It’s easy to disappear in the sea of humanity when a ferry docks at Nantucket wharf and another boatload of tourists disembarks.
Not if you’re Byron Lingeman ’50.
The man in khakis and a maroon sweater standing on the cobblestones among the flipped-flopped and sun-dressed throng had to be him—he carried himself with such understated dignity. So a few steps off the gangway, I extended a hand and said, “You must be Byron.”
And from that point forward he was a needed, trusted, and welcome touchstone for all things Nantucket. Someone my Wabash traveling companions and I could lean on—a phone call to say hello, checking in to see how things are going. What you’d expect from a good friend.
He plays a similar role for the island. In a place where tourists arrive hourly and celebrities dot the landscape, Byron and his wife, Sue, link the island to its history and the ideals that make it Nantucket.
Folger House, the home they purchased 52 years ago, is perched near the top of a hill on Ash Street. Called the “Mansion on the Hill” when it was built in the 1750s, it is one of the few homes on the island that remains historically accurate.
“It was built by shipbuilders,” says Byron. “The beams that are in this house, they’re huge beams typical of a ship, so it’s well built. The boards are just beautiful.”
Opening the latched front door is like stepping into a museum, while the original brick double fireplace and the narrow stairways with rope banisters make it feel well lived in.
Three generations of Lingemans have grown up here.
Byron and Sue have seen plenty of changes on the island. Between the tourists and the celebrities, something is always being gutted, renovated, or rerouted due to traffic.
“Well, it’s certainly not like the old days when we purchased the house,” Byron says. “We were looking for a quiet place, family style.
“We actually do very little eating out in the summertime because it’s just so crazy to get in line. We stick to the house, kind of hunker down—but isn’t that the point of a summer home?”
“I love the feeling that many generations of people have lived here—the funny wave of the stairs and the crookedness, the feeling that it’s alive with people,” Sue says. “Traces of generations past.”