Radio Script #696

Little Talks on Common Things

September 18, 1966

A part of the Maine coast that has long interested the people of Central Maine is Owls Head near Rockland. Long the summer residence of several Waterville and Fairfield families, it deserves mention on this program. Owls Head Light has been a beacon for sailors for 140 years. On the shore by Owls Head Village, in the early 1900’s, the Baptist evangelist, John Hatch of Fairfield, built an ornate cottage that he called Castle Comfort. From Hatch the Waterville merchant L.H. Soper bought a piece of land and built a large cottage where the well known Soper girls spent their girlhood summers. Close to Castle Comfort was the cottage of the Russell family, whose son Paul, a small child when the cottage was built, grew up to achieve world-wide fame as an authority on malaria, spending most of his active life in the service of the World Health Organization. In retirement Dr. Russell now lives at North Edgecomb.

A very active historical group called the Mussel Ridge Historical Society is doing excellent work in bringing to public attention the history of the Owls Head region. It was a part of Maine that saw early settlement and has, still standing, a number of very old houses. Several of these the Society is seeking to restore. One of their restorations, already completed is the Old Homestead at Ash Point. An excellent example of colonial Maine farmhouse, it was built in 1760 by John Crockett.

Even earlier he had built a log cabin on the same site, but had been driven out by the last of Indian wars. After the Indians departed, Crockett left the fort at Thomaston, where his family had taken refuge, and put up the single story farmhouse that is typical of so many 18th century Maine homes. The growing towns like Thomaston and Belfast became centers of the wealth that made possible the big mansions with their numerous rooms, but at the more rural coast settlements, at places like Ash Point, the one-story Cape Codders were more common.

Crockett’s house was long ago given the name Old Homestead. It is a one-story structure with front door in the middle of one side, and with two windows each side of the door. A single chimney goes up through the middle of the house. A very short ell, perhaps a later addition, contained the 19th century kitchen and has its own chimney.

For many years a prominent resort inn on the Maine coast was the Ocean House at Owls Head. The Rockland Courier of July 3, 1868 — only three years after the close of the Civil War — was already proclaiming Owls Head’s attraction for summer visitors. The paper said: “We call attention to the opening of the Ocean House at Owls Head by Eaton and Co. It is now open as a summer place for boarders or for parties who wish to order dinner or enjoy a clam bake. On Saturday, September 4, there is to be a grand clam bake at which more than 500 Rockland people are expected.”

In the following week’s issue the Courier again referred to Owls Head. It said: “Last week was boom time at Owls Head. Many people patronized the well supplied table at the Ocean House while others partook of picnic repasts in the pleasant localities about the woods and shore.”

During my own frequent visits to Castle Comfort, because John Hatch was my wife’s uncle, I never failed to go, as we used to say, “up to the light”. It was a fascinating place, not only because of powerful light by itself, but even more because of the magnificent view it afforded of Penobscot Bay and its outlying islands.

Owls Head Light was built in 1824 after Isaac Ilsley of Portland, who was Superintendent of Lighthouse in Maine, received the following letter from Washington: “Congress having at the last session passed an act authorizing the erection of a lighthouse at Owls Head in the State of Maine, and having appropriated $4,000 therefor, I request that you take steps to obtain a sufficient quantity of land most suitable for the site.”

Ilsley at once got on the job. Those of you who have seen the tall tower and neat house that adjoins it will, I am sure, be astonished as I was when I learned what it cost to build in 1825. The total cost of construction of both house and light tower was $1,888, and the full equipment came only to $350. The first keeper was Isaac Stearns, and his annual salary was just what it had cost to equip the place — $350.

Many Maine lighthouses were built of wood, but Owls Head Light was of brick and granite, so sturdy that in its 140 years of existence it has never had to be rebuilt. It was first lighted on September 10, 1825. A fog bell attached to the shed was for many years rung by hand.

The third quarter of the 19th century offered the boom years of shipping on the coast of Penobscot Bay. In 1874 the keeper of the Owls Head Light kept a record of vessels that passed. For the entire year his count was 26,527 ships.

A century earlier, just before the American Revolution, Owls Head Harbor had been a smugglers’ paradise and even an occasional refuge for pirates. There persists the tradition that submerged wreckage in those waters still contains treasure seized by pirates on the Spanish Main.

Not far from Owls Head, but actually in Thomaston, is the site of old Fort St. Georges. It had been the scene of a fierce battle with Indians in 1724, and during the Revolution the entire area suffered from British raids. By 1808 American troubles with Britain, especially protests at British imprisonment of seamen, had become so critical that the United States Government decided to erect a fort on the Georges River. A point of land projecting from the east bank was selected. Looking up the river one could see the village of Thomaston and the Camden Hills. In the other direction stretched the waters of Muscongus Bay, the shore of Friendship, and in the far distance Monhegan Light.

There is no doubt that a leading figure in getting the fort was the topmost citizen of Thomaston, General Henry Knox. He had been not only chief artillery officer in the Revolution, but had also served as Secretary of War in President Washington’s first cabinet. At Thomaston he had already built his big mansion, Montpelier. He naturally wanted his property protected and as an experienced warrior he knew how to go about it. The result was Fort St. Georges.

The fort was completed in 1809 under the direction of Captain Thomas Vose, who had been an artillery officer under General Knox. It consisted of a rampart in the form of a crescent with open side toward the river. It mounted three 18 pound guns. A barracks, a small blockhouse, and a brick magazine completed the fortification. On the site the modern visitor may still see the rampart and the cellar holes lined with brick and masonry.

Strangely enough the War of 1812 saw only the lightest of skeleton defense provided at Fort St. Georges. A small company under command of a sergeant was stationed there until the summer of 1813. Then it was left entirely to local support. The man placed in charge was Thomaston resident Hezekiah Prince. He was the man who would later be an incorporator of the Maine Literary and Theological Institution in Waterville, the school that would one day be Colby College. Hezekiah Prince was an ancestral relative of Mrs. Albert F. Drummond.

Prince simply put a caretaker at the  fort, so that when the British ships arrived off Thomaston in June, 1814, the place was completely undefended. Two British frigates anchored at the mouth of the river and sent out two barges of marines to force surrender of the fort. The caretaker, Ephraim Willey, the sole man whom Prince had left at the fort, was eating his supper when the British arrived. The marines rushed ashore, spiked the guns, and commanded whoever was inside to open the door in the name of the King. Ephraim declared that the fort belonged to Squire Prince and only he could give it up. The invaders lacked powder to destroy the fort, but saw it was no menace to them. Its surrender could wait a bit for Squire Prince to show up. So the British turned their attention to two sloops on the other side of the river. These ships they seized and burned, but that action diverted them from their main intent, destruction of the settlement at Thomaston. It gave time for Caretaker Willey to contact Hezekiah Prince, and very shortly the alarm spread through the whole countryside and men rushed to the fort. The invaders soon saw that they were outnumbered and could not risk an attack on Fort St. Georges. They gave up the attempt and departed.

Now let us leave the coast of Muscongus Bay or as Jasper Stubb’s excellent history of Waldoboro calls it, Broad Bay, and come back again to the Kennebec.

Several years ago I was told by an aged resident of Caratunk that he thought 1932 was the last year that a full drive of long logs had been floated down the river, but that a few scattered lots have gone down between 1932 and 1940. I can assure you that, in the first decade of this century the drives of long logs for the Kennebec lumber mills were large and impressive. On August 19, 1909 the Waterville Mail said: “The last of the 1909 log drives on the Kennebec went through the sorting gap of the Hollingsworth & Whitney booms under the railroad bridge yesterday afternoon, the last of more than 25 million feet that have come down this season. The work goes on with hardly a break after the logs start running in the spring. The Waterville sorting gap is one of the busiest on the river and has been passed this year by more than 275,000 logs. While some logs still cling to the shore, a few days of good wind will see the last of them over the Augusta dam.”

It was 1909 when Waterville saw its last new grist mill. That year Merrill, Runnals and Mayo opened their new place on Front Street. The firm announced that there would be no more grinding at their old mill on Lockwood Street, but that for a time they would keep in operation their other mill in the north end of the city on Toward Street. The closed mill near Ticonic Bridge they would use only for a storehouse. The Waterville Sentinel gave its readers some interesting statistics about the new Front Street mill. It had a concrete foundation and an iron floor, was 50 feet long by 30 wide, and the mill tower rose to a height of 65 feet. Its bins had the huge capacity of 18,000 bushels. The grinding machinery consisted of a roller mill, an attrition mill, and a corn cracker. The elevators were propelled by five individual motors, and had a capacity of a thousand bushels an hour.

A spur track of the Maine Central R.R. brought cars directly to the mill. The story went on to say that the whole grinding process was so nearly automatic that it could all be controlled from the ground floor. The machinery was all so carefully arranged that the raw material could be taken directly from the freight cars, run through the different processes, and delivered to teams at the street door, all by automatic machinery.

And, with a metaphorical reminder that, whether the machinery of physical mills is old or new, the mills of the Gods. in any time or place, grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small. With that reminder we must say goodbye until next week.

Year: 1966