“As I grow old and visit more and more doctors, I’ve noticed that landscapes are the most common pictures in doctors’ offices. I find them pleasing to look at while I wait to be diagnosed. I don’t watch American mysteries on TV because the backdrops are mostly urban streets and buildings, but instead watch British ones over and over just to take in the pleasing and peaceful scenery.”
That was Larry Penny, a longtime director of East Hampton Town’s Natural Resources Department, writing in 2016 in his column “Nature Notes,” which ran in this newspaper for about 40 years, until 2020. Even when aches, pains, and the first worrisome signs of dementia forced him into medical or other four-walled confines, he found a way back to the outdoors.
California, home to both his son and stepson, was a frequent destination. The state’s plunging coastline, with the Santa Ynez Mountains as dramatic backdrop, often inspired Mr. Penny, a scientist by training, to flights of fancy.
“Eastern Long Island, still rural, Santa Barbara, pearl on the Pacific; wherever one is at home, there is a bit of paradise in the past, present, or future. The trick is to be patient, look beyond the befouled, the corrupt, plant a garden to live in, enjoy nature while keeping in mind that life is never static, beauty is enigmatic, it comes and goes on a whim.”
His health and balance had declined steadily over the past four years, said Julie Penny, his wife, and he had a series of falls, landing him finally in an assisted living facility not far from their Noyac residence, where things only got worse. About a month ago, the couple flew to Nevada City, Calif., to be closer to their sons, and he entered a nursing home. Two weeks later, on Dec. 15, he died, following a last fall. His death was attributed to Alzheimer’s disease. He was 89.
Mr. Penny, who found his life’s calling as a naturalist, teacher, and early environmentalist here on the South Fork, was born on the north one, in Mattituck, in 1935, the son of Arthur and Lucille Slade Penny. A standout student, he was accepted at Cornell, but dropped out before finishing and, somewhat at loose ends, went to California, where, at his mother’s urging, he joined the military.
“His entire life was nature,” his wife said, “and he felt he should go back to school.” He was assigned to the Army’s Defense Language Institute in Monterey, where he studied Russian and eventually served in Japan. Later, with a degree in marine biology from U.C. Santa Barbara, he lectured and taught at community colleges in California and Oregon. “He did all the research for his [Ph.D.] dissertation, but did not write the thesis,” Ms. Penny said.
When Southampton College had an opening for a field biologist in 1973, Mr. Penny got the job. Almost immediately he became influential in the then-nascent conservation movement here. He was active with the Group for the East End (then called the Group for America’s South Fork), the Nature Conservancy, alliances that staved off development in Montauk’s Hither Woods and Barcelona Neck in East Hampton, and a host of other environmental organizations — wherever vacant tracts, scenic views, wildlife protection, and natural beauty were in peril.
He led innumerable nature walks, which were frequently oversubscribed. “He was so enthusiastic about them, and everyone wanted to do them with him,” his wife said. “Boy, he really did inspire his students!”
As Mr. Penny himself wrote in 2013, in a tribute to another naturalist, “There was nothing environmental that he couldn’t master in a short time, be it wetland mapping, plant and animal identification, nature preserve caretaking, oil spill cleanup, or what have you.”
His columns became one of The Star’s most popular features. They were unpredictable. One week Mr. Penny informed; the next, he ruminated:
“In my mind the history of East Hampton, and for that matter all of Long Island, is much more interesting than what is happening now. We’ve passed way beyond the age of discovery; we might better describe contemporary life as the age of packaging, marketing, distribution, and bad political theater. There are no Jeffersons, Washingtons, Lincolns, and Franklins to lead and enlighten us, only their poor likenesses recycled over and over to lull us into acquiescing submission.”
That was from 2011, not one of Mr. Penny’s happiest years. He’d been appointed director of natural resources in the ‘80s, but since 2008 the town board had been trying to eliminate his job and incorporate natural resources into the Planning Department, charging, among other things, that the director had failed to properly supervise his staff. Management was not Mr. Penny’s strong point; fieldwork was.
There was a public outcry when the charges were announced. Eventually, the town attorney and his own lawyer issued a joint statement, including “input from leading members of the community.” Mr. Penny survived the putsch, but retired the following year.
“Although Larry surely started many projects and research initiatives he might never hope to finish, his unending exuberance for learning and his unequaled curiosity about the world around us always made a lasting impression, which I will never forget,” said Robert DeLuca, president of Group for the East End. “In fact, I think this personal passion may be the single most important quality behind his success, and by extension, the substantial adoption of a broader conservation ethic that was embraced by the town through the years.”
The Pennys were together for almost 20 years before marrying, in November 1987, in Salem, Ore. Pure chance led to their first meeting. As his wife tells it, Mr. Penny had come east to see his family and was waiting at Penn Station for his train to Mattituck to depart. “He saw me on the platform, and he made sure he got into the same car as me where the seats could face each other.”
The date was Aug. 15, 1969. “That was the day Woodstock began,” Ms. Penny recalled, “and he’d almost gone there instead of to his family!” Fifty-six years later, on Aug. 15, 2025, a celebration of his life will be held here.
Mr. Penny was predeceased by his daughter, Mary Angela Penny, from a previous marriage to Susan Fratis, who survives. His son and daughter-in-law, James and Victoria Penny, live in San Francisco; his stepson and daughter-in-law, Christopher and Julie Neumann, live in Nevada City. He also leaves three grandchildren, Matthew and Kevin Penny of San Francisco and Max Neumann of Nevada City.
Memorial contributions have been suggested for the Group for the East End, 54895 Route 25, Southold 11971, the National Audubon Society, online at audubon.org, or Earth Justice, 50 California Street, Suite 500, San Francisco 94111.
