USA: Newport, RI

Newport Bridge. July 1979

Newport Harbor. July 1979

The Rose. July 1979

Bowen's Wharf. July 1979

Cliffwalk. July 1979

The Breakers - entrance. July 1979.

The Breakers - ocean view. July 1979

The Breakers - side view. July 1979

Marble House. July 1979

Chateau-sur-Mer. July 1979

Inn at Castle Hill. July 1979

Fort Wetherill. July 1979

Virgin Travels

Before heading off to Georgetown there was a prospective students weekend in the late Spring of 1979. Although I don't remember much of the weekend, I do remember meeting Maureen C and hitting it off with her immediately. We kept in contact and then she invited me to visit her in Rhode Island that summer before we all headed to DC. For me, it was an incredible voyage if only because it was my first solo trip anywhere and it was my first train journey (not counting the Strasburg Railroad in Lancaster County, PA).

I managed to get time off from the job at the Donsco Foundry in Wrightsville (not sure how I managed that as a summer hire) and I was off to Rhode Island for a few days. The train left from Lancaster Station and I was super nervous about the whole journey. When the conductor collected my ticket he asked where I was going and I said "Providence" to which he replied, "well not on this train you're not" and punched my travel ticket for Philadelphia 30th Street Station.

The train passed through the Amish country and then into the rich suburbs of Philly before finally entering the city itself. I was completely unprepared and clueless about train travel and changing trains in Philadelphia. Looking back I cannot believe how little I knew about travel. After making my way up into the Great Hall of 30th Street Station [see: 30th Street Station, Philadelphia], I was slack jawed looking at that vast space with a huge winged man dominating that entire atrium. I found my train on the big board in the center of the station and waited as the minutes crept by. They called the train and I went down to the tracks. The many carriages of a Northeast Corridor Service pulled in and I found a seat. I was on my way.

The Northeast Corridor was not pretty. In fact, it was horrible. The north side of Philadelphia and its suburbs appeared as relentless industrial blight. We crossed the Delaware into New Jersey where a bridge exclaimed "Trenton makes, the world takes" and not much improved. I saw the dome of the New Jersey capitol building as a gleaming bright spot. It all looked awful. We finally passed through some passably interesting scenery in Central New Jersey before entering more industrial space and then the long tunnel under the Hudson. My first disappointment of the trip was that the rails literally went under NYC. So much for my first glimpse of Gotham, by the time the train came out of the tunnel in the Bronx, Manhattan was far away.

The unending ugly scenery continued through New York State and into Connecticut. Finally, we exited the New York metro area and entered New England proper. The train hugged the Long Island Sound. There were fishing boats and quaint towns along the shore. For a short time, the ride became beautiful. We stopped in New Haven to change engines because at that time the rails were not electrified all the way to Boston (I can't believe that happened so late in the history of that line). We passed through New London and Kingston. Next stop was Providence. I knew next to nothing about the city - I didn't need to, Maureen was picking me up from in front of the train station.

I had arrived in Rhode Island.

Middletown, RI

After being met at the station by Maureen and her sister, Kathleen, we drove south from Providence down the length of Aquidneck Island (which was the "Rhode Island" after which the state was named). We reached the southern tip and entered Middletown and drove to a tiny bungalow one block from the Atlantic. I was mightily impressed all around. To live so near the sea was mind-blowing to me AND to be "normal folk" as well seemed unbelievable.

Since Kathleen had joined us for the journey to Providence, I got to know her on the drive. She was less outgoing than Maureen, but a fun person to be with. I found her to be a conservative in the making - interesting. Later I met her parents who were pious, Catholic New Englanders- quite lovely people. Her father asked me what I wanted to drink (PA was still a 21 state) and I tentatively said "beer?". He chided me and said, "that's not a man's drink! I will give you a gin and tonic" I never had tried hard liquor, so I figured, "why not?" It instantly became one of my favorite drinks! Thank you Ward C for "making a man out of me". I returned that favor throughout life and often introduced younger friends to hard liquor via G&Ts. In many places men initiated themselves to alcohol by drinking rot-gut whiskey and getting sick afterwards - I taught my neophyte drinking friends that hard liquor could taste good and need not end up in vomited delirium.

I slept on Maureen's parents' sofa for those few days and I didn't care. I would soon see and experience a whole other United States about which I knew nothing!

A New England Fishing Port

We took the bus the short distance into downtown Newport and I understood why upon arrival. That quaint little sailing port had everything in abundance except parking. It was small enough to visit on foot, so we set off to explore. I loved all the shops and restaurants down on the waterfront. The boats bobbed in the water with the HUGE suspension Newport Bridge as backdrop. I had never seen any place like it - everywhere we visited seemed wondrous. The towering spire of the white Trinity Church pierced the sky beautifully, the clapboard siding of the old houses was painted in a variety of warm colors in endless parades of history, and the cobblestoned streets invited visitors to explore. It felt like going back in time. I learned about the Tennis Hall of Fame, the America's Cup Yacht Race (and the New York Yacht Club), and the Jazz Festival. It's main street was "Thames Street", but pronounced with the "th" sound - I loved it. How did one little town have so much character and so much going for it?

Summer Cottages

Downtown, however, was not what impressed me the most. After strolling from Maureen's house across First Beach to the 40 steps (just a short walk from her home), we mounted that old stairway to the "Cliff Walk" to see both the views over the Atlantic and those back to the "summer cottages" of the robber barons. The grand dame of all the mansions was the Breakers where we eventually took a tour. The wealth of the place was astounding to me. It was one of the great eye-opening moments of my life - I learned about wealth. My first solo trip took me to a place in the USA so entirely different than the lower Susquehanna River Valley. Newport was rich in history and culture, and it was wealthy in a way that was totally foreign to me.

The big houses built along the Cliff Walk were all slowly abandoned by their builders' heirs and taken over by a Preservation Society who then maintained them as museums for the public. The very first house the Society purchased was Chateau-sur-Mer and we had a look inside it first as well. It would have stuck in my mind more had the subsequent house tours not been so incredible. Next on our tour, the Marble House was all the rage at the time because the Great Gatsby film had just been shot there. Finally, EVERYONE wanted to see the Breakers, an English manor house transferred to a cliff edge. The Vanderbilts knew how to live. I learned about true wealth that summer and that was only going to be magnified 100 times once I arrived at Georgetown. In a way, seeing all those stately homes mentally prepared me for the world I was about to enter. I was so backward I didn't even know what a rich person really was. Having gobs of money alone did not make one rich - that was apparent.

Adventures

What else did we do in those wonderful, eye-opening days? We harvested fresh mussels from the rocks right near Maureen's house and steamed them. Wow! We went to the beach at Second or Third Beach because the nearby "First Beach" (Easton's Beach) was only for "tourists". We walked all over town and saw St Mary's Catholic Church, the oldest in the state, and Touro Synagogue, the oldest in America. We went over to Jamestown and explored Fort Wetherill with all its decayed dark passages (it was creepy even on a sunny day). Newport, it seemed, had everything a person needed for a good holiday - especially with money. That was the fly in the ointment. Newport was EXPENSIVE.

Over my Georgetown years I visited Newport many more times even though Maureen transferred and completed her studies elsewhere. It remains a place of good memories for me and I love convincing people to make the detour (it really is out of the way) to see it. It took me a long time to cajole Brian into finally traveling there. Years later while in Milford I had a bizarre, freezing, mid-February visit with TFR where we stayed in a virtually unheated bed and breakfast with an eccentric host. We actually went out to a pub at night to drink so we could sit in a place with heat!

The final set of photos are from a visit by Adrian FVdR. We stayed in a proper B&B and had a lovely weekend there although his hopes of seeing the autumn in New England were off by just a couple of weeks, unfortunately. At least he got to eat a lobster (which was very high on his "must do" list) and we did see one gorgeous Japanese maple that had not yet dropped its leaves.