Tangier Island Wedding
by
Roger Vaughan

 

To get to Tangier Island from Maryland’s Eastern Shore, first go to Crisfield.
Crisfield, Maryland, looks like a movie set in the process of being struck. There are many vacant lots between buildings. Curiously, it also appears like a town ready for prime time. The approach is on smoothly paved two-lane highways separated by a wide, green barrier that dead-ends at the ferry dock. Surely it’s busier in summer, but on a 70-degree day in mid-May you could count the vehicles per minute on one hand.
In 1904, thanks to a sustained seafood boom, Crisfield was the second largest city in Maryland, with a population of 25,000. It was known as the Seafood Capital of the World. But the declining health of Chesapeake Bay has decimated the fishing industry and the town, whose population now hovers around 2,500.
The routine is to stop at the gift shop with the big crab painted on its side and buy a ticket to park on the grass beyond the curb next to the lumberyard across the highway. From there it is a short walk back across the highway to the Stephen Thomas, the largest of the tour boats to Tangier. The parking tab: three dollars for overnight. When told we’d be back by 9 p.m., the lady at the gift shop said we should put that money right back in our wallet and have a pleasant day.
The trip across the Bay to Tangier takes about an hour. The majority of the passengers this day were wedding guests. Remembering that Tangier is a dry island, many of the nattily attired celebrants were enjoying adult beverages from portable coolers. Conversation was lively.
Not long out of Crisfield, the ferry passed a deserted menhaden processing plant. The little fish used to be big business on the Bay ($22 million in 2006). Now the menhaden, used commercially for oil and meal, are in decline. Only Virginia and North Carolina allow menhaden fishing.
On clear nights, lights from houses and the aero beacon make Tangier Island visible from the mainland. In daylight, the island is so low the boat is almost upon it before a church cupola and the water tank rise above the horizon. It’s three by two and a half miles, and 60% of it is marsh. The harbor entrance is lined on both sides with a colorful array of small crab shanties stacked with pots, nets, and other gear. Many of them have shedding tanks for crabs. All of them are built on pilings that have been set in the shallow water by hand, a remarkable feat given the hundreds of pilings one could count. A team of men stand the piling up in the mud at low tide. One of their number climbs into foot straps hung over the top of the piling and proceeds to jump up and down until the piling is set. Locals call it “shouting” the pilings, possibly from the whoops of encouragement from his gang as the jumper labors.
In 2008, I wrote a play about the decline of commercial fishing in Chesapeake Bay called Fishing Gone. It was set on Tangier, where there is little or no alternative to working on the water. In 2008, only a handful of watermen still struggled to earn a living against growing odds, a combination of natural cycles of marine life; disease in the oyster population; the wages of greed (overfishing); climate change; the rising cost of fuel and supplies; pollution from agriculture and increased density of population; and well-meaning legislation that hasn’t always been reasonable or effective. Three years later, there are even fewer Tangier men on the water. Those who haven’t moved ashore have sought jobs off the island, many signing on for twenty-day stretches on tug boats operating out of Philadelphia. The 2008 population was 600. In 2011 it is 450.
Discovered in 1608 by John Smith, tradition holds that Tangier was first settled in 1686 by Joseph Crockett and his sons, who raised cattle. Tangier has always been a place out of time, a remote backwater oozing mystery and charm. Its “streets” are no more than paved walking paths, so narrow that two golf carts, the main mode of transportation these days, can barely pass. Yet cruising is the most popular pastime of residents. Electricity came to the island in the 1950s. There is one policeman (but no jail), a school, three churches, three bed and breakfasts, four restaurants, seven artesian wells, and a 3600-foot landing strip.
There are also several cemeteries where the dead are “buried” in vaults on the surface, such is the proximity of the water table. The houses are small, concentrated on two strips of fast land connected by wooden bridges, and of varying degrees of modest elegance and upkeep.
There are over 100 last names on the island, but Crockett, Pruitt, and Parks are in the majority. Because of the long tradition of working on the water, Tangier gets up early, has dinner at 5 p.m., and is asleep when it is dark under the table.
The wedding was that of Lisa Wheatley, who was the female lead and main character in Fishing Gone. Lisa, who worked as a guide for the tour boats that land on the island daily, played herself. She had no trouble putting full conviction into this line that commented on Virginia Commonwealth regulations on rock fish: “If they are so worried about the crabs, why protect the fish that eats ‘em?!”
Lisa was born in Baltimore, moved to Tangier the summer she was 16 to live with her aunt, and stayed for 35 years. She’s definitely a Tangier Island girl. Given the drop in population, hers will probably be the only wedding on the island this year. She married Gary Pusey, from a well-known Salisbury family. Gary owns a car dealership in Fruitland, Maryland.
Swain Memorial United Methodist Church, on the main street, is the largest church on the island. It is handsomely finished, with stained glass windows that would look striking anywhere. The altar is on one of the long walls, making it a friendly place to watch the church-related films that are shown there on occasion. When told we were on the bride’s side, the Mistress of Ceremony – Cindy Wheatley, Lisa’s sister – raised an eyebrow as she looked us over, then indicated the way.
The church was crammed full, standing room only. The woman next to me said she had been married there, her second time. She said her first husband gave her three wonderful children, but he wasn’t much of a husband. She patted the leg of the man next to her and said this was a good one. The man kept his eyes front, where a sign over the organ politely admonished, “Please Obey The Holy Spirit.”
Most of the women on the bride’s side were substantial, the result of a slow-paced, remote island life. The older men were rail hard and weathered from hard work. They looked uneasy without their caps.
Rev. Patricia Stover, a woman of stern countenance wearing a head microphone that any American Idol contestant would have coveted, conducted the ceremony in cautionary tones, with big Peavey speakers broadcasting every solemn nuance to all ears.
It was a lovely wedding. The organist, Ritchie Pruitt, played a medley of popular songs and hymns as people were seated. The soloist, Mary Beth Pruitt, did a nice job on “All Because I Loved You,” to recorded orchestral backup. The bridesmaids’ dresses by Bill Levkoff, in sage-green silk, were elegant. The bride looked radiant, the groom pleased. When the roses that were supposed to be given to the mothers of the bride and groom went missing, Lisa shrugged and said “Well we did have roses,” and gave the mothers each a kiss. The audience loved it.
The vows the couple exchanged, written by Lisa, included this intelligent promise: “When you speak, I will listen.” The two flower girls, age 8, conducted an intriguing, whispered conversation throughout the service. The reception was held in the education building next to the church, and flowed out into the street.
The celebration continued on the return trip on the Stephen Thomas. Most of the wedding party, Mr. and Mrs. Pusey included, were on board. The newlyweds mingled, enjoying the chance to have quiet conversations with friends.
Fishing Gone concludes with the notion of bringing experiential tourism to Tangier to improve the Island’s economic outlook, the idea being that a person could buy a 24- to 48-hour package on Tangier that would feature accompanying a fisherman on his arduous rounds. But why not promote Tangier for destination weddings? It’s an attractive prospect: a short boat ride on the Bay, a church with all the trimmings, plenty of savvy organizers, all in a totally unique and colorful setting. Guests could even fly in. Of course, everyone would have to bring his own cooler….