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The Five-Times-Moved House

Settled at 64 Union Street, the house was originally a “half house,” with two windows to the left of the front door.
Settled at 64 Union Street, the house was originally a “half house,” with two windows to the left of the front door.
Durell Godfrey
‘Cool,’ whether or not it’s the oldest
By
Mark SegalPhotos by Durell Godfrey

The diminutive white frame house on Union Street in Sag Harbor is known both as the 1693 house and the “five-times-moved house.” Judith Auchincloss, who purchased it in 2010 from the tennis pro Guillermo Vilas, described it to a recent visitor as “sort of magical.” A real estate broker in New York City who has been a longtime summer resident here, she owned a house in Bridgehampton until 2002.

“I was a houseguest instead of a homeowner for eight years,” she said. “Then I happened to be walking on Union Street when they were having an open house. It was a beautiful day, the front door was open, and you could walk all the way through the house. And I thought this is cool. I was looking for something that wouldn’t be too much to take care of.”

From material unearthed at the Sag Harbor Historical Society, a consensus emerged that the house was built in 1693 and moved five times before settling on Union Street. One description, from 1959, states the house was originally in Poxabogue, but most others say it was put on rollers and hauled by teams of oxen from Sagaponack. 

Officially, Sag Harbor turned 300 in 2007, but Stephen Longmire, who wrote “Keeping Time in Sag Harbor,” ratified the 1693 date of the house and called it the oldest in the village. He wrote that its five moves were the result of “an old Yankee habit rich with the thrift that built such proud and simple dwellings.” 

The claim that it is the oldest in the village is arguable, however. The Umbrella House, the brick-and-shingle building on Division Street where Cavaniola’s Wine Cellar is today, is more often said to be the oldest house in the village, having sheltered British soldiers during the Revolutionary War and been hit by canon fire in the War of 1812. It’s unlikely that the truth will ever be determined beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

As Barbara Schwartz of the historical society said, “Sometimes a story gets told and retold often enough that it becomes accepted as fact.” She pointed out that when the society inherited the Annie Cooper Boyd House in 1998 from Mrs. Boyd’s daughter, it was believed that David Frothingham had published the Long Island Herald, Long Island’s first newspaper, there. Further research proved that the paper had in fact been published across the street.

There is no doubt that 64 Union Street is old. The snug living and dining rooms are the core of the original structure and retain the rough ancient beams and extraordinarily wide wood planks on the ceilings, and some of the floors and walls. Some, in the dining room, run parallel to the ceiling, some perpendicular.

Next to the fireplace in the dining room is a brick “beehive” oven, where meals were cooked over firewood. If not original, the two small panes of the front door seem to be crown glass, which was common until the 19th century. The glass was blown into a hollow globe, then flattened and spun into a flat disk with a bull’s-eye at center. The front door and several others downstairs have old latchkey handles.

Ms. Auchincloss said that her friend and neighbor, the artist Donald Sultan, suspected the roof had been raised at some point because there is space between the top of the pilasters on the façade and the roofline. Indeed, a 1973 photograph at the historical society confirmed Mr. Sultan’s observation and the fact that it had been done sometime within the last 40 years.

Like the other changes, the adjustment of the roof height s subtle. Respect has been paid to the historical character of the structure. The original roofline of the second story, reached by a narrow and steep staircase typical at the time, can still be seen in the upstairs bedroom, but a wide dormer facing the backyard is a more recent addition.

There is a partial basement, now reached by Bilco-type doors, whose stonewalls and old wooden beams suggest it dates from when the house first arrived at its final destination, presumably during the 18th century.

Much of the furniture in the house came from antique fairs (in Brimfield Mass., or the Mulford Farm in East Hampton) and from a great-aunt’s barn in Milton, Mass. It had been stored after the Bridgehampton house was sold. 

Ms. Auchincloss also found furnishings locally: the French farm table in the dining room at English Country Antiques, the small desk in the downstairs bedroom at Marika’s on Shelter Island, and a pair of armchairs at a tag sale in Southampton. The Ushak living room rug was acquired at a Sotheby’s auction.

One of the previous owners, Susan Mead, had modified the kitchen, adding cabinets, countertops, and new appliances. “The primary work I did was create a studio/garage,” Ms. Mead said. “In the winter I parked my car there, and in the summer it was open and I used it for entertaining when it was raining outside.”

Ms. Auchincloss, who said the dining room was “a bit limiting” — it can accommodate only eight people, at most — also finds that “dining outside in the summer, with candles and a full moon, is just wonderful.”

 It is unlikely that those who lived in the house in the 17th century took advantage of outdoor dining, but there is no question that the 21st century has found the house settled at last. 

 

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