CLOSE TO THE EDGE:
FINDING THE HAMMERHEAD BAR
GREGORY NOWELL
Bachelor of Fine Arts
Southeastern Massachusetts University
North Dartmouth, Massachusetts
1976
SUBMITTED TO THE DEPARTMENT OF ARCHITECTURE
IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR
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
lb
Signature of the author
GREGO3RY NOWELL
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
(~T
~
I
MITLibraries
Document Services
77 Massachusetts Avenue
Cambridge, MA 02139
Ph: 617.253.2800
Email: docs@mit.edu
http://Iibraries.mit.edu/docs
DISCLAIMER OF QUALITY
Due to the condition of the original material, there are unavoidable
flaws in this reproduction. We have made every effort possible to
provide you with the best copy available. If you are dissatisfied with
this product and find it unusable, please contact Document Services as
soon as possible.
Thank you.
The images contained in this document are of
the best quality available.
CLOSE TO THE EDGE:
FINDING THE HAMMERHEAD BAR
GREGORY NOWELL
A~bIFIII~
MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY
2
CLOSE TO 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
Sensibility
19
23
Interlude: Sailing with Bob 57
Close to the Edge
Site 81
Hurricanes 103
Ruins 127
63
Interlude: The World According to Guido
The Hammerhead Bar
153
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.
9
Saiin w i OR
esRMfNA
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 New England 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 Nantucket, 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 ruralvista, or ornamental
planting arounda country house.
It means shaped land,land modified
for permanent human occupation,
for dwelling, agriculture,manufacturing,
government, worship, andfor pleasure.
A landscape happens not by chance
but by contrivance, by premeditation,
by design; aforest or swamp orprairie
no more constitutes a landscape
than does a chain of mountains.
Shaped
by generations
of human activity
on the land-the quintessential
New England landscape.
John R. Stilgoe, "Common Landscape
of America, 1580 to 1845."
Two barns, Marlboro, Maine.
30
..Mww"
..l,
.
.
'16
A6
~*
IV
fv
@5:
*
I.
i
31
Shaped
by a livelihood
wedded to the coast.
Baker Boat and Launch Works, Westport, Massachusetts.
32
I'
I:
,
xa
mv
A
* q~4
Shaped
by a designer's
sensibility.
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
IL'
F
in
Shaped
by a long tradition
of coastal sail.
A small schooner in the works, Thomaston, Maine.
36
1-00
The colonialhouse is a marvelous house.
It has an eternalplan in my opinion.
No matter how much variationyou put
into it, it's still an eternalplan. It has a hall
and a stairwaywhich 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.
Today, we put the dining room in the living
room and when the guests come they see
the table. The hostess is constantly
rushing in and out. She may go gracefully
from place to place, be charming and all that,
but the charismaof the house is disturbed.
I say today you can still use the colonial
house, the room separationsmake 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.
Louis I. Kahn
38
Shaped
by very sharp
tools.
Doorway in a New England house, South Dartmouth, Massachusetts.
Built by the author, 1979.
4
1.
AAA
0
*1
Shaped
for occasional
good times
on the river.
Bob Baker's skiff resting high and dry at Hulda Cove, Westport Point, Massachusetts.
40
73'
/
/
V
I,...
40<
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 Buzzards Bay and Vineyard Sound.
42
I
/1
I
"mm
DO NOT TIE
ON THiS SIDE
OF DOC
%N%8
'm
I
b
:,~!
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.
48
Ia ~
I,'
g)
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
I
4Fs
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.
59
A
-Ea
a
i.
,--a
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
P-- -
C-
N
a
b~c7:I~'
mI,
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 Boston 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 marinerelated 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.
Lifesaving station on the beach at Santa Monica, California.
68
As
Tall concrete boxes
imbedded deep into the sand,
built to resist any wind.
World War II vintage coastal observation towers on Gooseberry Neck, Westport, Massachusetts.
70
r
N
Light wooden boxes
attached to the land,
propped-up over the water.
The length of the pilings
indicates a substantial tide.
Fisherman's cottage and baithouse, Friendship, Maine.
72
*1
*
%
lo
I
e
a
P
'9
r
fr~JC
Ihb~~
73
Light wooden box
attached to the land,
propped-up over the water.
The length of the pilings
indicates a lesser tide.
House on the waterfront, Bolinas, California.
74
F
4V
Ii
I II
-r~
p
*w
I
. ;m
W.
I
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's cottages, Stonington, Maine.
76
- a
.
Tj
-1i
-A
b
I,I
77
A light wooden box
surrounded by a splendid porch,
nestled in the dunes,
overlooking the ocean.
Who could ask for anything more.
Summer cottage at Horseneck Beach, Westport, Massachusetts, ca. 1930.
78
A1/
'a
Sm
-
N.~
~
I
I-_
144
N
..1,-
79
80
Site
A gaff-rigged sloop reaching out of Westport Harbor, 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.
View of the site, Horseneck Beach.
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
of the 1920's. To gain the harbor,
you must first negotiate Two-mile Rock
and then the spindle marking Half-mile Rock.
You then run straight-in towards the shore.
When you can hear the breakers crashing
on the beach, you put the helm hard-over
to port and run along the beach, slipping
In this place
shaped by the wind
are three things
which never move.
One was shaped
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 recycled granite blocks brought
from Fall River, Massachusetts, follows
the natural curve of an existing sandspit.
The rip-rap was added by the U.S. Army
Corps of Engineers during the 1940's
and has been sporadically maintained
by the state ever since.
Stone causeway leading to Gooseberry Neck.
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
4
a..
U
-
*
P.
*
1~
4.'
'.4.
'
q.
4~~.)
.
'.4
a,.
0
*1
4.'
-
a
b
* r
4
*
4
,-.
, q
*
'4
-,
,e
It
-9-.
.4
4
4
4
a
.
'
4
8~
0
-
-A
It
*0'.
~
*
s
~I~
VI
,-~
%~mIf
Ii,.
~.
$4
*
-
.
'Ian
74~
442,,
4
4
*
0
-
.
-t-
'
3
, 2.
1Io
p
p
'a
-*
--.
4.
'I
-,
*
~Ia
4
'I
a
*
4~4
'4'
4
4.'.
.8
*h;
-~*-
4.:,'.
I
-
&
3
114;J
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
the entire East Coast, their intended purpose
was to counter the very real threat of German
U-boats preying on merchant shipping
in coastal waters during World War II.
Observers stationed at Gooseberry Neck
kept a watchful-eye up Buzzards Bay,
the western approach to the Cape Cod 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.
Vertical building
juxtaposed
with the horizon.
Observation towers on Gooseberry Neck.
98
*1..-~
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
1=
now
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 England seaboard, meteorologists observed 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 tropicalhurricane 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 galeforce over a wide area. Indicationsare
that it will move inland within the next two hours and will travel
up the Hudson Valley or the Connecticut Valley. Precautionsagainst
high winds, high tides and heavy rain should be taken throughout the area
reachedby this broadcast."
PersistentSeptember rainshad drenchedNew England. The Connecticut
and Merrimac rivers were overflowing their banks, mountainfreshets
were racing into the lowlands. High tide Wednesday afternoon along the coast.
Then the hurricane,driving a huge wind-wave of salt water into coastaltowns
and assaultingthe 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.
108
-L
a
4'
er~dopma
--
.
f.
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.
114
\1V-1
'V.
4
A
xM.. A
I
'.'
r
p.
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.
116
I
Li
I
One of the most palatial of the summer "cottages" at East Horseneck Beach (top)
and all that remained (bottom) the morning after the '38 Hurricane.
118
I #
IL
J67,0
119
Unintentional
adjusting
and intensification
of forms.
West Horseneck Beach viewed from the air the day after Hurricane Carol ripped up the coast.
120
/
4\&t
I'
I
*
(a:~
a
-I
~
jA'
S
I
.3.-.
A'-
r--
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
juxtaposition of forms.
Wreck of the pilot schooner Columbia of Boston at Scituate, Massachusetts,
after the "Portland Gale" of November 26, 1898.
124
125
126
Ruins
a~OW
-.
-
-
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 iMost about 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 buildfor needs! As an art a space is made a touch of eternity.
I think a space evoked its use. It transcendsneed. If it doesn't do that,
then it hasfailed. One might say that architectureis directed by function
more than painting is. A painting is made to be sensedfor 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 spiritis 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
'V
ilL.
~
V
a
±1
Bridge, Assonet, Massachusetts.
154
AL
I~~J4
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 corbelout 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
Horseneck Beach during the 1920's Prohibition.
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 one of 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-inch scale model of the Hammerhead Bar
Materials: cast Hydrocal, basswood, chipboard, foam-core, corrugated paper,
aluminum screen, acrylic sheet, braided fishing line, 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
I
-0
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 WIN
i'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 handcrafted 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, roughsawn 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 Elizabeth Islands.
Horseneck Beach is located half-way
between Newport and New Bedford.
Note Cuttyhunk Island, about six
nautical miles to the southeast
of Gooseberry Neck.
Section of the Martha's Vineyard to Block Island navigation chart issued in 1977.
204
a
-
riesitie.
-e
.
vaJ__
-
LORAN-C
LORAN-A
GENERALEXPLANATION
....
LORaNC
FRuENCT
13
.
.
1n
TVY" OF
STATION1
M ..
GENERA. EXPANATION
0
3
3 MW .
9
..
SAGMATDM|: fit-4 SN 333333
3333.
33.3333
.33
..
rst
M
9910n1
EnusptE
RATESON THIS CHART
RATES(IN THis CHART
'1 117
9930.
X
Thir
1- a ben pr-a-d
*Ir
.99)
-ahgmd
us
.3 -'
flrr,
3.3' 73
a33333777373.37
19nes
A
S
Rr
4.
gotera fr
a 1
37
RADAR
qEFlF"CTORM
. .rr.v ben plce on
As3nd3
3a33a33on
Tene, a333
3d s
~tn
de
reper33'r
If
to
any1
a
MEWCHARTNUMMUNGSYMTEM
(3
53
TheNational
Ocean SUrvey I
cooperastionwith the Defense Mi
ping Agency Hydr'WpMcCefet.
Is 1nthe Proc-s of adoimng 0 new
chart nusnberkg systena
not6onal
Se Notice to Mariners No. 19,
may11. 3974. ar Neutices Chart
references
cross
Catalog for
An d now chart W-YrnbMS
S
ofloid
Chari Nm.ber
OldSysten
27
.
M32s .. ... 269
.
1327
13221
353'
13212
3M3 SC
236
276
13. 5 . . .3 R2
350
237
1322
13229 .
...
....
4-3 C
249
Ie 1f3230 ......
. ........
-13233 .
..
.251
13236
33238 .
......-....
261
Noe.systern
13223
13224
13227
3
264
5''
3.
S
57
6 -
3
/
6
r
-
37
3
B
N
33
®!23
3.333
'-A
72
*A'n
Ba®?tRDh
&.
3
3'>
/33.3~
'k
6i7.
33
"
r3
-
-
'.Iun
3y333
3
3
t--
I1
-'K
205
Chart showing the numerous
buildings on the beach.
Section of the Westport River and Approaches navigation chart issued in 1937.
206
sS
2
4
22
-I2
-
*
-
n.n.2
-
0
2
2
OIsI
-
3.
4
.
9u
s
1-
w
-
-
2jef'
.
--
2-
23
'
2
2.
22
30
22
3.
211
3
2
2-
2
26
2
22
29
22
2(
27
22
2
a--
.
3
34
2
30
3-
3-
3.
2
L-w- 2
-- w-".
-
2
22
to
.
15
4
30.
29529
33
32
22
3 ,3
45
22:
,
22
23
2
62
-
to
372
22232
25
22
Is
-2>5
*
-
22
23
*
19
23
33*
tC4'2s
*
-222
;22
2220
3
22
3
2
9
214
2
3.2
2
n 4
3
9
3
.2
22
3
2
Is
;-Y
-3
Itt
I.
..2 3.
-
ff6
3
9 At
w
-
2
S
2
23.
.
2
29
215223
3
CA,,arA'2
t.
'23
-3
3
41
'3
2
47 4
3.
Si,
'
2.
31
13 2
a
222129
-2-?
4
2
m5
36
as
-7
39
so
-45-
2
-
4
3-
44
49
,
.
.
-----
rs)
k%
207
Chart showing the few buildings
which remained after the '38 Hurricane.
Section of the Westport River and Approaches navigation chart issued in 1939.
208
4
A
'
h..
t4%
-
-/
231
2 ,
24
.12
33
32
2
3
-5
2,
3
29
Is
333
'
5
222
22'
23
3tr
*,
33
i
.
14
3
'2 r
3' 29
3
'
22
3
25
32
,
33
.33
''
5
32
35
133
3
233
3'
13
n2
-4
is JI
a
3
3
22
31
26
3
3.
7
2
2
,
13 .,
a3
'
226
20
32
2
4
3
33
1
-
a
:
a'4, 3
32
333
341
3
2
3
3
3
2.1
3
30
53
4
3.
-
s
24.
in6s
22
It3
- si
332
1
.
-'
33
14r
-3553
-
.
3
3
3*
3.
42
m5
3,
.,3-i
32
3'
,s
33 3
'!
33
'g
-
s
t
} -1..-,'
-.
5
-
~
,s
4
12
~I
V
3
-
3
1
3'1
1
'
V.d
3
4 2
31q
33.3
3
9
338
34
ss
1 41,,
3,l3
533
42
'5
.3
45
.9
29
4g
59
so
7
47
5392
51
332
'i
33
422
.55
'
3
3
43
8
239
6
2
--
583
4
22
21 '2
-
253
"1
55
32
-
.4i
....
--
,
--
--
--
a
42
a
-
20
20
43
45
47
*.s
209
3
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.
Section of the Westport River and Approaches navigation chart issued in 1963.
210
3
(I
K,
.5.
n-
*
Mk
9
-9
1
el.
.
*
pp
e
".
~
tere
.dq
-jI
hp., -~d
.
X'", G-...s.d
I4aty,
!$ r;mead
k.
-,14 -M
-
-,3
-
4
*
4"
211
Beaufort scale from the "Eldridge Tide and Pilot Book" published annually
by Robert Eldridge White, Boston, Massachusetts.
212
Wind Speed
in knots
(33' above
sea level)
0-1
1-3
4-6
7-10
11-16
17-21
22-27
28-33
34-40
BEAUFORT SCALE
Wind
Condition
Calm
Light Air
Light
Breeze
Gentle
Breeze
Moderate
Breeze
Fresh
Breeze
Strong
Breeze
Near
Gale
Gale
Sea Conditions
Smooth, mirror-like sea.
Scale-like ripples; no foam crests.
Approx.
Wave ht.
(in ft.)
%4
Short wavelets; glassy crests; nonbreaking.
%
Large wavelets; glassy crests, some
breaking; occasional white foam.
2
Small waves becoming longer; frequent
white foam crests.
Moderate waves with more pronounced
long form; many white foam crests;
some spray.
Large waves form; white foam crests
everywhere; probably more spray.
Sea heaps up; white foam from breaking
waves is blown in streaks with the wind.
Moderately high waves with greater length;
edges of crests break into spindrift; foam
is blown in well-defined streaks with the
wind.
3%
Force
0
1
6
9%
13%
18
41-47
Strong
Gale
High waves; crests of waves start to
topple and roll over; spray may affect
visibility.
23
48-55
Storm
Very high waves; overhanging crests; resulting 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.
29
10
56-63
Violent
Storm
37
11
64+
Hurricane
Exceptionally high waves; sea covered
with long white patches of foam blown
in direction of wind; all wave crests are
blown into froth; visibility affected.
Air is filled with spray and foam; sea is
completely white with driving spray;
visibility seriously affected.
45
12
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.
Enlargement from the Town of Westport Planning Board map issued in 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.QQQQ
000
221
South Elevation
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 gableend 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 crankup the air-conditioning. And on warm summer nights, we'll throwopen 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
20
23
45
58
60
63
79
81
103
109
111
113
117
Robert Foley, photographer, Newport, Rhode Island.
Mary S. Lovell, Straight On Till Morning, New York, St. Martin's
Press, 1987, 172.
John and Sheila Nowell, Rehoboth, Massachusetts.
Alice Wingwall, Building Blocks, San Francisco, William Stout
Architectural Books, 1981, 30.
W. H. Bunting, Portraitof a Port:Boston, 1852- 1914, Cambridge,
The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971, 473.
Foley, Newport.
Original photographic print from the collection of Anne W. Baker.
Original print, Baker.
Original postcard, Baker.
Federal Writer's Project of the W. P. A., New EnglandHurricane,
Boston, Hale, Cushman & Flint, 1938, 73.
Federal Writer's Project, Hurricane, 111.
Original print, Baker.
Original print, Baker.
HurricanePictures,Fall River, Fall River Herald News Publishing Co.,
1954.
253
254
119 Original postcard, Baker. (top)
HurricanePictures,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, Portraitof 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 ArchitecturalHeritageof Newport, Rhode Island, New York,
Clarkson N. Potter, Inc., 1967, Plate 29.
196 Leigh French, Jr., ColonialInteriors, 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.
255