Among the more egalitarian groups on Nantucket, the Wharf Rat Club is probably also the most unpretentious. I am not a member and may never be but I have never been a more welcome guest. It is like going to Daytona during bike week. They guy on the Harley next to you might be Malcolm Forbes or Jay Leno or some drifter who lives out of his saddlebags. The same goes for WRC, which has its own flag, roster of members, and clubhouse on a most prime piece of waterfront real estate. Members come and go and share stories. Introductions are informal such as "George, meet Phil." It is never about what you do or did in business or life, with one notable exception, there is a big enthusiasm when a member publishes a book and brings a signed copy into the clubhouse to add to the library. It seems to happen a lot among this erudite group. It is reminiscent of final clubs like Porcellian, the Owl or the Bee at a nearby Massachusetts college. The old Nantucket traditions are alive and well within these hallowed walls. I think they have figured out how to make them last forever.
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