The Spy received two reports this weekend about restaurant happenings in Easton. The first is the emergence of the Washington Street Pub after a few years of downtime and renovation under BluePoint Hospitality’s ownership. In this case, a sharing of the inaugural menu indicates that the return of a favorite venue for downtown redevelopment is in good hands, as the group that brought you Sunflowers & Greens and the James Beard Award-winning Bas Rouge has found the sweet spot of keeping traditions alive with its first-tier oyster offerings, while offering prices that won’t break the bank.

The second was another Spy agent sending along a rather formal FQA circulating at Piazza in Talbottown that owner Emily Chander has made some decisions about her new restaurant now being built out next to her popular Itatoan deli. There had been speculation that one of the Shore’s premier foodies would surprise everyone by opening Easton’s first high-end fondue restaurant. Still, Spy intelligence reveals that Chandler is sticking to her core focus and passion: Italian cuisine.

Future reports are expected on both enterprises as they develop.

The Trinity Methodist Episcopal Church South was built on the North East corner of Goldsborough and Harrison Streets in Easton, Maryland between 1875-1876! It was such an interesting looking church and was later demolished in the 1950’s when St. Mark’s United Methodist Church was built to unite all of Easton’s Methodist churches! Do you have memories of this church?

Photo from the Talbot Historical Society’s Laird Wise Collection. Contact: Cathy Hill [email protected] to share your old photos and purchase our collections photos. Comment, Like our page and join the Talbot Historical Society!

Both of my grandfathers were geologists who worked for oil companies, which meant they got “transferred” every few years. Travel was a major part of my parents’ lives, so vacations weren’t exactly a novelty. But they both loved history, and that meant most of our family vacations doubled as educational experiences.

The first vacation I really remember was a week at Yellowstone National Park. My parents thought it would be fun to rent a travel trailer and do some camping. That first night in the campground was wonderful. We cooked dinner over an open fire, everything tasted better outdoors. After dinner, we went for a walk and found arrowheads, which was beyond exciting for a group of kids.

The trailer didn’t have a bathroom, so getting four small children to the campground restroom before bed was quite the production. But the real adventure came in the middle of the night when a family of bears completely trashed our campsite kitchen. They dumped over the big Coleman cooler and ate everything, even my mom’s homemade brownies.

Unfazed, my parents restocked the dented cooler the next day, and our second dinner was just as delicious, including rainbow trout that we had caught on a fishing trip to Jenny Lake. For dessert, Sara Lee brownies replaced my mom’s homemade batch. The cooler spent the night locked in the car.

But that night brought a new challenge, a summer snowstorm. The trailer didn’t have a heater, so we all froze. The windows in the trailer were caked with ice. The next morning we layered our jeans and T-shirt’s with our new sweatshirts and headed to the warmth of a diner for breakfast. My parents wisely decided to move us into a small motel down the road, one with heat and, most importantly, a bathroom. My grandparents had flown in from Denver and were staying at the Jackson Lake Lodge, a beautiful lodge with huge windows overlooking the mountains.

Our last night in Yellowstone, after visiting Old Faithful, we met them for dinner at the Lodge. Dressed in our Levi’s and boots, our camping clothes, we felt just a little out of place in the elegant dining room. But after bear raids, snowstorms, and campfire dinners, we didn’t mind being the underdressed ones at the table. It felt like we’d earned it.

The next year we swapped the mountains for the Atlantic Ocean when my family flew to Georgia. The helicopter ride from Atlanta to Sea Island, Georgia, when I was five, was almost as exciting as learning to ride my brand-new bike on the beach. The only downside to the beach were the massive piles of seaweed that washed up along the shore, they absolutely terrified me. Because of that, I much preferred my grandmother’s beach club for swimming. Honestly, the beach club had its own perks: the luxury of ordering hot dogs, sandwiches, ice cream, and lemonade from a waiter made it hard to resist.

On Saturday nights, we would get dressed up and head to the Cloisters for dinner. The grown ups lingered over their meals while we were sent to the kids’ lounge where we would play games. I won a Peter Pan game after being the last one standing during a musical chairs game. We drank numerous Shirley Temples and ate hot fudge sundaes.

One morning, my older siblings (we were nine, seven, and five years old) and I were sent on a guided tram tour (no parents, it was the 1960’s) to St. Simon’s Island. We climbed the lighthouse, and saw the Bloody Marsh, Fort Federica, and Christ Church Churchyard. It was one of the most boring trips, ever. I now wonder what my parents were off doing that day, probably enjoying the adults only pool at the beach club.

Not long after, we traded planes for a road trip. The summer of my cousin’s wedding in New Mexico, my parents bought a Buick Vista Cruiser. It had three rows of seats, roof-mounted skylights, and best of all: air conditioning. For a family of six, it felt like pure luxury.

That was also the summer we discovered the joys of Holiday Inn motels. We loved everything about them, the pools, the ice machines, the food, it was every kid’s dream. To us, the bright green Holiday Inn sign practically meant vacation magic.

We spent the next summer on a bus touring New England. We visited the Ocean Spray Cranberry bog, Plymouth Rock, Bunker Hill, Old North Church, and Paul Revere’s house. We ate lobster rolls almost every day while visiting my aunt’s summer home in Biddeford Pool, Maine. Our days were spent swimming in the freezing North Atlantic and drinking six ounce Cokes in glass bottles. I learned to play solitaire (the card game) and Scrabble with my family in front of a roaring fire at night.

My parents, while on vacation taught us how to roll with the unexpected, how to find wonder in new places, and how to always keep a sense of humor no matter what the road had in store. Travel didn’t always go smoothly but each trip became a story we would repeat at family dinners and laugh about years later.

Agent 86 was recently reminded that the Spy has many readers south of the Choptank River and that he should occasionally train his camera in those areas.  86 took this to heart and overflew Cambridge, the new Harriet Tubman Museum outside of town, and the Blackwater Wildlife Refuge. He hopes that the resulting video will return him to favor with readers in the southern portion of the Spy’s service area.

This video is approximately three minutes in length.

Maybe they are headed out for a July 4th party cruise? This Talbot Historical Society found photo location features men and ladies who are not identified, but the apparel suggests that the picture was taken in the late 1800s or early 1900s. Do you recognize any of the buildings in the background?

Contact Cathy Hill at [email protected] to share your old photos and purchase our collection photos. Comment, Like our page and join the Talbot Historical Society!

On the advice of a good friend, this spy travelled to St. Michaels early on Sunday morning to board the Patriot at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. My mission was to observe and photograph the log canoe race held on the Miles River. 

Because the agency is committed to monitoring everything that goes on in St. Michaels, I considered my trip to be an agency mission. The mission was a success.

Pictures often provide more intelligence than written reports, even when written by the best spies working for the agency. That is the case here. My photographs give an accurate record of what transpired at Miles on the morning of June 29th. 

If asked, and to date I haven’t been asked, to provide a one-word assessment of what I witnessed, my response would be “beauty.” (Yes, I know, that word does not often appear in this spy’s reports.)

Without further description, here is a sampling of the photos I captured last Sunday morning:

Note that the log canoes are not all the same size. The difference in boat size is factored into determining the winner of the race. The larger log canoes, because they travel faster than the smaller ones, are awarded “time” based on their size. Thus, even though a large log canoe may cross the finish line first, it may not win the race.

Yes, I know it’s a bit complicated, but accuracy in our assessment of the outcome requires us to understand, at least superficially, the rules of the race.

This small log canoe necessitated careful coordination of the crew to avoid an unscheduled swim in the Miles.

This spy wishes he were a sailor, but he’s not—difficulty in determining which boat was doing what was experienced. 

Observing the log canoe race was most enjoyable. I am available for future races.

One last photograph. I took over 200 . . . 

Screenshot

Additional log canoe races are scheduled for July 27 and 28, and Sept. 7, 8, 14, and 15. Information on the races, the Patriot, and the opportunity to purchase tickets can be found at: https://cbmm.org/resources_tags/log-canoe-races/.

With everything in the news these past two weeks, I’ve found myself thinking about my family, and how, really, everything is connected. Einstein once said, “look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” But I think that he really meant: “ look deep into your family, and you will understand everything better, or realize that chaos is inevitable.”

Physics tells us that everything is related, actions create reactions and forces push and pull. I see that playing out on every scale especially in current events.

My dad held very conservative political views. After serving in the Pacific Theater as a Naval Officer in World War II, he was acutely aware of the devastating effects of war. Our nightly dinner conversations often revolved around our day, current events, and world news. In winter, when we discussed the weather, it was mainly about how much snow we might get for skiing. In summer, it was all about how important rain was for my mom’s rose garden.

I grew up believing communism was not a workable concept, despite its appealing promise of equality. As a seventh-grade student, I was taught that America needed to help South Vietnam hold onto its freedom from communist rule. Sending in our military seemed like the answer and the right thing to do. Watching the draft lottery on live tv in December of 1969 was deeply upsetting, just knowing that boys as young as eighteen could be sent to fight a war so far from home.

As the spring of 1970 approached, my Dad received news that he had been admitted to the Supreme Court Bar. He was to fly to Washington, D.C. for a swearing in ceremony and then was invited to the White House for a reception in the Rose Garden with President Nixon. Of course, my Mom would be joining him for both the ceremony and the reception.

My grandparents were in charge of us while my parents were in Washington. My brother, Harris, had suffered a terrible ski accident in January and was now in a full thigh-to-foot cast, relying on crutches to get around. He had broken so many bones that the surgery required metal rods and screws to hold everything together.

To help pass the time, and ease the boredom and frustration of not skiing, my brothers and I invented a competition to see how long we could balance ourselves on the crutches with our feet pressed against the wall. Harris quickly became the reigning champion despite having to lift and hold his heavy cast, that is until he lost his balance, fell, and broke his cast. My grandfather was perturbed. It was good for Harris, though, because his cast was reduced to just below his knee and included a rubber heel for walking. This newfound mobility, was thrilling, which he took too far when he broke the new cast while out riding his bike. My grandfather had gone from exasperated to completely beside himself.

Meanwhile, my parents missed their flight from Denver to Casper (my grandfather was paged over one of the dreaded white, (bad news) phones at the airport). Needless to say, my grandfather was truly vexed.

Finally, when my parents arrived, my mom was bursting with excitement about meeting President Nixon. But in truth, what delighted her most was simply spending time among the countless beautiful roses. She later remarked that the experience rivaled the famous cherry tree blossoms, truly a gardener’s dream.

My dad passed away before the disgrace and shame of Nixon’s Watergate scandal came to light, but I can still clearly hear him saying, “feet of clay,” a phrase that refers to a hidden flaw or weakness in an otherwise admirable person.

I also remember an offhand comment my dad made one evening at dinner. At the time, I didn’t fully understand it, but his words have stayed with me for years: “The third World War and potential downfall of this country will come from within, we’ll collapse like a third-world country.”

Looking back, I realize my dad’s grim dinner-table predictions weren’t just warnings, they were reminders. Reminders that what holds a family or a country together is resilience and humor, even if the leader of the free world turns out to have clay feet.

Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt, are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End, where they enjoy swimming and bicycling. 

Easton, Maryland, is renowned for its bucolic scenery and its quaint, warm atmosphere. In fact, Country Living recently named Easton one of the best small towns in America, citing its small-town ethos, accessibility, and charm.

Easton is also known for its “Community Gardens.” The community gardens are certain areas maintained by the Garden Club of the Eastern Shore, and even if you think you’ve seen them, you have. Here are some of the gardens and spaces that help beautify our atmosphere and our town:

The Five Corners Fountain Garden

You see this one on the right when you’re coming from the YMCA. Although it’s seemed like it’s always been there, the Five Corners Fountain Garden has been in Easton since 1987. The FCFG offers a measure of peace and tranquility in an area that some might find too ornate.

Note: I went there one day, and it was great to see the fountain working. The Italianate fountain was set in between a great array of flowers that will manage to cheer up the saddest even on a cloudy day. Park benches and a small walkway are also featured to make this garden seem like a getaway unto itself.

The Five Corners Fountain Garden is located in the same place but the street has a new name, Charles Jenkins Corner, named after the beloved crossing guard who retired after 45 years.

Frances Plate Memorial Children’s Garden

The Frances Plate Memorial Children’s Garden is one of the newest additions to Talbot County. Like this Five Corners Fountain Garden, this is located in Idlewild Park.

This garden was created in 2001 and occupies a half-acre of land.  The garden is named after Frances Plate, who was a former Garden Club member and St. Michaels resident. She passed away in 1996.

The garden is situated in a previously underutilized part of the park. The children’s garden features a boat, a walking area for families, benches, and a sculptured depiction of three children. Also featured is an engraved stone inscribed with the words: Frances Plate Memorial Children’s Garden 2002.

Talbot Historical Society Garden

If the Talbot Historical Society Garden seems to be a vestige of old Easton and representative of how quaint and enduring the town can to be, it’s with good reason. Miss Kathleen Cowgill designed the original gardens in a traditional English style that suited the surrounding areas. The site features a brick arrangement, a gazebo and visitors are greeted with a sign that says, “The Gardens.”

The layout features an especially beautiful arrangement of flowers, and the site is meticulously maintained.

Talbot Historical Society Garden is on a one-acre site and big enough for renting for gatherings, weddings, and painters, and the artists from Plein-Air are often seen there taking advantage of the natural beauty and ambiance of the site.

Note: When I was looking around, taking pictures, and enjoying the site, a young couple was out there strolling. This area is well known for attracting out-of-towners and those who love scenic beauty.

Gardens of the Talbot County Public Library

When you enter the Talbot County Public Library, you are greeted with a well-manicured flower arrangement. The Talbot County Library was built in 1977 and replaced the one that was opposite Cherry’s.

This site remains lovingly maintained by the Talbot County Garden Club, and flowers and pots are there year-round. In recent times, a bench has been added for children to draw, sit during the nice weather, and do outside activities.

The Thompson Park Garden

The Thompson Park Garden is located in Easton. Although Idewild is Easton’s best-known park, Thompson Park and the Thompson Park Garden are also places of rest, relaxation, and beauty. The design was originally done in 1972 by Elizabeth Meade Arthur, and twenty years after the original plans, Stuart Dawson expanded on the vision.

By the 1990s, Thompson Park had gained more recognition for its design and ambiance as a variety of people and groups congregated during the era of increased tourism. In 2015 more changes were made and a plaque is at the site to commemorate the time.

Currently, even more changes have been implemented to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the site. Like all of the best areas in town, the beauty doesn’t happen by itself; the Talbot County Garden Club works hard at this site too.

The  Talbot County Garden Club no longer maintains the Courthouse but they keep an eye on it as well as other places in the area.

The Talbot Garden Club is renowned in the community and is often featured in articles from Bethesda Magazine to the Talbot Spy. The Talbot Garden Club also donates flowers to local businesses and institutions, such as Talbot Interfaith Shelter and Talbot Hospice.

Recently, the Talbot County Garden Club was a big part of the Easton May Day Celebration and judged the flower arrangements that were created downtown. The TCGG also has symposiums for authors versed in horticulture and arrangements. Currently, over 100 volunteers assist in planting, arranging, and sculpting the flowers into the beautiful sites we see today.

The Talbot County Garden Club was started in 1917 and has spent the decades taking care of landmarks in the area. The community gardens give our area its character and its beauty, and they help make our region one of the most beloved in the region.

Jason Elias is a pop culture historian and a music journalist.

A special thanks to Elizabeth Swaine for sharing this June 6, 1942 photo of her father John Swaine Jr. and her grandfather John Swaine Sr. taking up hay on the Swaine farm in Royal Oak, Maryland! Farming techniques have certainly changed since then! That is quite an interesting-looking piece of equipment!

Photo from the Elizabeth Swaine Collection at the Talbot Historical Society. Contact: Cathy Hill [email protected] to share your old photos and purchase our collections photos. Comment, Like our page and join the Talbot Historical Society!