From Anne Baker's Personal Narrative on the Waite-Potter-Kirby House. Silent No Longer: A Personal Narrative

I can’t remember how I heard about a Rhode Island Stone-end House located in Westport with a legendary building date of 1677 although some historians argued that it was more likely built ten years earlier and others claimed later.

The house was in the woods, a half mile or so north of Central Village, Westport, Massachusetts (originally part of Dartmouth). Its rutted and narrow lane was shrouded by trees, their leaves just beginning to show a tinge of orange. Thick underbrush obscured my view on either side and I felt I was everywhere and nowhere all at once and I wondered if years ago Isham had traveled this same lane, but when I came to a clearing I saw a mid 18th century farm house, a Cape in design— old, but not a stone-ender. I shrugged my shoulders, straightened up and erased Isham from my mind.

As I turned to leave, a man with a neighborly smile and a black labrador dog by his side, approached my car. Dressed in a canvas jacket, blue overalls tucked into leather boots and a black baseball hat on his head, he looked to be the type of man one might find bird- watching. He told me his name was Edmie Bibeau and that he lived in the Cape with his wife Muriel. I apologized for trespassing and explained that I was looking for the remains of the oldest house in Westport. “You’ve got the right place.” he said, than pointed to a growth of ivy as huge as a elephant and explained that the house’s stone-end chimney and cellar hole were buried inside. Mr Bibeau went on to say that in the 1940s there had been an effort by local volunteers to save the house frame from collapsing. Due to lack of funds the idea never panned out and the house frame was blown down by hurricane Carol in 1954. Giving me permission to take a look, I first walked to the west side of the ivy, but all I could see was the crumbling ruins of a brick fireplace that appeared to be built hard up against a wall of stones. The shape of the firebox and size of the bricks suggested it was built in the late 1700s—perhaps an addition. The north view was hopelessly disguised by a dark impenetrable forest of tangled ivy, but the ivy on the east side was less invasive. As if my pupils were adjusting from dark to light I could see the outlines of the massive chimney of a Rhode Island Stone-ender. Despite a pile of fallen stones, poison ivy, and thorny thick bushes growing out of what might be a bottomless cellar 3hole, I was close enough to see that the chimney was hurting in spite of the cedar poles and bricks propping up its front in an heroic effort to prevent further collapse. Opened to the elements since the ‘54 hurricane, the original oak lintel (the beam that supports the chimney stones above the firebox opening) had rotted and was no longer able to hold the stones from falling out.

I began to worry how long the chimney could survive in this condition. Should I offer my help, except what could that be— or was it better to simply let the chimney surrender to time. I thought about restoration— paving over natural occurrences, but I also felt some things have to follow their natural course of deterioration and whatever I might do could misrepresent the original structure. On the other hand, I struggled with the knowledge of how rare this chimney was—an ancient expression of its own construction. Certainly in all of Bristol County, Massachusetts, there were no others. Was it an artifact, a memorial, or a great opportunity for learning about early New England architecture? I had to laugh at my self. What was I thinking? Of course I couldn’t do one or the other. I didn’t even own the place. I took some photos, and asked if I could return. I was assured “anytime.”

Read all of Baker's Personal Narrative on Waite Kirby Potter House including an excerpt from a report written by Norman Isham in 1903 about the Wait House