• Voice of The Storm

    By Nina Channing
    Photography by East Hampton Star Archive

    Survivors of the Hurricane of 1938 recall the wind's haunting harmonic scream, the houses destroyed, the lives lost. 

    Read More
  • Trouble on the Half Shell

    By Biddle Duke
    Photography by Various Sources

    Oyster farming is a wonderful thing—for the environment, for foodies, for small-scale entrepreneurs.

    Read More
  • Fantasy Island

    By Zinnia Smith
    Photography by East Hampton Star

    NAZI SCIENTISTS? WEAPONIZED LYME DISEASE? CREEPY EXPERIMENTS IN GENETIC MUTATION? NO.

    Read More
  • Let's Rock

    By editor
    Photography by Nina Channing

    SUSAN NIELAND SELLS FLOTSAM-AND-JETSAM JEWELRY BY THE SEASHORE

    Read More
  • The Beatnik Drug Bust of '65

    By Christopher Walsh
    Photography by East Hampton Star Archive

    “It was the social event of the 1965 season, no doubt about it,” was the rather sarcastic opening line in The East Hampton Star’s Aug. 26 issue.

    Read More
  • by Paton Miller · Aug. 8, 2016
    Photography by Paton Miller

    When Paton Miller stumbled into Fairfield Porter’s studio in the 1980s, he found not just a workplace, but a surrogate family — and, hidden and forgotten in a corner of the old barn, a trove of irreplaceable paintings that would change forever his understanding of art, creation, and fame.

  • by EAST Staff · Aug. 8, 2016
    Photography by chelsea audibert

    Technically, they were told to walk, but Sag Harbor’s Legs ain’t walking anywhere. And why should they?

  • by Michael Shnayerson · Aug. 8, 2016
    Photography by

    It was 1973, the year Michael Shnayerson lived at the windmill at Quail Hill. He pretended successfully to be a tennis pro and unsuccessfully to be Kurt Vonnegut, and surprised even himself by defeating Geraldo Rivera on the court. Those long-ago memories of teenaged freedom were rekindledrecently, when he read a real-estate ad. . . .

  • by Christina Robert · Aug. 8, 2016
    Photography by From Recess by Sasha Frolova

    For a century, the South Fork has drawn them. Lifelong friendships have been made, beach-marshmallow traditions established, and countless love affairs begun with this preternaturally stunning stretch of sand and fertile earth. As Christina Robert — a filmmaker, novelist, and environmental activist — writes, growing up a summer kid has also sprouted something else entirely: roots and the inspiration for a big life.

  • by Amanda M. Fairbanks · Jul. 7, 2016
    Photography by Michael Halsband

    Round Swamp Farm has become a mecca, from May to December, for anyone who embraces locally sourced food and loves home cooking. And the successful business has preserved a fishing and farming way of life for a family whose roots have grown here on land and sea for three centuries.

  • by Iris Smyles · Jun. 6, 2016
    Photography by

    (An exclusive excerpt from her second novel of the same title)

    You are unemployed, at best very unsuccessful. Yet you go to parties. Parties where you meet people who ask, “So what do you do?”

    You live with your parents. You share a one-bedroom with three roommates. You consider ramen a food group. You update your Facebook profile daily.

    Your job has no title. You work within a department. You’re an unpaid intern. You’re assistant to the intern.

    You stop people on the street and ask them if they like comedy, then push ticket packages to the “best comedy club in New York!” You stop them and say, “Excuse me, may I ask you a question about your hair?” You hand out free soap samples; nobody wants your soap samples.

  • by Michael Shnayerson · Jun. 6, 2016
    Photography by Dell Cullum, Doug Kuntz

    HE HAS ONE of the last great farms in the Hamptons, 33 acres in Wainscott north of old Main Street, and he is, in fact, East Hampton's last bona fide potato farmer.

  • by Biddle Duke · Jun. 6, 2016
    Photography by

    The right whale is an apt metaphor for a good magazine in the digital era: big, slow, mesmerizingly beautiful, and . . . verging on the edge of extinction. The sense of setting off into some unknown is also appropriate.

Pages