New Heights at the Yankee Peddler Inn

Where to Stay in Newport, Rhode Island

When I was a kid spending far too much time reading about Jane Addams’s Hull House in Chicago or young Eleanor Roosevelt’s Tivoli, N.Y. or Louisa May Alcott’s territory in New England, my imagination took me all sorts of places. It still does.

When the Brawny Sherpa and I are fortunate enough to check into Newport, R.I.’s Yankee Peddler Inn for a short stay, as we ascend from the first floor up the narrow steps to the second, then up even more to the third, I can’t help but wonder about this place’s past, about the art on its walls, whether it is haunted, whether anyone has died here, whether the paintings on the walls depict the same subjects at various ages, whether the place was at one time a boarding house, and, if so, whether any single moms with daughters who read too much ever stayed here.

Imagination for me is probably half of any trip. Who lived here? What did they see? How different did the harbor look from this third-floor perch back when there were no motors or electric lights or cars or much in the way of nighttime noise? This is the sort of place my head wants to be when I’m getting away, a place where I can think, expand, imagine, dream, meditate, wander. We are not in the most luxurious room at this inn, but we might just be having the most indulgent time.

Note from the Brawny Sherpa: If you want to indulge in a sugar high while you are here, check out the chocolate chip cookies in the basement dining room. A little sweet talking earned me a few extra for the road.

—Lori Tripoli