Letters

A fond wave to Michael Pateman as he leaves the Southampton of his memories and the Southampton of now [“Goodbye,” Letters, August 26]. I remember a wonderful yard sale or two at his and Joanne Pateman’s house where I bought beautiful bed linens, fraying now, which I still use for special times.

He remembers Crutchley’s Crullers and their donut holes. I remember those donut holes were so favored by Gary Cooper that he autographed a picture which hung in the shop. Nearby was the wonderful bookshop of Robert Keene. And 75 Main was a dive where we sometimes headed on rainy weekends and were grudgingly made room for by locals. And there was the ritual of breakfast at the old Buttery with houseguests just picked up from the LIRR.

Mr. Pateman remembers the original Bishops family. I bought my house on Bishops Lane when it was just that: a quiet residential street with smallish houses. My house was between a dog and cat hospital to the south and a quiet business to the north — said the realtor: “they just park their trucks there.” Called Rambo, Inc., it looked like an Edward Hopper afterthought. After trying to quell the environmental monstrosity that morphed there for over 30 years — obstructed by the village, town, county and Department of Environmental Conservation — I awoke to find Bishops Lane had turned into Bishops Freeway with flying trucks, thunderous noise, gridlock and the constant whoosh of speeding cars.

Now, as every remaining small shop departs (there was a 5 and 10 cent store once upon a time on Main Street, and Herbert’s Market) we are home to Emporiums of Useless Bling. The latest goodbye is to the little vacuum cleaner service shop on Jobs Lane.

The small family houses on Bishops Lane, Corrigan Street and environs have long fallen to the Mansions of Sterility. The white and black structures that pollute the eye with a repetitious mall-aesthetic and remain empty but endlessly serviced.

The quaint classic old cars meticulously cared for mixed with renegade beach vehicles — several of us bought U.S. Mail Jeeps with the steering wheel on the right for $750 each when we first arrived and drove them for several years — that tooled around sleepily is gone. Endless trucks, SUVs, Jeeps, motorcycles and souped-up sports cars careen down all streets running parallel to dangerous County Road 39 or leading to and from it. Most blithely making the forbidden right turn west. Remember when Hill Street was a street?

So, take heart Mr. Pateman, even those who remain here miss Southampton deeply, often wondering why we stay. It is long gone. May you have a safe, speedy journey , and a renewed life with your children.

Frances Genovese

Southampton