he life of a 19th century whaler was one of patience and grit. Hunting excursions averaged four years with no promise of profit or prey. Whaleships became isolated, floating societies, forcing as many as 36 men to live in extremely close quarters. Around the clock, the crew would stand four-hour watches, scanning the ocean for the spout from a blowhole. After days, perhaps months of boredom, the long-awaited moment would arrive:
“There she blows!”
The events that followed, of a crew racing to harpoon and slaughter an enormous whale, are enough to make stomachs turn knowing what we know now about these gentle creatures—their epic migrations, haunting melodies, and intelligent behavior. Nevertheless, it was a culture in its own, making its way into the American mainstream through epic novels such as Herman Melville’s Moby Dick—inspired by the writer’s own excursion upon a whaleship. The whaling industry, and its bustling hub in New Bedford, Massa-chu-setts, paved the way for the industrial revolution, opening a tiny, New England seaport to a rich, diverse world.
Local preservation groups understood this and laid the groundwork for the creation of New Bedford Whaling National Historical Park in 1996. Owned and run in partnership among state and municipal agencies, nonprofit institutions, community organizations, and the National Park Service, it encompasses several museums and historic buildings set against a landscape of stone-paved streets and distinctive seaside architecture. Here, Americans can connect to their roots and reflect on both inspiring and controversial aspects sparked by the history of whaling.
To understand what whaling meant to New Bedford and to the nation, imagine life before petroleum was discovered, pre-1859. It was the whale oil and spermaceti (a liquid wax) from sperm whales that kept candles burning, lamps shining, and lighthouses guiding ships back to port. Whale oil produced the finest quality soaps, while a rare-occurring substance called ambergris—found in diseased whales—was a prized ingredient for medicines, aphrodisiacs, and perfumes. It’s no wonder this little town was dubbed “The City That Lit The World.”
While New Bedford was busy exporting these products all over the globe, the city stayed busy importing a mixture of cultures, thanks to the international nature of whaling. New Bed-ford fleets picked up whalers from the Atlantic islands of the Azores and Cape Verde in their pursuit of whales. Native Americans found steady work on ships, as did African Americans who fled to New Bedford’s Quaker communities via the Underground Railroad. By the mid-19th century, New Bedford was an impressive melting pot, where any hard-working, respected seaman of any race could rise up to become a captain.
In 1859, petroleum was discovered in Pennsylvania and the need for whale oil declined. Crews shifted their interests to baleen—a fingernail-like substance found in the mouths of toothless whales and used to filter krill. The baleen was man-u-factured into corset stays, buggy whips, fishing rods, and other items that plastic would be used for today. To find this resource, whalemen had to make long, treacherous journeys south around the tip of South America and far north to the icy straits of Alaska. Some men never returned to New Bedford.
“Many whalemen jumped ship in foreign ports,” says Celeste Bernardo, the park’s superintendent. “Life was hard, monotonous, and often unprofitable. Many found themselves impoverished after a four-year voyage.”
It was during this time that starkly different cultures became intermixed. In Barrow, Alaska, New Bedford crews whaling for profit met native Inupiat whaling to survive. Yankee men settled in Alaska during this time, marrying native women and starting families. A new generation, ethnically rich and complex, was born.
“Today’s residents of Barrow are for the most part very interested in finding out about their ‘Massachusetts’ side,” says Jennifer Gonsalves, chief of visitor services at New Bedford Whaling Na-tional Historical Park. “We’re not ignoring what happens when cultures collide—like disease and loss of culture—we’re trying to move forward.”
While the whaling industry shined as a non-discriminating culture, the industry took a toll on whales all across the globe. High demands for whale products lead to overwhaling, eventually decimating sperm whale and southern right whale populations along the Atlantic coast. By the early 20th century, certain whale populations worldwide teetered on the brink of extinction, including the Arctic bowhead and gray whales. Over the course of the industry, roughly half-a-million whales were slaughtered.
But has the city learned from its past practices? Gonsalves remembers the 1980s when New Bedford’s fishing industry was riding the wave of bountiful catches and sky-high profits, until the federal government stepped in and forced the community to think about sustainability. Congress bought back fishing boats from owners and set up retraining programs to help citizens find new work. Marine scientists partnered with crewmen on expeditions to map out sustainable plans.
Society has come a long way since the whaling era. But America still faces great challenges in energy and conservation. “People [in the 19th century] were in search of a non-renewable resource: whales,” Bernardo says. “I don’t think there could be a more compelling time than now to tell New Bedford’s story and think about the consequences.”
