Radio Script #1168

Little Talks on Common Things
June 4, 1978

A prominent family of North Fairfield was the Giffords. Best known of them was Dr. Hartha Gifford, an osteopathic physician, who after a long practice in Bangor, retired to North Fairfield where she remodeled the old Gifford homestead and lived in it until her death some twenty years ago. The farm had been cleared and the house built by Benjamin Gifford, 6th generation descendant of William Gifford, who had come from England to Sandwich, Mass. in 1645. Benjamin developed the North Fairfield farm in the last decade of the 18th century. He died in 1856, and not long before that he wrote a memoir for his children, especially for them to remember their mother. Benjamin wrote: “Your mother had great concern for your welfare. She counseled you, ‘Be sober and return in good season before dark, even when you were going only to a neighbor’s house.” She was taken ill in the middle of October, 1818, having been feeble all summer. After your brother Arnold was born, her cough and inflamation increased. We raised her up in bed to sit all day because she could breathe easier. She bore it all with great fortitude and was never known to complain. She said her work was done, and nothing stood in the way of her everlasting rest. She quietly passed away on November 28, 1819, only 37 years old.”

That memoir is a reminder of a great scourge that hit macy families throughout the nineteenth century – the dread tuberculosis.

Benjamin Gifford gained quite a reputation as a horticulturist, experimenting with various varieties of fruit, nuts and vegetables. He also raised and sold many kinds of farm stock: horses, cows, oxen, sheep, geese, ducks and turkeys. Wool from his sheep was washed, carded, spun, dyed, and woven all by hand right on the farm. He also raised flax, much of which was used to make linen sheets and table cloths. Feathers from the geese went into pillows and huge ticks for the beds. He raised huge quantities of oats and hay for his numerous livestock – all of it cut by scythe long before the day of mowing machines. He took big loads of corn, wheat and barley to the mill for grinding. The nearest mill was on Martin Stream not far from his farm, where in 1978 the old millstones may still be seen. Benjamin had a cheese house, where the hand press turned out many pounds of cheese. He did not have to depend entirely on his domestic animals for meat, because in the surrounding woods game was plentiful.

Benjamin had a son named Browning, who when he was 31 years old married 34 year old Mahaleth Kendall, daughter of William Kendall, the leading early resident of Fairfield Village, which long was called Kendall’s Mills. Nahaleth was an independent woman, and left Kendall’s Mills to go into business for herself, starting a store at Holway Corner near the junction of the Norridgewock and Middle roads a short distance from the old Quaker Church, where in the summer services are still held.

One day Browning Gifford came into Mahaleth Kendall’s store. She asked him why he had never married. “No one would have me,” he replied. “I would,” she retorted. They married and she joined the prevailing North Fairfield sect of Quakers. People said she out quaked the older Quakers, discarding all her jewelry, wearing only the simplest clothes, and using home made household utensils.

With Benjamin Gifford to North Fairfield came a brother, Arnold. In 1799 Arnold wrote a letter to his father, Prince Gifford, back in Sandwich, Mass. This is what he wrote: “We have at last got to Fairfield, and have a lot joining my brother’s on the south, lying between Harper’s and Jacob Taber’s lands. He got it at 17 shillings an acre. In all we got 180 acres. He kept travelling until we found it satisfactory to settle here, and I think we have a good spot of land. It is handy to a new sawmill and gristmill, and near the meeting house, which I prize as a great privilege, and I think it will be a good place by winter. We have cut the trees on about 16 acres, part of which we will get into oats by fall. We have waited for William to come, thinking that would give us opportunity to send letters. But he has not come yet, but Uncle Benjamin Wing has been here, and he will get our letters on the way. I expect we shall have to struggle a while, but if we stick it out, I have no doubt we shall do well enough.”

That reference to letters reminds us of the difficulty of handling correspondence at the dawn of the 19th century in inland Maine. There was no post office anywhere near North Fairfield as early as 1800. The only way to get letters either in or out was by way of some individual traveler. A letter would be passed on from one such traveler to another until it finally reached its destination, perhaps two or three months after it had been written. Even after post offices were established on the Kennebec, they were often far removed from farms like the Gifford’s in North Fairfield.

Arnold Gifford, who wrote that letter, supplemented his income from the subsistence farm by teaching school at Fairfield Center, which in the early 19th century actually had a larger population than Kendall’s Hill. Arnold said it took them three weeks to come from Sandwich to Fairfield, and he made the journey on horseback, riding a Morgan mare.

A family close to the Giffords was, the Fish clan that settled in Fairfield Center and gave their name to Fish Brook. In the 1850’s William Fish carried on correspondence with his father and mother in Hartford, Conn. One letter from his mother said: “Your father has bought a pair of oxen. They are 6 feet 7 inches in girth and handsome animals. Your father says he can’t find time to card them properly. Sarah says she thinks you have slighted her by going away. She wants to see you real bad.

On another occasion William Fish wrote his parents: “You had poor luck with pigs. I had hoped to get one or two for you, but they are scarce here. There aint any to be had for any money. I have sown about ten bushels of oats and peas,and have planted some potatoes. Amanda has got the house all cleaned up, so you can come down any time now.”

By 1870 William Fish had left Fairfield for faraway Wyoming. From Evanston in that state he wrote to his father in 1873. “I arrived here last Saturday and got a chance to go to work the next day. Evanston is quite a place, but it looks bad right now. I am to work in a store at $3 a day. It is a stone building, fire proof with an iron front. The board here could kill a man, but I have to stand it. I am paying $7 a week for table board and $2 for lodging. When it gets warm, I am going to buy some blankets and lodge myself, and I shall try to save another dollar on board, because I think I can get it for $6 a week. There are a lot of Chinamen here. They do most of the cooking at the boarding house. When you go to Fairfield, I want you to see Amanda just the same as when I was there. I think she will send for me in time, but don’t say anything about it.”

Two years later William Fish, still in Wyoming, wrote this letter: “There are lots of emigrants going west now, sometimes as many as 15 cars filled with them pass through here in a day. Last week in Omaha there were 2500 waiting for cars to California. The railroad company had to feed them. The snow is ten feet deep here. I now work in the hotel for $40 a month and my board and room. It is light work.”

A bit later William had moved on to California. From there he wrote:”Times are hard and provisions very high. Flour is $12 a barrel, beef 25cents a pound, and pork 30 cents. All provisions are in the hands of speculators. I think I shall go to Utah in the spring to see Brigham Young. There is great excitement about the Mormons. There are companies of soldiers allover the state. We have shooting and killing about everyday. Last week a shooting affair took place right in the courtroom. Five men were shot, but none fatally. The steamer arrived yesterday with 460 passengers and 300 bags of mail. Papers got into town today , but letters have not got here yet. We expect them tomorrow. The new governor is doing well. The old one pardoned every criminal that could pay him to get out.”

The Giffords had many relatives scattered about Maine as well as farther afield. In March 1849, the every year of the gold rush, Phoebe Shephard wrote from St. Albans, Maine to Chloe Gifford, daughter of Benjamin in Fairfield. “We are all well but father. He cut his foot very bad last week and had not been able to do much since. He was hewing railroad sleepers and the axe glanced off into his foot.” Those railroad ties must have been made for the Androscoggin and Kennebec, whose first train arrived in Waterville in 1849, because until that line was built, there was no railroad nearer to Fairfield than Brunswick.

The letter continues:”I thought I knew what it was to be lonesome, but this has been the longest winter I ever knew. Benjamin has been gone all winter, and Avis is away most of the time. It sometimes seemed as if I just couldn’t’ stay here, but I have stayed and haven’t been even to the nearest neighbors all winter.

“We have had no news from Fairfield for a long time. I almost forgot to tell you that Henry has hired out to Jacob Vining for one year. He is going to stamp oil cloth, and must be working at it by this time. I think he kept school somewhere during the winter.”

Benjamin Gifford did more than farm the land. He was a skillful cabinet maker, and some of his furniture found its way into many Fairfield homes. Among pieces that have lasted until our day are now several priceless antiques. In his old age, Benjainin deeded his farm in equal shares to his sons, Browning and Daniel. In 1836 Daniel deeded his half to Browning and moved to Sidney. It was Browning Gifford’s descendants who carried on the place.

When the Civil War was still waging in the summer of 1864, a relative who called herself Aunt Tanner wrote from Fairhaven, Mass. to Chloe Gifford in Fairfield, Maine. “Arnold, Susan and I went to Newport first day morning and attended two Friends meetings. We went home the same night, tired but richly rewarded. I saw many friends from the eastward, but I did not feel able to stay through yearly meeting. Oh, this dreadful war – when will it end? Thee wrote that I must come to see you, but I don’t know if it would pay. It is expensive travelling these days. How do your apples look? Will there be some if I should come?”

In 1875 ,when William Gifford was visiting in Fairfield, he wrote to his wife concerning cost of a certain luxury. “I want to tell you that oranges are cheap right now. They are 25 cents a dozen in Skowhegan.”

And with that bow to citrus fruit a hundred years ago, we close our tribute to the Gifford family of North Fairfield and say goodbye until next week.

Year: 1978