From the June 7, 1963 edition of the Vineyard Gazette:

Em Elliott — the familiar form of Emulous C. (for Carter) Elliott — of Edgartown was talking the other day about his steamboat days. On the eve of his retirement as Edgartown school custodian and as caretaker at the Edgartown fire department headquarters, he had been beguiled into a nostalgic flashback of something more than a generation.

Away back in 1914 — he was then 16 ­— he left home to take on a job as fireman aboard a pogie boat. It seems that a lot of State of Mainers had jobs with the pogie fleet out of Newport at the time, and one of them was a pal, Cheever Prentice. So Em was interested too when he was asked. These were the days of horses and bicycles, few automobiles — and Em was taking his first ride on a train.

Em’s berth was on the Seven Brothers, and his pay was a dollar a day — not bad, he thought, since he ate and slept aboard.

Fishing went through the seasons of spring, summer and fall, and that winter Em was offered a job in a cold storage plant, firing two big boilers, for $11 a week. Ashore, he had to pay for room and board, the former at $1.50 a week, and the latter in diners and restaurants. “Of course,” he said, “you could get a fine sandwich for a nickel, and a pretty good meal for a quarter.”

Cheever Prentice, in the meantime, had got a job aboard the Sankaty when he met Chief Zadoc Cottle at Newport, where the vessel was having a regular overhaul at the Old Colony shipyard, a place where the old Fall River line steamers were also serviced. Cheever wrote Em in 1915 that he had a job for him, and Em quickly snapped up the opportunity; the $10 a week, which included food and quarters, looked good.

This was the start of Em’s life with the then New Bedford, Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket Steamboat Co., a service which covered the years 1915 to 1923, and to give an idea of the pace of his advancement he was a chief engineer the last three years. He served aboard the Uncatena, Gay Head, Sankaty, Mirimar and Frances. Neither of the last two carried automobiles — in fact, the others had room only for a few — and the latter, a chartered vessel, ran only between Woods Hole and Vineyard Haven.

“Zad used to let me run the engine,” Em recalls with a smile; “I liked that.” Once, when George A. Hough, managing editor of the New Bedford Standard, was aboard, and in the engine room — he was apt to be there or in the pilot house on his frequent trips — he watched Em at the controls, put his hand on Em’s shoulder, and predicted “You’ll be a chief engineer some day.”

This was a prediction fulfilled sooner than one might expect: Em became first assistant on Sankaty, taking Cheever’s place, in 1917, and first assistant on the Uncatena in 1918, under Chief Richard Allyn. He had his chief’s license in 1919 and had a chief’s job in 1920.

Why did Em leave the steamboats? It was a matter of economics. A man then was used to long hours, especially during the heavy schedule of a summer. And an engine room crew, in time of breakdown, might be up all night repairing, or waiting at a blacksmith’s shop for a part.

During the war years — World War One — the government took over the line, as it did all others, and before it was returned to private ownership in 1919 or ‘20, Em’s scale had risen to $51. But then three wage cuts came. Readers of 1963, with some knowledge of present steamship pay scales, may be interested in the result when Em came ashore in 1923. When he left, a chief engineer was paid $36.60 for a six day week — a week representing an indeterminate number of hours — and $41 (plus a forgotten number of cents) for seven days. Skippers received $1.10 more than that.

Ashore that first summer, Em was at the Sibley garage; that fall he went scalloping, and in the winter managed a couple of boilers in the Vose piano factory. He then returned to the Island and a couple of years at the Dukes County Garage.

“There’s been a lot of water over the dam since then,” said Em, “and also a lot of heavy oil” — the last a favorite saying for many years. At sporting events, a firemen’s time, or whatever, when fun or excitement was high — Em’s urgent voice has always been heard in exhortation: “Give her the heavy oil.” (Em can’t exactly recall the origin of the remark, but feels it may well have been started by some engine room episode.)

So now Em is 65. Although he’s in good shape his age is one which comes up against certain regulations of the county and state retirement systems. He has been custodian of the school house since November of 1926 and caretaker at the fire station since December, 1928.

As an instance of how some may feel as to his leaving Fire Chief Bill Silva’s comment is to the point: “A damn good man; we’ll never get another one like him!” And, of course, there was that schoolhouse reception the other week, with its wonderful outpouring of warm feeling for a retiring custodian and friend.

Compiled by Hilary Wallcox

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