In the late 1950s and early 1960s, Vinalhaven was jumpin’. Served by one wooden ferry that only carried one big car or two small ones, it could hardly be otherwise. 

One day, Dick Poole bought a VW Beetle and drove it on board.  The five-man crew and several of the male passengers picked it up and moved it forward to the bow. Then, two cars, one big, one small, drove on and assumed their customary spots.

It was the first time more than two vehicles had been carried on a Vinalhaven ferry.

The ferry made two round trips a day. Going to the mainland for the day required a lot of planning. There was little point in going off island to do shopping. The logistics of getting a vehicle over and back were daunting and the expense of riding around Rockland in a taxi was even more so.  Besides, there was no need.  This community of 1,200 or so, captive because of logistics, was, on the other hand, thriving because it was captive. 

We had four or five gas stations. Admittedly they didn’t bear much resemblance to today’s filling station. Four of the five comprised one solitary pump in someone’s front yard alongside a modest above ground storage tank.

We pulled up, leaned on the horn a little and waited for someone to come out of the house and fill the tank or pump as much as we could afford. The more widely trusted pumped their own and then slipped the appropriate amount of money in a predetermined but not widely known hiding place or came back the next day to settle up.  

There were little stores all over town. Each neighborhood had one. If you lived up on the Neck and ran out of milk you could walk down to Beatrice’s, even at 9 or 10 at night and get a jug. There’d be one or two bottles in the little cooler along with a pound or two of butter and some eggs.

Beatrice didn’t lock the door. You could just walk in, flick on the light and call her name.

While you were retrieving the milk she’d come out of the back room where she and Ivan lived and take your money or, if they weren’t home, you’d leave it on the counter.  

The town sported three full service automotive garages. This was before there were even many cars or trucks, twine and net shops, several barbershops, a casket store,  two cobblers, a tin knocking and plumbing repair shop, two pool rooms, four bakeries, two drugstores with companion soda fountains, a news stand, two lumber yards, three hardware stores, a five and dime, a dry goods store, three other restaurants, a tobacconist, movie theater, fishing gear supply, a firewood business, photography studio, two maternity homes and a mortuary. 

Today, all conventional retail except grocery is gone. 

We have two big steel ferries that carry 20 or so cars each so we just jump on the boat and go the big exciting mainland and come back with a car load of stuff that, 50 years ago, we’d have purchased on island.  Or, we just go online and wait 24 hours for UPS. 

Vinalhaven is still a great place to live but it’s certainly not the same place.  

Phil Crossman lives on Vinalhaven

More Phil Crossman

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• In the company of community

• Reliable phone service vital on an island where cell reception is spotty

• The ‘historic’ storm, fluid dynamics and a toilet bowl