A Way of Life Is Washing Out to Sea : Erosion Gnaws at Smith Island, Inhabited Since 1657

These are sad times for Smith Islanders. Their island is eroding away. Many young Islanders are leaving because they see no future here.

Retired crabber and oysterman Elmer L. Evans, 70, sighed and echoed the sentiments of the people of this tiny remote Chesapeake Bay island.

“It’s a shame. Smith Island has been inhabited 330 years, since 1657, mostly by the same families. Now the island is dying, coming to an end. It really is a pity.”

The end isn’t imminent. But erosion is a critical problem with land sinking and tides rising.

It is called Smith Island, but in reality it is an Archipelago of five small islands--two inhabited--12 miles offshore from the Maryland mainland, in the middle of Chesapeake Bay .

There are three “parts” as Islanders call the tiny villages of Ewell and Rhodes Point (on a 10-mile-long, five-mile-wide island) and Tylerton (on an island a half mile away and half as big). Total population is 496.

Evans traces his ancestry to the islands’ first settlers, as do nearly all who live on the two flat low islands rising but 2.5 feet above Chesapeake Bay.

Water as high as a foot deep or more often covers both islands during storms or high tide. The villages are located on the highest ground, yet they too are flooded from time to time, and 95% of the islands are marshland.

“It isn’t uncommon for the islands to be awash, making it virtually impossible to drive from one place to another,” noted the Smith Island preacher, the Rev. Kenneth R. Evans.

Smith Islanders are devout Methodists; there is no other church here. Each of the villages has its own church, cemetery, small general store and post office. Evans, the 40th Methodist preacher assigned to Smith Island since the year 1800, is pastor of all three churches.

The 33-year-old Evans said 40% of Smith Islanders are older than 65 and only five Islanders are in the 25-to-30 age bracket.

“Fishing isn’t what it used to be. Young people once out of school move away. There isn’t anything to keep them here,” the minister explained.

At the Rhodes Point post office, Milton Evans, 61, postmaster since 1949, told how a high sand dune blocked his view of Chesapeake Bay from his home and post office until a few weeks ago.

“That dune has long since gone, washed out to sea. We’re losing 6 to 12 feet of waterfront acreage every year. I think Rhodes Point will still be here in my time, but not much longer. It’s eroding away rapidly,” lamented the postmaster, who added: “Several surrounding islands had people in the past but the water took over. Holland’s Island, Sharp’s Island, James Island, Shanks Island and Poplar Island. Those islands have all but vanished. The same thing will eventually happen to Smith Island. Not much of Holland’s is left. Coffins from the island are floating out to sea.”

Many coffins in the three Smith Island Methodist Church graveyards are in cement vaults with cement lids, to make sure the remains of Smith Islanders will not have the same fate as the departed on Holland’s Island.

Graves in the cemeteries date back to the mid-1600s. Many have both head and foot stones. The epitaphs are fascinating, such as one for a woman who died in 1910: “In love she lived. In peace she died. Her life was craved, but God denied.”

For years when someone died on Smith Island, King Tut, a hearse boat owned by a mortuary in Crisfield, nearest town on the mainland, would come for the body. Now the body is transported by family boat or ferry to the mortuary where it is prepared then sent back to the island for funeral and burial.

Evans, as you may have guessed, is the most popular name on Smith Island (the fisherman, postmaster and preacher). In the tiny Smith Island telephone book, the Evans name appears 48 times, Tyler 24, Marshall 22, Bradshaw 19 and Marsh 13. Everybody is related.

The people of Smith Island (named for Capt. John Smith, founder of Jamestown, Va., who discovered the archipelago in 1607) speak an Early American or quaint throwback English, due to their centuries of isolation.

“I’m in good heart” means I am unhappy while “I’m out of heart” means I am happy. Hise is house and starn is buttocks. “Often the meaning is turned around. Something that sounds positive is negative and something that sounds negative is positive,” said the preacher.

Smith Islanders are watermen--fishermen who crab in summer and oyster in winter in Chesapeake Bay. Tylerton residents have always been nicknamed Herring Hucksters, Rhodes Pointers are called Cheese Eaters and those who live at Ewell Bean are Snuckers. Ewell, largest of the three villages, is called North End. Directions from the Ewell Methodist Church eastward are called “down the field,” westward from the church is known as “over the hill.” One high point on the island is called Solomon’s Lump, named after King Solomon Evans, an early resident.

There is no government on Smith Island. No elected officials. No police except for Isaac Dize, 47, the local constable who also runs the oil delivery service. He is supposed to calm down disturbances, if any occur. They seldom do. He has never arrested anyone. There is no jail. No doctor. No dentist.

“If you know of a semi-retired doctor who would like a small practice in a peaceful place, tell him about Smith Island. We could sure use a doctor,” Postmaster Evans said.

Roads are one lane, not paved. Smith Islanders drive old junks brought over on barges. When the cars stop running they are abandoned on the spot. Two years ago, it was decided to bury all the abandoned junks. It took three months to bury more than 600 of them.

None of the Smith Island cars have license plates. “We are supposed to be part of Maryland and supposed to have Maryland license plates on our vehicles. There is supposed to be a $200 fine if you don’t have a license plate,” Constable Dize explained.

“But nobody ever buys the plates. When state police head for the island on rare occasions, word is passed to everybody by CB radio or other ways to warn that the police are coming. Islanders take their vehicles off the road and put them in their driveways or yards. As long as the vehicles are not being driven or not on the road, the police cannot give a ticket for not having the license plates.”

‘Never Had a Murder’

Crime is virtually non-existent. “We have never had a murder. We leave our doors unlocked. The biggest crime is a kid breaking a window. Whatever problems we have we take care of ourselves,” the postmaster explained.

Property lines in many cases are not recorded but passed down by word of mouth from one member of a family to another.

There is an elementary school for the 50 children of Ewell and Rhodes Point and a one-room school for the dozen children at Tylerton. High school students are transported to and from the island daily by boat to Crisfield High School on the mainland.

Arbitration of disputes is left to the preacher, who is considered the person of authority in the three villages.

Important Person

“The preacher is the most important person on the island, always has been,” Elmer Evans said. “We look to the preacher for direction. People out here have always followed the Lord, put their trust in the Lord. If we hadn’t, the island would have been washed away long ago.”

Smith Islanders live in sturdy, frame, three-story homes built by their ancestors. They love good home-cooked seafood, good music and singing, especially hymn singing. Their favorite hymn is “Love Lifted Me.” Smith Islanders are mainly teetotalers; it is against the law to have liquor on the island.

Generations ago, Islanders were farmers as well as watermen, but because the land is often awash with saltwater, farming no longer occurs.

Old-timers would like to see life on the island go on forever. But younger Smith Islanders keep moving away.