Radio Script #329
Little Talks On Common Things
January 27, 1957
Oi d you ever try to draw up a I ist of the most tragi c fi gures in history? Probably such a I ist would contain names like Benedict Arnold, both patriot and traitor; StonewaJ I Jackson, ki lied by a stray bullet from one of his own Confederate rifles; Chamberlain returning from l’v1unich; Napoleon on st. Helena; Edward VI I I leaving the throne of England. The list could go on almost intermi nab I y •
For my part, I have always been interested in the forgotten tragic figures, the little men whose paths have chanced to cross the ways of the great. Such a figure was the inn keeper of Bethlehem who, though he had no room in the inn: did al low Joseph and Mary to seek shelter in the stable cave. But I want to call your attention to another man who must have lived al I the rest of his life in self-accusation and remorse after the fateful night when he went to Tavernul’s barroom for a drink. The man’s name was John Parker, and I venture it doesn’t mean a thing to you.
At the time when tragedy cross~d his path, Parker was 35 years old. He was a member of the fl/’etropolitan Police in our capital city of \~/ashington” and was one of four members of that force \A/ho had been ass i gned to the ‘:Jh i te House to guard the PresidenT. It was before the day of the organized Secret Service, but so many threats had been made on the President’s life that the chief of the fvietropol itan Pol ice insisted on assigning four of his men to keep a sharp eye on the chief executive and protect him on all occasions.
On an Apri I evening, when the President decided to attend an entertainment, it came John Parker’s turn to be the bodyguard and protector. He was to occupy a chair just outside the door of the PresidentTs box, where he could see anyone who might enter. But John Parker did not stay in that chair. His fondness for I iquor was so notorious that many peop Ie afterward wondered why he was chosen to guard the President at al I. Anyhow, he left his place, went across the street to Tavernul ‘s barroom and started drinking with some of his cronies.
John Farker I ived for many years after that night, but it is cerTain that he never forgot it. Shame and remorse fo II owed him a II the way to his grave,. because if John Parker had not left his post of duty, the whole course of our naTional history might have been changed. Whi Ie John Parker was drinking at Tavernul’s bar, an assassin entered the unguarded door of the box in Ford’s Theater and shot Abraham Lincoln.
Up in Frankl in County half a century ago was published a unique newspaper.
Ca rry i ng the ti tie ttMa i ne Woods if, it was devoted to what had a I ready become a famous reg i on for hunters and fishermen. I t had a big ad for U~’1C, The Un ion tJ1eTa II i c Cartr i dge Company; another for Wi nchester Leader Factory-Loaded She,! Is; another for Hendryx fishing reels. A large display ad, signed by F. N. Beal and Fletcher Pope of Phi II ips and G. M. Vose of Kingfield, said: “It is time to plan your fishing trip to Maine. Go to the Rangeley Lakes or Dead River region, the home of big trout and landlocked salmon.f7 Other ads heralded the r~ar lin 16 Guage Shotgun, Dupont’s Smoke less Pow de r, the Yankee Cork Pu II e r, Old Town Canvass Canoes, Barrett’s Cedar Boats, and Featherl i ght Tro I ling Reels.
The particular issue of Maine Woods in which I noticed those ads was pub- I i shed on August 14, 1903. The news i terns a re not conf i ned to the Range ley region.
One tells of new arrivals at the Salmon Lake House in North Belgrade; anoTher describes activities at Carrabasset Spring Farm.: but much longer columns are devoted to doings at the Rangeley Lake House, the Mountain View House, the Mooselookmeguntic House and the Upper Dam House, all in the Rangeley region. Whatever may be their reputation nowadays, a number of property-owning summer residents fai led to pay their taxes up in Franklin County fifty years ago. For The town of Rangeley alone, the newspaper listed 29 del inquent nonres i dents, whose unpa i d tax b i I I s for 1902 ranged from $26 to $380. Even a weekly paper like the Maine Woods had its letters to the editor.
A Boston resident signing himself W. W. Blair wrote: “You may sing the praises of the Rangeley Lakes, but we cast our vote for Unity Pond. That water affords excellent bass, white perch and pickerel fishing, and occasionally a trout or salmon, since the pond was stocked with food fish a few years ago. Inside of half an hour on one day last summer a companion and I loaded 30 pounds of bass, five pounds of wh i te perch, and seven pounds of pi ckere I. Our I argest was a bass weighing 4 pounds 3 ounces. We stopped then only because we had to haul severa I loads of hay to the barn before the break of an obvi ous Iy threaten ing shower.”
Todav it is only a few hours’ drive from Boston to any point in the Rangeley region. How did one get there in 1903? If one wanted to go to Kennebago or Mooselookrneguntic, he went by the Boston and Maine Rai I road from Boston to Portland, then took the Rumford Division of the f’.1aine Central to Oquossoc or Kennebago. But the far greater number of fisherman and hunters were bound for the hotels and sporting camps around big Rangeley and its nearby lakes and streams. They took the Farmington branch from Portland to Farmington, then changed to The Sandy River road to Phi I lips and Rangeley or to Kingfield.
The Ma i ne ~’1oods in 1903 conveniently printed the time tab les for those routes. Fi rst of a II there was its tab Ie for the Port land and Rumford Fa I Is Rai Iway, showing in the summer season three trains a day, not only to and from Rumford, bUT a II the way through to Oquossoc. But what is even more interest ing is that the narrow guage schedule is shown on three separate time tables, not on a single one. That is because what later became the Sandy River and Range- ley Lakes Rai I road was then operated as three separate roads: the Sandy River:
the Phi I lips and Rangeley, and the Franklin and ~egantic. The Sandy River ran between Farmington and Phi I lips, where the traveler bound for Rangeley changed to the Phi Ilips and Rangeley line. If the traveler wanted to go to Kingfield, he did not ride the Sandy River through to Phi II ips, but got off at Strong, where he changed to the Franklin and Megantic.
Another time table in that 1903 paper is for the Rangeley Lakes Steamboat Company, showing three dai Iy round trips between Rangeley and Mountain View. In a guarded moment the general manager, H. H. Field, appended below the time tab Ie th is statement: HThe above tab Ie shows the ti mes boats may be expected to arrive and depart from the several points, but it is not guaranteed. Tf
Small, classified ads in the Maine Woods offered recreational opportunities allover inland Maine. There were the Spider Lake Camps at Oxbow in Aroostook County, the Birches at Grand Lake Stream down in ‘~lashington County, Gerard’s Camps on Little Spencer Pond in Jackman, the Chairback Mountain Camps at Katahdin Iron Works near Brownvi lie Junction, a place called Camps Among the Moose at ~/est Sebois, the Debsconeag Camps at Norcross in Penobscot County., and • what the renowned hote I man Char les A. Hill ca I led Hthe best sportsmen’s hote I in New England”. That, of course, was the inn which burned only a few months ago the Be I grade Lakes Hote I •
The best eating place today in Franklin County is the public dining room wh i ch Mr. and Mrs. Vincent York ope rate in the i r attract j ve hCi>me in Ph; II ips vi Ilage — a place they call Greenwood Inn. Vincent was a pupi I of mine at Hebron Academy more than 40 years ago. He is a member of the famous York fam; Iy which has operated York’s Camps en Loon Lake, five miles from Rangeley for more than half a century. It was Vincent York’s charming wife who gave me that copy of the Maine \’Joods published in August, 1903. In it is a suggestion worthy of the witty Vincent who, besides being a chef extraordinaire, is a professional actor, a play producer, and an author. But Vincent York couldn’t have written this suggestion, which appeared in print soon after he was born. Here it is:
“Our state legislature, having fai led to heed the protests about the fearful fumes at the State House, where many bushels of hedgehog feet and noses wait for cremation after their contributors have collected the bounty on them, might as wei I now pass a law giving a bounty on skunks. The tai Is might be sent to the proper authorities and legally burned. But the authorities might get careless and include the caudal appendages of cats, dogs and old sheep, provided they were all properly scented. vJhat a lot of bounty we country folks cou I d c I a im! By a II means let us have a bounty on skunks. T!
Did you ever notice how wide is the main street at Old Orchard Beach?
That is the street that runs from the hi I I, past the railroad station, down to the ocean near the pier. It is one of the widest streets to be found anywhere i n Ma i ne • Let me te I I you how it ha p pe ne d to be b u i I t so wide.
The man credited with giving Old Orchard its start as a summer resort was Ebenezer Staples, who first boarded what he called ‘~furrin’! visitors on his farm near the beach in 1840. Thirty-five years later he and others organized the Old Orchard Beach Association to promote the sale of lots. Staples and a man named Seavey were principal organizers. Staples decided he would divide a few of his acres into cottage lots. From the top of the hi I I straight down to the ocean ran a barbed wire fence, separating Staples’ property from Seavey’s. Stap I es ran a line down para I Ie I to the fence” a rod and a ha I f away from it.; He reckoned that Seavey would give up a simi lar rod and a half on his side of the fence and they would have a normal three rod right of way for a road down to the water, and lots along either side of that road would be valuable cottage sites.
After Staples had stpked out a few lots, Seavey sauntered over to see what was going on. Staples told his neighbor what he intended to do. ‘;~\/eIIH .. said Seavey, “1 cal late you better run the road dov~n your side of the fence. ItTs your land. You do what you v.Jant to with it.!!
There was noth ing for Stap les to do but y ie I d another rod and a ha 1 f on his side; so he moved the stakes over to a full three rods from the fence. Time passed, and cottagers eagerly bought Staples~ staked-out lots. Seavey decided he must get in on a good thing. So he divided his land also into lots. Figuring the road was already laid out on Staples’ land, he staked his lots right up to the fence. But when he explained to Staples what he was doing, Staples remembered Seavey’s fonner response to his own plans. So he said to Seavey:
r”Je I I” th is road of r.1 i ne a in ‘t been accepted by the town yet. It’s st i I I my private road and 1’1 I be danged if you’re going to use it. Go ahead and bui Id your own road.” That’s just what Seavey did, a th ree rod road on his side of the fence. As the years went by, the barbed wire was taken down and the two roads became one. And that is how Old Orchard’s main street happens to be a wide six-rod passage to the ocean.
Year: 1957