established its first police force in 1872. I mention this particularly so that I can share that the town’s second police chief was named John S. “Pigtail” Sterling. Its third: Isaac T. “Scapper” Powell. Things must have calmed down after that, because the nicknames seem to end there. (You can find the names of all the police chiefs as well as many other bits of information in Crisfield, Maryland, 1676–1976, an endlessly fascinating and thoroughly opinionated 1977 book by Woodrow T. Wilson—no relation. Wilson, a Crisfield native and retired career Army officer, wrote three books on his beloved hometown, this last to celebrate its bicentennial.)
Hal, Skippy and I retraced our steps and turned right to the city dock, still very much the center of activity for Crisfield residents and visitors alike. This is where you go to find the boats headed for Tangier and Smith islands. This is also where you go to find people waiting for boats, watching boats, catching up on news. And what was the center of attraction on this day? A cruise ship! Yes, tied up alongside of the dock was a three-deck passenger ship of about 200 feet. And it was creating a certain quiet stir among Crisfielders, who in any case keep a close eye on all things maritime. It was hard to tell which was greater—the cruise ship passengers’ curiosity for Crisfield, or Crisfield’s curiosity for them. I was pretty interested in both, myself. I stopped to chat with a woman sitting in a car parked just where the dock turns into the two-tiered city pier—or the sunset viewing stand, as Whitey Schmidt calls it. She told me she had sent her husband up the dock to find out what the ship was. In the time it took to confirm that she was a born Crisfielder and that she and her