Radio Script #441

Little Talks on Common Things

January 3, 1960

A few weeks ago I chanced upon a copy of the Directory of the City of Portland for the year 1834. Like most books of that time, it carries a very long title. The words on the title page read as follows: “The Portland Directory, containing the names of the inhabitants, their occupations, places of business and dwelling houses, and the city register, with lists of the streets, courts and wharves, the city officers, public officers, banks and societies, together with other useful information. Arthur Shirley, Printer, Corner Exchange and Milk Streets.”

When this old directory was printed, Andrew Jackson was President of the United States and Robert Dunlap was Governor of Maine. The State was represented in the U. S. Senate by Pely Sprague of Hallowell and Ethan Shepley of Saco. Instead of only three members in the House of Representatives, Maine then had seven, who came respectively from Ellsworth, Gardiner, Newcastle, Camden, Portland, Bangor and Parsonfield.

In 1834 Portland was already a city with about 13,000 people. The mayor was John Anderson, a redoubtable Scotsman, and on the school committee were both Neal Dow, father of Maine’s prohibitory law, and Stephen Longfellow, father of the poet. Among the city officers not common today was a city gauger, in addition to what is for us the more usual office of sealer of weights and measures. In addition to a superintendent of clocks, there was a ringer of bells. a couple of pound keepers, and a whole company of fire wards.

Concerning the surveyors of wood and bark the Directory adds this comment: “Purchasers of wood who have reason to think the surveyors have failed to give full measure are at liberty to have the wood corded and remeasured; and if the quantity proves to be less than is specified by the surveyor, he is bound to pay the difference together with all the expense.”

In Portland of 1834, with a population of only 13,000, the number of undertakers was nine. The mortality rate must have greatly exceeded what it is today.

Indeed we know that·it did, because life expectancy of a person twenty years old has nearly doubled since 1834, and in those days infant mortality was tremendous, sometimes as high as one out of every three births. It is interesting to note that everyone of those nine undertakers had his place of business in his own house and that each of them lived near a church or cemetery. Eli Twitchell did business opposite the Stone Chapel on Congress Street; James Burns near the Second Parish Meeting House; Isaac Davis on Chestnut Street opposite the Methodist Meeting House; and John Swain on Congress opposite the North Burial Ground.

Portland was indeed a thriving business community in 1834 despite its high death rate. The city had nine banks. headed by a branch of the Bank of the United States, against which Andrew Jackson was already making a successful attack. The Canal Bank, still doing business in 1960 after a long and honorable history, was the largest local bank, with a capital of $400,000. Second was the Casco Bank, still a thriving concern, capitalized at $200,000. With lesser capital were the Maine Bank, the Merchant’s Bank, the Bank of Portland, the Exchange Bank, and the Manufacturers and Traders Bank.

Eight of the banks were commercial; only one was a savings bank. That was called the Institution for Savings, whose announcement said: “Deposits of one dollar received, but not put upon interest until increased to five dollars. No sum above $500 will be received.” The President of that Institution for Savings was Stephen Longfellow.

Some of the societies and organizations in Portland 125 years ago appear a bit odd today. There was the Maine Charitable Mechanic Association, forerunner of the modern labor union. The Portland Word Society offered relief to poor and indigent females, especially widows. Stephen Longfellow again was chairman of the Board of Managers of the Portland Dispensary for the medical relief of the poor. The Female Orphan Asylum, for the support, instruction and employment of female children between the ages of three and ten, was in charge of a governess assisted by a first directress. In 1834 there were 28 children in the institution. The Portland Benevolent Society made annual distributions, as its announcement said, “to the meritorious poor of the town, preference being given to those who have seen better days.”

The Portland Marine Society gave aid to the widows and orphans of sailors. There was indeed, at that time in Portland, a meeting house called the Mariners’ Church, situated on Fore Street.

An interesting institution was the Portland Atheneum, which in 1834 held the city’s principal library. Founded in 1776, the Atheneum had then taken over the books of the old Portland Library, started in 1765. The Atheneum announced that it had commodious reading rooms supplied with the principal newspapers of the country and periodicals from home and abroad. It contained a collection of rare and standard works from England and France. It contained 3,500 books and was actually the property of its 111 proprietors, each of whom had taken a share of stock at $100. Reading privileges were obtained for a fee of five dollars a year.

The public school had not come into favor as early as 1834. While Portland, like all Maine communities, had its public school districts, people who pretended to any recognized social status sent their children to private schools, even when those children first attended school. So we should not be surprised when the Directory tells us that Portland then had what the volume calls ten Infant Schools. The book says: “School No. 1 is instructed by Miss Althea Chase, assisted by Miss Susan Lowell, in the schoolhouse on Congress Street adjoining the hayscales. Here 60 or 70 children between the ages of two and seven  are taught the rudiments of the English language. The institution has been supported by private munificence and is under the care of a society. “School No. 2 is instructed by Miss Mary Thompson, assisted by Miss Emma Hussey. Their schoolhouse is situated near the head of Free Street where between 40 and 50 children are taught. It is under the management of a society formed for that purpose.”

Portland then had six public schoolhouses, three of them on Congress Street. One was near the North Burial Ground, one near Preble Street, and the third between the heads of School and Lime Streets. Other schoolhouses were on Brackett Street, Spring Street and Casco Street.

As for churches, the leading society was, as it had already been for more than a century, the historic First Parish Church, of which Parson Smith, the diarist, had been pastor. Under the same orthodox Congregational control were the Second Church on Middle Street and the Third Church on Congress Street near Chapel Street. What is still known as the Chestnut Street Methodist Church was already flourishing in 1834, and there was a Second Methodist Church at the corner of Pleasant and Ann Streets. The Quakers had a meeting house on Federal Street, and on the same street was the new Baptist meeting house. The Universalists had erected a building on Congress Street at the head of Pearl, the Swedenborgians worshiped on Cumberland Street, and the Roman Catholics had just put up a church on State Street. Believe it or not, Portland had in 1834 two churches exclusively for Negroes — the Abyssinian Church on Sumner Street and the First Baptist Society for Colored People, which met in the schoolhouse near the North Burial Ground.

I was especially interested to note that street names in Portland 125 years ago were like those in London in respect to the same continuous highway having two or three different names for different parts of its extent. What is today Congress Street, extending from Stroudwater to the Eastern Promenade at the tip end of the Portland peninsula, was in 1834 three streets. From the city line at Stroudwater to the head of Preble Street, it was called Main Street; from Preble to a point about where Lincoln Park is now located, it was Congress Street; and from there to the top of the hill it was Mountjoy Street, later corrupted to Munjoy Street and Munjoy Hill. Some old street names of 1834 no longer found on a present map of Portland were Crow Alley, Fox’s Court, Hampshire Street, King Street, Lime Street, Quincy Lane, Thames Street and Tanyard Alley.

Concerning the people of color, for whom the city had two churches, the directory, which lists only householders, never wives and children, gives the names of 288 Negroes, most of whom lived in Ward 1 in the east end of the city.

As always happens when I pick up one of these old volumes, I am intrigued by the advertisements. Henry Quincy on Exchange Street sold not only clocks, watches and jewelry, but also steel-bowed spectacles, French toys, Windsor soap, and perfumery. Foster and Hannaford on Middle Street made and sold saddles, harnesses and trunks. Wilson and Putney operated the Portland Hat and Cap Factory, where they made fur hats and caps. Dow and Burbank, at the corner of Congress and Preble Streets, offered an assortment of pure wines at reduced prices.

The Portland Oil Company on Fore Street had both raw and refined whale oil for sale in hogsheads, tierces and barrels. Perhaps they got a part of their supply from the Portland Whale Fishing Company, capitalized at $150,000, of which Nathaniel Deering, for whom Deering’s Oaks were named, was a director. Fellows and Green on Exchange Street sold coarse and fine combs of hone or ivory. They also had bronze lamps, looking glasses and paper hangings.

J. S. Paine operated an umbrella factory on Middle Street. He advertised a large assortment of silk, gingham, cotton and oil-cloth umbrellas of his own manufacture which he would sell wholesale or retail. To round out his business Paine also sold musical instruments, making a specialty of bass viols. Near Central Wharf John Ham ran a cooper shop and added the comment, “Accommodations for dry fish are extensive and convenient.” Henry Jones was a ship chandler in business at the head of Long Wharf. He advertised that he had constantly for sale Russia, Ravens, German, Eidslenberg and Cotton Duck; hardware, lines, twine, hemp, bolt rope, tar, pitch, resin, turpentine and whale oil. He agreed to furnish what he called “gangs of riggin” on short notice.

On Middle Street David Griffith, the apothecary, advertised drugs, medicines, surgeon’s instruments, perfumery, soap, cologne water, all kinds of brushes, black and red ink powder, seidlitz powders, sponges, and blacking. He was ready to put up medicine chests for ships’ and families’ use. Mrs. M. Atherton made a specialty of mourning articles, ready on short notice. John Foster on Exchange Street, who dealt in watches and clocks, called himself an horographer. Out on Union Street Paine and Sparrow had an organ factory. George Ames, just above the Elm Tavern on Federal Street, made rifles and fowling pieces, while nearby David Paine informed the public that he kept a fine-toned piano and would attend any hour in the day to anyone who wanted instruction on the instrument.

There are plenty of people still living who remember Waterville’s ten cent teams of the early 1900’s. Sixty years earlier Portland too had its public conveyances. Reuban Ruby had a hack stand at the Elm Tavern, where he announced that one or the other of his two excellent coaches could usually be found. His ad said: “Every attention will be paid to accommodate those who wish to be conveyed to different parts of the city or elsewhere. His residence is the second house on the east side of Preble Street, where he may be found at any time of the night.”

Yes, Portland was an interesting place 125 years ago, when Andrew Jackson was President of our nation, and with that we must say Good Night for Old Time’s Sake.

Year: 1960