GLR July-August 2024

ESSAY

Tuckernuck May Call You W ILLIAM B ENEMANN

W HERE THE SKY MEETS THE SEA off the coast of Cape Cod, there was once an island where guests could drop their clothes and their inhibitions in a men-only paradise of Zen-like simplic ity and muscular homoeroticism. The island of Tuckernuck (Algonquin for “loaf of bread”) still exists, and may be reached by a short jaunt from Nantucket, but the part of the island where naked gentlemen once romped disap peared under the waves a century ago, as irrecoverable as Camelot. In 1871, prominent Boston surgeon Henry Bigelow built a summer home on the west end of Tuckernuck Island, a home he called “Tuckanuck” (spelling the name of the cottage the way the locals pronounced the name of the island itself). The build ing was rustic and isolated, without indoor plumbing or gaslight, but sea breezes provided a welcome break from Boston’s stifling summer heat. The home was eventually inherited by Henry’s only child, William Sturgis Bigelow, who set about turning it into a summer retreat for a very different sort of family. Young Sturgis had been coerced into following his father and grandfather into the field of medicine and earned his M.D. lecting the artifacts that were being jettisoned during the Meiji period’s rush to westernize. His efforts to preserve traditional Japanese culture earned him the Order of the Rising Sun, a rank of honor, from a grateful Emperor Mutsuhito. Bigelow eventually amassed over 26,000 objects (including “aristocratic erotica”) which he donated to Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, establishing it as the finest collection of Japanese cul tural artifacts outside of Japan. He converted to Tendai Bud dhism, at times donning the robes of a Buddhist monk, and he proselytized on behalf of Eastern beliefs and practices—an ec centricity that raised eyebrows among Boston’s stern Puritans and cerebral Unitarians. Bigelow never entirely abandoned Bea con Hill (where he continued to live when not on Tuckernuck), but he repudiated its notion that “the Lowells speak only to the Cabots, and the Cabots speak only to God.” He welcomed visi William Benemann is the author of Unruly Desires: American Sailors and Homosexualities in the Age of Sail , and Men in Eden: William Drum mond Stewart and Same-Sex Desire in the Rocky Mountain Fur Trade . from Harvard, though he found medical practice in general—and surgery in particu lar—distasteful. Fortunately, he had inher ited a substantial fortune from his mother, which freed him to abandon medicine and follow a newly acquired passion: collecting Japanese art. During an extended visit to Japan (1882–1889), Bigelow became enam ored of all things Japanese and began col

tors to his island regardless of their family background; they needed only be entertaining, creative, male, and discreet. He could not, however, completely escape his heritage as scion of what was approvingly known as Old Money. Deeply committed to Buddhism, Bigelow “emanated a peaceful radiance,” his friend Margaret Chanler once observed, but a radiance “mingled with a faint fragrance of toilet water.” When not in monk’s robes he preferred expensive Charvet neckties and bespoke suits from Saville Row. His commitment to Japanese culture was sincere, though, and not merely cosplay. At least not entirely cosplay. On Tuckernuck, Sturgis Bigelow created a retreat that was a cross between a Buddhist monastery, the Plaza Hotel, and Hemenway Gymnasium at Harvard. There was no electricity or running water, and everything needed to be ferried over from Nantucket or the mainland, but the food and wine were excel lent, the service impeccable, and the accommodations comfort able if spare. On the second floor of the large cottage, reached by a steep and narrow stairway that one guest compared to a companionway on a ship, there was a series of small monastic guestrooms, “scrupulously clean; just furniture enough in each to supply one’s needs; exceptionally comfortable beds with linen exhaling a countrified freshness; white walls of wood; guest, set at a convenient height for shaving, and a little shelf above with a row of soap dishes containing Pears’ soap, also bottles of Pears’ Lavender Water, French shampoos and other lotions and shaving creams.” Bigelow provided his guests with a library of over 3,000 volumes, including erotica in both French and German. A wide veranda was furnished with ham mocks and lounge chairs for reading, and a telescope for any one curious enough to want to scan the horizon. For recreation there was a tennis court, a shooting range, a Japanese soaking tub, and a pole for “tethered-ball.” On one part of the island was a small forest of scrub oak where gentlemen might wander for intimate encounters. And always there was the surf crashing on Sturgis Bigelow’s private beach. But the feature that set Tuckanuck apart from other retreats was its dress code: as soon as gentlemen arrived on the island they were urged to remove their trousers. What they wore in stead is most frequently described as “pajamas,” though the loose garb is also referred to as a Japanese kimono or a Greek inspired chiton. When swimming or exercising, or merely white rafters overhead; all visible and all spotless to the peak of the roof.” Sets of French doors opened onto a shared loggia. Amenities were basic but tasteful. A sep arate bathhouse lacked plumbing, but could comfortably accommodate multiple men performing their morning ablutions together. In the communal lavatory, guests found “a row of white china wash bowls, one for each

On Tuckernuck, Bigelow created a retreat that was a cross between a Buddhist monastery, the Plaza Hotel, and Hemenway Gymnasium at Harvard.

TheG & LR

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