Radio Script #310
Little Talks On Common Things
September 16, 1956
It is easy to speed right through the town of Hantsport on Nova Scotia!s Route One without seeing its outstanding association with Watervi lIe, Maine.
So, when I reached Hantsport this summer, on my visit to Nova Scotia, I stopped at a fi I I ing station and asked for directions to Canadian Keyes Fibre. The man looked blank and at least pretended that he didn’t know what I meant. I then asked him, nyou have a pie plate factory here, haven’t yoU?1′ fiOh T!, he replied, llyou mean Kings Fibre. Drive right on, take your next left, and it wi II bring you right to the plant.tT It was not long before t saw a huge sign attached to a big factory bui Iding, and what do you suppose that sign, readable half a mi Ie away, said? You’ve guessed it. It said “Canadian Keyes Fibre!!.
Such is local pride — no more vigorous in Canada than in the United States. I suspect for many years to come, no matter what industries occupy the bui Idings at the lower end of Watervi I Ie’s business section, they wi I I sti I I be ca lied the Lockwood Mi I Is.
When cal led at Canadian Keyes Fibre, Mr. Jodrey, the manager, was out of town, but was cordially received by Mr. Mulhall and found that he was persona Ily acqua i nted wi th many of the Keyes personne lin \A/atervi lIe.
To my surprise r~r. Mulhall told me he knew I was coming to Hantsport. Since I felt sure that he had. received no such word from the Keyes offices in Watervi I Ie, I was at first puzzled. Then remembered an incident. Just a few days earlier, as I was standing in one of the long lines in the office of Canadian customs at Yarmouth, the man ahead of me held his car license slip so that I noticed the place of issue — Watervi I Ie, Maine. Naturally we made ourselves known to each other. He proved to be Edward Bernier of Gold Street, for the past 15 years an employee of Keyes Fibre. It was he, when he visited the Hantsport plant several days ahead of me, who told them I was on the way.
I have now seen four Keyes Fibre plants — Watervi I Ie, Shawmut, Hantsport and Hammond, Indiana although I have never actually visited the Hammond plant, but have seen it only from the outside. The Hantsport plant is right on the water, as indeed are so many of Nova Scotia’s industrial operations, because the province has the ocean al I around it, except for the narrow strip that joins it to New Brunswick. Canadian Keyes Fibre provides a rot of employment for a community of 1,130 people.
Did you ever hear of the Wi Id Goose Club? It was an organization of Massachusetts business and professional men, which had its location in our part of Maine and continued its exotic gatherings for 85 years. In the year 1862, when the Civil War had barely started, a group of fifteen gentlemen of Boston and vicinity organized the Madawaska Club, with its location at Pittsfield, Maine.
The object was out-of-door recreation, especially fishing, duck hunting, and the snaring of wi Id pigeons. Pittsfield was selected because it was the larg~ est town in the area of all New England that was most famous for its annual fal I flights of wi Id pigeons in the middle of the 19th century. Furthermore Pittsfield had a well known hotel, the Lancey House. The organization took over a bui Iding and converted it into a club house, with living room and kitchen on the lower floor and one big dormitory room with cots occupying all of the second story. The club house stood in an open field near the Lancey House, where the members got their meals. On the front of the club house was a large painting of an elephant, which ever after became the symbol of the club, as it has since become the symbol of a national political party.
The founder and leading spirit was Henry Hastings of Boston, who was the club’s first pres i dent or, as he was ca lied, the “commodore!!. By 1862 the railroad had reached Pittsfield. Members would charter a sleeping car and make the trip to Pittsfield in July — at least some of them did. A few, who were reti red from acti ve bus i ness, rema i ned a I I summer and we I I into the fa I I.
Others came for shorter visits. All put in a lot of time fishing, and when September came, duck hunting and pigeon snaring were the principal sports.
In 1866 on a steamer returning from England, Henry Hastings met Archibald Linn of Hartland, who was coming home from a visit to his native Scotland. Linn sang the praises of the country around Great Moose Lake or, as he probably called it, Moose Pond. As a result in September of that year nine members of the Madawaska Club left the Lancey House in a Concord coach. At Hartland, joined by Linn, they boarded a flat-bottomed, stern-wheeled steamer and proceeded up the ri ver and across the I ake to the inlet that they named the !’Port of Galashiels H , in honor of Linn’s native town in Scotland. The party landed and staked out a location for the club, having decided to move it from Pittsfield vi Ilage right out into the country, where hunting and fishing were at the very door. There in 1872 they erected a club house, to which they gave the name “Cast Ie Harrrony!t — doub Iy approp ri ate, because the I and lay in the town of Harmony, and the word applied to a group of congenial fel lows getting recreation together. There, through the years, the members developed their 900 acres, erecTed three other bui Idings, and annually brought hundreds of personal guests. The club membership, in its whole 85 years, never exceeded 35, but many members would entertain as many as 20 guests a piece during the long season from mi d-J u I Y to I ate October.
At a meeting in Young’s Hotel in Boston in December, 1873, the members dec i ded to rename the club the ‘~i I d Goose Club”. I n the ear Iy days it was a hard place to reach. A long train trip from Boston to Pittsfield was followed by a buckboard ride of nine mi les to Hartland, then six mi les by rON boat (there were no motor boats in those days) to their club site across the lake. There was no telephone, and the only way to get mai I was to go to Hartland for it.
In 1886 the Sebasticook and Moosehead Rai I road was bui It from Pittsfield to Hartland. But it was not unti I 1901, when the line was extended to Mainstream that the club had a siding put in near its camp, so that the club Pullman car from Boston could be put on that siding and stay right there unti I members wanted to use it to return to the Hub. In the last 45 years of its existence the members could go from Boston almost to the gates of their camp by ra i I.
The members of the Wi I d Goose Club, who ca I led themse I ves !!ganders”, would find quite a different population now inhabitaing their camp — a lively, jolly, but very gentlemanly group of 30 young goslings under the charge of a New York school teacher named Wi II iam Trauth. For where the old gentlemen from Boston once snared the now ext’;i nct wi I d pigeon is one of the finest and most carefully conducted boys’ camps in Maine — Mr. Trauth’s Wi Id Goose Camp for Boys. Just a little more than a month ago I had the pleasure of visiting the camp, had lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Trauth, their counselors and al I the boys except those who were away on an over-night canoe trip. I was struck by the seemingly casual and flexible, yet actually carefully planned organization of the camp. Nowhere have I ever seen such uniformly good manners, natural and not obviously artificial, in a group of youngsters aged 8 to 13 — usually the most boisterous and unmannerly of ages. I suspect Wi Id Goose Camp today is much more quiet and orderly than was its predecessor, the Wi Id Goose Club, and I am sure it serves a much better purpose.
Mr. Trauth has carefully preserved the portraits, the albums, and the records of the old club, which were carelessly left on the premises when the property was sold by the sons and grandsons of old members, for the younger generaTion of those visiting Bostonians just didn’t care what happened to the old club. But Mr. Trauth has an eye for historic lore, and thanks to him we can today get a glimpse of how those Bostonians of the 1870’s spent their time i n the Ma i ne woods.
For one thing they got thirsty. On August 20, 1865, when their club house was sti II at Pittsfie Id, the founder Henry Hastings wrote a letter to Genera I Samue I Lawrence at Medford, Mass. Hasti ngs wrote: HSeven of us are languishing for that disti lied aqua which was originally discovered by one of your ancestors, famous for its strengthen i ng and i nvi/gorati ng qua Ii ti es, ca I led Old Medford Rum. \1e wi II forgive you all your faults if you wi II ship by the Eastern Express Company one five gallon keg of the oldest vintage to the Madawaska Club, Pittsfield, Maine. n Genera I Lawrence rep lied: has met with a hearty response. “Dear Genera I Hastings. Your seri ous appea I Seven sons of fvedford desperate Iy dry. Since I cannot accept your i nvi tati on and corne persona Ily to your re lief, I wi II content myse I f by sendi ng five ga lions of proxy.”
Most of us are fami liar with the sad story of the American wi Id pigeon. When our Maine people with itching feet sought new homes in the prairie states in the 1840’s and 1850’s, they recorded the almost unbelievable size of the pigeon flights. The slaughter of the birds was wanton, heedless and often useless.
Glutted markets could not absorb the ki I led birds, and thousands were left to rot on the ground. The ruthless slaughter finally brought an end to the whole species, so that today not a single wi Id pigeon remains.
The members of the Wi Id Goose Club did not shoot the pigeons. They snared them in huge nets. And what hauls they got! In 1865 their catch was 1,920 birds; in 1866 it had risen to 3,490, which proved to be the peak; but for several years afterward the annual take exceeded 2,000.
Compare those figures with the shooting of ducks. The largest recorded kil I was in 1865, when the total reached 280. In 1866 it dropped slightly to 21~, and in 1867 sharply to 166; and in 1870, when they netted 1,864 pigeons, they shot only 42 ducks.
I n the club records we note i terns like these: f’Caught at St. Albans 51 pigeons; got at Gressy Isle 26 ducks; caught 79 pigeons at Uncle Josh’s; got at Douglas’ 42 ducks, 24 of them cockaloroms of grand style.??
The Wi Id Goose Club got more pigeons and ducks than they could use. On September 5, 1866 their journal records that they caught 105 pigeons, but were nearly devoured by mosquitoes. Then the next day they sent 15 dozen pigeons to market, noting that on the same day there was both a grand Sabbath School picnic and a circus at Hartland.
The records contain a number of humorous incidents. In September, 1867 the members had so many guests with them in Pittsfield that the Lancey House was f i I led to capaci ty, as we II as the club dormi tory. .~ group of members, returning from a late evening out, saw a buggy at the hotel door. From it stepped a gentleman, who gave his hand to a female companion, who entered the parlor with her head heavi Iy vai led. The landlord was summoned from bed. He informed the couple that he could not accomodate them because the house was full.
But the club members were too humane to turn a female out of doors at that hour of the night and into the chilly autumn air. The kind-hearted Commodore Hastings informed the pair that they could have his room, but that to reach it, they wou I d have to go through a room where two of his guests had a I ready re~· tired. Reluctantly the couple accepted and the two male guests were ordered to draw thei r heads under the bed clothes whi Ie the woman passed through. With face sti I I covered, she crossed the room and found refuge with her compani on i n the Commodo re ‘s qua rte rs •
Tte next morni ng the pai r departed with the woman sti II heavi Iy ve i led. Shortly afterward, when a deputy sheriff arrived, the gallant clubr:members learned that they had given refuge to a woman running away from her husband with another man.
Another incident concerns a local character called Uncle John Pigeon. One day the old fel low came to the club saying he was out of bait. The bait he sought proved to be a bottle of Hostetter’s Bitters, but he settled for a bottle of Wahoo Bitters, which perhaps had just as much kick as Hostetter’s.
An interesting coincidence is that this summer in \~i Id Goose Camp was a boy named Webster, who is great-grandson of one of the charter members of the famous Wi I d Goose Club, who snared pigeons and drank fI.1edford Rum on the sarra spot long, long ago.
Year: 1956