Myles Thurlow is a pretty even-handed guy. Hanging from the crown of the Old Whaling Church doesn’t bother him. Designing and building a wooden boat as a high school project doesn’t seem like a big deal. He is easy with a smile and a laugh, but he doesn’t get too excited, at least not outwardly. He appears utterly content with his Martha’s Vineyard life as a boat rigger, spar maker, flag pole maintenance man, teacher, amateur musician, Flying Horse fixer, guitar maker, house builder, father and husband.
But when he is asked about the tools of his trade, the slightest hint of conviction creeps into his manner, and his voice rises a half-pitch.
“We like old tools,” he said, sitting in his West Tisbury shop surrounded by wooden planes, oddball specialty vices, and quite serviceable antique mechanical clamps.
He explains a bit about the traditional craft of hand-splicing wire rigging for old boats. By way of example, he grabs a piece of modern rigging which was tucked behind his bench. Out of sight.
“The fitting is cheap, you just crunch it in a machine, it takes a minute to do and you’re done.” Mr. Thurlow said. “There are some advantages to the spliced up rigging. Everything is a little more forgiving. It’s flexible. Part of it is just holding on to the past.”
In his world, tools are valued, but they are also feared. Often Mr. Thurlow is called on for risky, dirty, physical work. He is not fond of roofs, and tries to avoid them. Dangling from a 90-foot mast in a bosun’s chair, however, doesn’t bother him. He figures there are plenty of things to hold on to. But it doesn’t mean he’s not careful.
“You get used to it. You try to have that constant fear of death,” he said, with only a little exaggeration. “It keeps you safe. You don’t want to get too comfortable. It’s the same with the woodworking tools. Every time you go to the table saw, you should think about cutting off your thumb, try to picture that. Okay, I’m not going to do that this time.”
Among the more recent adventures that occupied his busy schedule was the restoration of the distinctive four-spired crown of the Old Whaling Church in Edgartown. He helped disassemble the badly deteriorating wooden crown, and lugged it piece by piece down to the ground.
He replicated the crown in careful historical detail at his shop. But the plans for installing the new structure on the church changed.
“We assembled it on the street and flew it up with the crane, instead of lugging all the pieces back up the stairs, which was the original plan.”
Mr. Thurlow is, after all, a rigger at heart.
“There’s no way we’re doing this in reverse,” he said. “Call the crane people. We saved a ton of time doing that.”
He enjoys historical restoration. The Martha’s Vineyard Preservation Trust calls on him often. Few people know that he is the person who keeps the cranky old machinery and the ancient band organ at the Flying Horses carousel working. It is not an easy job.
“It’s mostly mechanical type stuff, keeping it going. It’s an old thing and it’s always breaking.”
Each winter, he removes some of the antique merry-go-round horses, and brings them to his shop for repair.
“Last year we did six horses. They get busted up every year. The legs break off, they’ve been patched back together for years. We’re doing four or five this winter.”
His job doesn’t come with a 401k and an expense account. But it does come with perks. Like having your four-year-old son watch you restore one of the cherished wooden horses. He and his wife, Laura Marashlian, have two boys. They will have some stories to tell.
“The horses especially are neat,” Mr. Thurlow said. “Every kid who grew up here has something to say about the Flying Horses.”
At any moment, the job at hand could be making a hollow mast for a classic boat, repairing a flag pole or installing an engine in a yawl boat. Once in a while he shoves those aside and builds an electric guitar. He doesn’t play guitar, though his father Paul Thurlow famously does. Myles plays traditional Irish wind instruments. He says he doesn’t get much time to practice these days.
There really isn’t a school to learn all the things that Mr. Thurlow does in his “little bit of everything, whatever comes in the door” business. Fortunately, he said, you don’t need a school.
“Around here, if you want to learn something like that, you just go find the right person and learn about it.” He credits Nat Benjamin and Ross Gannon as strong influences. He spent a long apprenticeship at the Gannon & Benjamin boatyard in Vineyard Haven. He also credits merchant seaman Billy Mabie as a mentor.
He’s paying that unorthodox education forward.
For the past five years, he has taught eager learners traditional rigging skills at the Wooden Boat School in Maine. With a new baby in the house (which he, of course, built), Mr. Thurlow may skip teaching there this year. But it might give him more time to work with the students at the Martha’s Vineyard Public Charter School, of which he is an alumnus, on various projects.
He is an Island kid, through and through. Other than living aboard boats during a few extended voyages, he has never lived anywhere else. Doesn’t want to.
“Not really, it’s scary out there,” he said. “We’ve got a long family history here. It’s nice to have a place that you have a connection with.”
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