Recreational striped bass fishing came on strong last week. Charter captains, whose customers may keep two bass measuring 28 inches or longer per day, have reported excellent fishing in the tidal rips off Montauk Point.

It's like a return to fall fishing, complete with cold wind, diving gannets, and bass, some large ones, swirling on the surface chasing bait.

Michael Potts, captain of the Bluefin IV, reported that the first 11 fish caught on Sunday were keepers, one "regal legal" measuring over 36 inches.

He then took his party toward Block Island after cod, and got two, although the spot south of the island was "laden with dogs," he said - dogfish, that is, the bane of cod fishermen.

The trip ended with the Bluefin's anglers reeling in 19 flounder off Block Island in the two to three-pound range. Captain Potts reported mackerel south of Montauk Point.

Tackle Shop To Reopen

Harvey Bennett's Tackle Shop, once located at Skimhampton, has become a movable feast for sport anglers and commercial pinhookers. The Tackle Shop will open its doors in the Arts Building, No. 3 Fort Pond Boulevard in Springs, beginning June 15.

After weeks of wondering where the big bluefish were comes word of large schools off Cherry Harbor, Gardiner's Island. Demand is such that blues were said to be selling for as much as $1.10 per pound.

Striped bass were thick around Big Rock near the windmill on Gardiner's Island. The commercial season is not scheduled to open until July.

Okay Powering

Clammers received good news last week during the monthly meeting of Town Trustees at Town Hall.

Richard Lester, on behalf of a number of diggers of soft clams, asked the Trustees for permission to "power" steamers from the flat on the eastern tip of Hicks Island, off Napeague. Powering involves the use of an outboard motor's prop wash to unearth the clams.

The Trustees agreed, as they have in the past, to allow the special season from July 2 to Sept. 1, to make the clams available for the summer restaurant season.

The quota is to be three bushels per day, per boat.

The Trustees also announced their intention of amending the town shellfishing laws, as was done last summer, to allow the sale of oysters beginning in early July.

Luna, my Percheron-Lipizzan- cross mare, was due to foal on May 16. It was only May 10 but, since she was showing signs of being early, I was keeping a close watch.

After several peaceful hours observing her in her stall, as she went about her business in her typically stately and dignified manner, I came to the conclusion that nothing would happen that night. Mother's Day was two days away and perhaps Luna, a horse with a great sense of occasion, would observe the day by becoming a mother herself.

Four hours later, I heard Luna whinnying from the barn. Not unusual, she did that every morning when she heard me letting the dogs into the backyard. But this morning something was different in the sound of her voice.

"She's foaled!" I thought as I rushed through the back gate, dogs leaping in my wake.

Desperate Call

She called out again as I ran toward the barn, and the call had a desperate exhausted sound to it. I knew then that something was terribly wrong.

At first glance, the scene that greeted me was a beautiful one - a healthy, sturdy foal nursing from its mother. But Luna was looking everything but healthy and sturdy. She stood shuddering, covered in sweat. When I entered her stall and touched her neck, she was icy to the touch and her normally expressive, friendly eyes were glazed and unseeing.

Suddenly she began to plunge forward. Around the huge foaling stall she reeled. Her legs kept buckling under her, but she fought to stay on her feet.

The foal, following his instinct to remain at her side, stuck to her like a barnacle. At one point her massive hindquarters, swinging violently out of control, slammed into him and threw him hard against the wall.

Rare But Fatal

Shocked into action, I pulled him into my arms and carried my leggy burden into a far corner of the stall. Luna collapsed onto the stall floor. When I returned from placing a rushed and frantic emergency call to my veterinarian, a terrifying sight greeted me. The foal had returned to his mother's side and his spindly legs had become enmeshed with the madly thrashing legs of his mother.

Again, I gathered him into my arms and hoisted him away. Miraculously, he was unhurt. When I turned back to his mother, she lay still. Luna, my beautiful Luna, was gone.

Reinforcements soon arrived in the form of Pam Glennon, my invaluable helper, and Dr. Davis, my veterinarian. Judging from her sudden and total collapse, Dr. Davis surmised that Luna had ruptured an artery when foaling - a rare event and one that always proves fatal despite any attempts at intervention.

Saving The Foal

Kindly but efficiently, he marshaled his teary troops into saving the life that remained. A foal is born with an insufficient immune system. The first milk that it suckles from its mother, known as colostrum, contains the antibodies that it needs to survive. It was essential to get this milk into Luna's baby.

Getting the milk into the foal necessitated getting it out of Luna first, and Dr. Davis took on the sad job of milking her to obtain the precious colostrum. Pam hurriedly prepared a stall for the foal and then rushed off in search of baby bottles while I called local barns in search of equipment and milk supplements.

Due to the kindness of some complete strangers and of close friends, by midafternoon I was in possession of an arsenal of nipples, bottles, and formulas. And the foal was in possession of a name, albeit a possibly politically incorrect one. Due to the white circles around his eyes that give him the appearance of wearing blackface, we named him Jolson.

Equine Sociopaths

A true survivor, Jolson eagerly drained every drop of the colostrum from the bottle. Through the following night I gave him a much appreciated feeding of formula every two hours. Jolson's nutritional needs were now being met, but what of his psychological needs?

Horses are herd animals. They need interaction with their own kind to learn how to function in an appropriate manner.

"Horses that are hand-raised by people are different and not different in a good way," counseled Dr. Browning, Dr. Davis's associate at the South Fork Animal Hospital.

Foster Mother

Other experts concurred. Horses raised by people usually have behavioral problems that render them useless and often downright dangerous. Without experiencing the give and take of horse society, they respect no rules and are, in effect, sociopathic.

Enter Dolly Pouska. Ms. Pouska runs a nurse-mare business in Maryland. She weans the foals early from her broodmares and milks the mares, keeping them lactating and ready to serve in emergencies such as mine.

Barely over 24 hours after his birth, Ms. Pouska's truck and trailer pulled into my driveway and Jolson met Dixie, his new mom. Appropriately enough, it was Mother's Day.

Jolson was immediately enamored of his foster mother. Alas, typically, she was not of the same opinion. Mares know their own foals and Dixie, a very pretty little quarter horse, knew that this gangly, big-eared boy was not hers.

Began To Relent

Ms. Pouska, a kindly woman with a marvelously infectious chortle, instructed us on how to get the mare to accept the foal. Keep them together as close as possible and make sure that the foal nurses frequently. When the mare begins to pick up the scent of her milk on the foal, she'll accept him.

"She'll come round and love and care for him like he's her own," said Ms. Pouska reassuringly.

At the time, it took somewhat of a leap of faith to believe that, given the snapping teeth and stomping feet of Dixie, but I was determined to give Jolson the best start in life. I owed it to Luna.

The ensuing three days and nights were very, very long, and if not for the help of friends, in particular Jennifer McGivern, who took over supervision duties for me so I could snatch some sleep, I would doubtless be communicating this column from the grave. But, wonders of wonders, Dixie began to relent.

Burgeoning Affection

The signs of her burgeoning affection for Jolson were small and subtle at first. She began to look up from her hay to check on his whereabouts. Then signs of protectiveness began to appear. Finally, gloriously, she began actively to seek him out and stand guard over him while he slept.

Dixie loves her gangly, big-eared boy now. She loves him a lot but is also firmly teaching him the etiquette appropriate for young gentleman horses.

And for that I love Dixie, and nothing is too good for her - the best hay, the best feed and, of course, the best carrots.

A Special Horse

I've learned a great deal from this experience. Frightening things as well as practical things. But the most positive thing I've learned is that, though the horse world is competitive and, at times catty, when the chips are down, we all remember why we got into this world in the first place, because we love and cherish these animals.

I am very grateful to all the people, many of them whom I don't know or barely know, who called with advice, support, and offerings of supplies. And extremely grateful to Dr. Davis for his expertise and reassuring calm during the worst of the crisis.

And, most of all, I am grateful to Luna, a truly wonderful, special horse. We all love and miss you very much.

Most gardeners, heaven knows, are happy enough if their perennials reappear, their shrubs flourish, the grass gets mown, and the deer dine elsewhere. They're not too sure of their plant names or their garden lore, they're just delighted "that pink rose" has now covered the front porch.

But out there in the East End undergrowth are the plant professionals, the obsessed, the ones with the sharp clippers and a command of Latin names that sounds as if they're reciting Caesar's "Gallic Wars."

Among these you can count Carol Mercer and her partner Lisa Verderosa, who run "The Secret Garden" landscaping company from an office surrounded by Mrs. Mercer's garden on Ocean Avenue in East Hampton.

Dance To Landscape

"I never intended to be a landscaper," said Mrs. Mercer, who started her working life as a DeMille dancer in such movies as "Oklahoma." She then became an artists' and photographers' representative and a flower arranger for both Presidents Reagan and Bush.

When she married and settled in East Hampton, she took a design course with the New York Botanical Garden so that she could design her own garden.

"People would see my garden and ask me to come and look at theirs and I would be standing around for a couple of hours giving free advice. After a while I thought - What am I doing?"

"Plant Nuts"

She started the Secret Garden in 1986 with a friend called Fern and the very first year they won two medals at the New York Flower show. Mrs. Mercer was well and truly hooked. Her first partner moved on and she has been with Ms. Verderosa (who also has a serendipitous name, meaning green rose) for nine years.

"We're both plant nuts."

And notwithstanding the initial impact of a spectacular view across sloping lawns to Hook Pond and the ocean and dunes beyond, this is a plantswoman's garden. Its main impact is not immediately around the house but unfolds as you tour the periphery, as one unusual plant follows another.

There's a big blue swimming pool near the house, which calls for strong compensatory plantings. Anyway, says Mrs. Mercer, "I don't like those sissy gardens, all pink and white and blue. I think every color goes with everything if it's done right."

Behind a deep bed, clematis and climbing roses romp up a backdrop of arborvitae. The bed sports poppies and peonies, the vivid burgundy leaves of perilla, arisaema Bowle's Mauve, rock roses, pale and dark pink salvias, the burgundy Geranium sanabor, tri-colored sage and bronze fennel, the unusual pink spears of Phlomis tuberosa and the splendid glaucous blue foliage and pink flowers of Rosa rubrifolia.

Not to mention lupines and foxgloves, phlox and euphorbia, and, in the planters on the other side of the pool, a brilliant purple bougainvillea.

Nothing namby pamby about this planting.

Varied Geraniums

The mood changes as you walk under a monumental weeping willow to reach a partly shaded garden and a charming picket-fenced vegetable and cutting garden. As the two gardeners led a tour around the garden, the Latin names were coming like machine gun fire, with only one in 10 being legibly transcribed. Mercifully for those plant lovers who visit this garden, a regular on tours, most of the plants are clearly tagged.

There are dozens of different geraniums, some upright, some more spreading - Cedric Morris, Lily Lovell, Langthorne's Blue - many aquilegias, including a variegated form and one called Green Apples, yellow thalictrum, Chrysanthemum macriphyllum, a huge white aconitum, and anthriscus Raven's Wing, a little cow parsley with black foliage.

Mrs. Mercer and Ms. Verderosa are inveterate travelers in search of plants and inspiration and they spotted this plant growing by a garden wall in England. They slammed on the brakes, asked if they could look around the garden, and, well, somehow or other its offspring is now growing in East Hampton.

By the time you have reached the fenced garden, with its David Austin roses, herbs, trellised sweet peas and hops, and beds of wildly different salvias, the atmosphere of the garden has turned downright romantic. It is reached through a wisteria-laden archway and overlooked by an old gray bench, half-buried in a weeping silver pear, ferns, and the roses Abraham Derby and Graham Thomas.

Beyond the cutting garden lies a narrow creek opening up to Hook Pond where a large reptile - either a water snake or perhaps a snapping turtle - could be seen through the banks of Siberian iris, slowly swimming in the shallows.

By The Creek

The creek is bordered by a deep bed of damp-loving plants. There are elegant grasses like pennisetum Burgundy Giant, thistles, blue sisyrinchiums, a six-foot angelica, and the huge leaves of petacites. As elsewhere, the emphasis is on texture and foliage interest, like the strange toothed blackish-purple leaves of Ligularia dentata Desdemona and a vast clump of bronze-leafed lysimachia.

The heraculum, a plant with attractive foliage, had to be moved to the back of the bed because, like euphorbia and rue, it causes skin rashes.

"We put a big sign saying 'Don't Touch,' but everyone did anyway."

A Shady Spot

Not only is this garden full of rare and interesting plants, they are all incredibly lush and healthy-looking. But asked how they achieve this, the answer was top-dressing in fall and that's it (except for the roses). Not a satisfactory answer - plenty of gardeners top-dress in fall, but not many end up with gardens looking like this.

At the completion of a full circle of the garden is the final romantic touch - a Japanese rock, fern, and moss garden constructed beneath a grove of soaring maples. It's the perfect, peaceful, shady spot to rest after an impressive and slightly intimidating garden tour.

There's been much talk of the real estate boom in the Northwest Woods section of East Hampton, but solid proof of it came this week when the East Hampton Post Office announced it was adding 66 streets in Northwest and the northern limits of East Hampton to its home-delivery routes.

Delivery, which is optional, will begin on June 2, said Carol Kroupa, the East Hampton postmaster. Depending on how many people take up the opportunity to have one less chore in their busy days, the change could affect more than 800 residences, Mrs. Kroupa said.

Only houses that have numbers assigned to them by the Town Assessor's office and are located on paved, town-maintained streets are being added to delivery routes. Residents of a dirt road such as Ely Brook to Hand's Creek may not be out of luck, however; they have been invited to submit a request to the Post Office if they would like to place a mailbox at the point where their street meets a paved delivery road.

During her eight years as East Hampton's postmaster, Mrs. Kroupa said, she has seen petitions asking for home delivery from most of the streets on the list.

There were not enough houses on any of them at first to warrant the new route, but now, she said, "it's developed to the point where these people are eligible."

Happy Residents

Eligibility is not established by the local Post Office but by the district office in Hauppauge, Mrs. Kroupa said. That office looks at the amount of development in an area and judges whether it meets the quasi-public business's criteria for home delivery.

Averill Geus of Old Orchard Lane has been petitioning for delivery every since she and her husband, Edwin Geus, moved from East Hampton Village to their present house.

Hearing the news for the first time this week, Mr. Geus said, "We're very happy about it." They will be putting up a mailbox shortly, he said.

Others called this week were equal ly and happily surprised by the news.

"Very pleased," said Stanley Singer of Quarty Court.

"I am thrilled about this," said Veronica Wallace of Powder Hill Lane. "What is it, six or seven miles . . . just to get the junk mail?"

"This is kind of shaking me up," Lawrence Koncelik Sr. of Mile Hill Road said on a more jocular note. "What will happen to my morning routine?"

Mr. Koncelik has lived in Northwest for going on 50 years, and remembers when there was "nothing but trees." Though he said he'd have to check with his wife, Doris, he said he'd probably choose home delivery.

Mrs. Kroupa stressed that one can opt for home delivery and still keep a box in the Post Office.

Having It All

There are "those people [who] won't give up their Post Office boxes," she said. "It's an individual choice."

Part-time residents in particular, said Mrs. Kroupa, may feel more secure having their mail kept at the Post Office. Others, she suggested, may find it convenient to have bills and other business mail go to a Post Office box and personal correspondence to the mailbox at home.

Everyone affected by the change agreed on one thing: It would end the fight for a parking space at the Post Office.

Have You Heard?

Mrs. Kroupa suggested this week that those newly eligible for home delivery keep their post office boxes until the rent runs out, to allow time to notify people of their change of address.

Not all of those postal patrons have been notified of their new options as yet, said Mrs. Kroupa, because not all of them maintain boxes in the East Hampton Post Office. A shortage of boxes, before the expanded Gay Lane building was completed, forced some people to get their mail elsewhere.

Those who are not sure whether they are now eligible have been asked to call the East Hampton Post Office.

Those who are eligible can begin receiving mail at home as soon after June 2 as they put up a box labeled with their house number, which should be at least one inch in height.

"Posts must be neat and of adequate strength and size," states the Post Office.

Growth Business

Though developments, such as Dune Alpin, Georgica Estates, and Hansom Hills, have been added to delivery routes in the past, Mrs. Kroupa said this was the first time in quite a while for a whole geographic area to be included.

"This is probably the largest growth in one time that I've seen," she said.

Speaking of growth, the staff at the East Hampton Post Office has grown by four in the last year.

More part-time summer help will be hired once again this season, Mrs. Kroupa said, to handle the "increase in business, just as any other business experiences."

Teamwork by members of the Montauk Fire Department and a police officer saved the life of an 11-year-old Montauk resident, Steven Forsberg, who was stuck in a strong rip tide off the Royal Atlantic beach on Tuesday afternoon.

"He was caught in a bad situation," said Anthony DelPercio, the firefighter who actually pulled the boy onto the shore.

In the course of saving the boy, one of the rescuers found himself in trouble as well.

It all began when Steven's cousin, 10-year-old Donny D'Albora, re ceived permission from his mother to go surfing as long as someone else went with him. Donny called Steven, his frequent surf partner, and within an hour the two boys were paddling through the white water.

More Cautious

Donny is the more cautious of the two boys, according to his mother, Jennifer D'Albora. Deciding it was too rough, he returned to the beach. There he stood watching as a wave hit Steven so hard that he lost his board. Donny ran up the block to his mother's store, crying, and told her Steven was in trouble.

While Mrs. D'Albora called 911, Donny ran across Main Street to the police substation and told Police Officer Peter Murray his cousin was in trouble. Officer Murray radioed for help and drove to the beach with Donny. Steven had drifted eastward toward Mimosa Beach by this time.

Meanwhile, the call came into the Montauk Fire Department and was heard by Mr. Del Percio, who was close by. He got to the beach the same time as Officer Murray and Dennis Snyder, second assistant chief.

Surprisingly Calm

Officer Murray pulled off his gun belt and shoes and entered the water. He managed to grab the boy's wayward surfboard before the waves forced him back to shore.

Mr. Del Percio and Mr. Snyder, members of the department's water rescue team, stripped down to their pants and jumped into the water. Mr. Snyder had Steven's surfboard with him. When they reached Steven, Mr. DelPercio said, he was surprisingly calm.

"I'm fine," Steven, who was wearing a wetsuit, told him. "I'm just cold and tired."

They put Steven on the surfboard and began swimming back toward shore. But when they reached the breakwater they were hit so hard by a wave that they lost hold of Steven and the board, and Mr. Snyder's pants were forced down around his ankles. He dove under the water, released the trousers from his legs, and surfaced to find Steven again.

Rescuer Gets Stuck

Mr. DelPercio got Steven in a rescue lock, while Mr. Snyder retrieved the surfboard and a rope handed to him by rescue workers on the beach. He tried to paddle back toward Mr. DelPercio and the boy, but was constantly thrashed by powerful waves.

Mr. DelPercio managed to get Steven to shore on his own, but now Mr. Snyder was stuck in the rip tide. According to Montauk Fire Chief Tom Grenci, who was on the beach, Fire Department members could tell Mr. Snyder was tiring and very cold. Water temperatures are hovering around 48 degrees.

Robert Grossman, a member of the Fire Department, picked up another surfboard lying nearby and tried to get out to Mr. Snyder. His efforts were thwarted by the waves.

Winded And Tired

Alan Burke, a Fire Department member who is a surfer, had his wetsuit and surfboard in his truck. He quickly pulled on the wetsuit and dove into the water, managing to reach Mr. Snyder.

Chief Grenci said Mr. Snyder was winded and tired when Mr. Burke reached him, but they both managed to get to shore safely.

Mr. Snyder was wrapped in blankets on the beach, put on a stretcher, and taken by the Montauk ambulance crew to Southampton Hospital, where he was released after three hours.

"That water was cold!" he said. He had lost his pants in the rescue effort, wallet and all.

Thankful Parents

"I can't thank them enough," said Steven's father, Steven Forsberg, who with his wife, Virginia, was waiting on the beach during the rescue operation.

He's not too keen on the youngsters returning to the surf. "I'd like to break them both in half," he said of the boys' surfboards.

One life was lost and five persons were rescued in three separate incidents on Gardiner's Bay and Block Island Sound on Friday afternoon when unseasonably strong northwest winds turned the morning calm into a threatening maelstrom.

"Boat capsized, man in water," was the call that came to John Tilly, an East Hampton harbormaster, from the Montauk Coast Guard at 12:40 p.m. He was under way in a 25-foot patrol boat minutes later, with Frank Kennedy, a former harbormaster.

Although the boat was slowed by 8 to 10-foot seas that had come up in less than an hour, it reached the capsized dragger, the Little Robert E, within 10 minutes. By that time, Norman C. Edwards Sr. of Amagansett, a man of the sea and experienced captain, was lost. He had gone out at dawn and was fishing alone, as was his custom. His body was found nearby.

Looking For Blackfish

It was 76-year-old Captain Edwards's second outing since returning from an annual winter stay in Florida. The boat had been rigged out the morning before with the help of Stuart Vorpahl, a longtime friend. Mr. Vorpahl said Captain Edwards had made one tow the previous evening in search of blackfish.

An eyewitness to the accident, whose name was withheld by the Coast Guard at her request and whose house in on Hog Creek Point, told the Montauk Coast Guard she had not seen the boat turn over, but saw Captain Edwards first standing on the overturned hull, then sitting, then slipping off into the water.

Its temperature was reported to be 50 degrees. Authorities are investigating the possibility that the fisherman took a blow to the head which caused him to lose consciousness.

Over 40 Knots

At virtually the same time, the Montauk Coast Guard was responding to two other distress calls that came as a result of the sudden blow.

Michael Wyllie of the National Weather Service in Brookhaven said the winds, which gusted to over 50 knots, were caused by a large high- pressure trough of the kind normally seen here in the winter. The front dipped much farther south than is normal for this time of year and blasted the area beginning mid-morning. A small-craft advisory was issued.

David Whelan of North Haven, a dock-builder, was working UpIsland near the old Brooklyn Navy Yard when the first gusts passed there. He said later that he felt sick because his daughter, Christa, a freshman at Boston College who is an experienced sailor and a member of the varsity sailing team, was scheduled to leave Block Island in a 27-foot sailboat with two friends. They were headed for Sag Harbor.

Friend's Effort

Mr. Whelan notified the Coast Guard and called a friend, Henry Uihlein, the owner of Uihlein's Marina in Montauk.

"'It's blowing 40 knots here, and it's headed your way,'" Mr. Uihlein reported a worried Dave Whelan as saying. " 'If the kids are headed for Montauk, they'll never make it.'" The Coast Guard was constrained from initiating a search at that point, however, because there had been no Mayday from a sailboat or any report of an overdue boat.

Mr. Uihlein agreed to look for the sailors, taking out a 23-foot Sea Craft power boat. He was accompanied by Robert Bushman, who had gone along for what would soon become the ride of his life.

After heading for a craft off Rocky Point that turned out not to be Christa Whelan's sloop, Mr. Uihlein motored to Shagwong Point and beyond, to the waters east of Montauk Point.

"Barely Made It"

"The wind was at our back and we couldn't feel it. The front was behind us. The My Mate [a charter boat] was heading back and hadn't seen them. We looked and looked, then we saw a boat to the northeast. We went five more miles, looked back, and saw a wall of water. I thought, if they're out here, they're in trouble," Mr. Uihlein said. He turned his boat back to Montauk.

"We barely made it over the first wave. It was living hell. The boat seemed like it was going up waves at a 90-degree angle, teetering in the air, and coming down stern first."

At other times the boat was airborne, he said, free-falling eight feet and hitting hard. The engine eventually stalled, and the experienced boater radioed a Mayday signal - the first ever in his 40 years on the water - to the Coast Guard. "I thought we were going down."

Another Search

At the same time, conditions on the sloop, called Angel under the Moon, were frightening, too.

"The waves were 15 feet. I thought it was because we were in shallow water. We were still heading north under a reefed mainsail. It was fine, but then we tacked to go to Montauk - my father said to put in there if we had trouble," Ms. Whelan said.

By this time, the Coast Guard had called the young woman's mother, Mary Whelan, to say they were going in search because of the quickly deteriorating weather.

Petty Officer John Siesta said the Montauk Coast Guard's 41-foot patrol boat was dispatched to find the sailboat. The 44-foot boat went to aid Mr. Uihlein and Mr. Bushman. In each case, the waves were too big for the Coast Guard vessels to get close for fear of colliding.

All Grateful

The Angel under the Moon's jib had torn. Its small outboard was started and Ms. Whelan headed the sloop back to Block Island with its Coast Guard escort. The waves were too large for the 41-footer to return to Montauk until the next morning.

Mr. Uihlein said the two-and-a-half-hour passage back to Montauk was harrowing. "I've always had respect for the Coast Guard. That's never changed. They risk their lives. It was so good seeing them, knowing they were there," a grateful Mr. Uihlein said on Tuesday.

Christa Whelan was grateful too - to the Coast Guard and to Mr. Uihlein for his effort. Her sailing companions, Abby Browner of Vermont and Jackie Bassett of California, school friends who had no experience on the water, were perhaps more grateful still.

"I baked them [the Coast Guard] cookies and delivered them yesterday," Ms. Whelan said Tuesday. "I never felt completely out of control, but it was scary. It's incredible. You think Gardiner's Bay, that it's too sheltered."

Back in the bay, Captain Ed wards's small dragger remained overturned yesterday, its bright new blue bottom paint matching the sky.

Friends said the boat, the Little Robert E, probably had begun taking on water, and that her captain probably had attempted to run her onto a shoal about 500 yards offshore to avoid going down before she capsized.

Long-Term Parking

East Hampton

May 16, 1997

Dear Helen:

Unfortunately, I was the only person affected by the new long-term parking rules for the Lumber Lane lot who was able to attend the recent Thursday morning work session held by the East Hampton Village Board. As someone who was outraged by the village's initial proposal and who emerged from the first hearing more than a little skeptical about the village's thinking and motives, I was startled, during the brief work session, to find my sentiments taking a 180-degree turn.

The village, looking ahead, has provided its taxpayers with long-term parking. The town has not done the same. I have no idea what conversations may or may not have taken place between the Town and Village Boards about long-term parking in the Lumber Lane lot. Certainly the present Town Board is dealing with a situation it inherited, not one it created. Nonetheless, the time has come for the town to create its own long-term parking facilities and be independent of the village's accommodations. How can this be done?

The most civilized approach would be for the town to work out an arrangement with the village whereby the two could share the Lumber Lane lot and Railroad Avenue parking lots under an East Hampton Parking Authority, with the town making proper reimbursement for the village's expenses, past and present. Should the village not be agreeable to this solution, at least the Town Board could tell us what happened when it made such an overture.

Under any circumstances, the town should convert its parking lot in Amagansett to a 14-day lot, thereby providing some long-term parking for its residents. By its own estimate, the Hampton Jitney is carrying twice as many passengers as the Long Island Rail Road to East Hampton, and all town residents who use any of the bus lines could have a no-sticker parking facility in Amagansett, cutting the number of town residents at the Lumber Lane lot by approximately two-thirds.

The most forward thinking of all plans would be for the Town Board, working in conjunction with the Long Island Rail Road, to ask the railroad to build its new platform to the rear of the town parking lot in Amagansett (which is actually nearer to the tracks than the Lumber Lane lot) and to request that all trains stop in Amagansett; to acquire the land between the railroad tracks and the present parking lot in Amagansett; to turn that land into long-term parking and to be prepared to face the 21st century and the improved railroad service that is supposed to be coming to the East End. Whatever the merits of this suggestion, it is certainly more feasible than talk of a railroad stop at the airport, which is miles farther from the tracks and inaccessible to the bus lines because of the low trestles.

Frank Iraggi, an assistant to Thomas Prendergast, president of the L.I.R.R., has stated that if the Town Board wishes to move the Amagansett station and make Amagansett a stop for all trains, it should contact the railroad as soon as possible since once the current platform at Amagansett is raised, the town itself would then have to pay for the new station. If the railroad is contacted now, Mr. Iraggi has certainly implied it would assume the cost.

The bottom line is that town taxpayers should not, at this time, be haranguing or vilifying the Village Board. We should be turning to the Town Board to provide us with our own space, and the Town Board should inform us 1) of what happens when they approach the village about an East Hampton parking association; 2) when they will convert the Amagansett lot to long-term parking; 3) what is happening in conversations with the railroad about making Amagansett a stop for all trains and relocating the station, and 4) what efforts are being made to acquire the land behind the parking lot in Amagansett.

The ball is in the Town Board's court, and I would urge all the people concerned about long-term parking stickers to shift their attention - at least for the present - from the Village Board to writing letters to the Town Board and, if that doesn't produce answers, to attend the Town Board's meetings to obtain further information.

Sincerely,

HARVEY GINSBERG

Global Warming

East Hampton

May 17, 1997

Dear Helen,

Some nights ago, I rode home on the Long Island Rail Road. Never have I sat in a more disgusting, dirty, dilapidated carriage in my life.

At a time when global warming is almost certainly upon us - note the "500-year floods" in the Midwest, and the worst drought in Britain since record keeping began 280 years ago - we continue to pour out carbon dioxide from our exhaust pipes while locked bumper to bumper in unmoving traffic on the Long Island Expressway, doing our bit to add to the problem. At the same time, a perfectly acceptable set of rails reaches our part of the world.

This train could be updated to be the most modern, sleek, fast, reliable, dependable, comfortable train in the country, leaving Penn Station every hour on the hour.

We would all gladly prefer such a comfortable commute where we could read our papers, work on our computers, and drink a little aperitif to calm shattered nerves after a day in Manhattan before we arrive relaxed, ready to greet the beauty and peace of East Hampton.

If we used our collective willpower and our powerful connections, we could shortly establish such a system, thus establishing a precedent for the whole country.

Global warming promises to bring with it unprecedented epidemics of disease and to cause millions of global ecological refugees. Let's do our bit for the world, while making our own lives a lot more comfortable!

HELEN CALDICOTT

Classic American Town

Amagansett

May 19, 1997

To The Editor,

Forty years ago when I first saw it, Amagansett was a real village. It had a grocery store, a drugstore, a school, churches, a Post Office, and other establishments that humans need to survive.

Today it is a ghost town. The grocery store and Post Office moved away many years ago, and the drugstore closed. You can't buy a tube of toothpaste, a quart of milk, a stamp, or even, God forbid, a newspaper in this so-called "village."

Yet the population of the area in general grew fivefold. How can this be?

Amagansett suffered the same fate as tens of thousands of other small towns across America. Highway sprawl, strip malls, and shopping centers sucked the blood and life out of these functional central villages. Well-intentioned zoning laws did not help. Today's laws would not allow the construction of the classic American town.

The recent 300-page study, confusingly titled "The Amagansett Corridor Study," is another example of planning gobbledygook designed to justify the continuing destruction of our quaint little village by legitimizing even more strip malls and commercial sprawl.

Isn't Montauk Highway from Southampton to East Hampton cluttered enough? The answer is simple. Stop building on it. Concentrate all future development around existing towns and villages, where people can walk from store to store. Heaven forbid, don't tear down any historic buildings or build on any of the open spaces on the highway in Amagansett. There is plenty of room around the parking lot to the north of the village for anything anyone wants to put up. Build an access road to Windmill Lane, so there are two commercial streets in the village. Put the stores close together - without lawns in between - like they used to be. Make any future development pedestrian-friendly.

Destroying our historic village and scarring our main highway with strip malls and increased commercial activity (no matter how campuslike they look) is killing the goose that lays the golden eggs. What can these misguided planners be thinking? Have we learned nothing in the last 20 years?

BLAKE FLEETWOOD

Peaceful Kingdom

Springs

May 16, 1997

To The Editor:

It is irresponsible to report, as Russell Drumm did in the May 15 issue of The Star, "If you see a fox in daytime, it's sick." This is a quote from Dr. Dale Tarr, who perhaps knows more about domestic animals than wild ones. There are quite a number of us fox-fanciers around who know otherwise and would be delighted to share our information.

I have foxes - parents and twin youngsters. They are extremely healthy and playful with glossy coats. Their food of preference is hulled sunflowers hearts and they come to breakfast between 7 and 9 a.m., are often seen at lunchtime, and again well before dark. Their den apparently is across the road from me on Old Stone Highway, and they can often be spotted crossing back and forth in full daylight. Are you going to push the public's panic button, making people believe this is a colony of sick wildlife?

As for the Department of Environmental Conservation's Mr. Knox, I have photographs of foxes eating seeds on their platform with my cats five feet away, lying down, and washing themselves. Here it is truly a peaceful kingdom.

Sincerely,

EMILY COBB

Please address correspondence to [email protected]

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

There's so much more to say about the Harbor Rose in Sag Harbor than just a description of the food.

First of all, there's the atmosphere of the place, which manages to evoke everyone's fantasy of that little European hangout they're going to find when they have the time and money. The spacious bar area is furnished with big, comfortable, rather seedy furniture and has an imposing counter that looks as if generations of serious drinkers have given it a patina of long stories and short drinks.

There are books on the wall and a chess set on a table in the window. On a recent night, a mother was playing chess with her young daughter - it's the sort of place where a mother could comfortably do that - and there were two tiny babies accompanying their parents in the dining room.

Winsome Loo

When renovations were under way, it was discovered that the Shell Lubrication sign, which had been on the facade of the building when it was a gas station long ago, was still there. It has been incorporated into the decor, with the exception of the first three letters, which were removed and stuck on the door of the ladies room.

Talking of atmosphere, half of you should go and have a look at this same ladies room, which has to be the most charming on the East End, with a tailor's dummy covered in dried rosebuds, an exquisite kimono, and evocative photographs.

My first introduction to the Harbor Rose was brought on by curiosity to see what its winter Wednesday night "artists' dinners" were like. Advertised as being three courses and "all the wine you could drink" for $20, we were skeptical as to how good it would be. It turned out to be a spectacular bargain - a fine salad, perfectly cooked cod with a mixed-bean dressing served with green beans and mashed potatoes, and chocolate cake - served at long tables where everyone talked with their neighbors.

Test Of Skill

There's a consensus of opinion that the Harbor Rose's mashed potatoes are in a class of their own, but the feat of serving fresh green beans cooked to the second of perfection to 30 or 40 people at once is a sure test of the kitchen's skill.

On a recent Saturday evening, the Harbor Rose had all tables filled by 8:30. The tables are not jammed together but are comfortably far apart, which helps with the noise, which does get a little overwhelming at times.

Wines by the glass are very reasonable and there is a selective, well-chosen wine list with very good prices. We chose a 1994 SagPond merlot which met with the favor of all.

John Dory Wins

Two or three wines are showcased and discussed in a conversational way on the regular menu, which is an original touch - as is the idea of listing food as "small dishes," "medium dishes," "large dishes," and "side dishes," with prices to match, instead of dividing the menu more conventionally.

The mixed salad was bouncingly fresh and delicate, and large enough to share between two, as was the Caesar salad. The crab cake (also available as a main dish) has to be right up around the top of my ratings list of East End crab cakes: sweet, velvety, and crabby in a crunchy but very light shell.

The cold linguine in a hot peanut sauce with sesame seeds and snap peas was a slight disappointment. The sauce was just fine but the linguine were too cold, clumsy, and heavy - it needed a more delicate pasta.

We tried large and medium dishes, old faithfuls and the more exotic, specials and regulars. The winner was voted a dish of John Dory, a sweet, fine-textured fish flown in fresh daily from New Zealand. It was served in a burnt lemon butter and caper sauce with rice and asparagus and was outstanding.

Poultry Paradise

The steak, though pricey, was perfectly cooked and served with superior french fries. The tuna steak was also adjudged perfectly cooked and of a superior cut. The chicken had obviously spent its days in some aristocratic free-range poultry Eden, because it tasted like chicken used to before the whole chicken population was incarcerated. As mentioned before, the Harbor Rose does its customers proud with its mashed potatoes and vegetables.

The Tuscan fish stew, a sinus-clearing bowl of garlicky mussels, scallops, and different fish in a tomato-based broth, was one of the dishes listed as "medium," but it turned out to be almost too large to finish.

If you are lucky, lobster ravioli may be on the list of specials. Nearly a pound of fresh lobster divided into two large ravioli, it is served with a creamy sauce and a whole peeled tomato and is delicious. It would also make a fine appetizer divided between two - which is one of the nice things about this mix-and-match menu.

Delectable Duck

If you don't mind putting calorie concerns out of your head for the meal, the Harbor Rose's delectable duck confit, though hardly a health food item, is highly recommended. The duck is packed with herbs and spices and marinated in its own juices before being fried, so it's crisp on the outside and falling-off-the-bone tender inside. It's served with a healthy salad of young greens and homemade french fries. (It's also just $17.)

Dessert gets a mixed review. The raspberry creme brulee was all that it could be, with a divine texture, a sharp bite of raspberry, and expertly caramelized. The cheesecake, on the other hand, was too sweet and rather blah.

The brown and white chocolate mousse was half delicious (the chocolate part) and half odd-tasting (the white part). The chocolate cake was okay.

The service on the night we were there was exemplary, but reports have said that it can be spotty. When the Harbor Rose opened last summer, year-rounders complained about "attitude" and felt it was catering only to the city visitors.

But that has changed completely - helped by the many bargain offers - and now that the restaurant has entrenched itself in the affections of local residents it is hoped that it will always remain as welcoming as it is now.

Is the Harbor Rose expensive or not? It's hard to say. The small dishes, salads and such, are inexpensive and quite generous portions, while the "large" dishes are definitely city prices, all over $20. But some are large enough for two and the restaurant is happy to divide any dish. Some of the medium dishes are full-sized entrees but others are not quite enough. So you could have two courses for about $20 or two courses for nearly $40.

And then there are the two-for-one offerings early in the evening or on Sunday evenings and the off-season artists' evenings which offer a value that can't be beat.

I guess you just have to keep going there until you work out your best choices - and that will be no hardship at all.

Willie Nelson and Family, who traditionally hold Fourth of July picnic concerts in the heartland, will usher in Memorial Day with a 7 p.m. show on Sunday at Guild Hall.

Mr. Nelson has been writing country hits since the days when Patsy Cline recorded "Crazy." His popularity peaked in the early '80s with "On the Road Again," and he has spent much of the past decade content to record duets with other artists, some good, some forgettable. In recent years, he has returned to his roots with two strong recordings, "Across the Borderline" and "Spirit."

On Monday, a smattering of standing-room-only tickets, at $70 each, remained in the 385-seat auditorium.

The Absolut Vodka-Seagram's Tonic Waters series continues on Friday, May 30, when Echo & the Bunnymen, a post-punk band out of England that recently reunited after a nine-year hiatus, performs an 8 p.m. show. Plenty of seats, at $30 each, remain available.

Since breaking up in the late '80s, the band has attained minor cult status, with Courtney Love, the Flaming Lips, and Pavement covering its material.

The concert series continues through the summer with appearances by George Shearing and Joe Williams, George Benson, Spalding Gray, George Carlin, Hot Tuna, and Arlo Guthrie, among others.

As creator and executive producer of the PBS award-winning documentary series "American Masters," Susan Lacy may live in the cutting room, but her eye is fixed on the year 2097.

"What I'm trying to do is make a television library of 20th century cultural giants," she said, seated at the head of the big dining room table in her comfortable Sag Harbor house.

"I want to create an archive that, 100 years from now, history will prove has focused on the people who fundamentally changed the way we think, hear, see, and live. As well as writers, artists, and musicians, it will also include architects, actors, dancers, city planners, and media people."

National Icons

"American Masters," produced by Thirteen/WNET for PBS, premiered in 1986. It has broadcast 75 documentary biographies of such national icons as Charlie Chaplin, Louis Armstrong, Isaac Bashevis Singer, Buster Keaton, Billie Holliday, Eugene O'Neill, D. W. Griffith, Helen Hayes, Aaron Copland, Philip Johnson, and Georgia O'Keeffe.

Albert Einstein also made the cut, for elevating science into art. Recently the series profiled William Styron, and, the week before last, the television pioneer Jack Paar.

Like other notable PBS series - "Great Performances," "American Playhouse," "Masterpiece Theater" - "American Masters," which is distributed throughout the world, has been showered with honors.

Ms. Lacy's programs have won 20 Emmy nominations, five Emmy Awards, three Oscar nominations and one Oscar, nine Cine, Golden Eagles, and three coveted Peabody Awards, of which she is especially proud.

Her first Peabody came 11 years ago for "Unknown Chaplin," a portrait of the cinematographer consisting only of outtakes from his films: what the master, in his fastidiousness, had rejected.

In 1990, "John Hammond: From Bessie Smith to Bruce Springsteen" won another Peabody. When the legendary record producer (father of the blues singer) introduced Benny Goodman to Lionel Hampton in 1935, he spearheaded the integration of African-American jazz musicians into formerly whites-only bands, forever changing the sound and face of American music.

A third Peabody went to "Paul Simon: Born at the Right Time." Made with the cinematographer Christian Blackwood, it documented the rock star's 1991 world concert tour.

Inscrutability Bridged

The ambitious tour, with an international band of 17 musicians, "was the first foreign production allowed into China since 1945," Ms. Lacy said. "The police were nervous, and the Communist leaders sat inscrutably in those big chairs with the doilies on them."

"When the concert began, the Hong Kong element, who knew all the songs from black market tapes, started to swing. Then the place went wild. Even the Communist leaders smiled a little."

"In the end it turned out everyone knew the Chinese words to 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' and belted it out like one big happy family, which shows you music's tremendous power to communicate."

Two Musicians

Ms. Lacy was born in New York City but grew up all over the country as her German-born parents sought their fortunes in post-World War II America. Wilfred Wagner, her father, a musician and a Jew, had fled Nazi Germany during Hitler's rise to power, returning as a member of the U.S. Army occupation forces in 1945.

Smitten by her mother's concert piano playing, the young soldier paid a call. "These two musicians fell in love," Ms. Lacy said. "My mother was neither an anti-Semite nor a Nazi, and I do believe there's a certain naivete, among artists, particularly about politics."

After emigrating to America the Wagners, determined not to "settle down and buy gadgets," subjected Ms. Lacy and her younger brother, Thom, a film composer and writer, to the insecurities of the bohemian life. They failed at various quixotic ventures and eventually went bankrupt.

A 'Normal' Life

Her father finally got a steady job at a college in Virginia, the first time Ms. Lacy had lived in one place long enough to be invited to a birthday party, but that moment of stability ended, too. The county in which they were living refused to desegregate its schools, and her parents, perhaps mindful of Nazi Germany, moved to the North.

Settled in a normal split-level house on a cul-de-sac in a Baltimore suburb, with her father ensconced in a food distribution company that supplied the Pentagon, Ms. Lacy and her family at last were able to put down roots.

"Things really began to get nice," she said, adding that her father never lost his artist's soul despite the business suit. "My parents were making a bourgeois statement for their children's sake, but their hearts weren't really in it."

Early Career

After attending the Women's College of the University of Virginia, where she majored in American studies, she moved to Washington, D.C. While studying for an M.A. at George Washington University, she worked for both the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities.

In 1975 she married Bill Lacy and spent four years in Rome, where he was head of the American Academy; back in New York, he served as president of Cooper Union. The couple had one child, Jessica, now at Smith College. They were divorced in 1986. Since then Ms. Lacy has merged households with Halsted Welles, a New York City landscape designer, and his college-aged offspring, Gwynn and Ian.

Telling A Good Story

Ms. Lacy joined Channel 13 in 1979 as senior program executive on its "Great Performances" series, later working as director of program development for "American Playhouse."

Stints with the East Coast office of the Sundance Institute and with Time-Life Video, where she was the consulting producer for Time-Warner's experiments in long-form documentaries, deepened her experience.

These "purely executive" positions made her want to get involved with the "actual making" of her own documentary series, she said, and in the early '80s Ms. Lacy got the idea for "American Masters."

"I wanted to approach documentaries as real films, taking the time and attention to tell a good story well."

Everyone thought she was crazy. Nobody would watch a series about artists, they said. But her first show, "Private Conversations: The Making of the Television Adaptation of 'Death of a Salesman' with Dustin Hoffman," took its bow in 1986.

Work And Life

"We're trying to create programs that search for that elusive and magic place where an artist's life and work collide," said Ms. Lacy.

"It is in that collision that the spirit of an artist exists. It is that spirit that we, and by extension our audiences, want to experience."

In 1995 Ms. Lacy put on a director's hat as well, making her debut with "Rod Serling: Submitted for Your Approval." Future shows are in the works, among them one on Leonard Bernstein, due next year.

Over the years "American Masters" has received rave reviews for the depth and vision of its documentaries. "Nothing less than astounding," said TV Guide.

The Christian Science Monitor weighed in with "The 'American Masters' series . . . documents 20th century creativity with a tenacious creativity of its own. Taking on individual artists rather than movements, it has provided a broad-based vision of American artistry. . . ."

Such a sweeping format has its stumbling blocks, however. There is the obligation to reflect the diversity of our culture, and the practical demands of putting a show on the air.

"Looking back over the series, I see I haven't always chosen well; there are people I would now pull out."

Her Favorites

Her favorite programs? "Waldo Salt: A Screenwriter's Journey," about a blacklisted Hollywood writer who came back from Skid Row to win three Oscars with "Midnight Cowboy," "Coming Home," and "Serpico."

"James Baldwin: The Price of the Ticket," about an inner-city kid whose genius and social conscience triumphed over having been born triply cursed as "black, gay, and a writer," as he put it.

And "Martha Graham: A Dancer Revealed" about the transforming vision and inspiring indomitability of the woman who still reigned over American dance at age 94.

Sondheim Has Said Yes

As to the future, Mr. Lacy asked, "Well, a hundred years from now, who will we seem to have left out?" "Bob Dylan," she answered. "And Pollock and de Kooning. I was wrong to have shied away from people who'd already been 'done.' "

"Leonard Bernstein, as I said. His family hesitated because of his homosexuality. Stephen Sondheim has finally said yes, too, as have F. Scott Fitzgerald's relatives."

"Living artists sometimes hang back because our program may seem like a premature obituary, Ms. Lacy said. "As Martha Graham remarked, she'd 'rather live with the legend.' "

"But we emphasize the work, not the private life - we're never prurient - and we hope that, sooner or later, trust will prevail."