
The Tavern & Gazebo
After 34 years under Luke Tedeschi, this summer marks the end of one of Nantucket’s defining waterfront institutions, a sprawling harbor-front restaurant and open-air bar operation woven into the rhythm of arrival, work, dining, and summer life on Straight Wharf
Don Costanzo • May 21, 2026
For many Nantucket residents and returning summer visitors, the news landed with a strange sense of disbelief. The Tavern & Gazebo has long felt less like a business and more like part of the physical choreography of the island itself. But after this season, that choreography is being broken. Following a decision by corporate landlord Nantucket Island Resorts not to renew the current lease at Harbor Square, longtime operator Luke Tedeschi is effectively being forced out of the waterfront mainstay he has built and overseen for more than three decades.
Public attention has largely focused on the Gazebo, the circular open-air harbor bar associated with Mudslides, crowds, and summer afternoons. But, the transition involves the broader Tavern & Gazebo operation together. That distinction matters because The Tavern was never simply an appendage to the Gazebo. If the Gazebo became the rowdy public face of the operation, The Tavern was the institution itself: a sprawling harbor-front restaurant and gathering place where ferry passengers, contractors, families, wedding parties, summer workers, tourists, and year-round locals move continuously through the same waterfront space from lunch through late evening.
The Gazebo became the postcard image of the operation, but The Tavern was its physical and operational center of gravity, a large, casual harbor-front restaurant whose decks, dining rooms, kitchens, and outdoor seating helped define the atmosphere of Harbor Square itself. Together, the two form one of the most recognizable and socially important hospitality operations on Nantucket.
A Waterfront Before Tourism
Straight Wharf was not built for leisure. In the nineteenth century, it functioned as industrial infrastructure supporting one of the wealthiest whaling economies in the world. Whale oil barrels rolled across the same timber planks where tourists now stop for photographs. Chandlers, sailmakers, blacksmiths, coopers, and merchants crowded the waterfront. The harbor smelled of fish, smoke, saltwater, rope, and blubber. Men disappeared for years aboard whaleships that sailed directly from the harbor now filled with launches and multimillion-dollar yachts.
When the whaling industry collapsed and Nantucket entered its long economic decline, the waterfront deteriorated alongside it. Buildings sagged toward the harbor. Old commercial structures sat weathered and neglected. Portions of the wharf district survived largely because Nantucket’s geographic isolation protected it from the redevelopment pressures reshaping much of coastal New England during the twentieth century.
By the early decades of the twentieth century, artists, writers, and seasonal visitors had begun repurposing portions of the neglected waterfront into studios and gathering places. Nantucket’s transformation into an arts colony and seasonal refuge unfolded slowly and unevenly. Fishermen still worked the harbor, but painters and photographers increasingly occupied neighboring buildings. Straight Wharf became both working landscape and aesthetic object at the same time.
The roots of The Tavern & Gazebo emerged from that transitional waterfront. Long before the Mudslide became synonymous with summer arrival rituals, the area around Harbor Square contained an open gathering structure commonly referred to by many island residents as “The Bandstand.” Historical references and local memory place a bandstand-style public structure near the foot of Straight Wharf decades before the Gazebo became a recognizable commercial brand.
That continuity matters because it reveals that the site’s social purpose predates its current incarnation. The location was functioning as a gathering place before it became a restaurant or bar. The architecture of openness was embedded in the geography of the harbor itself.


The Tavern & Gazebo
Left: The Tavern at Harbor Square on Straight Wharf, where generations of ferry passengers, locals, seasonal workers, and summer visitors begin and end their Nantucket days overlooking the harbor. Right: Inside the Gazebo, the operation’s iconic open-air bar where Mudslides, crowded summer afternoons, and shoulder-to-shoulder conversations become part of the ritual of arriving on Nantucket.
Beinecke’s Waterfront
The modern version of Straight Wharf emerged largely through the influence of Walter Beinecke Jr., the preservationist and philanthropist who acquired large portions of downtown Nantucket through Sherburne Associates beginning in the 1960s. Beinecke’s influence on Nantucket remains difficult to overstate.
At a moment when many American waterfront communities were embracing neon signage, aggressive tourism aesthetics, and large-scale commercial redevelopment, Beinecke pushed Nantucket toward controlled preservation. The Nantucket now marketed internationally — weathered shingles, restrained signage, softened facades, carefully scaled architecture, and curated historic character — owes much to that period.
But preservation on Nantucket was never simply about protecting history. It was also about economics, taste, and control. Straight Wharf evolved into a carefully managed transition space between working harbor and tourism district. Harbor Square became part public commons, part commercial zone, and part visual staging area for arrival itself. The Tavern & Gazebo fit naturally into that environment because the operation retained something that much of downtown slowly lost: informality.
The Tavern is large, casual, loud, open to the harbor, and deeply woven into the movement of everyday island life. Families arriving off the ferry could sit outside in shorts and sandals beside construction crews finishing lunch, boat captains grabbing quick meals, wedding guests in jackets, or tourists beginning their first afternoon on the island. Few waterfront restaurants in the center of downtown Nantucket still operate at that scale while maintaining that level of openness and accessibility.
The Gazebo amplifies the energy surrounding it. There are no walls separating patrons from ferry traffic, gulls, rain, wind, or noise. You could hear ferry horns while standing at the bar. You could watch dockhands unload luggage while drinking cocktails. During sudden summer rainstorms, strangers packed shoulder-to-shoulder beneath the circular roof waiting for the weather to pass, but The Tavern remains the center of gravity.
The kitchens, harbor deck, dining rooms, bars, staff areas, and interconnected operation behind the Gazebo formed one of the largest and most recognizable casual waterfront dining institutions on Nantucket. For many year-round residents, The Tavern carries its own separate archive of island memory: rainy harbor lunches, late-season dinners, first summer jobs, wedding weekends, late-night closings, staff meals, and decades of familiar faces moving through the same rooms year after year.
The Tedeschi Era
When Luke Tedeschi arrived on Nantucket in 1993 as a young manager working under then-owner Larry Whelden, Nantucket was already affluent, but it had not yet fully crossed into the era of extreme wealth concentration that now defines much of the island economy. Seasonal workers could still occasionally find apartments without corporate-level housing arrangements. Restaurant operators had more flexibility. Downtown retained more roughness around the edges, and the harbor still felt partially maritime rather than entirely luxury-oriented.
The business Tedeschi entered was still widely known by many people as The Bandstand. Over time, The Tavern & Gazebo evolved into one of the most recognizable social centers on Nantucket. Tedeschi eventually became part-owner and later sole owner of the operation, overseeing it during a period when Nantucket transformed from wealthy summer colony into ultra-premium global real estate market. At its height, the operation employed roughly sixty-five workers, making it not simply a cultural institution but a major seasonal economic engine at the center of the harbor district.


Left: A sidewalk art show in front of The Tavern in 1968, reflecting the waterfront’s transition from working harbor to cultural and commercial gathering place. Right: Inside the Gazebo at Harbor Square, one of the island’s most recognizable open-air social spaces and the public face of the broader Tavern & Gazebo operation.
The Human Comedy of Nantucket
Yet, for one last season, The Tavern & Gazebo will continue to operate according to a much older social logic. On crowded summer afternoons, the Gazebo functions less like a bar than a temporary democratic compression chamber. Landscapers and hedge fund managers stand shoulder-to-shoulder waiting for drinks. Wedding guests mix with ferry passengers, charter crews, summer workers, contractors, college students, and old island families. J-1 visa workers from Ireland, Jamaica, and Eastern Europe occupy the same small circle of harbor light and salt air as people arriving from private jets and waterfront compounds.
Few places on modern Nantucket still force that kind of proximity. In recent years, many of the island’s informal public gathering spaces have gradually given way to more enclosed, reservation-oriented environments shaped by privacy, exclusivity, and higher spending expectations. The Tavern & Gazebo have resisted that transformation longer than most. Because the operation remains physically connected to the harbor, it also remains unusually open to the broader community surrounding it.
When the upcoming season concludes and the final shift ends, the physical structures at Harbor Square may remain, but the social ecosystem formed around Luke Tedeschi’s 34 years there will inevitably change.
What makes The Tavern & Gazebo special is that they function as an open-air stage for the human comedy of Nantucket, with the restaurant, bar, staff, ferry traffic, harbor light, and summer crowds all feeding one another. Nantucket has always reinvented its waterfront according to the priorities of each era: first industry, then preservation, then tourism, then luxury. The question now is not whether the buildings survive physically, but whether the island still has room for the kind of open, uncurated public space they represent.


