be in the middle of February or in the "dog days" of August. And then there is that other stillness that we New Englanders know all too well-- the calm before the storm. The gradual shaping of the beach by the wind may continue unnoticed except by the most constant beachcomer, but the aftermath of a severe coastal storm can hardly be missed. The combined force of wind-driven waves riding a storm-surge of water can drastically change the shape of a beach, gouging out whole sections of dunes in a matter of hours. I have been observing these changes, both subtle and sudden, for over twenty years.

85 86 My beach has many moods. So do I. Perhaps that is why I have returned once again, this time to do my thesis. I have come with a specific intention-- to explore the possibility of finding some forms which might act as an analogue for the experience of the place itself. I brought my best casting rod along too, just in case the terns are hitting bait-fish in the surf, a good sign that perhaps there are a few blues or a striper feeding there as well.

87 Land shaped by the wind.

Dune at Horseneck Beach. 88 89 Moving through the dunes, closer to the edge, sensing the broad sweep of the beach.

Viewof the site, HorseneckBeach. 90 91 Once known as "The Devil's Pockethole," Wesport Harbor, with its river environs to the north, was a favored port of entry for rum-runners during the Prohibition In this place of the 1920's. To gain the harbor, shaped by the wind you must first negotiate Two-mile Rock are three things and then the spindle marking Half-mile Rock. which never move. You then run straight-in towards the shore. When you can hear the breakers crashing One was shaped on the beach, you put the helm hard-over to port and run along the beach, slipping by glaciation. behind "The Nubble," all the time keeping a lookout for the old stone jetty which slips into the water off the beach. Heading out of Westport isn't much easier. With its up to five knot rip, it is said that if you can sail out of Westport, you can sail out of anywhere.

"The Nubble" marking the entrance to Westport Harbor. 92 93 The others were shaped by the hand of man.

The stone causeway, built in 1924 from recycledgranite blocks brought from Fall River, Massachusetts,follows the natural curve of an existing sandspit. The rip-rap was addedby the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers during the 1940's and hasbeen sporadicallymaintained by the state ever since.

Stone causewayleading to GooseberryNeck. 94 95 Someone sensed that the causeway was here to stay.

United States Coast & Geodetic Survey benchmark F-21/ 1943 set in the north end of the Gooseberry Neck causeway. Elevation above mean sea level: 9.426 feet 96 a.. 4 U * - P. * 4~~.) . '.4 4.' a,. 0 '.4. 1~

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'4' a I'.4 97 Built by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in 1942 as part of an extensive network of observation towers, sonar listening posts and gun emplacements strung out all along Vertical building the entire East Coast, their intended purpose was to counter the very real threat of German juxtaposed U-boats preying on merchant shipping with the horizon. in coastal waters during World War II. Observers stationed at Gooseberry Neck kept a watchful-eye up Buzzards Bay, the western approach to the Canal, and out over Rhode Island Sound, the home waters for warships stationed at the Newport Naval Base. Whether intentional or not, the reinforced concrete towers presented a difficult target to an enemy shipboard gunner, rather like trying to hit a pencil at 25 yards with a .22 caliber rifle.

Observation towers on Gooseberry Neck.

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99 High -up in the towers, one's sense of the sweep of the beach is intensified.

Panoramic view of the coast offered from within the towers.

100 101 102 Hurricanes

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A small cruiser held aloft by pilings in the aftermath of a hurricane. Barrington, Rhode Island, 1938.

103 104 The "'38 Hurricane" caught New England by surprise. Churning up from the Caribbean, it slipped past Cape Hatteras and made a bee-line northward, slamming into the southern New England coast late in the afternoon of September 18, 1938, resulting in the greatest loss of life, vessels and property in New England history, surpassing the infamous "Portland Gale" of November, 1898. For those who lived through it, the '38 Hurricane became a benchmark in their lives. The names of more recent unforgettable New England hurricanes read like a list of former girlfriends-- Carol, Diane, Donna, Gloria-- the havoc left in their wake being somewhat similar. And though we are never certain that a hurricane will come, we know which time of year to anticipate their arrival.

105 106 I have come to think of "hurricane season" as our fifth season as it has its own distinct qualities. Beginning in the "dog days" of August when it is so hot and still that even the grasshoppers refuse to budge, it lingers on through late September until those first chilly mornings which signal the inevitable arrival of autumn. I spend these days waiting-- monitoring the marine weather forecasts for the first sign that something might be brewing far to the south, secretly hoping that, maybe this season, a hurricane will come. I have often been severely criticized, mostly by property and boat owners, for expressing these thoughts. I am a carpenter and a boat-builder and someone has got to fix all that stuff. However, for me, there's nothing like a good storm to clear the air. And when it really starts blowing, you'll find me abandoning Boston, heading down to my beach or out to the towers on Gooseberry Neck from within which, in relative safety, I might experience the full fury of the storm. Those towers, after all, aren't going anywhere.

107 On the New Englandseaboard, meteorologistsobserved an alarming drop in the barometer. The hurricane had covered 600 miles in 12 hours, one of thefastest movements ever reported. At 2:30 P.M. the Weather Bureau in Boston went on the air: "The tropical hurricane is now in the vicinity of New York...The storm is attended by winds of whole gale force around its center and by winds of gale force over a wide area. Indications are that it will move inland within the next two hours and will travel up the Hudson Valley or the Connecticut Valley. Precautions against high winds, high tides and heavy rain should be taken throughout the area reached by this broadcast." Persistent September rains had drenched New England. The Connecticut and Merrimac rivers were overflowing their banks, mountain freshets were racing into the lowlands. High tide Wednesday afternoon along the coast. Then the hurricane, driving a huge wind-wave of salt water into coastal towns and assaulting the great watersheds.

"New England Hurricane," compiled by the Federal Writers Project of the W.P.A., 1938.

The fishing fleet anchored at Provincetown, Massachusetts, at the height of the '38 Hurricane.

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109 Horseneck Beach the morning after the '38 Hurricane. Every one of the numerous cottages which once dotted this section of beach has been swept away.

110 111 Wreckage at Westport Point left in the wake of Hurricane Carol, August 1954.

112 113 A light wooden box securely anchored to a granite foundation, braced against the wind.

Note the diagonal sheathing of tongue-and-groove boards, good building practice in a place frequented by hurricanes. The multi-colored appearance of the sheathing is due to the fact that it was recycled from a previously existing building at the site, dismantled rather than demolished, a practice once common among New England's builders.

House under construction by the author at Westport Point photographed at the height of Hurricane Gloria, September 1985.

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115 A light wooden box not securely anchored to anything.

Laura's Restaurant, formerly of Westport Point, shown heading out to sea during Hurricane Carol.

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West Horseneck Beach viewed from the air the day after Hurricane Carol ripped up the coast.

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I The only buildings to survive the onslaught of the '38 Hurricane at Horseneck Beach (top) and as they remain to the present (bottom).

122 123 Unintentional juxtapositionof forms.

Wreck of the pilot schooner Columbia of Boston at Scituate, Massachusetts, after the "PortlandGale" of November26, 1898.

124 125 126 Ruins

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A beach house left in ruins after a hurricane. Third Beach, Newport, Rhode Island, 1938.

127 128 Had I not loved building things as much as I do, my reverence for ruins might have propelled me into archeology instead of architecture. The everyday realities of building still might. My fascination with ruins began a long time ago when as a kid, slogging up swollen streams looking for spring-run trout, I would occasionally stumble across the remnants of some long-forgotten mill. What impressed me the iMostabout these ruins was not only their straightforward engineering, but the solidity of the stone dams, foundations and raceways still bearing steadfastly against a spring-surge of water. My youthful quest for the ultimate trout stream was at other times thwarted by the discovery of the ruin of an early New England house or barn.

129 130 Once, at a particularly overgrown site, while poking around in the brambles with the butt of my fly rod, I struck an immense granite slab. An exhilarating afternoon of strenuous effort revealed a perfectly preserved stone-lined well full of cold, clear water. I have spent all the years since trying to imagine how its builder had managed the task. As is still the case, these early experiences with ruins left me with more questions than answers. That ruins exist at all is testament to the intentions of the builders. Whether that intention was to harness or resist the forces of nature, to erect a monument to themselves, their gods or their ideals, to insure safety from invasion or to simply provide a firm footing for a much lighter structure, their endeavors required the use of durable materials. In New England, the obvious choice was an ever-abundant supply of stone, either gathered from fields or split from exposed ledges. They didn't set out to build ruins. They simply built to last.

131 132 Much of the history of human activity resides within ruins. Their very existence is evidence enough that life went on and that at some point in time, that life changed or altogether ceased. If we read the history of a place and then have the opportunity to visit its ruins, we might be able to reconstruct the life of that place in our minds. We might also envision that life through the living memory of a citizen of that place. But without the benefit of a particular written history or an individual's recollection to inform us, we are left only to speculate. When we encounter a ruin, we inevitably ask ourselves what was the life of this place. And upon further reflection, we might begin to wonder by what catastrophe, either act of nature or consequence of human events, this life ceased to exist. It is by significant events that we mark time, both in history and in our personal lives. We speak of our personal histories in terms of life before I met you or life since my baby left town. Westporters mark time by the loss of a fishing vessel or the passing of a great storm. The old-timers still speak of the '38 Hurricane. Ruins record events like these. When we encounter a ruin, we thus encounter history.

133 No. Never build for needs! As an art a space is made a touch of eternity. I think a space evoked its use. It transcends need. If it doesn't do that, then it has failed. One might say that architecture is directed by function more than painting is. A painting is made to be sensed for its motivation beyond seeing, just as space is made to inspire use. It's psychological. There is something about a building which is different from a painting. When a building is built, there is an impatience to bring it into being. Not a blade of grass can grow near this activity. Look at the building after it is built. Each part that was built with so much anxiety and joy and willingness to proceed tries to say when you're using the building, Let me tell you how I was made. Nobody is listening because the building is now satisfying need. The desire in its making is not evident. As time passes, when it is a ruin, the spirit of its making comes back. It welcomes the foliage that entwines and conceals. Everyone who passes can hear the story it wants to tell about its making. It is no longer in servitude; the spirit is back.

Louis I. Kahn

Barn, South Liberty, Maine.

134 -U'.

'-'F-- -U

* 1-

135 What was the life of this place.

136

And what caused this life to cease.

138 f i

I I

139 And how long ago.

One-half-inch scale model of the ruin (specifications are the same for each form) Material: cast Hydrocal Length of long wall: 36 inches Length of return: 11 inches Height: 16.5 inches Thickness: 1.25 inches Weight: 57 pounds 140

What history is locked within these forms.

142

Here are two openings large enough to walk through.

144 U

145 And here are three openings only large enough to sit in.

Perhaps the six smaller openings let in light, suggesting that the life of this place happened high-up between the walls.

146 S m 0

147 148 Experiencing a ruin, our imaginations are activated. If ruins can do this for us-- could we not then intentionally erect a building with these qualities at a site known for its vulnerability to periodic catastrophes, endow it with a life-- and then wait.

149 150 151 152 The World According to Guido

Maybe it's just because we live so close to the ocean, but ask Guido why things are going the way they are and he will answer "The wind and the tides."

After several evenings of fishing for stripers in the surf without a single hit, his only comment is "The wind and the tides." When I find myself on a Saturday morning sitting in his kitchen, surrounded by his wife's cats, drinking coffee and wondering out loud why my love life is always such a mess, his response is "The wind and the tides." Guido has an uncanny ability to distill complex ideas and emotions.

Maybe it's because of the ocean that we have grown so close.

And maybe it's because we know the beach so well, its winds and its tides, that we have arrived at such a seemingly simple explanation for things happening the way they do.

153 AL 'V a I~~J4

ilL. ~ V ±1

Bridge, Assonet,Massachusetts.

154 Guido and I are both builders. And we have both learned self-discipline--

he by studying Aikido, myself by sharpening tools. We spend a lot of time

fishing together and talking about life in the trades and about the way things

used to be. This talking-out has become a necessary therapy at a time

when the building trades have fallen into such decline. If, while cruising

around looking for trout streams, we discover an old bridge and marvel

at how it was built, I might say to Guido "Just look at this, will you!"

And his only comment will be "It's what it is." You see, we have been

through this thing so many times before.

A while ago, I pretty much gave up trying to explain to people why

I built things the way I did. I wasn't even sure myself, although I sensed

a certain rightness about the way in which I was doing things.

I also tired of explaining to people why I spent so much time collecting

and restoring old things. The way I had it figured, what it was was simply what it is.

155 156 The world according to Guido didn't quite jibe with the world I confronted when I went off to architecture school. There, presenting before juries of faculty members and working architects, I soon discovered that to simply say what it is was not going to be enough. These people wanted to know why.

And they were out for blood.

I had survived up to this point in my life by relying on my instincts.

After enduring three semesters, I again responded to those instincts and fled back to the sanctuary of my beach. For the next two and a half years,

I would return to building. One has a lot of time to think about things when shingling a roof. I began to realize that everything I did came from one place-- my sensibility.

157 Guido Medeiros and the author rigging-up for bluefish at the harbor mouth.

158 I became very conscious of what I was doing and why.

I would explain to anyone who came by why there was a window at the landing at the top of the stairs. I tried to explain to the mason why brick must corbel- out where it receives the beam. I would notice with great satisfaction that Cindy and Denise, my painters, always took their lunch out onto the sunny-side of the porch. And at some point during a long Westport winter, I remembered why I had always wanted to be an architect.

It was a very determined person who returned to school a couple of years ago. Come hell-or-high-water, I was ready for that jury-- for in acknowledging my own sensibility, I had discovered my own voice.

So now when I say "It's what it is," I'm prepared to tell you why.

159 160 The Hammerhead Bar

HorseneckBeach during the 1920'sProhibition.

161 162 You approach the Hammerhead Bar from the east. Moving along a winding path through the dunes, you step onto a long, narrow boardwalk which leads you between two monolithic L-shaped walls imbedded back to back in the sand. These reinforced concrete walls, measuring two-and-one-half feet in thickness, soar to a height of over thirty feet and plunge another thirteen feet below the surface of the sand into hard pan. Each wall is seventy-two feet long, and their returns, which provide self-stability to each form, measure twenty-two feet across each face. The dimension between the long walls is only fourteen feet. Pinched between these walls, held ten feet off the sand, is a barn-like shape about forty feet long, framed in steel bents, containing the bar itself. To reach the bar, you ascend a string of steel stairs leading to a small steel landing. You enter through a glass door hung in a steel-framed glass gable-end wall. Inside, the enclosed space measures thirteen feet in width and rises almost thirty feet through the roof trusses to the peak. Shafts of sunlight stream in from the sides, high overhead, through small openings cast into the concrete.

163 164 Two doorways off to your right lead through the concrete wall to a small kitchen, a utility room and the bathrooms. These are held within a top-lit, steel-framed shipping-container-like box which is bolted to the face of the north wall and supported by steel struts. This box is thirty-one feet long and roughly ten feet in both height and width. Moving through the extrusion-like space of the bar, you exit through a glass door hung in a steel-framed glass gable-end wall at the far end, cross a narrow cantilevered steel bridge and then step down onto a nearly fifty-foot-long steel deck bolted along one edge to the west-facing concrete return walls. The deck is suspended about nine feet above the sand by a system of tubular struts and adjustable solid steel rigging. It is narrow, only nine feet wide and bounded by a three-foot-high steel railing. A steel fire escape ladder bolted to oneof the concrete faces leads you down through the deck, back onto the sand. Turning from the ladder, the wind-swept beach stretches out in front of you in a sweeping curve over two miles long.

165 The light wooden boardwalk extending from the path through the dunes must be constantly swept clear of shifting sand.

The galvanized steel stairs, bolted to concrete footings imbedded deep into the sand, leap up to a small galvanized steel landing.

The satellite dish pulls in the Red Sox.

166 ~1 f/i

167 Recessed into the openings in the concrete wall are six windows. One-inch-thick clear glass is epoxied into galvanized steel frames cast into the concrete. The three lower windows are operable.

One-half-inchscale model of theHammerhead Bar Materials:cast Hydrocal, basswood, chipboard, foam-core, corrugated paper, aluminumscreen, acrylic sheet, braided fishingline, steel wire and paint Length: 36 inches Width: 29 inches Height: 21 inches Weight: 118 pounds 168 169 The steel deck is suspended by a system of tubular steel compression members and cold-rolled high-tensile steel rigging. The railing at the leading edge of the steel deck acts like a truss. The bottom chord is a steel channel, part of the deck framing. The top chord is a welded length of tubular steel. The uprights are also tubular steel. The braces are sturdy lengths of angle stock.

Both the steel deck and the suspension system receive a coat of red lead primer and then several coats of red-orange paint.

The deck will be lit by marine mast-light fixtures mounted to the ends of the tubular steel suspension struts.

170 k zr

171 The narrow steel bridge leading to the deck is cantilevered from a steel undercarriage bolted through the underside sheathing of the bar to the bottom members of two of the steel bents. All the steel is galvanized.

The undercarriage activates the otherwise smooth surface of the bottom of the bar.

172 173 One-inch-thick sandblasted glass panels are epoxied into steel frames welded to structural steel mullions at each of the gable-end walls. Several of the frames on each side are operable to provide ventilation. They open outward, forming awnings. All the steel is galvanized.

An anemometer and weather vane located high-up at the peak are wired to instruments located in the wall over the wet bar inside the building.

174 K -0 I The steel-framed box, sheathed in corrugated metal and strengthened by an external truss configuration, is supported by braces fabricated from steel beams. The entire box is galvanized.

The braces receive the same paint schedule as the steel deck.

176 177 One-inch-thick wire-reinforced laminated plate glass panels are bedded into the galvanized steel frame of the roof of the steel box. A hidden gutter carries rainwater and snowmelt down through an internal conductor.

The deep slot behind the left side of the steel box allows space for the exhaust flue for the LP gas-fired HVAC unit and the electric service which is brought in underground.

An LP gas tank bolted to concrete footings rests behind a nearby dune. It resembles a beached submarine.

178 a WINi'jpW f!/

179 Beneath the glass roof of the steel box are the kitchen and bathrooms.

Recessed into the openings high-up in the wall are three more small windows. One-inch-thick clear glass is again epoxied into galvanized steel frames cast into the concrete.

Not shown in the model are six ice-blue runway lights in explosion-proof fixtures which I envision located along the top edge of each of the concrete walls.

180 181

N The barn-shaped extrusion-like bar is pinched between the two monolithic concrete walls. Steel bents fabricated from structural tees, channels and square tubular stock are bolted to the inside surfaces of the concrete walls. They are shimmed with lead plates and aligned with a transit.

The roof is sheathed with marine plywood and covered with corrugated galvanized metal sheathing. Rigid foam insulation is sandwiched in-between.

The underside is sheathed with marine plywood.

182 183 The floorboards are one-and-one-half-inch-thick tongue-and-groove yellow pine planks nailed to fir sleepers bolted to the steel channels used for joists.

The bar console is wood-framed and sheathed with Baltic birch plywood. The top of the bar is formed monel steel over plywood.

184 185 The wall bar is formed monel steel over plywood and is mounted off the wall with galvanized steel brackets attached to the vertical steel framing through holes cut in the wall panels.

The wall panels are Bruynzeel marine plywood. They are splined together with extruded bronze tee stock which is itself clipped to a series of horizontal steel channels fastened to the vertical steel framing.

The bronze splines which are seen in the reveals created by the panel joining system will over time turn green, complementing the dark color of the oiled Bruynzeel.

186 187 The wet bar is formed monel steel over plywood and is let into the panel wall. The interiors of the bathrooms and kitchen are clad with monel steel and fitted with stainless steel fixtures and appliances. The interior of the boiler room is clad in galvanized sheet metal.

Holophane lighting fixtures hung with rigid conduit between the roof trusses will be suspended over the bar. Recessed fixtures behind the tops of the wall panels will cast a glow between the framing bents up towards the peak. Small hand- crafted monel wall sconces will provide intimate lighting along the wall bar.

All lighting fixtures will be controlled by dimmers mounted behind the bar.

188 189 190 191 192 Good Intentions

Paint is applied to surfaces. A few coats of a single color unify a surface, making us aware of that surface, not the material underneath.

Consider the front entrance to almost any early New England house.

The doorway, framed by pilasters holding up an entablature, often topped with a pediment, resembles a small temple front pasted onto a broad clapboard wall. It is made from wood. Its formal precedents date from antiquity.

193 Wanton-Lyman-Hazard House, Newport, Rhode Island, ca. 1695.

194 Roman temple fronts were often faced with marble. What you saw was the surface of the actual material. It was the intention of New England's carpenters to somehow convey this sense of surface with the only materials available to them-- wood and paint. So they carved their temple fronts, nailed them in place and then gave them several coats of paint which gradually filled in the grain of the wood. This continuous monochromatic surface, more than simply protecting the wood from weathering, preserved an idea.

195 Raised-panel wall, Graeme Park, Horsham, Pennsylvania, ca. 1715.

196 If you are fortunate enough to have a healthy stack of clear, wide, rough- sawn pine boards, enough time and the appropriate tools, you might be inspired to construct an elegant raised-panel wall to surround a fireplace in your dining room or library. Because of the nature of the material, the wood only requires a good rub-down with linseed oil after it has been worked and assembled.

A guest in this room might tap the panels and feel their thinness-- would touch the surface and know that this wall was in fact made from pine.

197 198 Perhaps you have a similar inspiration, amount of time and tools, but only a stack of poplar boards which naturally run in colors of yellows and greens.

The colors in the wood might distract your eye from the subtle shaping of the panel wall. Knowing this, it was your intention to paint the wall so guests could appreciate the play of light and shadow over the surface of your careful work. They would also sense the thinness of the wall-- know that it was carefully made from wood, but not really know what kind.

That is quite all right as your intentions were very clear.

199 Entry, Smithfield, Rhode Island, ca. 1730.

200 What I am trying to make explicit is the importance of having clear intentions about whatever it is in life that you are doing. So I always wonder why it is that some people insist on staining wood, attempting to make it look unlike what it is. Understand that stain does not lay on the surface of any porous material but actually penetrates that surface into the material itself. It is the height of deceit. If you want something to look like maple, go to a sawmill, get some, and bring it home.

201 202 Appendix I

Vicinity Chart

Sequence of Charts Showing the Periodic Destruction of Coastal Buildings by Hurricanes

Waterfront at Island Park, Rhode Island, after the '38 Hurricane.

203 Vicinity chart showing the coast from Newport, Rhode Island to New Bedford, Massachusetts and the southernmost extent of the . Horseneck Beach is located half-way between Newport and New Bedford. Note Cuttyhunk Island, about six nautical miles to the southeast of Gooseberry Neck.

Sectionof the Martha'sVineyard to BlockIsland navigationchart issued in 1977. 204 a - . -e riesitie. vaJ__ - LORAN-C LORAN-A GENERALEXPLANATION GENERA. EXPANATION LORaNC FRuENCT.... 0 13 1n . . .. . 9 3 3 MW - STATION1TVY" OF SAGMATDM|: fit-4 SN 333333.33 3333. 33.3333 M .. M ..rst

EnusptE9910n1 RATESON THIS CHART RATES(IN THis CHART .99) X 9930. '1 117 Thi r 1- a ben pr-a-d *Ir us -ahgmd flrr, .3 -' 3.3' 73 a33333777373.37 19nesA gotera fr a 1 37 S RADARqEFlF"CTORM If Rr . .rr.v ben plce on any1 Tene, a333 to 3a33a33onAs3nd 3 a reper33'r de ~tn 3d s

4. (3 MEW CHART NUMMUNG SYMTEM 53 TheNational Ocean SUrvey I cooperastionwith the Defense Mi S ping Agency Hydr'WpMc Cefet. Is 1nthe Proc-s of adoimng 0 new nusnberkg systena not6onalSe Notice chart to Mariners No. 19, may11. 3974. ar Neutices Chart Catalog for cross references ofloid An d now chart W-YrnbMS

Chari Nm.ber Noe. systern OldSysten .. . 27 1327M32s .. . 269 . 13221 353' 13212 3M3 SC 13223 236 13224 276 13. 5 . . .3 R2 13227 350 1322 237 13229 ...... 3 4-3 C Ie 1f3230 ...... 249 ...... -13233264 . 13236 .. .251 33238 ...... -.... 261

5''

3. 57 r - 3 6S - 6 / 37 B Ba®?tRDh - 3 33 N ®!23 '-A72 *A'n &. 3.333 3y333 '.Iun 3 r3 - 3 t--

6i7.33 " I 1 3 3'> 'k /33.3~ -'K 205 Chart showing the numerous buildings on the beach.

Sectionof the Westport Riverand Approachesnavigation chart issuedin 1937. 206 sS

4 2 22

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- * n.n.2 - - 0 2 2 * - OIsI -222

- . 4 9u s w 1- - - 23 19 to 33* 3. tC4'2s 22 372

22232 29529 30. 23 2 25 22 33 32 22 22 , 3 ,3 45 22: * 2jef' . -- 2- 23 2. 23 22 22 ' Is 30 3. 211 . 3 34 -2>5 2 2- 2 3 2 30 2 2 3- to 22 62 4 15 . 26 2 22 3 - - 22 29 3. 27 2( - 2 -- w-- L-w- 2 22 ;22 2220 3 2 * ". 2 3 22 214 9 2 3.2 - a -- -

n 4 2 3 9 3 .2 22 2 Is 3 ;-Y Itt -3 ..2 3. I. . 2 -- w 9 At 3 23. 3 2 CA,,arA'2 t. ff6 S 2 2 29 215 223 m5

-3 '23 41 3 3.

'3 Si, 2 ' 2. 47 4 31 so -2-? 13 2 222129 a -45- 4 36 - 2 ------as -7 4 3- , . rs) 39 4449 . k% 207 Chart showing the few buildings which remained after the '38 Hurricane.

Sectionof the WestportRiver and Approachesnavigation chart issued in 1939. 208 A 4

Is is JI - t4% .12 2 333 ' 33 23 23 14 . a '2 r 3' h.. -/ 22' 222 5 ' 3tr *, i 3 2,3 33 3 3 231 3 -5 29 n2 13 24 2 , -4 3' 29 3 22 ' 5 25 3 233 3 133 35 32

32 3 26 7 3. 2 2 13 ., , a3 , '' .3333 22 31 ' 226 20 s 3, 32 4 2 } -1..-,' t -. - 'g .,3-i

,s 3' 32 - 1 33 2 - s 33 '!33 3 3 : a 32 a'4, 3 3 3 3 It3 22 24. - si 332 in6s 341 333 2.1 3 30 1 . 14r 3 33 -' -3553 - . 3 3 3 42 3. 3* m5 3. 53 4 5 3 3 ' ,s ~I - V.d 31q - ~ 4 V 1 1 3'1 4 2 3 3 33.3 12 9

338

34 ss 3,l-3 1 4 1,, 42 533 '5 .3 32 45 4g 29 .9 - 2221 '2 253 "1 239 55 583 -- 2 6 .... -- , ------a 422 a 42 59 4 so 7 47 - - 20 20 43 438 .4i 332'i 51 5392 47 45

33 .55 ' 3 3 *.s

209 Several decades and hurricanes later, the practice of showing buildings on the beach has been given-up in favor of calling out more permanent landmarks from which to plot navigation ranges. Note the tower, built in 1942, located at Gooseberry Neck. On a clear day, it is visible from ten nautical miles offshore.

Sectionof theWestport Riverand Approachesnavigation chart issuedin 1963. 210 3

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211 Beaufortscale from the "EldridgeTide and Pilot Book"published annually by Robert Eldridge White, Boston, Massachusetts. 212 BEAUFORT SCALE Wind Speed in knots Approx. (33' above Wind Wave ht. sea level) Condition Sea Conditions (in ft.) Force 0-1 Calm Smooth, mirror-like sea. 0 1-3 Light Air Scale-likeripples; no foam crests. %4 1 4-6 Light Short wavelets; glassy crests; non- % Breeze breaking. 7-10 Gentle Large wavelets; glassy crests, some 2 Breeze breaking; occasional white foam. 11-16 Moderate Small waves becoming longer; frequent 3% Breeze white foam crests. 17-21 Fresh Moderate waves with more pronounced 6 Breeze long form; many white foam crests; some spray. 22-27 Strong Large wavesform; white foam crests 9% Breeze everywhere; probably more spray. 28-33 Near Sea heaps up; white foam from breaking 13% Gale waves is blown in streaks with the wind. 34-40 Gale Moderately high waves with greater length; 18 edges of crests break into spindrift; foam is blown in well-definedstreaks with the wind. 41-47 Strong High waves; crests of waves start to 23 Gale topple and roll over; spray may affect visibility. 48-55 Storm Very high waves; overhanging crests; re- 29 10 sulting foam is blown in dense White patches with the wind; sea surface takes on a whiter look; the tumbling of the sea becomes heavy and shock-like; visibility affected. 56-63 Violent Exceptionally high waves;sea covered 37 11 Storm with long white patches of foam blown in direction of wind; all wave crests are blown into froth; visibility affected. 64+ Hurricane Air is filled with spray and foam; sea is 45 12 completely white with driving spray; visibility seriously affected.

213 214 Appendix II

Locus

Site Model

Elevations, Plans and Sections

View northwards from Gooseberry Neck towards Horseneck Beach.

215 Locus showing the position of the longitudinal axis of the Hammerhead Bar, the stone causeway leading out to Gooseberry Neck and the location of the tower. The area enclosed within the rectangle indicates the extent of the site model.

Enlargementfrom theTown of WestportPlanning Board map issuedin 1959.

216 /5

THE HAMMERHEAD BAR

STONE CAUSEWAY

)A Looxour

217 Scale site model showing the location and relative size of the concrete walls of the Hammerhead Bar.

Materials: honeycomb-board, chipboard and gesso 218

West Elevation Scale 1:16

220 7.1.QQQQ000

221 SouthElevation Scale 1:16 (original 1:8 scale ink on mylar drawings reduced 50% for publication in thesis) 222 223 East Elevation Scale 1:16

224 A

225 North Elevation Scale 1:16 226 227 Plan Scale 1:16

228 000000000000

00000000000

0

229 Longitudinal Section A Scale 1:16 230 231 Section B Scale 1:16 232 233 234 Coda

The Hammerhead Bar. It's what it is. It might have been a funerary chapel as the space inside is rather cathedral-like, where after a memorial service the ashes of the deceased would be broadcast to the winds from the steel deck. It might have been an incredible place to get married as well. Imagine exchanging vows up in that magnificent sun-streaked space, embraced by those steadfast walls, and then having your reception down on the beach with all the food and champagne arranged on blankets spread out on the sand. It might have been the perfect place for the revival of ancient rituals celebrating the arrival of Spring had the main axis of the building been set to mark the traverse of the sun on the vernal equinox instead of having been intentionally set in juxtaposition with the sweeping curve of the beach. The space between the walls, however, is just a little too narrow to contain any of these particular activities. It is even pushing it for a bar.

235 236 Any building might have accommodated any one of these activities because the site by its very nature has qualities which intensify any human experience. It was my intention to find forms which might act as an analogue for my own experience of the site and to then figure out what activity might happen there. The forms I discovered, the monumental L-shaped walls, I intentionally placed very close together. When you move between them, you feel the compression of the space. As soon as you move through them and stand out in front of the west-facing cheeks, you immediately feel the expansiveness of the beach. In an instant, these sensations of compression and expansion are juxtaposed.

237 238 The Hammerhead Bar was not designed to fulfill a necd for yet another bar. It was not generated from a program written after the completion of extensive site and demographic analyses. The idea for a bar came in a flash of inspiration. What activity, other than perhaps a cruise missile launching facility, might have fit in a space only fourteen feet wide. Movement through the building was intended to intensify different sensations. The sense of compression which impelled you up the steel stairs is relieved once you enter the tall, barn-like shape of the bar. Though the space is narrow, its great height offers release. You settle yourself onto a stool quite comfortably, feeling yourself nestled in between the two concrete walls, knowing that no matter what happens out on the beach, this place is going nowhere. So relax and order your favorite drink.

239 240 After a few drinks, as you find yourself moving from the bar to the bathrooms, you step from the wood floor of the bar onto the exposed concrete where one of the two large openings was cast into the north wall and then onto the metal floor of the steel box. Each of these materials feels different under your feet. This was intentional as I wanted you to feel that you were passing through the wall into a very different kind of space. Incidentally, if it's night-time and you flip-off the lights, when you look up, you see the stars. After your trip to the head, perhaps you're ready for a breath of fresh air. As you exit through the doorway in the west gable- end wall, you find yourself standing on the narrow steel bridge and again feeling the compression of the walls. You can also sense each wall plunging right past where you stand, deep into the sand below.

241 242 But as soon as you step off the bridge onto the steel deck, the feelings are quite different. Suspended on the narrow deck with your back to one of the concrete cheeks, the first thing you feel is an almost overwhelming sense of exposure heightened by the incredible expanse of beach, ocean and sky that spreads out before you. It was my intention to juxtapose this sense of exposure with the comforting sense of protection you felt in the bar. This juxtaposition is more poignant if there is a full nor'east gale blowing outside. It was also my intention that both the steel deck and the system of struts and rigging which suspend it from the west-facing walls be painted. By attending to the whole configuration, not its individual pieces, I sought to emphasize my ideas about horizontality and exposure. The steel braces supporting the steel box on the north wall are painted as well-- to call out not what they are, but what they do.

243 244 On a summer's day when the sand is so hot that you need sneakers to cross the dunes, the Hammerhead Bar will be shady and cool inside. If need be, we'll close all the windows and crank- up the air-conditioning. And on warm summer nights, we'll throw- open all the operable sash in both gable-end walls to let the cool sou'west evening breezes through. In winter, surrounded by a sea of frozen dunes-- the beach desolate save for a solitary gull poking away at the tide-line-- with the nearby summer houses boarded-up-tight, the Hammerhead Bar will provide a warm and cozy refuge. On a winter's night beneath a crystal-clear canopy of twinkling stars, when the only other visible lights are the ice-blue beacons along the tops of the concrete walls and the distant flashes of the navigation buoys out on the water, the light emanating from within the glass walls of the bar will cast a soft glow between the concrete walls onto the snow-dusted sand below.

245 246 Imagine the Hammerhead Bar weathering out on that beach season after season. The monolithic concrete walls, stained by rust from metal fittings and re-bar exposed by spalling concrete, will be burnished by wind-blown sand. The galvanized metal surfaces will gradually corrode and the painted surfaces will slowly blister by constant exposure to wind-driven salt-water. The boardwalk will bleach-out silver in the sunshine and be wracked by violent winds. The Hammerhead Bar will wear the patina of time and human activity-- bearing the graffiti of generations of spray-can-wielding high school kids intent upon leaving their hallmarks on any accessible surface. And perhaps some early September morning, a great hurricane will blow most of it away.

247 The writing on the wall. 248 249 250 Notes on Images

All photographs of the scale model of the Hammerhead Bar, including the series in the section titled "Ruins," were taken during the month of November 1988, by Todd Gieg in his studio at Fort Point, Boston, Massachusetts. His cats, Scooter and Sally, refrained from using the sand surrounding the model as litter until we were almost through. Most of the images I brought to the thesis were generated from color slides taken during the past twelve years following my purchase of a second-hand Honeywell-Pentax. Photo credits for other images follow. The navigation charts reproduced in Appendix I, with the exception of the 1937 chart which had been thumb-tacked to the wall of a summer cottage at Westport Point for nearly fifty years, are from the chart file used by Robert H. Baker throughout his life. They have been generously loaned to me by his wife Anne W. Baker of Westport, Massachusetts. I am especially grateful to Anne for the privilege of pouring through her extensive collection of old photographs.

251 252 Photo Credits

6 Robert Foley, photographer, Newport, Rhode Island. 20 Mary S. Lovell, Straight On Till Morning, New York, St. Martin's Press, 1987, 172. 23 John and Sheila Nowell, Rehoboth, Massachusetts. 45 Alice Wingwall, Building Blocks, San Francisco, William Stout Architectural Books, 1981, 30. 58 W. H. Bunting, Portrait of a Port: Boston, 1852- 1914, Cambridge, The Belknap Press of Press, 1971, 473. 60 Foley, Newport. 63 Original photographic print from the collection of Anne W. Baker. 79 Original print, Baker. 81 Original postcard, Baker. 103 Federal Writer's Project of the W. P. A., New England Hurricane, Boston, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1938, 73. 109 Federal Writer's Project, Hurricane, 111. 111 Original print, Baker. 113 Original print, Baker. 117 Hurricane Pictures, Fall River, Fall River Herald News Publishing Co., 1954.

253 254 119 Original postcard, Baker. (top) Hurricane Pictures, Fall River, Fall River Herald News Publishing Co., 1938, 32- 33. (bottom) 121 Herald News, Hurricane, 1954. 123 Herald News, Hurricane, 1938, 26. (top) 125 Bunting, Portrait of a Port, 145. 127 Federal Writer's Project, Hurricane, 84. 158 Alberta Head, Boston, Massachusetts. 161 Original postcard, Baker. 194 Antoinette F. Downing and Vincent J. Scully, Jr., The Architectural Heritage of Newport, Rhode Island, New York, Clarkson N. Potter, Inc., 1967, Plate 29. 196 Leigh French, Jr., Colonial Interiors, New York, Bonanza Books, 1923, Plate 34. 200 Samuel Chamberlain, A Small House in the Sun, New York, Hastings House, 1971, 91. 203 Herald News, Hurricane, 1938, 33. 219 Todd Gieg, photographer, Boston, Massachusetts.

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