Down Hook: A Shaggy Mill Story

When Bruce Collins was in school in the 1940s, Charles (Puff) Dominy was still grinding cornmeal at the Hook Mill.

The bags of meal, which bore a picture of the mill, were sold mostly to tourists, as souvenirs. But Mr. Collins's mother sometimes sent him off with an extra 25 cents so he could pick one up for the pantry.

Around 1974, "because I had spent time there with Charlie Dominy," Mr. Collins said, "Ronnie [Rioux] wanted to know if I could make the mill go." Mr. Collins was then serving as East Hampton Village Superintendent of Public Works, a position he held for 25 years, and Mr. Rioux was Village Mayor.

"We had it going, just for the day."

They did it by turning the cap and arms away from the wind, putting a new set of canvas sails on the paddles, turning everything back into the wind, and, finally, releasing the brake.

Visitors milled around, and the day neared its end. The men were "about ready to close the mill up," Mr. Collins said, when along came "a well-dressed man . . . obviously well educated, who really wanted to see it."

They showed him the wheels and the millstones, and, against better judgment, let him go up the stairs leading to the top where the wind shaft comes through.

(Against better judgment, because Hook and its ilk are "killer mills," said Mr. Collins. "If you ever got snarled in the gears where the wind shaft is, that'd be the end of you.")

The visitor walked up the stairs, Mr. Collins said, and "looked it all over" - the top where the wind shaft goes through, the huge gear, the whole monstrous works. Then he paused.

"Tell me something," the man said.

"What?" Mr. Collins inquired.

"Where's the motor?"