WELLFLEET — Main Street teemed with jubilant oyster appreciators last weekend, there to celebrate those bivalves. Courage — liquid or otherwise — spurred some toward the Wellfleet Public Library on Saturday for the 19th annual OysterFest Spelling Bee. The meeting room was set up as usual, with a row of chairs for participants; a podium for the master of ceremonies, Ed Miller, editor of the Provincetown Independent; seating for the audience; and prizes on the back table for the participants.
But this year’s bee suffered from a lack of biodiversity. Only one Littleneck (age 12 and under) had signed up to participate: Bennett Schinfeld, a nine-year-old fourth-grader from Rye Brook, N.Y.
Bennett, whose feet didn’t touch the ground when he sat down in a speller’s chair, would have to compete against himself. Enthusiasm hardly dampened, he correctly spelled “star,” “clam,” and “moon.”
Miller, the “sole and final authority” on such matters, announced that Bennett would graduate to more difficult words.
“Don’t go crazy now!” said the fourth-grader. “I’m not the best of the best.”
He spelled “bask” correctly, noting that he’d add that one to his vocabulary, and then “dune” and “reef.” He was finally stumped by “heron” despite a heroic effort: “H-A-I-R-E-N.” He left the stage to congratulatory cheers.
The Quahogs (age 13 and up) were next. Six men, including last year’s winner, Wellfleet’s Malcolm Pollack, took the stage.
“We need a woman up there,” shouted a woman in the audience, to no avail.
Thomas Evans of Watertown spelled five words correctly, including “hypoxic” and “idyllic,” before “mycelia” gave him pause and ended his streak.
Robert Light of Wellfleet spelled seven words correctly, including “jetsam,” “keratin,” and “dulcet.” But “petrel” went over his head, and Light was out.
Matthew Lawlor of Roslindale and Martin Magida of Wellfleet tied for third, each spelling eight words correctly. Lawlor’s conquests included “diluvial” and “quinoa,” and Magida mastered “diurnal” and the deceptively obvious “wahoo.” But Lawlor missed on “guillemot” and Magida was stopped by “cilia.”
The race for first place came down to Daniel Willenson of Arlington, a veteran of the bee, and Pollack, the formidable former champ.
Willenson, with quiet precision, spelled nine words correctly, including “aquanaut,” “pinniped,” and the terrible “terroir,” which, when pronounced by Miller, caused several members of the audience to gasp and giggle in fright.
Pollack sailed through his nine words, announcing their spellings with unnerving ease: “stevedore,” “effluent,” and “sapid” gave him no trouble.
Willenson mispelled his tenth word, “asteroidea,” a mistake that would spell his doom unless Pollack mispelled his own tenth word, “bathypelagic,” an adjective used to describe fish and other organisms inhabiting the deep sea. But Pollack spelled it correctly to win the bee again.
“When I was a wee lad,” said Pollack after the ceremony, “my mother gave me a typewriter to play with.” That’s how he learned about letters, he said.
He attributed his spelling facility to a visual memory: “I see the word,” he said. “It just appears before my eyes.”
The room cleared out, and the Random House dictionary, which had been laid open on the piano behind Miller’s podium, was put away, having not been consulted to resolve any disputes.
