So as a bonus to www.capecodlife.com, we offer extended interviews with Ben Goodspeed, a former Chatham selectman; Bill Quinn, an Orleans-based videographer; and Kenneth Vincent, a West Tisbury-based artist. These conversations shine a brighter light into the lives of the year-rounders some of us live among--or at least envy from afar--and yield greater insight into what makes each town on Cape Cod and the Islands so distinct and unforgettable.
And in this space, Eva DeGrace Green, sister of our Barnstable feature subject, Bob DeGrace, details some of her most treasured memories of growing up in Hyannisport.
“My father came here at 18 months, he was a twin from Brava, Cape Verde Islands. My mother was born in South Harwich. Her parents married in Brava, Cape Verde Islands and he brought her to P’Town. He was a whaler and his ship came to P’Town.
My father’s father—also a whaler—came into New Bedford. He got a home in North Harwich and then had the twins and his wife came here. My grandfather DeGrace and Joe Perry had fishing boats out of Harwichport where Perry settled with his family.
My parents married January 26, 1918 and lived in Brewster. My father did some work for a Mr. Bearse in Centerville and he told my father, “John, you should work for yourself. Move to Hyannis and I’ll give you a place to live until you can build a home.” My parents moved to Hyannisport and I was born in November of 1923. My father dug the cellar and the house was built on Craigville Road and they moved in 1924. Two brothers and two sisters were born in that home, we had two older brothers, seven children in all.
In later years my mother would make bacon and egg sandwiches, wrap them, put each sandwich in a separate bag, and give my two older brothers, myself, and my brother under me each a bag and tell us which child on the bus to give a bag with a sandwich to—and tell them to eat it on the bus.
My parents always gave food to families. We had chickens, pigs, and when my grandfather died, March 1933, we got his cow, so we had plenty of milk. My mother made butter; we had eggs. When churches or anyone needed food for a family they would call my parents for help.
My mother—having seven children of different sizes—would take our sweaters at the end of the school year and take the sleeves and cut them from just where the elbow was because the elbow area was worn or had a hole. Then she would take the wrist of the sweater and the above part that was not worn and make mittens by sewing the sleeve to make the hand part.
Because we used coal for heat my mother would get three tons put into the coal bin in the basement every July 1. It was cheaper to buy in the summer. Dad made a saw with an old Model T and sawed wood for winter. In the basement my dad fixed a nice room with a stove and my mother would do her preserves. We had a huge garden. We also had a part in the basement used as a root storage area for the winter vegetables to be stored. My mother would buy bushels to put in jars. We would pick beach plums and she made jam. ... strawberry jam. She would put up in jars—blueberries, anything she could put in jars she would. She made pickles. We never wanted for food, because my mother was a smart and wise woman. My father was a good provider. They gave food to many families in Hyannis.
In the winter, my father went clamming and at the bridge in Centerville, he would get crabs. In the summer you could go down to Ocean Street and when the fishing boats came in, you got fish. They were cheap right from the boat.
When people came to the Cape in the summer and got sick, they went to Cape Cod Hospital and when they were ready to be discharged, the hospital would call my parents and ask them if they could take them in until their family could come and get them in a day or two. The hospital was small and they needed the room.
When I was about seven years old the rich people that came to Hyannisport and Craigville would bring their cooks, maids, butlers, and chauffeurs. They didn’t have room for the chauffeurs, so they asked my father would he and my mother take and give them a room and breakfast. My mother agreed and she did it for about ten summers. Today they say bed and breakfast. We had the same ones every year.
At the curve at Hyannisport before Sea Street they had a New York boat dock and the orchestra that played came for a couple of weeks and stayed at our house.
Miss Fawcett—the post mistress at the West Hyannisport post office, which was opened only in the summer—would ask if my mother took in laundry because everything was hung just so on the clothesline. She would tell them, “Oh no, that’s my family wash.”
My father gave the Baptist church a tree for Christmas for a few years.”