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ONE OF A KIND
(cont.)Leaving the Lobster Pot, we made a
right toward the east end of Commercial Street. While
we’d been in the restaurant, a mass of clouds had swept
over the town and were threatening to rain. We pressed
on, weaving in and out of stores as we went. I am
convinced there is a shop for everything in
Provincetown. Of course, it has plenty of T-shirt shops.
But there are also jewelry stores, surf shops, and
several places to buy accessories for dogs and cats --
just in case your pooch needs UV protecting goggles.
There are crafts stores, marine specialties stores, and
-- perhaps the most crowded of them all -- a couple of
sex shops with various toys, movies, books, leather
outfits, you name it. And the crowds seem to be mostly
heterosexual visitors. Maybe that prudish, Puritan image
of Massachusetts residents is just a façade.
We kept our purchases to a couple of outfits for Emma
and continued along Commercial Street’s east end to the
Provincetown Art Association and Museum, where out in
its front garden was a display of sculptures -- mostly
distorted figures with antlers and horns protruding from
their heads. Inside the museum were rooms with
sculptures, paintings and photographs by local artists.
It also had a store that sold prints, as well as books
on local artists and the history of the town’s art
scene.
That history began in 1873 with the arrival of the
railroad, which made the town accessible to artists
attracted to Provincetown’s intense sunlight and
colorful surroundings. In 1899, the artist Charles
Webster Hawthorne opened the Cape Cod School of Art. By
1916, when a Boston Globe article proclaimed the town to
be the largest art colony in the world, more than 300
artists and six schools of art were operating in town.
During that time, an influx of poets, novelists,
painters and playwrights helped nourish the town’s
bohemian culture. In 1915, writers and actors formed the
Provincetown Players, which produced plays in the East
End. The Players most notable artist was Eugene O’Neill,
who came to Provincetown in 1916 and stayed for nine
years. During that time, he staged his breakthrough
drama “Bound East for Cardiff”, won the Pulitzer Prize
in 1920 for “Beyond the Horizon,” and won a second
Pulitzer in 1922 for “Anna Christie.” In the following
decades, Tennessee Williams, Sinclair Lewis and novelist
John Dos Passos spent time in Provincetown. Jack
Kerouac, E.E. Cummings and Norman Mailer all worked in
the isolated dune shacks just outside of town. Even
Richard Gere got his acting start in Provincetown in
1969.
After leaving the museum, we strolled back toward the
center of Commercial Street and then decided to head a
few blocks north to the Pilgrim Monument and
Provincetown Museum. Along the way, we explored quiet
side streets lined with tiny houses. Most of the yards
had elaborate gardens, filled with yellow, orange, pink
and purple flowers. Some had water fountains,
sculptures, and even benches, which makes sense because
the gardens are so beautiful you could admire them for
hours. The peaceful side streets stood in contrast to
the chaos of Commercial Street. On these roads, only a
few steps off the busy main drag, the noise from the
crowds and loud music from the bars gave way to the
chirps of songbirds and the crackle of air-conditioners.
At the museum, we meandered through galleries devoted to
the Pilgrims’ time in Provincetown, the evolution of the
town’s art scene, and Donald Baxter MacMillan, the famed
explorer who made 31 expeditions to the Arctic between
1908 and 1954. MacMillan was born in Provincetown, and
today the town’s largest wharf bares his name. We then
walked over to the Pilgrim Monument, behind the museum.
Standing at the base of the monument, the idea of
climbing to the top can seem intimidating. But the
monument is not some gigantic stairclimber from Hell.
Instead, there’s a system of 60 ramps and 116 stairs,
which makes the climb to the top fairly easy. (Of
course, “fairly easy” is a relative term.) At the top,
we had a great view of the town. On clear days, one can
see to Boston. But being cloudy, Boston wasn’t in our
sights. We still had a great view of Cape Cod.
We walked back to Commercial Street, where, as the
afternoon was winding down, the carnival atmosphere was
picking up. People handed out advertisements for the
evening’s events -- cabaret shows, comedy clubs,
dancing, and so on. In front of the Post Office Café and
Cabaret, three men dressed in makeup, bright
neon-colored dresses, matching neon-colored wigs and
rollerskates pulled out a jump rope and challenged
bystanders to a game of double-dutch. They cracked jokes
for the crowd around them, sang songs and danced, all in
a live advertisement for the café’s acts.
Down the road were two other men in elegant gowns,
dressed like Whitney Houston and Princess Diana,
promoting a show featuring cross-dressers portraying
celebrities like Liza Minnelli, Barbra Steisand and
Bette Midler. They drew a mix of reactions from tourists
walking by. A young woman hugged them and had her
picture taken with them. Across the street, another
woman quietly exclaimed “Oh geez” to her husband, and
shook her head in disgust. But most people didn’t bat an
eyelash.
The best way to see Provincetown is on a bicycle.
Commercial Street is too crowded, and some of the side
streets too small for cars to be driven comfortably. But
the sand dunes and great beaches to the north and west
of town are too far to walk. So residents and tourists
en masse peddle around the area on bicycles, and
Provincetown accommodates this demand with several bike
rental shops.
I had wanted us to rent bikes and peddle to the far west
end of town to explore Long Point, which has two
lighthouses and long stretches of empty beach. I had
also wanted to bike north and ride along the Province
Lands Trail -- a 7-mile bike path that cuts through the
steep sand dunes within the Cape Cod National Seashore.
But it was not to be, as daylight was rapidly fading. So
we rented bikes and just rode north straight to Race
Point Beach to watch the sunset -- even though we
weren’t sure there would even be one considering all the
clouds.
The ride to the beach passed through some dunes, which
give the area the feel of a desert rather than a beach
town. At Race Point, visitors set up beach chairs,
spread out blankets, opened bottles of wine and gazed at
the ocean. Although the day had been overcast, the sky
was clearing on the horizon, and the bright orange sun
dropped out from the edge of the cloud mass and headed
for the sea. Everyone watched intently as the sun
seemingly hit the water and spread out at the bottom
like the yolk of an egg. Overhead, the clouds glowed an
orange gold, then a dark purple. A rainbow rose against
the clouds behind us, then quickly faded as the sun
dipped below the horizon. We lingered to appreciate the
scene, and listened as a father explained the physics of
the sunset to his young daughters.
We peddled back to Commercial Street, being careful in
the twilight, and then grabbed a bite at a South African
restaurant named Karoo Kafe. Afterwards, we strolled
along the street again to check out the night scene. On
a curb, a man played Bob Dylan tunes as people threw
money in his guitar case. We saw a great Elvis
impersonator in front of the Town Hall. Becky pointed
out to me that the king was a woman. Outside a place
called Twomey’s, we could hear the crowd inside singing
along as a man at a piano played “Give Me That Old
Razzle Dazzle.” And along the sidewalks, crowds of old
folks, young teens, yuppies, skateboarders, gay couples
and straight couples walked around in a smorgasbord of
diversity that makes Provincetown what it is.
Before heading home, we stopped at the Old Colony Tap to
watch the end of the Red Sox game. The Old Colony Tap is
a hardcore fishermen’s bar, and a reminder that while
Provincetown might be famous as an art colony and gay
mecca, it is still a fishing town. People have fished
the area since before the Mayflower’s arrival. During
the late 1800s, it was the richest town per capita in
Massachusetts. The town had 54 long wharves, a mackerel
fleet, and 56 whaling ships. Though the town’s fishing
scene has diminished -- as it has everywhere -- large
fishing vessels still line its docks, and fishermen can
be found drinking beer at the Old Colony Tap.
The Tap’s been around 50 years, and it is decorated with
artifacts brought in by fishermen. Old lanterns hang
from the ceiling, a small ship’s wheel serves as a light
above the bar, and driftwood covers a section of wall
with photographs of patrons tacked onto it. It has a
dark, worn, wooden floor and bar. And after walking
around the rest of Provincetown, the Tap can feel like
the roughest place on Earth. Much of the crowd was loud
and swore, and at first it felt like the kind of place
where someone might come up and punch me in the mouth
just for the fun of it. But after talking to a few
patrons, I learned they’re a truly friendly bunch.
Yet, as music from a drag queen’s karaoke show spilled
into the Tap from a restaurant across the street, I
wondered how these rugged fishermen felt about living in
a town in which a lot of dudes dress up in skirts. They
didn’t seem to mind, but I couldn’t put my finger on
exactly how these two opposite groups could live
together so seamlessly.
I got into a conversation with a guy at the bar named
Jake. He had long dreadlocks down to his waist, he wore
pajama pants, and he seemed to be a regular because he
knew everyone in the bar -- the patrons drinking beers,
the bartender, even three gorgeous women who came up to
talk to him on separate occasions (two ex-girlfriends
and a future girlfriend, he said). I asked him what it
is about Provincetown that makes people so excepting. He
talked about how great it is, how no one causes problems
and everyone just accepts one another. But why? I
continued. Was it something in the town’s history? Was
it something about the specific groups living here? He
finally just looked at me and shrugged his shoulders, as
if to say “Why not?” Like that’s the way it should be.
And you know, I think he’s right.
(To read the article that appeared in Offshore,
click here.)
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