Category Archives: history

Endangered Species

November of 1986, I covered the first introduction of red wolves to the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge. As I recall, two pair of wolves were flown in by a US Coast Guard helicopter to Dare County Airport. I was shooting as a freelancer for Newsweek while my friend and author, Jan DeBlieu was writing their story. There must have been 50 photographers and journalists present, something for which I was not accustomed. Nevertheless as Sue Behrns attached a radio-tracking collar, I made the most published photograph I have ever shot. It was reproduced in Newsweek, Weekly Reader and Newsweek Japan for millions to see. The wolves were kept in holding pens and officially released a few months later.

 

Old Darkroom

In 1977, I moved from a rented mobile home in Salvo to a house in north Rodanthe. It was spacious and located on highway 12. It marked the start of a new life for me. I installed track lights in the living room, and painted my name on a sheet of plywood to post in the front yard. The best part was having a 14×16 utility room where I built a huge darkroom. I blacked out the windows and made a long sink with epoxy. I’d print any time, day or night. Since it had a window-mounted air conditioner, I occasionally slept there on hot summer nights.

That phase brought years of enjoyment honing my craft, surfing and meeting people. Rent was $150 a month. Visitors showed up to buy photographic prints, so it became a way life.

In March of 1980 there was a blizzard backed with hurricane force winds. I kept cozy burning driftwood in a wood stove. With Hurricane Gloria approaching in 1985, I made my only evacuation from the island. Upon returning I discovered some tide had come in the house and there were dead fish in the yard. I lived there 10 years until 1987 when I built my place in Waves.

Fast-forward to 2011, Hurricane Irene devastated our town with 10 feet of storm surge from the Sound. In the aftermath, I watched an excavator demolish the building that was once a big part of my life. There must have been 4 feet of water inside. I peered into the last room about to go down, my old darkroom!

Another Casualty

Yesterday I heard about a cottage going down along the Rodanthe oceanfront. It was not totally unexpected, especially due to the adverse weather and big surf. By the time I arrived on the scene at East Point Drive, the house had already collapsed with debris strewn along the beach.

When it was built over 45 years ago, the house was 3 lots back from the ocean, behind a vegetated dune. It was a typical modest beach box. For decades it was owned by the same family and passed down a few generations. I don’t know if the same family still owned it, but doubtless there were many great times and memories there.

Along the Rodanthe oceanfront, more than a dozen other cottages are at risk.

It’s hard to evaluate which ones will be next. They’re pins waiting to be knocked down at a bowling alley, or sitting ducks if you will. Nothing will protect them, other than relocation.

The debate dealing with this goes on, but there are clearly problems with the permitting and insurance processes. Then there’s always the caveat, buyer beware!

 

 

Soundside

My house sits on acreage bordering the Pamlico Sound. Much of it is salt marsh that blends into slightly elevated land with natural vegetation, including live oak, red cedar and yaupon holly. I built a home here and have lived on the property for 37 years.

The land was part of the Clarence E. Midgett estate and I have Midgett family members living all around me.

I’ve enjoyed this natural setting and history. Early on I admired a nearby grave. Banister Midyett’s headstone stands just a few feet over my north property line. He was born February 26, 1786 and died May 31, 1841 at the of age 55. He reportedly fathered 18 children. The name of Midgett has morphed into different spellings throughout history, but they all seem to be related. They must have been among the first Europeans to settle Hatteras Island as shipwreck survivors.

Another artifact close to my home is a disintegrating wooden skiff, tangled in overgrowth. There would be some captivating stories if it could talk. It likely belonged to I D Midgett, who passed recently at 92 years. He was a quintessential Hatterasman, making a living on the water as a ferry boat captain and commercial fisherman.

I D’s family built this structure to store fishing gear and as a place to bring in the daily catch. The past few years however, it’s seen very little use. As a local livelihood, commercial fishing has become an anachronism.

 

 

 

Ray Matthews 1950-2022

I hadn’t lived on the Outer Banks but a few weeks when I met Ray. He was a waiter at Seafare Restaurant when I was in the kitchen putting dirty dishes through a Hobart machine. We became good friends. He was getting his feet wet with photography, and I was also becoming immersed. That commonality solidified our relationship. 

Months later we discovered our birthdays were the same day. Surely we were kindred spirits. Times were spent with photography. I delved into his collection of books, learning more about master photographers, composition and technique.

He had just built a small darkroom where with his help, I made my first color print. It didn’t turn out well, yet inspired me to set up my Beseler enlarger at home. From then on I was off and printing. His statement “I want to make photography my life’s work” is etched in my mind. At that time he was determined and couldn’t have been more than 24 years old.

Over the years, we collaborated, commiserated and at times competed for art shows and publications. Always friends, we both explored and consumed the nature around us. His work ethic was energizing for me to continue photography even though at times, things seemed tough.

Over decades, Ray produced an extraordinary body of work, and he loved it. I will truly miss him and his influence on what I do. Mostly though I’ll miss the little things, like his occasionally dropping by my studio announcing, “Mike, let me take you to lunch, my treat.” That would mean a ride to Lisa’s Pizza and Ray ordering Chicken Parmesan.

I’ll miss meeting with him at another favorite place, Cape Point, where on more than one occasion we toasted each other with a rum and coke, waiting for the magical light of a setting sun. 

Our friendship was perhaps the longest, most endearing of my life. If it hadn’t been for Ray, there’s no telling where I’d be, just not shoving dishes through a Hobart.