Kemp-Tasha Shack | Dune Shack 9 (Wolfe)
The Kemp-Tasha Shack. [2009, Dunlap]
[2009, Dunlap]
[2009, Dunlap]
[2009, Dunlap]
Harry Kemp received the ultimate civic honor: a caricature by Jake Spencer at the Mayflower Café. [2009, Dunlap]
Poet of the Dunes, 1957. [Helen and Napi Van Dereck Collection]
Text last updated in 2015 | Fittingly, the most modest of the dune shacks casts the longest shadow, for this 8-by-12-foot structure is linked to Harry Kemp (1883-1960) — the Poet of the Dunes and, as the biographer William Brevda called him, the Last Bohemian. The shack’s earliest incarnation was as the hen house at the Peaked Hill Bars station. It was rebuilt by the surfman Frank Cadose, then owned by Frank Dears Henderson of the Coast Guard, who rented it to Kemp beginning in 1927 or 1928 and eventually gave it to him rather than listen any longer to Kemp’s ceaseless complaints. By the ’40s, Kemp had largely squandered what slim reputation he’d enjoyed in serious circles. He had become a caricature: an ever eccentric, often besotted, unabashedly self-promoting poet — beloved by many, but just tolerated by others.
In 1959, when he was less able than ever to care for himself, Rose “Sunny” (Savage) Tasha built him a beautiful shack in the Tasha Hill compound on Howland Street, where he died. Kemp bequeathed the shack to Tasha. It was blown apart in a winter storm in the 1960s and rebuilt. In recent decades, it’s been used by the children of Sunny and Herman Tasha — Paul, Paula, Carl and Carla — and by their children, and by their children’s children. They have also made a point of sharing the shack with others. But they do so on a short leash: a special use permit that must be renewed annually. Kemp’s occupancy may last a bit longer:
When I’m alive no more
And my soul at last goes free,
You’ll find me walking on the Dunes
And down beside the Sea.
So if you glimpse a wavering form,
Or front a vanishing face,
You’ll know that I’ve come back once more
To my accustomed place.
David Mayo wrote on 18 June 2012: Regarding Frankie Henderson: He was a bit of a wild man, and his many antics amused/disgusted many town people. When the Mayflower II entered the harbor, he clambered on board before health officials, to everyone’s dismay.
About the shacks
Along the Back Shore, settlement meets sea, and the built environment is humbled. The Pilgrim Monument looks distant, almost inconsequential. There is no place for human-engineered grandeur against the mighty Atlantic Ocean, the treacherous Peaked Hill Bars, and the towering, ever-shifting dunes. Instead, snugness, modesty, and adaptability are rewarded. Structures perform the most elementary services of salvation and shelter.
From the Old Harbor station to the Truro line are Provincetown’s 15 renowned dune shacks. (Three more — the Wells, Jones and Armstrong shacks — are slightly east of the Truro line. They’re included in the Peaked Hill Bars Historic District, but not in Provincetown Encyclopedia.)
The very notion of these shacks is happily inimical to precision. Dates, occupants, and anecdotes will inevitably differ among sources. There isn’t even an agreed-upon naming convention. Provincetown Encyclopedia borrows the west-to-east numbering system used by Robert J. Wolfe in his seminal 2005 study for the Park Service, “Dwelling in the Dunes.”
The shacks are a source of identity to the town and a half-century of tension between residents and the National Park Service. The definition of cultural landmarks has expanded to embrace such eccentric structures, which once would have been swept away to render the seashore as pristine as possible. Indeed, some shacks were razed, leaving the dune community especially wary of the park service’s intentions. It wasn’t until 2010 that a comprehensive management plan was advanced for all 18 shacks.
In 2023, the dune shack community — whose members trace their occupancy back as far as the 1940s, long before the creation of the national seashore — was convulsed by an ominous new threat. The service announced that it would evict most current residents and re-lease the structures, apparently putting a premium on getting top dollar. When the rangers came for 94-year-old Salvatore Del Deo, as they did, the story drew the attention of the national press (including The New York Times) and of Senators Edward Markey and Elizabeth Warren. The park service was compelled by political pressure, bad press, and local outrage to relent — just a bit. As I write this summary in November 2023, however, the situation remains fluid. (This was the most recent development: “2 of 8 Leases May Go to Local Applicants; But One Previous Dune Family Gives Up, Worn Down by the Process,” by Paul Benson, The Provincetown Independent, 21 November 2023.)
If you want to see the shacks for yourself, the best way is on foot, but this can be arduous. It makes sense for a newcomer to get the lay of the land in one of the SUVs operated by Art’s Dune Tours. The business was founded in 1946 by Arthur J. Costa as Art’s Beach Taxi and is continued by his son, Robert Costa.
Important dune etiquette: If you go out to see the shacks, please maintain a respectful distance from them. Dune residents are out there for solitude, tranquillity and privacy, not to entertain strangers or answer questions.
¶ Republished on 1 December 2023.