Back at the North Burial Ground it was my companion’s turn to pick a tour and he decided upon the HP Lovecraft tour. HP Lovecraft did indeed live in Providence RI but he is buried elsewhere, in the Swan Point Cemetery, so what this tour had to offer was a bit of a mystery. Still, we parked in our usual spot and ambled in – this time finding ourselves behind the visitor’s center where there was a HUGE memorial to the Armenian Genocide. How we had missed this before… is just testament to how much we weren’t paying attention because I mean this thing is MASSIVE and definitely worth a look if you are already here.
After that distraction was put aside we finally got to business. First up was finding the stone of Clara L Hess who was a classmate of HP Lovecraft although she apparently had quite the illustrious life all on her own as a reporter and editor of the Providence Journal and Evening Bulletin.
Next up was Chester Pierce Munroe – who likely bonded with HP Lovecraft when they were both pups, daring each other to eat paste. OK, so you can’t prove the latter part of that but that’s how I’d like to imagine it. Truth be told they met when they were very young at school and remained chums throughout the rest of their days. Munroe was a working class man and although there’s rumors of him writing a book or several he was unable to get anything published. Not really surprising considering the politics of the day.
Addison P Munroe was another childhood friend although information on him seems a little scarce. Good news is if I remember right his stone was really close to the last one and also had his wife’s name on it who I guess also garnered a small acquaintance with Lovecraft.
James Tobey Pyke was apparently a big influence on his neighbor, a 14-year-old Lovecraft, whom he encouraged to write poetry. Pyke was a poet himself as well as a minister at one point. He apparently had pretty frail health but still insisted on working for his income despite being from a fairly well to do family. Eleanor Francis Pyke was James’ wife who also adored poetry and managed to raise a poet son, growing up alongside the neighbor’s boy Lovecraft.
Samuel Brenton Mumford was a successful local businessman that was one of the first investors to own a part of the Providence Athenaeum which would later become a favorite haunt of Lovecraft’s. In addition to this it was his former home which HP Lovecraft would later spend the last few years of his life.
Cyrus Butler was the Providence’s own Scrouge McDuck kinda character. In life he was obscenely wealthy and really not terribly keen on sharing that but even so he was one of the original investors helping to build the Providence Athenaeum – an institution that he also gave a large donation to after his death. He also bequeathed 30K to build The Rhode Island Hospital for the Insane post humorously. It still exists although it’s called the Butler Hospital and has nothing to do with Lovecraft as far as I can see. Also isn’t it wonderful millionaires can get redemption even after death?! Must be nice!
So ended the Lovecraft Tour. Below are photos of the stones mentioned and a bunch of others that distracted me with thier uniqueness or beauty. It’s a lovely cemetery to explore!
The North Burial Ground in Providence Rhode Island is a very large cemetery that merits a lot of exploration. Previously we had tried to check out this cemetery one fine afternoon only to realize that it closes at FOUR PM. This is by far the earliest closing hours for a cemetery we have ever come across so that initial visit was literally just us jogging through it for 30 minutes. And it’s HUGE with a ton of ornate and often bizarre slates and more modern stones running up to the current day. On this particular misadventure we learned there are a bunch of self-guided tours ranging in topic that can be obtained online.
So we went back and the first tour we tried was the women’s history tour. I wasn’t real sure what we’d find on it – as it was hobbled together by the local college – but we checked it out anyway. Fortunately there was a map and it wasn’t nearly as bad as some other cemetery maps I have attempted (and failed) to read. There were twenty women of note to see which I have listed below. And if you’re here just to look at pretty cemetery photos feel free to scroll to the gallery at the very bottom of the page.
First up was Eliza Brown Gano Rogers (1800-1877) Born to a pastor into wealth and great social standing Eliza first married a prominent manufacturer Joseph Rogers before finding her calling in life. She was to devote herself to the wellbeing of marginalized women. Along with fifteen other women of good standing in Providence she was integral to the creation of The Home for Aged Women which sought to aid the unmarried, widowed, and homeless elderly women of Providence. This project was so passionate an issue that she had raised the funds, built the organization, and opened the doors only two months after having discussed the issue. Today it still exists and is called the Tockwotton on the Waterfront.
Phebe A Hathaway (1822-1886) was up next. She was an ardent defender of the temperance movement as the vice president of the Women’s Christian Temperence Union. She remained a teacher for the entirety of her life and never married nor lived long enough to see the inevitable downfall of her cause.
Hope (power) Brown (1702-1792) was known as being the mother of Providence because she bore six children (five sons) who went on to become the intensely influential Brown family. Born into high standing her sons would grow up to be shrewd businessmen in iron ore, the China Trade, and the Slave Trade. They also founded Brown university. She died at the grand old age of 90.
Avis Binney Brown (1731-1807) was a wealthy widow in her elder years which allowed her in 1800 to co-found the Providence Female Charitable Society. Its aim was to help needy women and children by giving them food, clothing, shelter, and other necessities.
Caroline Ashley (1824-1884) was born to some of the original families of Providence. She was a teacher but was more well known for her work in the Providence Ladies Anti-Slavery Society. She was a fierce abolitionist and a suffragist.
Freelove Whipple Fenner Jenckes (1751-1780) was known for being a member of the Daughter for Liberty which was a group of women who encouraged everyone to buy local products and boycott British goods to strengthen the colonies. Sadly, she did not live to see the resolution of the Revolutionary War.
Lucy Haskell (?-1812) was the wife of Charles Haskell a black revolutionary war soldier. They were married only ten months before she died at the age of 31. Her husband would go on to own a house that probably was destroyed during the Hardscrabble Riot of 1824 that followed a few months after his purchase.
Christina Bannister (?-1902)– was one of those women you couldn’t keep down. She was of mixed African American and Native American descent but despite the obstacles this would have caused her she still managed to accomplish more in a lifetime than most! She started a series of hair salons which doubled as information centers on the Underground Railroad. She fought endlessly for the rights of former black Civil War soldiers and disenfranchised working black women. As president of the Boston Colored Ladies Sanitary Commitee she helped raise funds for disabled veterans and their families. She even married what was one of the most prominent black artists of the day – Edward Bannister. She helped establish the Home for Aged Colored Woman which she would sadly become a resident of sometime later after leading a life of poverty and gaining dementia in her old age. This however only lasted eight days before she was tossed to the state asylum in Cranston for being “violently insane.”
Sarah Helen Power Witman 1803-1878 was probably the most eccentric woman on this list. She was among many things a poet, a suffragist, and beloved figure among the intellectual elites. She even caught the eye of Edgar Allen Poe who asked for her hand in marriage. This is not really that surprising when you learn of her frail Gothic charm. She was a spiritualist who claimed she could speak to the dead and wore and eclectic outfit always topped with a veil which she never lifted, not even to eat.
Martha Aramian 1934-2014 – Martha was born to Armenian immigrants who had fled Turkey after the Armenian Genocide of 1915. Here she became a prominent member of the community creating the Armenian Heritage Park and monument which you can see to one side of the cemetery (it’s HUGE, ornately carved and impossible to miss.) Dedicated to the 1.5 million who lost their lives in the conflict and those that survived them.
Zouvart Seloian Alexanian (1909-2006) was a survivor of the Armenian Genocide of 1915 as a child and ended up immigrating to the US in 1931 with her new husband. Their family owned and ran the Gaspee Restuarant in Providence for many years.
Sarah C. Durfee (1838-1915) was a somewhat wealthy heiress who served as president of the Women’s City Missionary Society. The goal of the organization was to reform the destitute and help uneducated girls and women to get respectable employment and homes.
Sally Goddard(1792-1872)– was a prominent member of the Providence Ladies Anti-Slavery Society and served to further her abolitionist message with pamphlets, lectures, and anti-slavery fairs.
Rhoda Carver Barton (1751 -1841) – was a mother of many. Nine to be exact. Starting with a pregnancy that overlapped her wedding day and running through many years of raising her brood almost by herself as her General husband fought several wars and served a good deal of time in prison – apparently only coming home briefly to sire more children. She died at the age of 91 – probably thoroughly exhausted.
Kady Southwell Brownell (1843-1915) was a woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer. When her husband enlisted to fight in the Civil War she insisted on coming too and was one of a remarkably few women recorded to have served active combat duty during the Civil War as a sharpshooter during Bullrun (Sharpsburg) and New Bern. Perhaps even more scandalously she was said to be as good with her sword as she was with the rifle. After coming home she pursued a career in acting but eventually died in destitution. She wouldn’t have even had a memorial if it weren’t for her husband fundraising from friends and acquaintances.
Annie Smith Peck (1850-1935) was what could be best described as an adventurer. She was an archeology and Latin professor who loved to spend her free time climbing South America’s deadliest peaks. She raised the money for each expedition on her own and hiked out of pure spite with the men who thought they knew better. She was after all also campaigning for the right for women to vote.
Natalie Curtis Burlin(1876-1921) was at her essence an archivist. She campaigned for the rights of the indigenous people and after winning some favor with Theodore Roosevelt she then spent a good deal of time on reservations recording the cultural practices of several tribes which she published in two books. After this she moved onto publish two more books about “negro folk songs” before moving to Europe to spread the word about the cultures she was studying.
Sarah Goddard (1700-1770) and Mary Katherine Goddard (1738-1815) Two sisters who were integral to the running of Providence’s first newspaper. Sarah ran the shop and her sister Mary became a journalist, typesetter, and printer. Eventually they’d run the business on their own as Sarah Goddard and Co. Mary served as the postmaster of Baltimore Maryland from 1775-1789.
Eliza (Cranston) Cole (1793-1891) – just lived to be very goddamn old. Outliving both her husbands and her only daughter (who lived to be 80!)
Alice (Smith) Page (1733- 1772) is another illustration of the bleak reality of early colonial life. She married at the age of 20, bore ten children, and only saw four of them survive into adulthood before dying just short of her eldest son’s 19th birthday.
I have been spending time in Newport for a few years now and although it’s known for its mansions, I had never been to any of them. So I pitched the idea that maybe we should at least look into that… and as luck would have it this happened to be just the right time of year to make a boring old mansion exciting. Why? Because it’s spooky season! And some of these mansions are supposed to be haunted. Why not go on a nighttime tour?? To one of them that the locals seemed to think was actually haunted.
That’s how we ended up at Belcourt taking a tour hosted by a documentarian who lives there on the weekend. We did learn a little bit about its history but if I am to be very frank my eyes were pretty glassed over. I just… can’t seem to muster any interest whatsoever in the dramatic lives of the long dead super wealthy. SORRY. All I got out of this is it was built at the end of the 1800’s, used to have an attached stable, and was basically used as a building for extravagant parties after a woman won it in her divorce.
And it was indeed… lavishly decorated which is what gave me the first heeby jeeby of the evening as we drove through the big iron gates and were surrounded on both sides by two huge iron horses. Being nighttime this creeped me the hell out. Small confession: I find the uber wealthy terrifying. Coming from poverty I know all too well that if you cross a super wealthy person the wrong way you can easily be disappeared. A lesson I learned while accidentally wandering into some swank rich person’s event at the Grand Canyon once. The look one of those rich assholes gave me was reminiscent of the look a wolf gives a limping lamb. Had I not been escorted by another man at the time I am not so sure I would have not been disappeared myself. Think about it – these people have so much money they can pay off anyone – witnesses, body collectors, whatever they need. This is why we’ve never had a billionaire serial killer arrested in the US. Don’t think it’s because they don’t exist. And iron gates? Holy crap does that bring this whole idea home – that no one really knows what goes on beyond them.
Luckily there were no murderous rich bastards around on this particular evening. In fact the crowd here seemed a nice mix of locals and tourists of various classes. I was excited to see what was here, although I didn’t’ really expect it to be mostly in the dark! Only the bare minimum of lights were on – but this was often because there just wasn’t any – having relied mostly on sunshine to light it up during the day. We were some of the first to show up – me without my camera, again. I don’t know where my brain has been this week, on vacation I suppose. Luckily, I still had my cellphone.
I noticed a copper chopper (say that five times fast!) sitting astutely under a chandelier in the darkened ball room. What… is that? I had to look it up later. It’s The Liberty Bike, built by the American Chopper guys with pieces from the Statue of Liberty taken during restoration. It must have been visiting? No one said anything about it but it did have its own trailer outside.
As we waited we noticed the receiving room was filled with giant mirrors. Confession number two: I don’t feel any warmer or fuzzier about mirrors than I do about rich people. AND WHY ARE THEY SO BIG?! Of course we were told one of them was haunted with orbs so we all lined up to take selfies in it as one does with a giant haunted mirror…
After this the actual tour started. Our host was energetic and clearly passionate about this place. He led us into a library that was supposed to have a poltergeist or an imp of some sort as books from it would randomly walk off and be found in other strange parts of the property – like the front lawn. Or perhaps if you were really unlucky something would occasionally pitch books at guests’ heads. I decided that if I should die and get stuck as a ghost it would be an amusing job to haunt a library and do much the same.
From here we were taken out to meet the strange throne-like chair that was supposed to be some sort of conduit to the spiritual world. We each sat in it to see if we could feel anything. I felt something – but it wasn’t ghosts – it was just a feeling of “I COULD BE KING!” You know, being as it looked like a throne… Another woman claimed it was colder in the chair and she could feel a breeze, but I was standing next to the chair and felt the same chilly draft sooo…. I’m not really convinced. This may have also been the same woman claiming to smell ghostly cigarette smoke which turned out to be my companion… who smokes.
Obviously, we all had to go through that door to go to the next room which was absolutely empty as far as people were concerned. This room didn’t need a ghost to be creepy because the walls and ceiling were adorned with faces. Whhhhhhhhy, just whhhhhy.
We’d eventually find our way to a bedroom with a big old ornately carved wooden bed that screamed “fuck off and get out of my room” in grumpy old white man. I was slightly confused no one else seemed to feel this but then again – that is my life, isn’t it? Just stumbling into random things and noticing things others don’t.
The bedroom was attached to a bathroom which we all had to wander through because it had a primitive shower that looked like a torture cage lit up by red lights to make a bathtub of doom. Very catchy.
After this we entered what I can only describe as a misplaced medieval European Cathedral complete with sweeping arches and stained glass from the 15th century. And a church organ. And some suits of armor… annnnd a weapon’s case which held an ax that would “sometimes dance around the room on its own.” It must have been filled with stage fright on this particular night.
Then we got to go upstairs and look down into this weird cathedral room from the big openings in the wall which…. did not have anything preventing people from just falling right out of them into the room below. No guards, no glass, just a big gaping tilted foot-level hole big enough for a body to trip through. But perhaps that’s what the little squatting monk statues were doing – making sure no one did. One of them looked like Bill Murray. I pondered about that for a moment. Comedy gargoyle? You never know.
And that was the tour. Filled with reportedly 14 or so ghosts with intensely vague backstories annnnnd some magic rocks on the outside of the building. Mmmmkay. It was a really fun little night adventure and I would recommend it to most people who love spooky season as much as me but be forewarned THERE ARE MIRRORS AND CHERUB FACES EVERYWHERE. EVERYWHERE.
Before I start this I want to warn my readers it is a VERY information and photo heavy entry so if you’re here for the pretty gravestone photos feel free to scroll down to the gallery at the bottom of the text and if you’re here for a good chunk of New England history just read on as I take you down this deep deep rabbit hole with me!
It’s funny, I have been loitering around the Newport area for a few years now and although I had always wanted to check out the local cemetery it took me this long to actually get there. But let me tell you it was WELL WORTH the wait! This was one of the most interesting cemeteries I have ever had the joy of wandering through and part of that is because it’s actually seven separate cemeteries that have bled into each other to make one massive burial ground that dates back to our earliest settlements. The oldest parts of the cemetery were founded in 1640 and the newest are from the present day. All together there are thousands of memorials here.
During the colonial era Newport RI was also our largest port, even bigger than Boston at the time, and as such it was always a thriving multicultural area. The cemetery very much reflects this with various sections dedicated to different cultures, religions, and ethnicities. Here you’ll find the country’s oldest Jewish cemetery which dates back to the colonial era and contains mostly a thriving multi-nationl seafaring community as well as God’s Little Acre which is the the largest (and possibly only) cemetery dedicated to both enslaved and free blacks, also of the colonial era. It was these 250 or so slate stones I had especially wanted to see because they are soooo rare, and such a precious historical archive of an otherwise silenced community whose contributions have been largely looked over.
And it’s not only me who recognizes the need to preserve this historic landmark. Intense efforts to restore and preserve what is left here have been underway since the early 1990’s and continue to this day. There were even three stones which were returned to the cemetery after being found in various residences around RI and Pennsylvania. What they were doing in Pennsylvania is a bit of a mystery but one of these stones belonged to a famous woman at the time – Duchess Quamino. Duchess was a woman of remarkable standing. She came to Newport aboard a slave ship as a child, having been born somewhere in Africa. She was then bought by the Channing family who utilized her as a maid and cook. While enslaved she somehow managed to get in the good grace’s of the white church the Channings attended and was able to start her own bakery and catering business becoming the US’s first successful female black business owner.
During this time she married a slave from a different household and eventually had at least four children. Her husband was able to win a lottery and obtain his own freedom but it seems Duchess may have already been a free woman by then. No records exist to show how this happened – if she bought her freedom with the money she made baking or if she was simply granted her freedom. Either way she continued her business and eventually became so famous she earned the moniker “Pastry Queen of Rhode Island” and her delicious baked goods were served to a visiting George Washington at least twice.
Also worth noting was possibly the country’s first professional black artist – Pompe Stevens – who was a stone carver and possibly the one responsible for the distinct black features on the cherub’s heads carved into the stones in God’s Little Acre. He was enslaved by the biggest stone carving family in town and we probably wouldn’t even have known he existed except he carved a beautiful stone for his brother, which he identified as such before signing. He signed two stones in all but likely did a lot more – especially considering how intricate and well-practiced his carvings on those two stones seem to be.
It was a deeply humbling experience to wander God’s Little Acre and come face to face with the bleak reality of slavery in the colonies. The stones were hard to read – “Beloved and trusted by his master” was probably the most cringe worthy phrase I found. And the stories were heartbreaking – stories of black children whose parents were tricked into sending them to America “for and education” and “a better life” but instead ended up here. Buried in a slave cemetery. It’s an ugly mark on our history but we do each of these people a grave injustice by looking away and forgetting their great contributions.
We moved on from here and just wandered about until we found ourselves at a different entrance. And it was there we realized there was a sign up offering a free cell phone guided tour if you could scan the code on the sign. We went for it. But I was getting low on battery and it took a ridiculous amount of steps to set up. The next part of our day was spent fast walking through the stones trying to identify which ones were important according to the tour map which was…. grossly inaccurate. It started off being a few stones away from what they were talking about but by the end it was A LONG WAY AWAY. But we’ll get to that.
There are a lot of notable people buried out here. Among them are a ton of congressmen, mayors, and governors, over 70 Revolutionary war soldiers, a whole section dedicated to Civil War casualties, veterans from every US war, at least 4 famous architects, Charles Bird King (a portrait artist known for painting Native Americans) William Ellery who signed the Declaration of Independence, August Belmont Jr who developed the IRT subway in NYC and the Cape Cod Canal, most of the stone carvers who were responsible for the slate stones, and Ida Lewis “the bravest woman in America” who manned the Lime Rock Light Station for 46 years after the official lighthouse keeper (her father and then mother) died. During this time she rescued at least 36 people from drowning with her first rescue at the age of 12 and her last at 63! Keep in mind lighthouse keepers were NOT obligated to save drowning shipwreck victims for one very good reason – generally shipwrecks were caused by bad weather, bad weather that could easily capsize a tiny rowboat. It was better to guard the light than risk death. But Ida did not feel this way and was known to “row better than any man.” She lived on her own in this badass life until her death of a stroke. Really a remarkable heroine.
And it was Ida Lewis’ stone we couldn’t find at the end of the tour so I will give you some hints. It’s in the same row of stones that face the road near one of the exits. You cannot miss it as it has a HUGE anchor on it.
And I must say that also geeked out hardcore knowing that a number of the stone carvers were buried here as well and a lot of the stones could be attributed to either various members of the Stevens family (which were the first gravestone carvers in Newport and maintained the business for six generations) one of their slaves Pompe Stevens, or John Bull who married a Stevens daughter and then led this INSANE drama filled life that started when his brother pissed away the family inheritance and he had to sell himself into indentured servitude. It gets worse. He was sold to his brother-in-law William Stevens. The two HATED each other because William did not buy his brother-in-law as an act of charity – he expected work from him! And for a while Bull did in fact work as an indentured servant at the stone carving business but this didn’t last terribly long before he got fed up with the situation and basically ran away taking a job at sea where he stayed on ship for years. When he returned William sued him saying he was in breach of contract and still was obligated to work for free for a few years. The courts favored with Bull and in retribution he started his own gravestone carving business right across the street in what seems to be a purely spite based decision. Bull was the most artistic and rebellious of the city’s stone carvers and his work seems glaringly obvious with their side facing facial portraits and he is responsible for a famous stone – that of Charles Bardin – which is known for its intensely blasphemous imagery – that of Moses (or God?) parting the Red Sea. VERY UNUSUAL FOR THE PERIOD. It’s one of a kind and why it was made is still very unclear.
Meanwhile the Stevens family (who began as masons) didn’t escape the colonial era unphased as one of the original brothers, Philip, was noted cryptically in one of the legers as being murdered. Nothing further is stated. A second brother James died at sea.
By this point I was super sunburnt, overheating pretty bad, and tired from the jog so I regret to admit I did not cross the street to check out the colonial Jewish cemetery but I will likely return at some point. Until then I hope this has been an enjoyable read! Happy travels all!
After being less than satisfied with the antique store next door we decided to walk over to this boutique to see that it was all about. It’s right off the highway literally on the exit ramp. As such I flew by it but still saw enough to be intrigued. And I wasn’t the only one as there were other cars in the little parking lot.
We wandered in expecting to find antiques as we had only seen the ‘tiques part of their road sign and instead we ended up in this little clothing store. The women tending this place gave my bedraggled figure a dubious look (they always do when I enter a boutique as I’m either dressed to the hilt or more often dressed completely down with a sweat soaked T-shirt being my centerpiece which is what was going on on this particular day.)
This place was bonkers. I’m just going to say that right out. It had a delightful array of seemingly 70’s inspired garb – the most shocking of which was a hunter’s orange polyester power suit. It was chunky, hideous, and I would have totally bought it if I was an office cougar. You know… so I could go ‘hunting’ at work.
I was flush out of cash and unfortunately way too *ahem* curvaceous for a boutique otherwise I may have ended up bringing home some embroidered paisley jeans or a nice paisley button up. I just like paisleys. And peacock fashion. We should totally bring back peacock fashion… And maybe some of these seemingly disco-esque designs as well. So fun.
Outside we found out this boutique was right next to a cute little coffee shop and there were all sorts of little cafe-like areas to sit and enjoy including little gardens and a view of the highway. I found it all quite charming.
It was just one of those days that neither one of us really wanted to go home so instead we found the nearest oddly named antique store to where we were and decided to have at it. I mean at that rate why not?
And Rusty Rabbit Antiques is indeed adorably named and has a series of bunnies (including Bugs) decorating the sign at the entrance. It was right off the highway in an odd little nook intersection. I thought I’d passed it as there’s a boutique right on the off ramp a few feet up the road and all I saw was the ‘tique part of their sign. No matter I figured it out!
It was a small place and excessively cramped. We walked in and there really wasn’t enough room for the four people in the building including the clerk and three customers. There were only several rooms here, again very tight. The antiques were in good condition and displayed well despite being cramped but they seemed to be mostly standard faire. Hummel figurines, old postcards, salt and pepper shakers, and knickknacks galore. It was kind of like visiting a hoarder-y grandmother’s house.
The most unique items we found was a Wizard of Oz bulletin board art piece that some local highschooler probably made for a school project (let’s hope!) and a furry troll doll. Neither one of us could figure out why he was fluffy like a teddy bear. Is he perhaps of Mediterranean descent? Nobody knows… Oh! And a postcard of the devastation wrought by the hurricane of 1938 which just showed a massive pile of wreckage that was once someone’s home. I found that an odd subject for a postcard which are usually pleasant photos of vacation spots with the message “wish you were here” not a cry for help when your home gets demolished.
Anyway, this was a fun but quick distraction. I wouldn’t say you should go out of your way to see it but if you happen to be in the area anyway it’s not a bad place to poke around for a few minutes.
After the Umbrella Factory we decided we’d check out another lighthouse. Lighthouses are one of the things on my soft list – you know things to check out when they’re near other attractions we’re already at.
The Point Judith Lighthouse is famous for the fact it hosts the coast guard. As such it is not open to the public. Of course, we didn’t know that until we drove up because both of us are lousy at researching these things first. That being said it is right next to a park and a fishing spot. The park wasn’t much but a patch of grass with some benches but there were people here looking out over the ocean and it was pleasant enough for such a thing. There was also a good view of the lighthouse from here.
Would I suggest going out of your way to this destination? No, but if you’re in the area anyway and like lighthouse why not.
This week’s adventure brought us to Umbrella Factory which FaceBook has been suggesting for a few weeks before it was again suggested by my hiking buddy that explored the Freetown State Forest with me. I admit I didn’t know what it was… but just the fact it came so highly recommended was all I needed.
My travel companion was even more confused. He thought we were going to an actual factory that makes umbrellas. Not quite. It was another one of those quirky little places nestled in what seems to be a residential neighborhood. There were No Parking signs half a mile up the road so this place must get craaaaazy busy.
To be honest I didn’t know what to expect either as I was just given the vaguest idea of what I was going to. And when I drove in and saw a sign reading “general store” I was like oh boy, here we go again. The general store was more of a gift store. It was small, in what looked to be a repurposed house, but boy did it have the best selection of random funny things I have seen in a long while, if ever. Far from the usual Live, Laugh, Love signs this place had everything from jokey bumper stickers, to ironically named soap, to classic rock inspired Tarot cards, and the perfect assortment of gag gifts for anyone with an off sense of humor. There was even a series of angry candles with scents that included Fuck Around & Find Out and Fuck Your Abortion Law. When the candles start getting pissed maybe it’s a sign old white men should stop legislating uteruses. Just a thought.
Upstairs seemed like a totally different adventure. Here there was a whole floor dedicated to simple musical instruments like thumb pianos and thunder tubes. Beyond them was a room full of various African art. LOVED the rooster by the way. And my companion? Well, he blew through the duck caller and when it quacked he jumped so that was funny all around. And I got to play with a wooden xylophone which always makes me stupidly happy (even though I have exactly no musical talent.)
After this we went outside and out back there was a little courtyard type thing with a flower garden, a booth for a silhouette artist, a little cafe, and some free-range chickens. Oh, and a paddock of emus. Which were thumping away. I love the weird drumming noise the females make. It’s something else. Really rubs in how much of a dinosaur those birds are.
“Where are their arms?”
“…They’re birds they don’t have arms… you mean wings? They have vestigial wings. They’re only like half a foot long though.”
I forgot how much I enjoyed free range chickens. Their behavior is so different from penned ones. So much more relaxed and happy.
Out here there was also a bamboo forest. Now I have fought bamboo my entire life. Once that shit starts growing it’s nearly goddamn impossible to kill it and it spreads and uuuuugggggghhhhh. However, I’d never let my patches of bamboo grow into a forest, nor even seen a bamboo forest before. It was… really weird. Almost like climbing through grass if I were an ant. There was a little maze out here in the bamboo with a rudimentary shelter of sorts made of stacks of the stuff. I must say it was a unique experience.
Also within this veritable little village of weird house shops there were a few hippie boutiques as well as a shop for indigenous art that seemed to be run by the local tribe. That was cool. I always like to see that.
Throughout all this we found a lot of weird things but no umbrellas for sale (‘least we missed them.) It was an adventure best summarized by my companion’s comment, “I wasn’t expecting emus today.” No, because no one expects emus.
Initially I had set out to do all the registered Little Free Libraries in Newport in one day. You know, something to do while I was killing time here anyway. In each I’d leave a signed copy of one of my books and it’d be a lot of fun. However, I failed to recognize two things: the mind-boggling amount of traffic this tiny island has and 2: how very little patience I have for it. Oh, and how much excess traffic also equals no parking. This was not an adventure for a car but that’s how I went about it anyway. As such this took me three different excursions even though you could probably walk to each. Below are photos I took and some musings on every one I could find.
112 Bliss Road
112 Bliss
122 Bliss was actually really sweet. I fund it on a grey day where it was threatening to rain and somehow that just made it all the better. It is, as you can see, pained to look like a little grey house. And it was plenty loved! On this particular day it was busting with the usual pulp fiction and crime novels. I liked its lovely unique character.
384 Broadway
384 Broadway
I like 384 Boradway because of the amount of pedestrian traffic it must see. It is located in some prime real estate for people walking by. In fact this was so much the case that the first time I went to find it traffic distracted me too much to see it but that being said you’d definitely see it if you were walking in this area. It was quiet, demure, and well maintained, filled almost entirely with two shelves worth of tawdry romance and crime drama. I’m definitely noticing these seem to be the most favored genres and if I am to believe the spines on these books they are WELL loved.
45 Weaver Ave
45 Weaver
45 Weaver struck me as particularly sweet not just because of the fetching Tardis Blue box but also the fact its owners were giving away free plants at its base. Double the fun!
26 Homer Street
26 Homer Street
26 Homer Street was in a cozy little neighborhood where I found ample parking on this particular day. It was interesting more because of its contents than its looks. Here there were the usual thick and very adult romances and crime dramas but also a corner that seemed to be reserved for grade school age chapter books? It’s possible they were all left by the same person just trying to move them on… or maybe this is a thing with this location. Not sure. There was nothing on the outside of it to make me think it was intended for a child audience but who knows. It’s good to be inclusive I guess.
4 Union Street
26 Homer Street
26 Homer Street was interesting because it showed up at random rather recently. It wasn’t in my first Free Little Library searches. I decided I would be the first to check in on it in a somewhat official manner. Indeed it’s a little unusual. It appeared to be a home made box with an unusual lock to keep the door closed. Inside I found it mostly empty. A few books seemed to have been placed in here in hope… I left an author’s proof copy of Milking the Cat that I felt was a sufficiently odd choice for such an odd box.
“7” Prairie Ave
Prairie Ave
Prairie Ave took me two tries to find because it appears they may have changed the address numbers on the whole street recently. I think the address is somewhere around 20 not 7. Still. Once I slowed down to take a good look it wasn’t hard to find and there was a ton of parking on this particular day so I didn’t even have to walk. I loved this one because it’s made from a stained glass window which gives it so much class and character and the books I found within were equally as unique. This was the first time I found an old volume that I might find in a dusty attic – I think it was printed in the 1950’s. It was encyclopedia of great composers and their music. Aside it was next to a copy of Romeo and Juliet, the Crucible, the first anime I’ve ever seen in a little library (Fullmetal Alchemist volume 6) a hardcover copy of 50 Jobs Worse Than Yours, and something titled The End of Nature. Bizarre. Truely the weirdest collection yet.
BONUS LIBRARIES:
I was unable to locate the Free Little Library at the community center on 20 Dr Marcus F Wheatland Blvd. This may be because it was inside the center and I… was not comfortable enough as an out-of-stater to check out. I also passed by a Little Library in a neighborhood near the beaches at one point but where I was I couldn’t tell you. And finally there’s one rumored to be on Spring Street which… if I had any reason to walk the length of Spring Street I’d totally check out otherwise I’d rather not slowly drive down this preposterously long one-way street pissing off traffic as I peer to either side of the street looking. Oh and fuck trying to find parking there. Nooooope. Gonna pass on that one!
I admit that conventions are not part of my world. And a horror convention seems even more out there but I like being a wild card and having someone share their special interests with me which is how I ended up here. And as an added bonus I LOVE weird people and this seemed like it might have a whole den of them.
Really my usual companion wanted to see the live radio show. He’s super into them. So on Saturday after he got off work we drove directly the convention. It would leave us plenty of time to catch the radio show. I was excited to see it too but I had to take a few days to prepare for it as I am not one for crowds. Or city life. Or people really. Got off to a bit of a bad start when we spent a TON of time in traffic which was acting insane. Usually, I can deal with this just fine but on that particular evening it put me on edge.
We parked at the mall as it was cheaper but that did mean we’d have to walk through the mall on a weekend evening and holy crap was it swarmed. I’d have trouble with this even before Covid. I carried on and did the best I could but then I had to ride an elevator, walk through one of those weird human hamster tunnels over the street, and ride several escalators – the last of which was ungodly narrow, steep, and claustrophobic. Escalators had been my nemesis since childhood and everything was setting off my sensory overload tonight.
Eventually we found a big room full of vendors with a $5 per person admittance fee. We forked it over and looked around. There was all kinds of weird betenticled art everywhere. Paintings, prints, giant plushies. It was an odd rabbit hole to fall down but a fun one. Still, this was not what we were looking for. We asked where the general admittance was and was told we’d have to walk over the Biltmore down the street which we did.
The Biltmore itself is supposed to be haunted. In fact it has such a reputation it was on my list of places to poke at even before this convention but tonight wasn’t the best night to be doing so. I walked in and there’s all sorts of absolutely garish 1920’s art nouveau architecture and design which when done well can be stunning but this place? I dunno, it just seemed so tacky to me. And disorienting. I can’t even describe how I was feeling at that point but it was almost like I was wearing those shitty drunk goggles they give children to make them not want to drink. Just everything seemed somehow off. It was a weird energy for sure – whether I can blame this on the place being haunted or just my own sensory overload I don’t know but that’s where I was at that moment.
We found the people at the take in register for the convention but they said they’d already packed up hours earlier and were no longer selling tickets or making allowances to see the radio theater. My companion was deflated. I was too. I had struggled mightily for this one and now it was a no-go. I asked if the radio theater would be there tomorrow and yes, it was a different show, but they would be there performing something. We decided to come back the next day. Let me tell you I was happy to be home after that.
Sunday came around and we headed out fairly early so we could see at least some of the short film festival at the library before the radio show. We got out on time and were able to buy tickets and even better I was feeling much less over stimulated!
We walked to the library but we were a bit early. There was a sign on the door saying it was closed on Sundays except for the convention and then in small letters that it’d be open at 12:05. it wasn’t 12:05 yet so we stood politely at the door with another man who claimed to have “just rolled down the hill” to get there. A librarian popped out and happily burbled, “Thank you for reading the sign! Everyone else has just tried to come right in!” She then highlighted the part about opening up at 12:05 before replacing it on the door. By now several more people had gathered and were now chatting about how far they travelled and then all about cats. This would be an ongoing theme on just about everyone I eavesdropped on. Who attends horror conventions you might wonder… Cat people. That’s who. I mean yeah there are those decked to the hilt in Goth gear, the heavily tattooed, those who look like they’re suffering existential dread, the odd rat enthusiast, some queer rebels, a large swath of neurodivergent peoples annnnnd amateur mycologists otherwise known as mushroom lovers. That last one caught me a bit off guard.
Finally we were allowed in and made our way to the theater – an actual tiny theater, in a library. This was new for me. And it was cute! And cozy! And Old Timey looking. And to their credit the first film they showed was suitably distressing. It was about keeping a living consciousness in a computer which is always a little unnerving but they seemed to make it over the top uncomfortable. Maybe that’s a good thing, I don’t know.
From there the films ranged from familiar old tropes, to psychological horror, to comedy horror. I was having a good time with it. And it was interesting to see just what people were doing to make these little films which had to be a shoe string budget but most you couldn’t tell. Afterwards one of the film’s creators came up to do a Q & A and my companion got into it by asking a question. I was happy to see him involved even if I myself would rather die than ask a question in a public forum. That’s just me and that’s OK.
We stuck around for block two which started with a claymation short which obviously tickled my own special interests. And there was one some time afterwards that was really low budget – just one dude sitting in front of a green screen playing with a plush bat, that actually was still amazing somehow?? And hilarious! I don’t know, I was impressed. Actually most, if not all, of the shorts kept my interest for the most part. There was a couple I was hazy on but I guess that’s just part of the experience. It was hard picking a favorite.
We decided to skip the last block of short films and instead go to grab a bite to eat before listening to a dramatic story reading before attending the radio show. So off we went. I’d read over the program schedule for fun and I was amused with a lot of the offerings. Cthulhu prayer breakfast, a lecture on missing persons, and weirdly enough a group therapy session. I guess in acknowledgment of the fact if you were here you might be the sort to benefit from a little group therapy sesh. Actually, a lot of the lectures looked super intriguing, but they were from the previous few days. They were the sort of things I could plunk myself on a seat and just spend a day listening to random lectures. Yeah, OK, maybe the crazy ticket price was worth it. There was a lot going on.
Making our way out of there I met a woman on the street who had the same cutesy baby Cthulhu T-shirt and we laughed. She asked if I’d seen the Craft-thulu T-shirt and I said I had it. It was just a weird, sweet moment – two oddballs recognizing each other’s oddness.
We ate at the mall and I picked up one of my books from the car which I’d leave on a bench in the park to be found. Part of my book bombing/book crossing campaign. The dramatic story telling was actually The Willows by Algernon Blackwood read by Robert Lloyd Perry and let me tell you – it was indeed dramatic! I was expecting a nice little relaxing story time, just sit in quiet and listen to someone read to me like I’m a child. No, not quite. It did start off nice and soft but the deeper into the story we got the more impassioned and loud our narrator and the music behind him became. This in combination with the fact they dimmed the lights set my brain off. I basically forgot where I was, immersed completely in the story, seeing it in vivid detail in place of the very real surroundings around me. I started to fidget and scratch at my skin just to keep myself grounded in reality. My companion too really enjoyed this piece. Curiously so too did a young woman wearing noise reducing headphones. She hadn’t been the only one wearing some sort of deadening device. Even I was tempted to put in ear plugs as a lot of these events were getting a bit loud for me. I wondered if these people were also somewhere on the spectrum enjoying a day out the best they could. So far the diversity of each crowd was keeping me quite happy.
And when it was all over we were in the right place to just stay for what we came for – a performance of Curse of the Yig performed by the Dark Adventure Radio Theater. I should probably note that going into this I have not been a huge fan of any kind of radio. Yes, I listened to War of the Worlds and got a good giggle in my youth but that is where my interest in this activity ended until I met my companion who has on numerous occasions shared his love of these performances by playing them in the car on our many trips. And it’s been pleasant but I still didn’t fully comprehend why seeing it live would be any better. It’s radio after all.
It started with a lot of fussing over the projector and an apology to the audience that the cast they had painfully ensured was diverse for this adaption of an H P Lovecraft story was down to a skeleton crew and just looked like a buncha white people again. It might seem like a strange thing to say but H P Lovecraft unfortunately was even a hardcore racist for his day and although there are lots of people who love his wild and whimsical style of writing there’s a lot less of us who agree with his politics. But white supremacists being who they are probably would find a good ‘hero’ in Lovecraft which is why the rest of us decent folk have to try so very hard to take the good and leave all the bad. It’s a noble effort.
Anyway, the radio drama started with just four people voicing all the parts (including the dog who barked intermittently at various scenes.) Every once in a while the projector would show something to the audience asking them to make a noise for the background. Oh, so it’s audience participation that’s different, I see. Granted all the noises were the same…. wind, the rattle of a rattlesnake, hissing… these are all the same noise. None the matter I found it adorable and quite fun. By the end I got it. It was worth coming to see live. Even better they gave the hardcore fans a ‘clue’ with which to decipher a code. My companion of course got up and asked for a code card at the end and brought it home to happily solve it. Again, it was nice to see this sort of involvement.
It was getting late when we left and my companion was concerned I’d had enough activity for one day but he did mention there was one last film showing 4 miles away at a theater. I said it’s OK, we can go check it out, and so we did. And the parking gods must have been smiling on me because there was a parking spot right near the theater that was next to an intersecting street meaning all I had to do was drive into it without properly parallel parking which I STILL have not learned how to do. No matter!
That’s how we ended up at the Dunwich Horror Picture Show. We knew this was a screening of the 1970 movie The Dunwich Horror, which is a terrible movie, but we didn’t really understand the Picture Show part of that. Rocky Horror mashup? Hard to say.
I did what I always do… looked around the audience. And that’s where I found them – a group that had been remarkably absent most of the day despite my theories they should have been everywhere – the gay men. Oh sure, I’d seen a couple adorable lesbian couples here and there but this seemed to be the hub where all the men were. Scores of them. Which made little sense to me as the Dunwich Horror is CLEARLY a film about one straight white dude’s rape fantasies (which is very in step with horror from the 70’s.) If you’re wondering why I thought such a large portion of the queer community would be at this convention it’s because I grew up in the 80’s and 90;s when every villain was still queer coded and although that was supposed to be a bad thing I also knew this backfired and many still LOVE queer coded villains. Honestly, how can you not? They’re fucking hilarious. Also so much of the crowd today seemed neurodivergent and again there’s a disproportionally large cross section of people who are both queer and neurodivergent. I was just happy my amateur psychology worked. I was comfortable here now the world made sense again. Also the theater was dark so it was kinda perfect for my nerves.
So, what was it about the Dunwich Horror that was so great? Well, it had a live band playing the soundtrack and an announcement at the beginning saying, “We know this film is terrible. Feel free to heckle it. Just make your comments funny.” And the audience complied! But that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was the wildly gesticulating people in Cthulhu costumes who’d come from the sides of the theater to do a crazed interpretive dance to distract you whenever the dream sequences got too rapey. How cool would that be just to have that on standby whenever something triggering comes up? Like no, you don’t want to look over at something potentially distressing, look over here AT THE DANCING TENTICLE MONSTER! WOOOOO!
It was all a very happy and positive experience. My companion even got to take a break to enjoy remembering some other happy memories at this theater. While doing so he tried to thank me for coming with him today to enjoy the weird things in life and I…. would have replied it was no problem if I wasn’t distracted by the John Waters Christmas poster. Now that’s a whole other brand of weird (and I’m all for it!)
All and all I am super happy we did the Dunwich Horror as it was the perfect way to end the evening and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Maybe a little too much if I’m honest. So, was it worth going into the city, a place I normally avoid? Oh yes, absolutely. And it looks like someone picked up my book that I left sooo… there’s always that.
