Edwin B. Gentle Jr. died on Sept. 28 at the age of 88. A few weeks later he was resurrected, brought back to life by the stories and memories of three friends and his son, all men of Edgartown who had worked on the water with Ed.

This took place one Monday morning on Atwood Circle, in the home of his nephew, Steve Gentle, age 91. Tommy Teller, age 93, had made the trip over from Falmouth, where he now spends his winters. Steve Ewing, the baby of the old timers at age 73, had walked up from the waterfront, leaving behind for the moment any present-day issues with docks and pilings, to travel backwards in time.

Edwin Gentle 3rd, age 54, who worked with his father for over 30 years, hauling and caring for boats, and continues the business today, was there too. It would not be right to call him the next generation, though, as he grew up in much the same world as his father and the men around the table.

The group had not assembled to solely bring back their friend for a few hours. They were also testifying to a way of life in Edgartown, and on the Island, that now mostly resides only in the minds of those who were there. Thankfully, those minds are still as solid as their handshakes, their fingers thick and gnarled as driftwood and perfectly capable of squeezing a desk-jockey’s soft hands into oblivion.

Group gathered at Steve Gentle's house on Atwood Circle.

Ray Ewing

Group gathered at Steve Gentle's house on Atwood Circle.

Ray Ewing

They began by describing how big a man Ed was.

“He was an Adonis,” Steve Gentle offered. “Those big 75 horsepower motors that ordinarily took two men to carry, he could pick them up by himself.”

“In a place of big, strong men, Ed was the biggest,” Steve Ewing said.

“He had an upper torso that looked like Arnold Schwarzenegger,” Tommy Teller added. “But I always felt that Ed was probably stronger than Schwarzenegger. When he got drafted, it took two men to fill his job.”

Ed Gentle Jr. was born in 1937, in Oak Bluffs of all places, but soon his family moved to Edgartown, which he would call home for the rest of his life. His father, Edwin B. Gentle Sr. was a barber in town, which at the time was one of the best jobs to have, according to those around the table.

Tom Teller came over from Falmouth.

Ray Ewing

Tom Teller came over from Falmouth.

Ray Ewing

“Back then, a barber was one of the most successful businessmen in town,” Mr. Teller said. “In those days, no matter how poor you were, everyone got their haircut at least once a week. So the barber had cash coming in. And say someone needed 100 bucks to get by. The bank wouldn’t give it to them. So the barber could make a little extra money lending it out.”

“He was also the veterinarian,” Steve Gentle added. “And he would butcher cows, you name it, he did everything.”

Ed Jr. grew up in this environment, which turned out to be a good thing, the men said, as he was a hyperactive kid, the type who needed to keep busy. Thankfully, there was work to do and plenty of it.

This wasn’t unique to Ed’s family; everyone lived this way. Times were always tough on the Island but never so tough that everyone couldn’t get by, it just required round-the-clock effort from the whole family.

Ed worked for his father at the barber shop, he worked on the water, he delivered papers and he shucked bay scallops from the moment school let out until nightfall. It’s what everyone did in the offseason, chasing “Edgartown Gold,” as the men called it.

Ed Gentle 3rd enjoying memories of his father.

Ray Ewing

Ed Gentle 3rd enjoying memories of his father.

Ray Ewing

“At one point there must have been 100 people scalloping in Edgartown,” said Steve Gentle. “That was the industry in Edgartown before we became a summer resort.”

“You’d see everyone out there,” added Steve Ewing. “You’d see cops out there, married couples, scallop shacks lined the harbor.”

Calling it “gold” however, seems a bit of a stretch. Some years the going rate was $1 per gallon. With approximately 9 pounds in each gallon, a pound of scallops raked in about 11 cents.

And yet, to hear the men tell it, this was enough to get through the winter, with some additional odd jobs painting houses, shingling, caretaking, whatever it took to make it back to summer when the boatyard would open again.

Ed worked for Norton & Easterbrooks boatyard run by Phil Norton and Leon Easterbrooks, which the men said was the best paying outfit there was then. They got paid by the hour and earned as much as $50 a week. Mr. Teller started there too, until he made the switch to clerk magistrate.

Steve Ewing, the organizer.

Ray Ewing

Steve Ewing, the organizer.

Ray Ewing

The talk then shifted from Ed to others from the old days: people with nicknames like Bang Bang Bannister, Santa Clause, Two-Tail Rat and just plain old Rat.

Stores on Main street, even if they had official names, also had nicknames tied to who owned the business.

“Pete’s drug store was the Edgartown Drug Store, but we called it Pete’s because it was owned by Pete Vincent,” Steve Ewing recalled. “Lenny’s drug store was the Colonial Drug Store but it was called Lenny’s because Lenny Hendrickson ran it. Norton and Easterbrooks, same thing. But when they sold the business to a guy who owned an airplane company, that was the beginning of the end of the ma and pa shops in town.”

Ed went out on his own after the business was sold and he didn’t stop working until just a few months before he died. He even continued to scuba dive for work into his early 80s, diving down into the harbor to fix moorings. Not that he needed to work. That’s the thing about many old timers, if they bought land or saved the land they lived on, they grew wealthy simply by sitting still. But it didn’t change their lifestyle, not one bit.

Ed’s life was also a love story, first meeting his wife Frannie when they were in the third grade.

Ed Gentle Jr. at work.

Courtesy Ed Gentle 3d.

Ed Gentle Jr. at work.

Courtesy Ed Gentle 3d.

“Dad said he carried her books home from school, that’s how it started in elementary school, and they got married in 1956,” young Ed said. “My mom was 18 and dad was 20.”

The two were partners in the home as well as on the water, going scalloping together each winter. Frannie died in 2021 at the age of 82.

“I was really close to my mother and my father,” young Ed said. “I miss them both. I got to be with my dad almost every day. It is something that I miss.”

The talk turned to practical jokes, an essential way to pass the time before television, then the internet and finally the ubiquitous smartphone stole nearly every waking hour. A common practice at the boat yard was nailing someone’s tool box to the floor. Or if someone arrived wearing an odd looking pair of sandals (as Steve Ewing did one summer after traveling in Europe with his girlfriend) and left them lying around they were also nailed to the floor.

Car bombs were a frequent joke too.

“You’d hook a wire onto a spark plug and ground it, and when the guy started the car it would whistle and then go boom,” Steve Gentle said with a chuckle.

As the talk continued there were moments when change was lamented, and how greed has pushed aside community values. But that wasn’t the focus for these men, to shake a fist at present day. Rather, it was about remembering a gentle giant they all admired, how he was good to them and to the town. His absence, they said, reverberates on the waterfront, down Main street, in every bay scallop harvested and shucked, and in each practical joke not crafted and nickname not delivered.

And yet it was not in sadness that these sons of Edgartown looked backward. Instead, it was with pride — in their work, in their affection for each other and for their town.

It was, in every sense, a good day to be seated around a table on Atwood Circle, eating scones baked to perfection by Steve Gentle’s wife Mary, and talking about the old days.