A Small World

Montauk

February 12, 1998

To The Editor,

For years the American Jewish community has been and continues to be a prime force in leading the fight against racial and religious discrimination in this country. Among some of the most prominent opponents of Senator Joe McCarthy were Jews. Now, however, we find a Jewish McCarthyism, one that uses some of the same methods of intimidation to suppress those in the community whose political views they dislike.

The right-wing attacks on the Smithsonian and the New Israel Fund, by the so-called Americans for a Safe Israel, were attacks directed against Thomas Friedman, the New York Times columnist, several professors from the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, an Orthodox Israeli rabbi, an Arab member of the Knesset, and two well-known figures in the conservative Likud Party.

The program planned, "Israel at Fifty: Yesterday's Dreams, Today's Realities," was to be a celebration of Israel's triumph in building a vibrant democracy, even as it struggled for its very existence.

It was designed to take an in-depth look at Israel's prodigious accomplishments in its first half-century and at some of the challenges facing this young democracy as it enters its next half-century.

The issues it would have addressed included the role of religion in public life, the position of Israel's nearly one million Arab citizens, the link between economic privatization and growing social gaps, and the future of Zionist ideology in the mature Jewish State.

There are hundreds of thousands of Israeli citizens who believe that peace with the Palestinians is essential to Israel's future.

Who are the "Americans for a Safe Israel"? It has no mass membership but is obviously well financed, placing numerous ads warning against concessions by Israel for peace with the Palestinians.

Who are these self-appointed guardians of a "safe Israel"? Who are they who evidently believe that Israel is too fragile to sustain a serious, respectful discussion in America by eminent Israeli scholars and political leaders?

They consider anyone who attempts to foster such discussion by definition "anti-Israel," despite the fact that these issues are openly and robustly debated in Israel every day, from the floor of the Knesset, to the pages of every daily newspaper, to the local vegetable market.

I find it unfortunate that the Smithsonian Associates chose not to stand up to this extremism and proceed with the joint program.

In a larger sense, the Smithsonian Institution, along with the American Jewish community and other friends of Israel, are also the victims of a tiny cluster of narrow-minded and utterly unrepresentative right-wing ideologues.

These people's idea of defending Israel is to pretend that it is the world's first perfect society and to denounce anyone, including Israelis, who see it as a three-dimensional democracy, with all the attendant strengths and complex problems.

One can ask, why is a program in Washington, D.C., about a small country continents away, of any concern to those of us living in East Hampton? Well, because, "It's a small world after all."

Our own Congressman Michael Forbes was the person who wrote to the Smithsonian, saying that he was "shocked at the planned program." He further said that having the program would "heap unfair and one-sided abuse on America's most trusted ally."

Congressman Forbes is on the House Appropriations Committee, which passes on the Smithsonian's budget. The Smithsonian then dropped the proposed series and ended its partnership with the New Israel Fund.

No intellectual institution, public or private, can do its job unless its leaders are prepared to stand up to the pressures of intolerance. This is true in Israel and it is no less true in this country.

Yes, I have been a contributor to the New Israel Fund for many years. It has been in the forefront of progressive social change in Israel since 1979. It consists of a partnership of North Americans, Israelis, and Europeans dedicated to promoting civil rights, Jewish-Arab coexistence, women's equality, religious pluralism, and social justice in Israel.

Which of these activities are not in the best interests of all concerned with the survival, growth, and future of Israel? And which of these activities are not in the best interests of this country as well?

LAWRENCE S. SMITH

A Scoundrel, A Lout

East Hampton

February 13, 1998

Dear Mrs. Rattray,

Hear ye! Hear ye! Good citizens of East Hampton. Let it be known that on this day, Feb. 13, in the year of our Lord 1998, a scoundrel dumped ye olde couch and other castoffs on Barnes Landing Beach.

Let said lout sucketh warts and get a grip.

Sincerely yours,

JOSEPH TOTO

P.S. My great aunt Filomina Tutti-lini of Sicily upon sighting said trash remarked, "Guiseppe, Ima like to rip hisa culones off with my rusty pliers."

Of course, I told Zia that I'm recounting this to a family newspaper and couldn't repeat that.

Get A Life!

East Rockaway

February 13, 1998

Dear Mrs. Rattray:

My hat is off to Messrs. Hausig and Purcell for their pointed, down-to-earth, and downright funny letters. I have shared their letters with friends around the country and they were enjoyed by one and all. Right on target!

Have we nothing better to do in this country than wallow in the misguided infatuation of a spoiled 24-year-old? I would wonder how many adulterous readers (male and female) have come right out and confessed all to their spouses in the spirit of being "honest." As Dr. Joy Brown has said (and she vigorously condemns adultery), confessing all to a spouse is cruel, manipulative, and downright stupid. Ken Starr, get a life!

STEVE HARWIN

Please address correspondence to [email protected]

Please include your full name, address and daytime telephone number for purposes of verification.

"Tick Hall" will rise again. In fact, the foundation is in. A painstakingly accurate reconstruction of the easternmost house in the century-old Montauk Association has begun under the supervision of Dick Cavett and his wife, Carrie Nye, who lost their historic shingle-style cottage last March 18.

The house was built in 1884, one of seven cottages designed by Stanford White, sited by Frederick Law Olmsted, creator of Central Park, and built for influential New Yorkers at the urging of Arthur Benson who had purchased all of Montauk in 1879. The association houses are listed in the National Register of Historic Places.

A Giant, Deep Porch

Seventy-five firemen fought a losing battle against the fire that fed on the cottage. The Cavetts were at their New York City apartment at the time.

"It was a curiously Southern house, all porch, a giant, deep porch," Carrie Nye said in her native Mississippi drawl on Tuesday. "The interior wood, old Southern pine, tongue and groove, was the glory of the house. And the intricate woodwork on the ceiling. Finding that old Southern pine might be the hardest part."

Many irreplaceable things went up in the flames. Memorabilia from Mr. Cavett's many years as a talk show host, including a scuba tank given him by Jacques Cousteau, plus American Indian artifacts, paintings, and Ms. Nye's family furniture.

The Music Box

"My parents are dead. I had everything sent to Montauk. It seemed to be at home in Montauk," she said of the furniture. There was a much-loved Regina music box that turned to ash.

The shock of the loss lasted for months, until a friend called one day to say that a Regina music box was being auctioned upstate. It was purchased and the decision was made to rebuild, and to rebuild as closely as possible to the original McKim, Mead, and White design, right down to the doorknobs.

Only an anchor that had been placed atop the chimney, the chimney itself, and a brass bell that adorned a second-floor cupola remained - "and my beach glass collection," Ms. Nye added.

Plans Are Finished

The original plans were not found, but the architectural firm of Wank, Adams, Slavin Associates of New York City was able to draft new ones from photographs of the exterior and interior of the old house.

The firm's researchers even found the factory in England that made the fireplace tiles for the original house, and would make them for the reconstruction. "It's unbelievable. We have a complete set of plans and it's not a year since the house burned," Ms. Nye said.

Ms. Nye said the elevation of the bottom windows was known but not the top. A photo was found of one of her shih tzu dogs standing in one of the upper windows, its hind legs on the sill, front paws on a crosspiece. The window was thus measured and a new system of measurement invented, Ms. Nye said, laughing.

The Big White House

A photo feature story that had run in House and Garden magazine and interviews with those having an intimate knowledge of the old house helped.

She said she had but one gripe with those doing the research. "They wanted to keep it not painted. I told them it was white when we bought it." She said there was another reason to paint the house white again, recalling the time a man in oil skins came to the door to announce his lobster boat had run aground in the cove in front of the house.

He had found the big white house in the fog, and later presented the Cavetts with a bag of lobsters in gratitude for the brandy and the use of their phone.

Ms. Nye said the framing should begin in about three weeks, after the insurance company made its final settlement offer. Men At Work, a local contractor, will be doing the reconstruction.

The house was originally built for the merchant Alexander E. Orr, a member of the Produce Exchange and New York City's Rapid Transit c Board. It was dubbed "Tick Hall" in 1924 by Harrison Tweed and friends who called themselves "Ticks," "Tickesses" and "Tickettes." They had purchased the house for $15,000. Its value was estimated at $3 million at the time of the fire.

It was Mr. Tweed's yacht captain Joe Emmers who placed the anchor on the chimney.

Mr. Cavett and Ms. Nye also own the de Forest cottage next door, named for the original owners, the attorneys Robert Weeks de Forest and his brother Henry.

Ms. Nye said that Montaukers had been supportive and encouraging. "The local interest is fantastic," she said. It was Montauk's loss and it will be Montauk's gain rebuilt."

A new Springs Historical Society newsletter, "The Star Shines on Springs," is providing a window into Springs life of the past half-century.

The newsletter, part of East Hampton's 350th anniversary celebration, is a compilation of articles culled from bound volumes of The East Hampton Star, 1942-1980, that were donated to the Springs Library. Copies are mailed each month to Historical Society members and are available at the library.

Mary Anne Siegfried is the Historical Society volunteer who has undertaken the project. Each newsletter will look at a particular aspect of Springs, not necessarily a "comprehensive" examination, Ms. Siegfried stressed, but an eclectic one.

The development of neighborhoods such as Maidstone, Fireplace, Gerard, and Clearwater will be covered, as well as articles about Springs institutions: the Presbyterian Church, the school, and the Parsons Blacksmith Shop, the subject of this month's issue. Last month's had articles on Accabonac Harbor.

The newsletters will be spiced up with old advertisements, (from Miller's General Store, for instance), stories about Springs people, and the obituaries of long-gone residents. "There are a lot of fun characters," said Ms. Siegfried.

A former employee of the Asia Society in Manhattan, Ms. Siegfried recently passed on the reins of a newsletter she had overseen for 25 years, Afghanistan Forum. "The Star Shines on Springs" is helping with her "withdrawal," she said.

She hopes the opportunity to read about Springs's past will bolster the Historical Society's membership, whose $10 annual dues support the Springs Library, and help to obtain and preserve items related to an earlier Springs. Those wishing to join may write the society at Box 1860, East Hampton 11937.

In 1983, David G. Rattray, a poet and East Hampton native then working as an editor at The Reader's Digest Association, helped to edit "Success With Words: A Guide To The American Language." The section on "Bonac," here reprinted in its entirety, was his creation.

Bonac /box-nek/. This is the local name for the rural speech of East Hampton, Long Island, New York. The speakers are sometimes called Bonackers. Bonac is shortened from the name of a small saltwater inlet, Accabonac Creek. With the increasing urbanization of the area, this colorful vestige of folk speech is rapidly disappearing.

Pronunciation. In some details Bonac very closely resembles New York City and New England speech. Specifically, /r/ is quite frequently dropped after vowels; beard, for example, is pronounced /be_ed/ by Bonackers. This /r/ is also frequently added to words ending in a vowel sound, especially when followed by a word beginning with a vowel. For example, the sentence I saw it is usually pronounced /i s"r ixt/.

The /ou/ sound in words like house and cow usually becomes /xeoo/: /h xe- oos/, /k xeoo/. The /a/ sound in words like vary and Sarah is often pronounced /a/: /v xar-e/, /s xar-e/. The /ax/ sound in words like bad and path is usually pronounced /_ae/ or /a_ye/: /ba_ed/, /pa_yeth/.

Vocabulary. (1) Bonac shares much of its vocabulary with the dialects of the region, specifically the New York City, Hudson Valley, and New England dialects. But Bonac also has many terms of its own. Here is a sampling:

Clam the tide out - to be the last guest, or one of the last, to leave a party.

Downstreet - upstreet.

Dreen - stream that empties into a creek or bay (variant of drain).

Heft - weight.

"It'll drink" or "It'll eat" - It's drinkable or edible: "Don't drink that beer; I just dropped it." "It'll drink."

Long Island hurry - stew of potatoes and salt.

Neutral ground - grass strip between the sidewalk and the street.

Prit near - almost.

Samp - a dish made of white corn kernels, navy beans, and ham hocks or salt pork (from an Algonquian word for "corn mush").

Say somethin' - to talk a lot: She can say somethin', can't she?

Sea poose - an outward-moving whirlpool in the surf, dangerous to bathers (from an Algonquian word for "stream").

Skip - no meal: We had skip for lunch.

Ugly - in a bad mood: I'm ugly today.

Upstreet - into the business section of any of the major villages: I'm goin' upstreet (or downstreet) for a few minutes.

Up the Island - toward New York City.

Weather - good weather: We'll work tomorrow if there's weather.

Many of the terms characteristic of eastern Long Island speech are nautical or fishing terms and are also used by speakers in other areas of the northeastern coast. Some of these are:

Dragger - trawler.

Mash - mesh of a net.

Open (oysters, clams, etc.) - to shuck or shell.

Opening shop - place where workers shuck shellfish.

Sharpie - flat-bottomed skiff, now usually with an outboard motor.

Sputnik grass - long, tubular seaweed (so called because it reappeared locally about the time the Russians launched the Sputnik satellite.)

Striper - striped bass.

Weakfish - sea trout.

Napeague, the sandy isthmus that connects Amagansett with Montauk, is a name with Native American origins, recorded, like other such words, by ear.

Everett T. Rattray in "The South Fork" writes that Napeague means "water land." In "East Hampton: A History and A Guide" by Jason Epstein and Elizabeth Barlow, it is said to mean "land overflowed by water." Both are fitting: Napeague is bordered by the Atlantic on the south and Napeague Bay and Harbor to the north. During the 1938 Hurricane, ocean met bay and Montauk became an island, just as it used to be, once upon a time.

Considering that the littoral drift carries sand from east to west on the south shore, Napeague probably grew in that direction. The lines of dunes mark the stages of accretion, suggests "East Hampton: A History."

Mr. Rattray describes it as "a region of sand land, a region of dunes and swales and sparse vegetation."

For a short time in the 1880s, a 700-foot iron pier extended from Napeague Beach into the Atlantic; nets were hung from it and fish were shipped from Napeague Harbor. Also long since vanished is a holding pond, dug out behind the beach banks at the west end of Napeague, where seiners kept striped bass.

"A passable motor road," in the estimation of The Star, was built around 1917, and "a good one" in 1927, followed at intervals by motels, restaurants, and residences. Mosquitoes, at least, have decreased.

Gone altogether are the billboards that once ran the length of Napeague. They were banned in 1960.

Napeague has not escaped the notice of Hollywood. Much of "The Sheik," starring Rudolph Valentino, was filmed there during the summer of 1922. Most recently, part of the DreamWorks thriller "Deep Impact" was set on the South Fork's sand land.

When Bruce Collins was in school in the 1940s, Charles (Puff) Dominy was still grinding cornmeal at the Hook Mill.

The bags of meal, which bore a picture of the mill, were sold mostly to tourists, as souvenirs. But Mr. Collins's mother sometimes sent him off with an extra 25 cents so he could pick one up for the pantry.

Around 1974, "because I had spent time there with Charlie Dominy," Mr. Collins said, "Ronnie [Rioux] wanted to know if I could make the mill go." Mr. Collins was then serving as East Hampton Village Superintendent of Public Works, a position he held for 25 years, and Mr. Rioux was Village Mayor.

"We had it going, just for the day."

They did it by turning the cap and arms away from the wind, putting a new set of canvas sails on the paddles, turning everything back into the wind, and, finally, releasing the brake.

Visitors milled around, and the day neared its end. The men were "about ready to close the mill up," Mr. Collins said, when along came "a well-dressed man . . . obviously well educated, who really wanted to see it."

They showed him the wheels and the millstones, and, against better judgment, let him go up the stairs leading to the top where the wind shaft comes through.

(Against better judgment, because Hook and its ilk are "killer mills," said Mr. Collins. "If you ever got snarled in the gears where the wind shaft is, that'd be the end of you.")

The visitor walked up the stairs, Mr. Collins said, and "looked it all over" - the top where the wind shaft goes through, the huge gear, the whole monstrous works. Then he paused.

"Tell me something," the man said.

"What?" Mr. Collins inquired.

"Where's the motor?"

February is the shortest month, right? Then why does it seem to have about three times as many days as June? "See you in April" and "Reopening in Spring" signs are taped to the windows of depressingly empty shops and restaurants all over the South Fork. And even when you find a place whose doughty owners are sticking it out, you find yourself in a crowd of three customers, or uncomfortably aware of being at the only other occupied table in a restaurant.

Maybe it's just the contrast with the overcrowded summer months (which we also complain about) that makes February such a dismal drag for us locals.

So it's the Cooking Season, despite the fact that practically nothing local is "in season." (Except for venison, which I wrote about last month.)

Normally this is a great month for pond skating and, for the braver souls, ice-boating, but, given the wimpy winter we're having, I suppose bird-watching treks are the most strenuous outdoor activities this February.

Even the couch potatoes are having a thin time of it, watching the oddly lifeless Winter Olympics, the events stalled so often by bad weather in Japan that CBS inserts endless dreary "human interest" features showing industrious little Helmut fashioning his first luge out of potato crates.

At any rate the Starr Chamber Follies, hauling every female ever to shake hands with the President before a grand jury, has completely upstaged winter sports events on the tube. Or perhaps this is Kenneth Starr's idea of a winter sport. Indoor Grilling for the Novice? Everybody in the Soup? Last one in is . . . where? In jail?

There can be no month more apropos for constructing slow-simmered, aromatic soups and stews to warm body and soul, heartier-than-usual desserts, and maybe a little bread-making to exercise creativity and the arm muscles.

What better use for the endless hours of this 128-day month than producing something good to eat (after your virtuous daily workout, of course)?

Those who fancy Indian food will immediately recognize this as a souped-up version of the thin puree of dried legumes called dal. But this soup started out as a quick and simplified version of Canadian pea soup, usually made with yellow split peas.

These are easily found in supermarkets. They have a more delicate flavor than the green ones, which in any case wouldn't be so attractive with the amber curry ingredient.

Although the soup can be made in less than an hour (about 10 minutes in a pressure cooker), dried split peas need an overnight in the fridge to thicken and for the flavors to meld.

Curried Split Pea Soup

Makes about 21/2 qts.

1 lb. dried yellow split peas

2 Tbsp. duck or chicken fat, butter, or vegetable oil

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 medium-large onion, finely chopped

2 large stalks celery, peeled and thinly sliced

1 Tbsp. fresh hot curry powder

1 tsp. ground coriander powder

1 tsp. freshly ground white pepper

2 qts. light, degreased chicken broth (cubes or canned will do)

2 cups (approx.) warm water

Fresh minced cilantro or parsley

Wash the peas and rub them together, pouring off the cloudy water. Cover them with fresh tepid water and set aside.

Heat the chosen fat in a deep, preferably non-stick soup pot and stir in the garlic, onion, and celery. Cook, stirring frequently, over low heat, about five minutes. Add the spices; stir to coat the pot vegetables well and cook them a little. Add the chicken broth, bring to a simmer, and add the peas, drained.

Loosely cover and simmer until the peas start to disintegrate, about half an hour - more if the peas are older.

Brisk Legumes

(Aside from having better flavor, dried legumes from the most recent fall harvest will cook faster; thus it is wiser to buy from a high-turnover supermarket than some dim little health food store where they may have been sitting around for years.)

(Of course, if you know of a well regulated health food store where business is brisk, that is often a great place to look for dried legumes, as well as different varieties of rice and other grains that need a sanitary, temperature-controlled environment.)

Ladle Slowly

Taste the soup for seasoning and add salt to taste, or more white pepper or curry powder as you prefer.

An immersion blender is handy to finish the soup, which will already approach a puree. If you haven't got one, use a regular blender, cooling the soup a bit by ladling it in slowly, and do not fill it more than half full. Or use a processor, using the same precautions, as hot liquids tend to explode in these machines.

When all the soup is pureed - I like it a bit on the rough-textured side but others like a very smooth soup - store it in a covered container in a cold place overnight. Reheat, taste for seasoning, and, if it has thickened too much, thin with a little tepid water. Serve in heated bowls garnished with freshly chopped cilantro or parsley.

Bread and cheese, beer or wine, and a hearty fruit dessert make an easy, cheap, and delicious winter meal.

Elaine's Specials

Ah, the old days when even un-famous artists and "mid-list" writers used to hang out at Elaine's in Manhattan eating giant, juicy, veal chops rarely seen by anyone any more!

Critics - and some customers who feel dissed - are forever reviling Elaine's food, but I think it might be because they don't know that no one orders off her regular menu - and that her long-time waiters will offer good advice on the daily specials.

Packages of well-trimmed veal stew meat do turn up in supermarket bins, and make great one-dish meals - forget osso bucco, unless you have access to an Italian butcher.

The lowly rutabaga lends this stew its essential zippy edge, so do not omit it whatever your prejudices might be against the poor root.

Veal, Turnip, And Carrot Stew

Serves four.

1 lb. well-trimmed boneless veal stew meat, in chunks

Flour, salt, pepper

2 Tbsp. olive oil

3 large cloves garlic, minced

1 medium-large onion, chopped

2 cups peeled, cubed rutabaga (about 1-inch diced)

1 bay leaf

3 cups veal and chicken stock, preferably home-made, or concentrated canned chicken stock*

4 large or 8 smallish carrots, peeled, cut in 2-inch lengths

2 Tbsp. tomato paste

1 whole lemon, zest and juice

Cooked long-grain rice mixed with wild rice or cous-cous

1/2 cup freshly minced parsley

1 tsp. freshly ground pepper

Reserved zest from the lemon

*Canned chicken broth can be given body by adding a cracked veal or beef marrow bone, which thickens the stew. Buy some when you spot them in supermarket bins and freeze them for future use.

Rinse, Pat, Shake, Stir

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Rinse the veal and pat dry. Cut any large chunks to match the remainder, if necessary. Put them in a paper bag with about a half-cup unbleached flour, two teaspoons salt, and one teaspoon freshly ground pepper.

Shake well and toss the meat in a colander over the sink to remove excess flour. Heat the olive oil very hot in a heavy oven-to-table casserole, and lightly brown the meat, turning with tongs to brown all sides. (I have an old porcelain-lined iron casserole - LeCrueset - that I use for this type of braised dish).

Add the garlic and onions, stirring down under the meat. Saute gently, about five minutes. Add the rutabaga, tomato paste, bay leaf, and broth, stir well, cover, and place in the middle of the oven.

After 45 minutes, add the carrots, re-cover, and continue braising for about 20 minutes longer.

Strip the zest from the lemon, chop fine, and mix with the parsley and freshly milled pepper. When the veal is very tender, taste for salt; then squeeze in the lemon juice, stir gently, and either sprinkle with the lemon-zest mixture (similar to the gremolata used to top osso bucco) or make rice or cous-cous beds on four hot plates and put servings of the stew in the center, then top with zest mixture.

Dried Fruit Skillet Tart

Dried apple pies were a mainstay dessert of early American cookery when fresh fruit and berries were unobtainable. That is never the case these days, but I like the concentrated sweet/sharp taste of dried fruits. In any case, they're nice to have on hand should the urge to make dessert strike you.

If you don't feel like making pastry, cheat with frozen pie crusts. But you will have to thaw them and turn them into an iron skillet for this homey, free-form tart.

Makes one 8-inch tart.

1/2 cup dried apricots

1/2 cup dried apples

1/2 cup dried, stoned, prunes

1 cup sugar

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp. ground cloves

1/4 tsp. ground mace

2 cups water

Splash of brandy or bourbon

1 large (12-inch) single pastry crust

Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream or frozen yogurt, softened

Stir In The Spirits

Mix the dried fruits with the sugar and spices and water in a heavy saucepan. Bring to boil, reduce heat, and simmer until the fruit is tender and all the water absorbed, about 20 minutes.

Cool the fruit and stir in the spirits.

Meanwhile, prepare the crust. Use your own favorite recipe or thaw out a frozen crust (the large ones, made for deep-dish pies) or the boxed pastry mix. Chill.

Preheat oven to 400 F.

Roll the crust out to 12 inches or more and arrange it in a buttered iron skillet eight inches in diameter. Fill with the fruit mixture and bring the crust up over it to cover, with about a two-inch perimeter of pastry.

Put it on the center rack and bake 10 minutes, then cover loosely with a sheet of foil to prevent the pie from drying too much. Bake for a total of 30 minutes, removing the foil if necessary to obtain a light golden crust.

Cool about 30 minutes and serve warm from the skillet with one of the suggested toppings.

CELEBRANTS of East Hampton's 300th anniversary, in 1948, came out in spirit and costume. Seen, from left, are Isabel Fields, William Strong, Tyler Hunting, Ted Strong, James H. Mulford Sr., Charlotte Fields, Jim Fields, Ruth Benjamin, and Ruth Henderson. Courtesy of Robert D. Mulford

Wegwagonuck? Does anybody know the way to Wegwagonuck?

If you've never heard of it, don't feel too bad. "Even 175 years ago, no one knew what Wegwagonuck meant," wrote Harry D. Sleight in "Sag Harbor in Earlier Days."

The book, published in 1930 and out of print for many years, has recently been reissued by a Massachusetts publisher, along with another long-ago chronicle of Long Island's earlier days, "History of Long Island, from its First Settlement by Europeans, to the year 1845" by Nathaniel S. Prime.

Mr. Prime's 1845 volume covers the origins of names and the settlement of towns Islandwide, and gives information about the original 13 Native American tribes here, colonial schools, farming practices, early newspapers, and churches.

"Sag Harbor in Earlier Days" includes a detailed history of the village's formative years, chronicling land purchases, the whaling industry, and British occupation during the Revolutionary War, among other things.

In an 1819 letter from a Methodist minister, Fitch Reed, included in the book, the village population gets a glowing report. "The people are generally better informed than most of the country. They have a circulating library, and a printing office has been established for a number of years, from which is issued a weekly paper called the American Eagle."

Mr. Sleight is also the author of "The Sleights of Sag Harbor," published in 1929.

"Wegwagonuck," by the way, was the name of a Native American settlement once located where Sag Harbor is now. It means "the place at the end of the hill," according to Mr. Sleight.

New hardbound editions of these books are available by mail through the Higginson Book Company, 148 Washington Street, Dept. P, Salem, Mass. 01970. "Sag Harbor in Earlier Days" sells for $36; "History of Long Island" is $45. There is a $5 shipping charge.

The winner of The Star's competition to see how many words could be found in "tricentquinquagenary" is Fusae Shigezawa of Amagansett, with a truly mind-boggling total of 7,038. That's right, 7,038!

She wins a dinner for two at the restaurant of her choice.

The two second-place winners, Diane Oppenheimer of Montauk and Eileen Obser of East Hampton, each had the same number of words, 1,434, still an amazing total.

The judges started to check the lists in the Oxford English Dictionary, but eventually threw up their hands in frustration and decided to take the winners' words for it.

None of the entrants used a computer, which was not allowed, but the three winners admitted to using a dictionary, which was quite legitimate.

It seems appropriate that Ms. Shigezawa, who spent evenings in the Southampton College library searching for words, should help after school with the Springs School homework club.

Originally from Hawaii, she has lived on the East End for the past eight years and belongs to a Scrabble group which meets every Tuesday night.

"Once I got into it," she said. "I was racing through, finding more and more words. I felt as if it was my homework assignment. I could have found more, but you have to get on with life - do your taxes and things."

Her list has been turned over to the 350th Anniversary Committee, and may be found in the committee's new office at the East Hampton train station for the duration of the tricentquinquagenary year.

Mrs. Oppenheimer is a self-confessed word game addict who loves diagramless and puns-and-anagrams crossword puzzles and plays Scrabble against herself when she can't find other opponents. Ms. Obser, also a word-gamer, teaches creative writing classes at Southampton College and also at her East Hampton house. They win Star 100th anniversary posters.

The runners-up, all of whom live in East Hampton, are Kinnet Ehring with 857 words, Anne W. Bleich with 791, Joanna Rose with 710, and Joan M. Wyckoff with 648 words. They win Star T-shirts.

Honorable mentions go to Barbara Devaney of Amagansett with 521 words, Marvin Goldberg of Sagaponack with 457, Mary Petrie of East Hampton, 430; Judy Teller of East Hampton, 426; Marilyn Hunting of East Hampton, 423, and Hilary French of Bridgehampton with 400 words.

Adam Hamilton, 11, and Ashley Hamilton, 14, who were visiting East Hampton recently, get a special mention for having found 55 words. (No dictionary.)

Congratulations to everyone who entered the contest. The surprised judges never thought to see such results. As Philip the Bastard declared in Shakespeare's "King John": " 'Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words."