Radio Script #559

Little Talks on Common Things

January 6, 1963

At one time in the 1880’s Waterville had three weekly newspapers, the Waterville Mail, the Kennebec Democrat, and the Waterville Sentinel. We have, on this program, often mentioned the old Waterville Mail and Ben Bunker’s explosive Kennebec Democrat, but we have said very little about the weekly Sentinel that preceded the daily Sentinel by nearly a quarter of a century.

In 1884 the Sentinel was printed every Saturday in the Dunn Block (now the Crescent Hotel) by C. M. and L. A. Moore, and cost its subscribers $1.50 a year. Like the Waterville Mail, it was a big folio sheet of four pages. It was just as red-hot Republican as Ben Bunker’s paper was violently Democratic, but its language was more restrained.

The year 1884 was a rousing time for Maine Republicans, for the party’s national candidate for President was Maine’s plumed knight, James G. Blaine. Under its mast-head on the editorial page, the Sentinel carried in big type: For President, James G. Blaine; for Vice-President, General John ~. Logan; for Governor, Frederick Robie; for Congress, Thomas B. Reed, Nelson Dingley, Seth Milliken, Charles Boutelle.

The Sentinel of August 23, 1884 carried the story of a rousing Republican rally in the Waterville town hall. The principal speaker was Senator Eugene Hale. The Sentinel said: “Senator Hale spoke of the hungry Democratic office seekers who filled Washington when the Democrats gained control of the House of Representatives two years ago. There appeared an average of 25 Democrats applying for every office within the gift of the House. Good and tried men, many of them war veterans, were ousted to make room for the greedy horde. The Democrats in Congress sought to pension survivors of the Mexican War, ninetenths of whom reside in the South, and they wouldn’t allow an amendment in favor of Union veterans. They fought for free ships into American ports, a measure that would have closed Maine shipyards. Then they pushed for a free trade bill that would have spelled ruin to New England industries.”

Eighty years ago the newspapers revelled in juicy political items just as much as they do today, and in even more caustic language. Listen to this item about Hannibal Hamlin: “It is said that Hannibal Hamlin kissed Col. Eastman at the celebration in Strong last Thursday. Perhaps he did, but this writer stood close behind them and neither saw nor heard the smack. There was such a jam that perhaps Hamlin intended the buss for one of the pretty ladies in attendance, but missed his target. But surely Grandfather Hannibal couldn’t have kissed a more worthy old gentleman than Col. Eastman. Had some of those enthusiastic ladies kissed us reporters, that would indeed have been news.”

The Sentinel duly recorded incidents at Republican rallies allover Central Maine. A t Strong an old CiviI War cannon had been secured. The gunner thought he had better make a test shot to be sure it would go off with a loud bang on the big occasion. So he tried it out the day before. As a result the gun blew up into hundreds of tiny pieces, but fortunately no one was hurt.

At a Skowhegan celebration a small boy, seeing all the houses brilliantly lighted with candles in the windows and torches before the front doors, asked a man, “Say, mister, where do the Democrats live?”

In 1884 roller skating was in fashion with two competing rinks dOing good business in Waterville. One was called the Elite Roller Skating Rink; the other was the Roll Around.

The political partisanship of the Sentinel was shown by the following announcement: “There will be a big time on the Plains tonight — a torchlight procession and flag raising by the intelligent Republican French people.”

Another announcement said: “The handsomest banner in town will be flung to the breeze from Dunn Block and the Continental House, bearing the names of Blaine and Logan and Gov. Robie. The Lockwood Band will play, and the Blaine and Logan Battalion in uniform and bearing torches will be present.”

Eighty years ago Sunday amusements were taboo, and no such thing as a Sunday program of any traveling show was permitted, though on week days such spectacles were common in the Waterville old town hall and in other gathering places. Unscrupulous showmen sometimes got around the Sunday restriction by announcing a religious gathering. In 1884 spiritualism was winning a big following and was regarded as a religion. So, when a wonderful exhibition of spiritualist mediums was announced for a Sunday afternoon in Waterville, the response was generous. After it was allover, the Sentinel sadly remarked: “Our people were terribly gulled last Sunday evening by a fellow who advertised a spiritualist exhibition. The admission charge was 25 cents, and more than 400 people responded. Nothing was done as advertised. It was just a humbug show, not suitable on a weekday, and a disgrace on Sunday. Waterville people have been taken in several times by these Sunday shows, but they still walk right up and swallow the bait whenever it is thrown out.”

A moment ago I referred to the 1884 political organization known as the Blaine and Logan Battalion. Who were its officers?

The commanding major was Dr. Frederick C. Thayer; the marshall was the Civil War colonel, Francis Heath; and the captain of one company was Appleton Plaisted. Really prominent Waterville men were interested in politics in those days.

Waterville was not the only Maine community excited about roller skating in 1884. A big event Was advertised for the Skowhegan Skating Pavilion for August 25. The ad for the show reads like the flamboyant circus posters of long ago. It heralded Girard and Vokes, bicycle and roller skating celebrities from London; Prof. D. J. Canery, champion fancy bicycle rider of the world; Power Brothers, champion double pedestal skaters and Kittie Williams, champion lady skater of the United States. Admission was 35 cents, and the railroad would run an excursion train from Oakland and Waterville to Skowhegan.

Another ad in the 1884 Sentinel which strikes a strange note today was this one: “Nelson’s patent, crated kerosene cans, made of the best quality tin with nickel-plated faucet. The can is gold color; the crate is stained black walnut and has iron hoops painted black. This can, the best and neatest made, i.s warranted to hold oil without leaking.”

The telephone had not been long in Waterville in 1884; so we should not be surprised by the following ad: “Order by telephone! Tell G. A. Osborn What you want in fancy groceries and choice provisions and they will be delivered to your home. Have you tried our new Aroostook buckwheat? We have fresh oysters and the best oyster crackers in the market.”

Another ad told about change of site for a laundry: “Waterville Laundry removed! We have moved from the Duren Block to Mill Street near the Bridge, where we have increased facilities for doing first class work. We will collect at your home, or you may leave work for us at Clark’s Drug Store or Williams Grocery. Ada A. Rogers.”

I hope I do not need to remind you that Mill Street was the old name of Western Avenue, and the laundry had therefore moved to a site near the Western Avenue bridge over the Messalonskee.

Another ad announced the offerings of a man who had dared challenge the near monopoly of the fuel business then held by George Flood. The man who put up the competition was one who, through his life, was engaged in many local enterprises, George Fred Terry. He announced that he had wood prepared for stoves at his yard on Main Street, and that customers could leave their orders at Stewart’s Market, or send them in by telephone.

Waterville’s prominent contractor, Horace Purinton, was then in partnership under the firm name of Norton and Purinton. Customers were told they could reach the firm by contacting Mr. Purinton’s residence on Winter Street, which the ad proudly announced as having a telephone. That early residence of Horace Purinton was, by the way, just across the street from the house that I have occupied for the past thirty years on Winter Street.

Now listen to the price of ladies’ garments in 1884. Lisle thread stockings, 50 cents; shetland shawls, $2.50; corsets, 50 cents; braided jerseys, $2.00.

In 1884 several grocers advertised Washburn’s Superlative Flour. I wonder how many of them realized that the founder of that great Minneapolis company was one of the five famous Washburn brothers who had been born and reared in Livermore, Maine.

In 1884 the Bangor Fair lasted nearly as long as it does today — five full days from Tuesday through Saturday. There were four race classes on the track each day, with the fastest coming as the final event on Saturday, the 2:26 class. Most sulky racing was still unbelievably slow as late as 1884. The expression “Going 2:40” meant traveling at what a modern auto driver would regard as equivalent to 100 miles an hour. Only two classes at that Bangor Fair were listed faster than 2:40, the 2:31 and the 2:36. In fact the 2:50 class and the 3 minute class drew a lot more horses. Of course the fair advertisement announced that there would be cheap excursion rates on all railroads and steamboat lines entering Bangor. Miss ~ta Smith of the Hinckley School will be interested to know that a feature of the Bangor Fair in 1884 was its cat show.

One of Maine’s most famous weekly papers — a paper that lasted for more than a hundred years was the Oxford Democrat, published at South Paris. Let us take a look at that Oxford County paper in 1884. The roller skating rinks that had become so popular had brought in the game of roller polo, but the Oxford Democrat described a new form of that game. It said: “A new and venturesome form of fast and furious fun, for players not satisfied with the falls and bruises which polo on the little rollers usually gives, are attempting polo on bicycles.

They drive the ball by striking it with the small wheel of the bicycle. Only a bicycle with a small wheel in front can be used. 1t That must have taken a lot of skill, for notice the kind of bicycle the item was describing. In 1884 the present type of bicycle, with two wheels of equal size, had not come into use. The customary bicycle had a big wheel in front and a little wheel, not more than 1/5 the size of the big one, behind. It was hard enough to ride one of those machines, but it was even harder to ride one that had the little wheel ahead and the big wheel behind. To manipulate that little wheel as a kind of hockey stick, as the article describes, must have been like trying to play hockey on a monocycle.

And with that unusual reference to polo on bicycles, we must say Good Night for Old Times’ Sake.

Year: 1963