Nellie and Joe

As a youngster, in the summer, I would often ride my bike to the outskirts of town to Al Silva's auto shop just to watch Uncle Joe work on cars. He was a skilled mechanic and like most Cape Verdeans of the time, self-taught. Winter was a different story though, there was little need for many mechanics with the summer crowd long departed. So, like many Cape Verdeans he took to scalloping, a back breaking, spirit crushing job, requiring long hours and calloused hands. As Augie Ramos tells it, Joe Lopes had given him a scallop boat and equipment and Augie gave it a try. At the end of one season Augie returned the boat, equipment and keys to Uncle Joe with a message, "If I want scallops, I know where to find them — the fish market."

While most Cape Verdeans were struggling to eke out a living, constrained by the social norms of the times Nellie and Joe seemed to fair better than most. Some people are simply born with the wind at their back, propelling them forward against all odds. That was Nellie and Joe was along for the ride.

Coincidently, Walter Beinecke Jr. was born the same year as Joe. Born to white-privilege and heir to the S & H Green Stamp fortune, his was a vastly different life experience but over the years they would become fast friends.

Among Beinecke’s vast investments in the rejuvenation of Nantucket was his acquisition of the town waterfront and the building of the marina called the Nantucket Boat Basin. Through providence Uncle Joe became the Dockmaster, a life altering opportunity. This would become his vehicle to local fame and unimagined fortune. His relationship with Beinecke would morph from employer/employee to friendship on a social level and over the years became the closest thing to family.

When you are the dockmaster at a summer resort everyone with a boat wants to be your friend — and so it was. For me, a trip to Nantucket was not complete without stopping by to visit Aunt Nellie and Uncle Joe. As an adult I was invited to have a drink. Courvoisier was Uncle Joe’s favorite alcoholic beverage. He showed me a closet full of case after case of Courvoisier, all gifts from boat owners grateful for his service and consideration. Not withstanding, the rich and powerful who now wanted to be counted as a friend of Joe Lopes, he remained true to family and old friends, doing what he always did, caring and helping others in need.

The transformation of this hitherto obscure Cape Verdean couple is a testament to the opportunity America can provide when discrimination is set aside. Now Joe and Nellie were the people that Aunt Nellie once worked for; wealthy folks who spent summers in Nantucket, winters in Florida and vacations in St. Croix.

Their home at 17 Washington Street, was originally Aunt Nellie’s parents’ home, left to her when her mother Rose Vieira passed away. Aunt Nellie wanted to make sure it remained in the family and was passed down to her grandchildren and great grandchildren. What transpired to alter the course of history is not known to me. It had also been the home of my great grandparents, who together with my grandparents lived on Washington Street for over 90 years. But like a pebble tossed into a pond, when the ripples are gone, it leaves no evidence of the past — so were those properties lost.

With the passing of Aunt Nellie, I know that Uncle Joe moved to another home that he had purchased on Back Street, perhaps the memories of 17 Washington Street were too strong. Over the years he had built or invested in other properties that became revenue producing. I guess it all started when he built a cottage in the yard at 17 Washington Street for his mother. We called her Nha Tanxa (sp.).

As children, we often played in Aunt Nellie’s yard and we would see Nha Tanxa going about her daily activities. She would often invite us in for food or drink. There were chickens and a small garden in the yard. I can imagine now that, perhaps it resembled what home looked like for her, back in Cape Verde. There was a blood-stained chopping block that sat by the front door — the blood, chicken blood. I remember vividly the time she casually stepped out of the house, strolled over to one of the chickens in the yard, picked it up, swung it around ringing its neck, then simply walked over to the chopping block, chopped off its head then hung it up to let the blood drain. She would later return to retrieve it, take it inside, pluck its feathers and prepare dinner — life was simpler then.

When she passed the cottage became a valuable rental property. As a result, Uncle Joe built another cottage perpendicular to it further expanding his rental real estate. But that was not the extent of his entrepreneurial endeavors, somehow, he was able to corner the market for hydraulic hosing, and based upon demand he was able to make it a high margin product.

As the years passed, we lost contact; deaths, work obligations, time and life in general often interfere with old relationships. But I will always remember Aunt Nellie and Uncle Joe for their kindness and grace. And particularly Uncle Joe on June 24th, his and my father’s birthday.

I was told there was an occasion where Uncle Joe was asked, directly or indirectly, by those challenging his rise in social standing on Nantucket, "Who does he think he is?" His reply was simply, "I'm Joe Lopes!"