In 1979, there may have been a secession movement on this glorified sandbar where I live.
I say “may” because I didn’t “wash ashore,” as the natives like to say, until August, 1982. At the time, I was still playing Prodigal Son on the other side of the Mississippi. Of course, the difference between the table-top, landlocked landscape of Dakota Territory and the tidal, now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t marsh and surf of Plum Island might convince anyone that there should be secession. How were the two places ever united under the same country’s flag to begin with?
I remember a report in Time magazine, from 1977, explaining that the much larger islands of Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard wanted to leave Massachusetts and join Vermont. As always, all things north of Boston are (forgive the pun) drowned out by all things south. Cape Cod entices visitors from all across the country. Our equally charming, if smaller and less dramatic Ann, gains notice only as “Massachusetts’ other cape.”
Can’t be sure, mind you, about our islands drifting off. By 1983, Plum Islanders were in a merry Michelob mood with Ronald Reagan’s “You can have it all!” McMansions were built on the dunes overlooking the ocean. Homes that were one floor became two, those that were two became three. It was as if architecture had become a function of biology.
Needless to say, I heard no dissatisfaction, much less talk of secession, when I moved in. But I did hear a song that signaled a sense of identity, distinct even from our neighbors across the bridge in Newburyport proper.
Thankfully, turntables still existed. Over and over again, my new friends spun “The Plum Island National Anthem” on a 45 vinyl as scratchy as the greenhead flies. We sang along with gusto, and whenever someone asked if I happened to be the guy playing fife, I would change the subject and let the thought linger.
And linger it did, perhaps because no musician other than singer/songwriter Richard “Stonefingers” Johnson is identified on the jacket. No doubt my fellow local flautist Roger Ebacher, like me, was many times asked that question. Unlike me, he likely gave an immediate, straightforward answer, as he did when I emailed an hour or so ago:
“I recall this song well, and did perform it live with Richard on at least one occasion. I was not in the recording session, however, and have no memory of who was on it.”
I was lucky to catch the “Anthem” before it had run its course and was pretty much out of mind by end of the decade. Can’t recall hearing it or hearing of it for at least 35 years.
Until today. A friend was “cleaning stuff out,” which is what we elderly folk say when we come within sight of life’s checkered flag. When he found the vinyl buried in a box, he immediately thought of his friend on Plum Island, and this morning he put it in my hands. I damn near fainted.
Across the top, the 45’s jacket says, “Plum Island Records proudly presents the…” The banner under the fly reads, “Greenheadus Rex.” The six objects the bug holds are: a few arrows, an olive branch, a man yelling and waving his arms (likely the late, legendary Harry O, PI’s “unofficial mayor”), a can of beer just cracked open, a loud transistor radio, and, as if to make Jimmy Buffett feel right at home, a shaker of salt.
The anthem goes like this:
Come all ye Newburyporters,
and listen to my song
If you’ve a short attention span I shall
not make it long
I am a Plum Islander; Plum Island is my home
When green head flies fill the skies,
no man walks alone
CHORUS: To me way, hey Plum Island, the only home for me
Sinking as the sun sets into Atlantic Sea.
We cannot drink the water here;
we truck it in from town
We cannot flush our toilets when
the water table’s down
We cannot drink the water, so all we drink is beer
And when the tides are running high
the roads all disappear!
CHORUS
In my front yard there’s naught but sand where once I had a lawn
And my whole house sits on the beach
now that the dunes are gone
And on that beach in summer time,
a horde of tourists lie
And when you hear the screams you know
it’s lunchtime for the flies
CHORUS
Someday Plum Island we shall make
an independent nation
Protected by our green head flies,
flying in formation
And when the storms are raging,
and snow is coming down
thank God we’ve got a bar out here
since we can’t get to town.
CHORUS
FINALE: To me way, hey Plum Island, the only home for me
Sinking as the sun sets into At-Lan-tic Sea.
An ideal rallying cry at home barbecues and at the old Beachcoma, it is still played at the end of every set spun by DJ Sharkbait at the new Riptide Cafe.
Buffett would be right at home here. “Margaritaville” is always the vibe once the party starts. Except for maybe the Anthem’s “B” side, an odd lament titled “Why Should I Marry?” which agonizes:
Why should I marry,
When there are bridges, high windows, and rooftops to jump from?
Why should I marry,
When I can drive my car off a cliff?
Quite a scream. And like the “Anthem,” it could also be construed as a declaration of independence.
Jack Garvey
Plum Island resident