Portsmouth: a town without people 



National Park Service Photo 



Henry Pigott at about 14 



Photo by Steve Murray 



Portsmouth Village may have seen its better days, 

 but it's far from dead. 



Ask its residents — well, former residents. They've 

 left their village, but they haven't deserted it, they 

 say. 



Consider Marion Babb. She was one of the last 

 children born on Portsmouth Island. That was in 1922 

 when there was still some life left in the already 

 declining village. But, even then, Portsmouth was 

 breathing its last breaths. 



In 1971, Babb and her aunt moved to the mainland, 

 the last permanent residents to leave the seaport 

 village. But their home stands today, freshly painted, 

 yard mowed, ready for their return. Babb points to a 

 color photo of the old homeplace and says, "That's 

 home. And it'll never be anything but home." 



Although the National Park Service controls the 

 land and buildings on Portsmouth Island, Babb main- 

 tains a lease on her house. For her and others like her, 

 it's more than sentiment that draws her back. "I wish 

 I could go back and stay forever — the quiet, no 

 telephones," she says. 



Babb remembers the good life. It was a time when 

 all the young folks on the island would have candy 

 parties or ice cream parties. Or, they'd play a little 

 canasta, dominoes or Chinese checkers. 



She remembers having all the necessities plus a lit- 

 tle more. A wooden tank held 1,600 gallons of water, a 

 generator provided light and, in later years, they had 

 a gas stove. Most of the homes had outdoor toilets as 

 well as outdoor cooking houses, called summer 

 kitchens, for cooking in hot weather. And, even 



Former Portsmouth residents claim the fertile island marshes produce the best oysters in the world 



