If you walk across the trestle-board-patterned marble floor of the Custom House in Newburyport designed by Robert Mills, the same architect responsible for the Washington Monument, you’ll encounter the anti-gravity cantilever staircase, a signature of Mills’ architectural style, with support on only one side, while the other side floats. Ascending this winding staircase brings you to another checkerboard-patterned hallway, leading to the largest room in what is now a museum.
To the left lies the Moseley Gallery, which spans the entire length of the building. This ship like room with views of Rings Island across the Merrimack River highlights Newburyport’s nautical history, featuring half hulls—scaled models of ship hulls crafted by shipwrights to plan their designs. The gallery also showcases numerous paintings of historic ships, but the centerpiece is a remarkable oil painting created by Johan Erik Christian Petersen in 1871.
The painting, titled “Collision of the Gladiator,” depicts a wooden-hulled, three-masted sailing ship, the Gladiator, with its foremast snapped and submerged in the water. In the background, a steel-hulled steamship sails onward, symbolizing the shift from one era of maritime technology to another, faster and stronger. Viewing the piece, I was instantly reminded of the 2nd stanza of Jimmy Buffett’s song A Pirate Looks at 40: “Watched the men who rode you, switch from sails to steam. And in your belly, you hold the treasures few have ever seen-Most of ’em dream, most of ’em dream.”
I found myself at the old government building, now a museum, thanks to an invitation from Jack Santos, whom I had met earlier at Angie’s Food, the diner connected to Richdale’s on Pleasant Street. Angie’s, a staple since 1970, is well-known for its fantastic breakfasts, though we were there for lunch. When I arrived, Jack was already seated in one of the booths, sipping a cup of coffee. He waved me over, and as I joined him, the waitress offered me a cup of Joe, which I declined in favor of water.
Jack ordered a BLT on wheat, while I opted for chicken salad on marble rye. As we ate, our conversation turned to our favorite Newburyport figures. Jack shared stories about Abraham Wheelwright, a Revolutionary War veteran and wealthy ship captain who made his fortune as a privateer and trader alongside his brother and business partner, Ebenezer. My choice of character was Albert Pike, the Confederate general who had once been a school principal right here in Newburyport.
Abraham Wheelwright was the original owner of Jack’s house on Spring Street, a historic home built in 1789. From its rooftop deck, you can take in a panoramic view of the river, stretching from the Gillis Bridge to where the Merrimack meets the Atlantic at Salisbury Beach. If there’s a love story to be told here, it’s Jack’s deep passion for his home. Well maintained and with original ornate finish work the house is filled with items that bring its history to life. Jack is more than just a homeowner; he’s a collector of stories and a devoted steward not only of the Wheelwright home but also of the many narratives preserved within the walls of the Custom House.
After lunch at Angie’s, we walked to the Custom House, stopping along the way to visit a friend of Jack’s, Corey Prince, the proprietor of New England Sketch Book. Tucked into the back of the first building on Water Street, adjacent to Market Square, Corey’s shop is a hidden gem. As we entered, Corey greeted us in a cable-knit sweater and a Greek sailor’s hat, his appearance instantly evoking the image of an old New England salt.
The shop itself is a treasure trove, brimming with antique finds, reproductions, and prints made from glass negatives. For someone like me, it was sensory overload in the best way. Corey’s enthusiasm for history and his incredible collection make his store a must-visit. Corey is who all us history nerds aspire to be when we grow up.
After our visit, we took the back way to the Custom House, where I was given a personal tour. I was searching for an interesting story but quickly found myself nearly overwhelmed by the torrent of knowledge pouring from the curator of Newburyport history, whose mind seemed like a living encyclopedia. At the museum, I was introduced to James Russell, the executive director and a passionate Moby Dick enthusiast—though “enthusiast” may not do justice to his fervor. He immediately captured my attention as he spoke about the importance of partnering with the Boys and Girls Club of the Lower Merrimack Valley.
James, ever thoughtful and collaborative, listened carefully to everything said, responding with ideas that drew me into his vision for the Custom House Maritime Museum. His light Irish brogue only added to his charm, making you lean in closer to catch the fascinating ideas he puts forth.
Jack’s love for Newburyport began when he fell for his wife, a love that extended to the city and its history. For Jack, Newburyport has become a second love, a mistress of sorts. A walk through the streets with him is an experience in itself, as he points out the quirks and unique details of the city’s antique homes. If you’re lucky, you might even find yourself invited up to his rooftop deck, where the panoramic view from the Gillis Bridge east to where the Merrimack meets the Atlantic at Salisbury Beach as he gives his insights on the historic homes of the south-central neighborhood.
At the end of the day, the story I discovered mirrored the one Jimmy Buffett captured in “A Pirate Looks at 40.” Though I make a living running an auto auction in Kittery, Maine, my real dream has always been to sit in front of an Underwood Noiseless 77 typewriter, channeling Hemingway or Kerouac as I type away at my masterpiece. But that dream feels as though it’s come too late. And as I sing along to Buffett’s words: “Yes, I am a pirate, two hundred years too late. The cannons don’t thunder, there’s nothin’ to plunder- I’m an over-forty victim of fate. Arriving too late, arriving too late”
Like the story told by the oil painting “Collision of the Gladiator,” where a nameless steamship looms in the background, it’s easy to imagine that ship being called Progress. With each technological leap forward, something is left behind. Sailing gives way to steam, gas to electric, typewriter to Mac, local store to chain, chain to internet, writers to algorithms, and as Buffett concludes his melancholy tune with “Mother, mother ocean, after all the years I’ve found. My occupational hazard being my occupation’s just not around-I feel like I’ve drowned, gonna head uptown-I feel like I’ve drowned, gonna head uptown,”
I find myself understanding Buffet all so well.
“Dinner Date” is a series of stories written by Salisbury resident C.J. Fitzwater about the places and people he meets locally for dinner. If you are interested in meeting and telling your story, send him an email at cfitzwater@ymail.com.