Despite its tiny size, Martha's Vineyard is a microcosm of the race problem that burdens America.
It ends at a large boulder – Waskosim's Rock – perched atop a hill. The wall, known locally as "the Middle Line," is a kind of New World version of the Great Wall of China. Laid out in the 17th century, it separated lands claimed by the English from those of the indigenous Wampanoag people.
The Middle Line was a Puritan era plea for racial peace: Can't we all just get along?
Unfortunately, the answer was "No." Not long after the boundary was laid down, transgressions recommenced. The Wampanoags retreated even farther west, winding up near the Gay Head cliffs, where they remain to this day.
"You're seeing an example of colonists and Indians trying to find a way to deal with their problems without shedding each other's blood," says historian David J. Silverman, who wrote an excellent account of this subject, "Faith and Boundaries."
Although a colonial-period Indian war never broke out on Martha's Vineyard, bitterness has persisted through the four centuries, symbolized by the wall itself. Indians often talk about "the white man" in angry tones; whites frequently use the words "we" and "they" when talking about the history of the conflict, even if their own ancestors arrived long after the wall's construction.
When President Obama chose Martha's Vineyard as his summer destination, he chose an 87-square-mile island that, despite its size, is a microcosm of the race problem that burdens America.