Radio Script #271
Little Talks On Common Things
September 18, 1955
One of the sorry sights of Watervi I Ie is the crumbling ruin of Memorial Ha lion the a I d Co I by camp us • What a pity that some I oca I organ i zat ion cou I d not have taken over the bui Iding for civic use. That grand bui lding ought not to see its last days as a commercial warehouse. But the trustees of the college should not be blamed for this outcome. When the move was made to Mayflower Hi J I, they tried very hard to dispose of the old bui Idings for some institutional use. Their efforts in this respect were especial,y strenuous in the case of Memori a I Ha I I. But a II to no ava i I. The on Iy recourse was warehouse use of that and several other bui Idings. The present beautiful col lege on Mayflower Hi I I with its eleven hundred students, more than 200 employed staff, and its prominent summer program, assuring use of the plant the year round, certainly means more to modern Watervi I Ie than retention of the old campus could possibly have meant. The gradual disintegration of Memorial Hal I is one of the costs of that progress. It is regrettable but unavoidable.
Memori a I Ha II meant a lot to the peop Ie of Watervi I Ie and other parts of Maine 84 years ago. A visitor to Colby in 1871 wrote a letter to the Lewiston Even i ng J ourna I, wh i ch appeared in the paper of July first of that year. A fte r praising the work of the college and telling about his calion President Champlin, the writer said: nColby’s Memorial Hall is the first college bui Iding in this country to be erected in memory of men who died in the war.’t (He meant, of course, the Civi I War.) “Many others have been projected, but this alone stands as the finished monument to those patriotic, sacred memories which were aroused in aJ lour institutions of learning when the smoke of battle had cleared away in 1865. This edifice serves other purposes besides memorial. The east wing is occupied entirely by the library, fitted with alcoves, shelves and galleries, in a style and convenience that are nowhere surpassed.
”The west wing, lower floor, is a commodious chapel, but the room above it is the great attraction of the bui Iding. This is the Alumni Hal I, where are the memorials of those who fel I in defense of the Union. These memorials consist of a colossal lion, modeled after Thorwalden’s masterpiece, which is cut in relief out of the solid rock near Lucerne to commemorate the gallant Swiss guards who fell in defending the Tui leri’es in 1792. The lion is depicted as sunk down, pierced by a spear, a part of which is left in his body, apparently producing the agony he exhibits. Though expiring, his monstrous claws are driven into the shield, which he firmly holds with its stripes and stars, representing faithfulness even unto death. It is a magnificent work, in the purest white marble, and is, we are told, almost a perfect reproduction of the great original. On the tablet below appear the names of 21 Colby men who lost their lives in the bloody conflict, graduates and stUdents and mostly, says Dr. Champlin, ‘young men who enlisted directly from the institution’. This is a splendid memori; a I to our consecrated dead.”
Thus ends the account in the Lewiston Journal 84 years ago. believe the trustees of Colby Col lege have definite plans to remove the Lion of Lucerne and the memorial tab let to f\1ayflower Hi II just as soon as a forthcoming bui Iding shal I supply an appropriate place for it.
Last year we referred several times to Fred Oliver’s ancestor, Captain Samue I Foster. Mr. 0 liver has recent I y shown me some more papers of that i ntrep i d sea capta in who piloted his sa iii ng sh i ps over the worl d’s oceans more than 150 years ago. One of those papers is an old ship consignment receipt.
Signed by Captain Foster at Boston on May 8, 1792, it says:
“Sh i pped in good order by Thomas Russe I I, upon the sh i p Th ree Brothers, whereof is master for the present voyage Samuel Foster, now in the harbor of Boston, bound for Hamburg, 13 pipes, 56 tierces, 200 bands, 15 baskets, and 75 ases of clayed white sugars, being marked and numbered as in the margin, and are to be delivered in like good order at the aforesaid port of Hamburg (the danger of the seas only excepted) unto ~ssrs. Kleinmeister and Mollor or their assigoees,he or they paying freight for said goods, nothing being owner’s goods, with primage and average accustomed. In witness whereof the master of said ship hath affirmed to four bi lis of lading of this tenor and date.
(S i gned) Samue I Foster”.
Arrangements for carrying passengers were sometimes stated with formality.
At Port Louis on May 13, 1789, another ship captain sent a note to Capt. Foster concerning the wishes of a third fellow captain. The note said: nCaptain CoiI ins has app I ied to me for a passage aboard your ship to Ostend. I am wi II ing he should go provided he and you can agree; I would be glad to see you here on board to spend the evening. Yours sincerely, J. A. Babcock.1I .
It is interesting to note the wages paid to seamen in the closing years of the 18th century. Among the Fred Oliver papers is preserved the pay list of the Brig Swallow commanded by Samuel Foster in 1791. Foster, master of the vessel, received six pounds per month. Burri II Potter, the mate, got 3 pounds 12 sh i II i ngs. Each ab Ie s.eaman was pa i d 2 pounds 2 sh i II i ngs. Rufus Bent s i gn~ ed on as ordinary seaman at one pound 10 shi I lings a month. The lowest paid person on board was the ship’s boy, Wi Iliam Thomas, who got only 18 shi Ilings for a month’s work. At that time a British shi I ling was valued at 16 2/3 cents in the new Arne ri can money. therefore th ree do I lars. $25 a month.
The ship’s boy’s pay for a whole month’s work was The wages of the captain himself came to only about
When I was a boy a word we often heard ‘~as– sarsapari Ita. Hood!s sarsapari I la was nationally advertised as a medicine. One of the many brands of the stuff was manufactured in ~y home town of Bridgton, whether as medicine or as a soft drink, I am not sure, for by the time I was old enough to pass the bottle factory on my way to school sarsapari I la soda was becoming a favorite drink.
The dictionary tells us that sarsapari Iia is a climbing or trai ling tropical American plant, having a root which has been much used in medicine.
Wei I, Captain Sam Foster knew about sarsapari Iia in 1794. A bi II of ladi ng of that year says: “Sh i pped by Ca I lender and Henderson on the sh i p P Iymouth, Captain Samuel Foster, now lying in the Rappahannock and bound for London, four bags sarsapari II a, to be de livered at London or any port south of France. f!
One of the fine old schools of this region, whose doors were permanently closed 90 years ago, was Titcomb Academy at Belgrade. Founded in 1829, it was situated at the top of the prominent height known as Belgrade Hi II, about four mi les toward Oak I and from Be I grade Stati on. By a un i que co inci dence, near the site of this old school is the summer home and operated farm of Wi Ison Parkhi II, headmaster of the Collegiate School of New York City, which, except for the Roxbury Latin School, is the oldest established school in this country. Like Roxbury, Collegiate was founded in the 1630’s, and is thus weI lover 300 years old.
But now back to Titcomb Academy. A number of Belgrade residents, led by Samuel Titcomb and John Pitts, were determined to have a school simi lar in kind and qual ity to three surrounding schools: Kents Hi I I at Readfield, Hal lowe I I Academy and Wate rv i I I e Academy, now Cob urn S ch 00 I. The promote rs ra i se d fun ds to erect a two-story brick bui Iding and in 1830 installed Wi l.Iiam Farmer as the first principal. Just as was done at Watervi I Ie Academy, the school at Belgrade taught higher subjects not known in the common schools, including algebra, geometry, Greek, Latin, and after 1845 French and German. From the beginning the school was coeducational. Boys and girls attended from a wide area. In its most prosperous days, about 1840, Titcomb Academy, which had been given the name of its principal founder, Samuel Titcomb, had more than a hundred pupi Is.
Many prominent men graduated from the Belgrade school. Perhaps its greatest fame came when two of its alumni became the only two brothers who ever had the distinction of both serving as governors of Maine. They were two Morri II brothers, Amos, governor in 1855-56, and Lot, governor from 1858 to 1861. A third brother became governor of another state; so the Morri II fami Iy of Belgrade became nearly, if not quite, as famous as the Washburns of Livermore.
It is one of the glories of New England that education and religion have gone hand in hand. Samuel Titcomb and John Pitts, the academy’s chief founders, had also establ ished the church at Belgrade Hi” two years before they bui It the academy bui Iding. We think of 1827 as a time of religious intolerance: but the story of that Belgrade church can be repeated many times in the rei igious history of Ma i ne. Persc:ms fami liar wi th Watervi I Ie history reca II that a II denominations were welcome to use the first public meeting house in this city, the bui Iding that in later years became the armory. Simi larly an unusual measure of tolerance marked the opening of the church at Belgrade Hi II, for it was bui It by a uni on of Uni tari ans and Free Wi II Baptists. Its fi rst pastor was the same Wi I liam Farmer who, two years later, took on the principalship of Titcomb Academy in addition to his preaching.
Many years ago John C I air Mi not, di sti ngui shed edi tor of the Youth’s Companion, and himself a son of Belgrade, commented on the passing of the old Belgrade Hill Ch urch i n these words: nit was occup i ed more or less regu I ar I y unti I 1885, when the sp i rit of the i r fathers seemed to de?ert the res i dents of the Hi I I, and by special act of legislature the old church was torn down and the timbers sold to Benjamin Gleason. He hauled them to his farm in Oakland and made them into a barn. n
Colby students today do, I am sure, appreciate the splendid food served them under the direction of that incomparable dietician, Miss Helen Nichols.
If ever any student thinks he has cause to complain about food at Colby’s modern cafeteria, he ought to have set before him the fare offered to his predecessors of 120 years ago. In 1835 the da i Iy bill of fare for the co liege dining room was solemnly established by the prudential committee of the trustees, and to the document Timothy Beutel Ie, Nathan Oliver and Benjamin Shepard duly subscribed their names.
The same kind of food, monotonously unvaried, was decreed for every day, save for minor exceptions, as we shall see:
“For breakfast. Coffee with molasses and mi Ik, bread and butter.
“For di nner. Meat served in vari ous forms as convenes the steward. Except once a week beans, once a week fish, and occasionally puddings, with cold water.
“For supper. Tea with sugar and mi Ik. Bread and butter. Occasionally cheese, apple sauce or pie.”
Then the document went on to lay down the financial stipulations: “The steward is to furni sh the above fare at $1 .00 per week, not less than $6.00 at ,-> each payment. When not paid in advance, the sum of $1.25 a week wi I I be charged .When we reca II that eight do II ars today have about the purchas i ng power of one do II ar in 1835, we may we II ask the present-day student: t’How wou I d you like to have tomorrow morning’s coffee sweetened with molasses, and nothing to eat with it except bread and butter? I know what would irk you most about that old bi II of fare. No mi Ik to drink. Why? Was mi Ik scarce? Oh, no. It just wasn’t fashionable to drink it in those days. Everybody, even the youngsters, preferred tea and coffee.”
So~ with lots of tea and coffee but no mi Ik~ we: say good night for old -, ti mes’ sake.
Year: 1955