Radio Script #218
Little Talks On Common Things
March 14, 1954
Warren Bishop, business administration professor at Colby and accounting consultant here at WTVL, has given me some amazing information, indicating how the name and fame of our state has reached foreign lands. A relative of the Bishops, who lives in Glasgow, Scotland, has sent him words and music of a song which this Scottish woman used often to sing as a school girl in her native land. She writes: “When was in school — alas, many years ago — this song was a great stand-by for last minute performances. The action was depicted during the singing, entrance into the tunnel being represented by a rug hasti Iy suspended in front of the performers. The railway carriage was just four chairs, two by two, so not much preparation was needed.”
Now ‘lhere is the amaz i ng part of the story. The ti t Ie of that song was “Riding down from Bangor”. And it di dn ‘t refer to Bangor, England. The words of the song make that perfectly plain. Would you like to hear it? If I tried to sing it, I’m sure you’d never listen to another of these broadcasts. But I can gi ve you the words. Here they are:
“Ri ding down from Bangor on an Eastern train,
After weeks of hunting in the woods of Maine,
Qui te extens i ve wh i skers, beard, mustache as we II,
Sat a student fe II ow, ta II and s lim and swe II •
Empty seat beside him, no one at his Side,
Into quiet vi Ilage Eastern train did glide.
Enter aged couple, take the hindmost seat;
Enter vi Ilage maiden, beautiful, petite.
Blushingly she faltered, “Is this seat engaged?”
Sees the aged coup Ie properly enraged.
Student, quite estatlc, sees her ticket “through”,
Thinks of the long tunne I, th I nks what he w I II do.
Pleasantly they chatted. How the cinders fly!
Til I the student fe I low gets one I n the eye.
Mai den sympatheti c turns herse I f about,
‘May I, I f you please sir, try to take it out?’
Then the student fellow feels a gentle touch,
Hears a gentle murmur,’Does It hurt you much?”
Whiz! Slap! Bang! Into tunne I quite,
Into glorious darkness, black as Egypt’s night.
Out Into the day light gl i des the Eastern tra In,
Student’s hair is ruffled just the merest grain.
Ma i den seems a I I blushes when then and the re appeared
A tiny little earring In that horrid student’s beard.”
How that song became so popular in Scotland we have no Idea. And lest someone i ncl Ined to take the joy out of life by ins Isti ng on litera I facts reminds us that there is no long railroad tunnel between Bangor and Portland, let us sl mp Iy ask, ”What di fference does that make to a good ba Ilad of early rai I road days in Maine?” It is enough for me to know that, half a century ago, school ch i Idren in Scot land were singing, “Ri ding down from Bangor on an Eastern train.”
I was Interested to see, a few weeks ago, a copy of the Lewiston Evening Journal for October 19, 1891. My interest was aroused because that was the week when I first appeared, a squawling infant, on this earthly scene. In Its column of vital statistics that week, the Journal missed me. They recorded seven births, one each at Rockland, Owls Head, South Bristol, Boothbay Harbor, BI ddeford, Sprlngva Ie and Kennebunk. But the paper di d not ice my part of the state. The next day after I was born, a big excursion went up through Bridgton Junction. The Journal said: “October 17 was counted the largest day of the season in the White Mountains. A special train of fourteen cars filled with excursionists left Portland in the morning, drawn by two locomotives, and a second sped a I from poi nts beyond Fabyans on the Concord and Mont rea I road,bound through the Notch, reported fl fteen cars crowded to the doors.”
On the next day — a Sunday — when I had been around less than 48 hours, a tragedy occurred In that town, which the Journal duly reported. The wife of a prominent citl zen and member of the Maine legis lature was so badly bUrned when her clothes caught fl re from a stove In her home that she fal led to recover. Apparently that autumn of 1891 was unusually warm. One of the Journal’s ads said: ”The season has been backward. Cold weather Is sure to come sooner or later. Don’t forget to attend our special underwear sale.”
Sixty years ago there was a lot of competl tlon between Port I and and Ha I i fax for commerce in and out of Canada. Ever since Henry Poor had succeeded In building the Grand Trunk Railroad, Portland’s usually Ice-free harbor offered much easier access to Montreal and inner Canada than did Hall fax. In summer it wasn’t so easy for Portland to get the business. So the Journal gleefully announced, in that issue in October, 1891: “The Allan Line of ocean steamers will make the port of Port land from Li verpool without the Intermedi ate stop at Ha I I fax, whl ch has been the custom In years past. Th is wi II make Port land the direct distributing point for all European passengers and freight of the line. Passengers for the provinces and points in t-Prthern Maine wi II be sent east from Portland, and passengers for the west can more certainly be secured by the Grand Trunk. The Grand Trunk nOe1 meets Its rival, the Canadian Paci flc, upon even ground at Ha II fax. ”
The newspapers always liked to pick up Items about peop Ie who I ived isolated fran ci viii zation. Th i s program has al ready mentioned severa I such Items. ThaT issue of the Journal in 1891 had another one. It reporTed thaT among recenT visitors at Indian Island, OldtOe1n, was Mrs. John Johnson of long lake, Moose Ri ver. Short Iy after her marri age at the age of 19, she and her husband had moved into the forest near the Steuben Islands in the St. John River. For eleven years she did not see another woman. Without benefit of physician or midwife, she bore five children. lkltil she was fifTy years old, she had never seen a rai I road train.
The warm autum of 1891, wh ich prompted an advertiser to remind fol ks that cold weather would surely come, leads us to inqui re about the price of that old-time winter underwear. Another clothing ad in the Journal gives us the information. “Red mixed wool underwear 45 cents; heavy blue ribbed 45 cents; heavy camel’s hair 8) cents. In these lines you cannot fall to get suited in any grade you want, from stout, rough and ready to the fine grades of Medllcott.” Probab Iy most fami I ies wore that heavy underwear wi thout protest and we have no right to give household interpretation to the last words of that clothing ad. But anyhow, here’s what they say: “A regular $1.00 horse whip wi II be given aWay with every purchase of $10 or more.”
Want ads in the 1891 Journal reveal some now forgotten occupations. Somebody wanted an experienced tinsmith, good pay to the right man. A travelling show had room for a few good amateurs, male and female, the male to double in brass. I f there was anywhere around a young man who understood the care of horses and who wanted to attend school in lewiston, there was a prospective employer looking for him •. A good cook was needed at the Lewiston poor farm.
So much for 1891. Let’s s I I P back a dozen years to 1879, the tJ me of the famous CounT-Out Election, which we talked about a few weeks ago. In that year, down in Augusta, Daniel Allen was publishing a political paper called ”Honest TrUTh”. The issue of August 19, 1879 recently came to my attentioo. That was about three weeks before the election which Governor Garcelon refused to recognl ze. ”Honest Truth” was too optimistic in predi cting a Repub llean victory. IT turned bitterly on the Greenbackers, saying in the kind of language common I n po lit I ca I pape rs of the day: “Saturday even i ng a Greenback meeting occurred, which was attended by such a riot as has not been knClfn here since 1872. Thus we see hClf the party that would repudiate the national debt and flood the country with worth less pape r notes attracts to i tse If the di ssolute and the lawless.” NON note the word used In a final sentence. Remember this was 75 years ago. That last sentence reads: “What other results could be expected of a party with such communistic principles?”
Ha I f a century ago one of Centra I Ma ine ‘s most famous hoste I rl es was the Gerald Hotel In Fairfield. Bui It by the noted electric rai Iway promoter, Amos Gerald, it was opened in 1900. An account of its thi rd anniversary dinner, given in the Fairfield Journal reveals that sumptuous dinners were not restricted to state functions fifty years ago. About 100 Fairfield residents and as many more out of Town guests partook of the hospitality of Landlord and Mrs. Bradbury and builder Gerald. Souvenir folders of light green, with dank green embossed clover leaves, and 1900-1903 in gold on the front, were distributed.
What di d they have to eat? FI rst, there was choi ce of ch I eken soup or lobster stew; cucumbers, radishes, lettuce and olives. Then earne baked fresh mackerel with Delmonico potatoes, follONed by boi led Ferris ham with currant je Ily, roast beef, roast pork, roast veal, roast leg of lamb, and roast stuffed chicken. Next was larded tenderloin of beef with mushrooms, spaghetti with cheese, lobster NewbOt”g, two kinds of sa I ad, six varlet ies of cold meats, boiled or mashed pOTatoes, corn, peas, string beans, and pickled beets. The desserts were steamed Eng II sh pudding wi th hard or brandy sauce; app Ie, strawberry, and lemon meringue pie, strawberry ice cream, English walnut cake, coffee jelly with whipped cream, assorted cookies, American or Edam cheese with crack-‘ ers, mixed nuts, layer raisins, coffee, tea and milk. They ~rtainly fed well at the Gerald In 1903.
In all our talk about rai I roads I think we have fal led to mention the first locomotive that ever operated in Maine. On August 19, 1837 Maine’s first locomotive made its trip over the Bangor, Oldtown and Mllfor-d Railroad. It was built by Robert Stephenson & Co. at Newcastle-on-Tyne, England in 1835. Weighi ng 25,000 pounds, it had on Iy four whee I s and burned wood. In 1893 the 0 I d original locomotive was pictured beside the Maine Central’s newest engine, No. 148. The new locornoti ve was then the Maine Central’s largest — ten whee Is, weight 108,000 pounds, Eames vacuum drive brakes. Running between Portland and Waterville, its engineer in 1893 was Emery Adell, its fireman Charles Creamer. We cannot recall that we have ever made appropriate mention of a Watervl lie man who became prominent In railroad activity. He was Frederic E. Boothby.
Coming to Watervl lie as a boy and graduating from Coburn, Boothby started his rail road career as mai I carrier for the Somerset and Kennebec Rat I road, carrying the mall between the station and the Waterville post office. In 1864 he became master of transportati on for the Maine (‘sntral. When that road canb I ned with the Portland and Kennebec in 1871, Boothby became Paymaster and Freight Audl tor; Then In 1874 Genera I Passenger Agent for the whole system.
From time to time we have said so much about the lumber industry of a hundred years ago, when William Connor of Fairfield used to take a hundred oxen into the big woods, we have not made it clear that lumbering was sti II big bus i~ess for Fai rfie Id and other Kennebec tams 60 years ago. So let us close tonight with this item from the Fairfield J,oumal of Aprf I 2, 1895:
“W. H. Totman has Just returned from his camp at Soldiertown, near the Brassua waters. He reports the champion haul of the season. With one pair of horses, weighing 3,000 pounds, a load scaling 4,500 feet was hauled over a wagon-sled road, three and a half mi las by Levi Foster, teamster. The Totmans w f II cut 1,200,000 feet th is winter.”
Year: 1954