The Perfect Village?

Mr. Webster defines the word “perfect” as “having all the properties naturally belonging to it.” How very descriptive of Sag Harbor.

In a recent interview on the new Terrence Malick film “The Tree of Life,” Brad Pitt noted that “the film finds perfection in imperfection”. Such is also the case of the Sag Harbor we all know today.

Settled in 1730, the historical provenance of the village is well known and without peer. While not the subject of this article, it should be noted, lest we forget the events which lead us to our conclusion.

As an international whaling port, the Harbor exceeded even New York City in vessels engaged in commerce in 1789. In notable events fought on its very soil, its citizenry were integral participants in both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812; explorations originating from Sag Harbor in the mid 1800s took excursions to Japan and Antarctica; and it has long been a refuge for writers, poets and artists of international acclaim.

The “Historic Street Map of 1854” is quite revealing as the primary reason Sag Harbor Village is known to us in its present form, and gratefully little changed. The Bridgehampton-Sag Harbor Turnpike (yes they once charged a dime to traverse it) becomes Main Street, and Sagg Road becomes Madison Street. These byways connect the village to the Atlantic Ocean.

Imagine the confluence of two rivers flowing together at the head of the village becoming one, and gently arcing into Shelter Island Sound, as it was referred to in 1854. This is Sag Harbor’s “great secret.”

From the south end of Main Street, one’s eye cannot see the termination at the wharf. And from the wharf, one does not see beyond the arc of shops and buildings to the south end.

The village continuously reveals itself, particularly to the pedestrian. It’s a device which would almost never occur to a planner or urbanist today. Nor would they ever think of putting a fire station directly in the center of town between two historical structures: the legendary American Hotel and Town Hall.

And where are the churches? Not on Main Street, but tucked into residential neighborhoods throughout the village.

With the exception of the singular tragedy, which is the island of Water Street shops at the termination of the bridge to North Haven, the buildings along Main Street all coexist in an eclectic mix of colonial, Victorian, federal, beaux arts, 50s modern, and deco styles, with differing storefront materials and shapes. And the Sag Harbor Cinema is an unexpected and welcome relief at the epicenter of the streetscape.

The residential fabric of the village also begins to reveal itself slowly, as both the turnpike and Sagg Road literally cascade into the village. First, the trees lining and reaching over the street, then the sidewalks, then the glorious Sag Harbor fences—behind which hedges, or roses, hydrangeas, or lawns lead to open porches.

The houses, in their mostly gabled forms, large and small, begin a progression toward the village proper. These homes, regardless of size or period, relate to each other in countless ways even with the diversity of exterior materials, building details and colors. They anchor one another in splendid succession.

The side streets are equally engaging, with each individual parcel contributing symbiotically to the whole. Little traversed streets such as John Street, High Street and Jefferson Street offer glimpses of Sag Harbor past and present as the homes almost snuggle together yet maintain their noble individuality.

Perfection is often in the eye of the beholder, but with few exceptions (and of course the ever present effrontery of the overhead wires and telephone poles), Sag Harbor does have all the properties naturally belonging to it. Hopefully with a watchful eye and ever vigilant populace, it will remain so for generations to follow.

Next time, “Here Today, Gone Tomorrow.”