Radio Script #644

Little Talks on Common Things

March 7, 1965

In the middle of the 19th century a prominent fraternal order was the Sons of Temperance, an organization whose principal purpose was to promote abstention from alcoholic beverages. Not long ago I chanced to see a copy of the by-laws of the Pinkney Division No.7 of the Sons of Temperance of the State of Maine. The little folder was printed at Gardiner by a member of the order who called himself Brother Hiram W. Jewell, printer.

The kernel of the order was set forth in Article II which said: “No brother shall make, buy, sell or use, as a beverage, any spiritous or malt liquors, wine or cider.” The next article provided that any brother violating Article II should forfeit his membership and his name should be erased from the books, after a fair trial and vote of expulsion by two-thirds of the members present at a legal meeting.

Then came a provision of the kind that has caused trouble for all honor systems up to the recent scandal at the Air Force Academy. That provision said: “Any brother knowing another brother to have violated Article II, and neglecting to inform the President within two weeks, shall be fined one dollar.” The folder concludes with publication of three of the Society’s songs: The Drinker’s Farewell, We’ll Water Sip, and The Praise of Water.

Waterville had a very active branch of the Sons of Temperance, which later merged with the order known as Good Templars, devoted likewise to the suppression of intoxicants. A prominent member of the Waterville lodge was the Negro janitor of Colby College, Sam Osborne. At the close of the Civil War, Sam, a former slave, had been brought to Waterville by Col. Stephen Fletcher, an officer of the newly established Freemen’s Bureau. The colonel had graduated from Colby in the class of 1859, and he at once placed Sam under the combined protection of the college and the First Baptist Church. Sam had brought two of his young daughters with him and they were shortly joined by his wife and other children. They became a highly respected family in Waterville, and Sam’s daughter Alice, now over 90 years of age, still lives in the family home on Ash Street.

But let us get back to Sam Osborne as a Good Templar. In 1887 he was prominent enough in the state organization of the society to be chosen one of the Maine delegates to the national convention of Good Templars at Richmond, Virginia. What a splendid example that was of how America could be the land of opportunity even for a former slave. To the very capital of the old Confederacy, to the South of his slavery days, Sam Osborne returned not only as a free man, but also as a respected delegate from a state where white persons outnumbered those of his race more than a thousand to one.

Fifteen years later, in 1902. only two years before his death. Sam Osborne was chosen a delegate to the international convention of Good Templars at Stockholm, Sweden. There the aged Negro had the honor of being presented to members of the royal family. Out of that encounter there has come down to us an amusing story, told by the late Frederick Padelford, who had, as a Colby student, known Sam well.

The summer after Sam’s trip to Sweden, Mr. Padelford ran across. Sam on the old Colby campus. He as ked Sam if he had really talked with any Swedish royalty. “O, yes suh”, Sam replied, “I talked to de princess”. “What did she say to you, Sam?” “She say to me, ‘Sam. how old are you?'” “What did you tell her?” “I said, ‘Princess, dat’s for you to find out. How old be you?'”

As a matter of fact Sam was not quite sure of his birthday. The Union officer who was his benefactor, Col. Stephen Fletcher, decided that Sam had been born on a plantation in King and Queen County, Virginia some time in 1833. That would have made him nearly 70 years old when he had that conversation with a Swedish princess.

All his life Sam Osborne was a leading Good Templar and in his personal habits, a staunch teetotaler.

A few weeks ago I talked about a circular issued by a commission merchant who bought farm products about 50 years ago. I want today to tell you about another circular issued by a Boston commission house much earlier, in 1878. The firm was Farrington, Griffin & Co. of 179 South Market Street, Boston. Here are some of the prices they offered to farmers: eggs, 11 cents a dozen; butter, 20 cents a pound; cheese, 11 cents; dressed chickens, 14 cents; hind quarters of beef, 10 cents. When we are reminded of the prices we pay today for pure maple products, how these 1878 prices make our mouths water: maple syrup, 65 cents a gallon; maple sugar, 8 cents a pound.

The Farrington firm did a big fur business. It would pay $6 for a bear skin, $2 for prime beaver, $1.00 for a red fox, $1.50 for silver fox, and the same for mink. It offered only 50¢ for wildcat and the same for raccoon. It divided skunk into three categories: dark, 40 cents; striped, 20 cents; and white, 10 cents.

That old commission house was having a lot of trouble about eggs; so its circular gave the farmers minute instructions. It said: “There is probably in no other article so much depreciation as in eggs. The motion of the cars so muddles all eggs not entirely fresh that they will appear cloudy and soon spoil. Ship your eggs at once while they are still fresh. Patent compartment cases are all right in warm weather, but in cold weather it is better to use very strong, stiff barrels. Put two or three inches of hay or straw in the bottom of the barrel, then a layer of eggs laid on their sides evenly embedded in the packing with their ends toward the sides of the barrel. Cover that layer with two inches of straw, rubbing it well between the eggs with the hand. Repeat the process, shaking the barrel gently after each layer is put in. Do not crowd the eggs. For an ordinary flour barrel 65 dozen are enough.”

Our concern in 1965 over the nation’s supply of gold and silver reminds us of the big fight in the 43rd Congress in 1873 over the right of banks to issue their own currency beyond a reserve of gold and silver money sufficient to redeem those notes. Issue of bank notes beyond any possibility of redemption had been one of the causes of the great panic of 1837. and in 1873 another bad depression was feared. It is interesting to note what Eugene Hale. then a representative from Maine (he would later be a noted senator) had to say in a speech on the subject delivered in the House. He said:

“It is a gross error to believe that the paper currency of our banks, when it goes out, will return to the same banks for redemption. When paper money expands and gets beyond the point where the legitimate wants of the people require it, it increases outward all the time and never comes back for redemption until the hard hand of panic pushes it back. That is why it is so easy to keep printing more of it. People just do not see that the day of reckoning is only postponed.

“Consider our continental currency of a century ago. When we issued it, it was at par. Yet our fathers put out issue after issue until they had $350 million of it afloat. whereupon it collapsed and sank to nothing. It fell so low in 1871 that one dollar in silver would buy $75 of the currency.”

Perhaps you remember the story President Lincoln used to tell about the two steamboat captains whose boats met going in opposite directions on the river. The captain of the up-river boat, low on fuel, noticed big stacks of wood on the deck of the down-river craft. “Will you sell me some wood?” yelled the up-river captain. “What you got for money?” asked the down-river skipper. “Continentals”. was the reply. “All right”, said the captain with wood. “I’ll trade you cord for cord.”

In the early years of the 19th century people resorted to the law to collect what we would consider very small debts. Here is a writ issued in Hancock County in 1816: “To the sheriff of the County of Hancock: Whereas Abner Ham of Washington Plantation on July 29, 1816 recovered judgment against Samuel Grant of Frankfort, husbandman, for the sum of $10.29, debt or damage and $3.47 for charges of the suit, before Timothy Thorndike, Justice, we command that of the money of said Samuel Grant, or his goods or chattels, you cause to be paid to said Abner Ham the aforesaid sums, totaling $13.86, and that you take also from Samuel Grant 25 cents for this writ. And if said Samuel Grant cannot furnish this sum, we command that you take the body of said Samuel into our jail and hold him there safely until he pays the full sum.”

Evidently Grant somehow avoided both payment and imprisonment for four years: “To the sheriff of Hancock. In the name of the State of Maine you are required to take the body of Samuel Grant of Frankfort and hold him safely so that he may appear before me at my dwelling house in Brooks on April 3, 1820 at 2 p.m., then and there to answer to Abner Ham of Brooks, yeoman, in a plea of debt, for that said Abner Ham did on July 29, 1816 recover judgment against said Grant for the sum of $13.86, which judgment is not yet recovered or satisfied.”

To give emphasis to the validity of this document Judge Huxford appended the very words of his commission, which read: “State of Maine, March 18, 1820. To all who shall see these presents. Know ye that I, William King, Governor, reposing special trust in the integrity, ability and discretion of William Huxford of Brooks, Esq. hath nominated, and by the advice and consent of our Council, hath appointed the said William Huxford to be our Justice of the Peace for the County of Hancock.”

It would be unthinkable today that an attempt to collect $10.29 and costs would be an issue at law for four years, and of couse, imprisonment for private debt is no longer legal. But 150 years ago men resorted to extreme measures to get what was due them.

Year: 1965