National Geographic : 1962 Aug
"Bear to starboard at the next crossroad." The village constable, whose father traded to China in the days of sail, unconsciously speaks the language of the sea. There is sand in the sun-bleached hair of the summer children, even after their baths; and sand dollars, which are a kind of sea urchin and the treasure trove of the beaches, in their pockets. For the parents of the summer children there is nostalgia; the sea, even in gayest mood, is the mother of sadness. You took your children to Cape Cod when they were little, for summer happiness, and there they left their littleness forever, in the wind that drove the catboat you taught them to sail and in the bone-chilling water where they learned to swim. Now the children have grown up, and every year Cape Cod changes. One of the children, by the way, is now the President of the United States; his daddy summered Mr. Kennedy at Hyannis Port, and he has taken his own fam ily there (pages 184-7). Pilgrim Monument in Provincetown commemorates the arrival of the May flower on November 11, 1620, a month before it reached Plymouth. The 255 foot granite shaft copies the Torre del Mangia in Siena, Italy. Whaling, once the town's bread-and butter industry, has vanished. Art col ony, summer theater, and symphony orchestra flourish in its stead. Where 75 wharves bristled along the waterfront in early days, only a few remain. Here commercial fishermen unload their hauls, and rod-and-reel sportsmen weigh in horse mackerel, or tuna, that sometimes top 700 pounds. In Pilgrim dress, Provincetown's leather-lunged town crier broadcasts the news-"Hear ye! Hear ye!"-as he makes his rounds. Ever obliging, he poses for photographers as many as 35,000 times each summer.