The Beach Bums—a painting by Ellie Buford from the 1970s shows Nancy Brown (center) teaching swimming lessons at Bare Hill Pond.

Call it Kismet. I was in the archive room at the Historical Society one day last summer, looking at some things brought to the Society from storage upstairs in the old library. Among them was a watercolor of a summer day at Bare Hill Pond, boats bobbing on the water, figures in bright bathing suits standing at the water’s edge. A line of colorful beach chairs faced out to the water, each occupied by a female (mostly) caricature, some looking ahead, others in profile. Some were smoking cigarettes, others chatting, and at their feet was a fashion parade of beach bags. Intrigued by the whimsy of the painting, I was still thinking about it when I emerged from the back room. The outside door opened and in swooped Ellie Buford. I was surprised, as I knew she had moved to Italy. I don’t really know Ellie, but I know her as many people do—as a funny, irrepressible, lovable person—a town “character” in the very best sense of the word. (And as the author of a weekly recipe in the Harvard Press.) She announced that she was in town for one of her “regular” visits and before she could tell me why she was at the Society, I went to get the painting, as I knew Ellie was most certainly one of the women depicted. The minute she saw it, she bounded forward.

“That’s my painting. I painted that,” she said. “Those are the Beach Bums.”

I was surprised and delighted, since one of the things I wanted to track down was the name of the artist.

“And can you identify everyone?” I asked.

Herding me and the painting out the door, she said, “We will, we will.”

Ellie whisked me off to Nancy Gasser’s house on Prospect Hill and the two of them spent some time poking at backs and naming names. Most of the people I didn’t know, but I could immediately appreciate the spoof on those I did—Sarah Hamill, sitting up primly, a red bow atop her head; Kate Post, hair wild, cigarette in hand; Toni Purdy, with a pert and perfect bob; Ellie herself with the distinctive head-hugging swirl of dark hair and dangle earrings. Ellie said that after she had finished the painting, it didn’t seem right to give it to any one person, so the ladies had taken turns with it. Eventually, it had landed at the library. On this trip Ellie was visiting several people in town and then journeying to New Hampshire to visit the Hamills. She wanted to take her painting with her to further verify names and recall the stories. When she was done, the watercolor would return to Harvard, she said.

Ellie was as good as her word and the watercolor is now back at the Historical Society. It has been very nicely re-framed by Betty Roy. Along with the painting came “The Beach Bum Chronicles,” as told by Ellie and recorded by Jack and Toni Purdy. The authors lament the fact that the “Chronicles” doesn’t come close to recounting all the stories and good times of this group, going back some 35 years, as of summer 2008. But to my mind the “Chronicles” gives context to the painting and captures the essence of those times.

According to the “Chronicles,”

It all began in 1972, with Ellie often taking her beach chair and cooler to the town beach during the afternoons to enjoy the sun and peaceful views across Bare Hill Pond while (not too) surreptitiously consuming a bit of wine and cheese. Others soon saw the therapeutic benefits of this peaceful pre-dinner interlude and the clandestine defiance of Beach Director Nancy Brown’s no-alcohol-on-the-beach rule. As the group grew in size, others would also bring their beach chairs, towels (for camouflage), kids (sometimes), husbands (occasionally), and, of course, their small coolers, and a “line in the sand” began to form for gossip and laughs.

Ellie admits, “I was indeed the first ‘bum’—sitting over along that ratty fence that eventually Nancy Brown took down. Some others of that early group were Laura Grace, who always wore a red bathing suit. Mrs. Darby—Steve’s mother. Beeps Clark was one of the early bums, too, and Toni Purdy. Ann Mallinson, who used to live on Willow Road, was another. Kate Post, with her son Will in the beginning, used to sit across the beach on the other side with Helen Ann McElhaney. Margie Bliss was there, too, and always smoking along with Kate. At some point Margie and Helen Ann started to join us and then Kate with Will. Sarah Hamill came along because of Margie. They were all League of Women Voters ladies. I remember Chris Ready sitting with us polishing her sterling silver settings for her next party.

We became this long line of ladies sitting in the sand and kept adding on more and more of us. We had wonderful but subdued cocktail hours on the beach, watching the sunsets with our assorted ‘jars’ we drank from so Nancy Brown wouldn’t know we were drinking—looked like iced tea. Years later—I shall never forget it, when Nancy Brown told me she knew exactly what we were up to and how she would laugh about it—thinking we were fooling her. Ha—she was a very foxy lady, bless her!”

After awhile this gathering became such a regular and visible occasion that the irrepressible Ellie assigned it the name the Beach Bums. It wasn’t long before the group embarked upon more visible town social activities, such as Fourth of July parade participation, that introduced and endeared the Beach Bums to the whole town.

Eventually the group disbanded, but Ellie realized that the Beach Bums had become a unique Harvard institution deserving of some permanent recognition in the annals of the town. So she set about capturing the “bums” in their usual lineup at the pond in this watercolor.

I am happy to know the story. The painting and the “Chronicles” are truly a piece of Harvard history, capturing not only Ellie’s irrepressible high spirits and considerable artistic talent and the ladies who are the painting’s subjects, but also the era of the 1970s, when most Harvard women worked only at home, children were free and safe, cigarettes were still sophisticated, and the late afternoon belonged to social gatherings and cocktails.