Radio Script #1240

Little Talks on Common Things
April 27, 1980

Today let us consider the voyages of two ships connected with the Waterville area whose historic sailings occurred more than 40 years apart. Those vessels were the Ocean Bird and the City of Waterville. Although I have mentioned both on earlier broadcasts, this is the first time we have ever had both on the same spot on the air.

The Ocean Bird was built at the yard of John Lang on the river edge of his Vassalboro farm a short distance above Getchell’s Corner, which at; that time was the largest village in the town of Vassalboro. Now the highway on the east side of the Kennebec between Winslow and Augusta completely bypasses that village, which was once a thriving place with mills and stores, and a ferry across the river to the Sidney side. The year was 1848, and it was in August warmth and sunshine that people from miles around gathered at John Lang’s farm to see him launch the Ocean Bird to be stepped and yarded for its first voyage across the Atlantic.

It seemed as if everyone who owned a horse within many miles had shown up. The farmland was covered with buggies, chaises, carts and wagons and hundreds had come on horseback. Many others had arrived on foot, thinking nothing of walking ten miles to see an ocean-going ship launched on the Kennebec. The scene resembled a county fair, for the usual gingerbread peddlers were doing a brisk business, and kegs of New England rum were on tap. In they came from the back country towns of Readfield, Mount Vernon and Vienna, from towns to the east such as China, Albion and Palermo, and from the upriver villages all the way to Bingham. Even folks from Augusta who were used to seeing launchings from their shipyards, and those at Hallowell. None wanted to miss John Lang’s show.

When folks at the Augusta State House asked Squire Brown, patriarch of Brown’s Corner at what is now called Riverside in Vassalboro, if this was just another river boat John Lang was launching, Brown replied, “No siree, it’s a real brig, and it’s going to sail right from Vassalboro to the coast of Africa.” It had long been a custom for ships built at any port north of Augusta – and more than two dozen were built at Waterville between 1790 and 1850 – to be let down to Hallowell to be fitted with masts and sails, but the 1848 vessel, the Ocean Bird, was fully fitted for sea right there near Getchell’s Corner. Lang had engaged an experienced seaman, Captain Gustavus Dickman to command the Ocean Bird. That captain had one unusual quality in a time when Maine seamen on the oceans of the world were notorious for their strong language. Profanity seemed to be their native tongue.

Captain Dickman would permit no swearing on his ships, and he was a stern disciplinarian. The seamen who enlisted under him on the Ocean Bird knew that he had ordered two men on his previous command flogged for persistent profanity. The captain also saw to it that there would be no stabbing or knife fights in his crew. One of the articles of agreement – those papers that ruled much that went on aboard ocean going vessels in the mid-nineteenth century, was worded: “It is agreed between master and seamen of the brig Ocean Bird, now bound for the mouth of the Zambezee River in Africa, on a general trading voyage of six months, that no sheathed knives or profane language shall be allowed on board.”

How much were the seamen paid? Besides food and rations of grog, the customary ship’s liquor, they got $15 a month. The officers fared not much better. The second mate got $20 a month and the first mate $25. The captain, of course, shared in the sale of the cargo. That first voyage of the Ocean Bird was historic in two respects. At a time when slavery was common, it brought back from Africa a Negro boy, not as a slave, but as a paid servant to the captain.

Although his pay was by no means lavish, 25 cents a month, it was probably more money than the boy had ever before seen. Even more extraordinary was part of the return cargo. It consisted of 8,000 bushels of peanuts, the first ever brought into the United States. Yes, it was John Lang’s Ocean Bird from Vassalboro, Maine, that introduced into America the product that financed Jimmy Carter into the White House.

It was 42 years later, in 1890, when the City of Waterville made her memorable voyage. Since the launching of the Ocean Bird, the coming of the railway had put an end not only to vessels built above Hallowell, but also to the once prosperous river traffic itself.

William T. Haines, a Waterville attorney who would not long afterward become Governor of Maine, thought the traffic could still be renewed in competition with rails, and he started a movement that resulted in a contract and built for a group of Waterville business men a ship that would ply the river between Waterville and Augusta under the name City of Waterville. The Waterville Merchants Steamboat Co, sold stock and ordered a boat from a contractor in Brewer. She was a clumsy object, much like the ugly steamers that plied the Mississippi, a steam-wheeler except that her wheel was concealed below the after deck rather than visible, as on the Mississippi craft. But like those boats, she had all the earmarks of John Kendrick Bangs’ “Houseboat on the Styx,” and it might be noted that the Styx was the fictional river to Hell.

The owners declared that the new ship must not be delivered to Waterville unheralded, but should have a welcome equal to the grandest and loudest 4th of July. So they gathered a party that went by train to Brewer and boarded the City of Waterville for the voyage to its port city on the Kennebec. Chosen to command the vessel was an experienced Winslow seaman, Captain Erastus Warren. Warren had indeed had some experience at sea, but he was better known as the star log-driver on the Kennebec. He actually was better at driving a key, log out of a jam then in guiding a boat in the shallow water of the Kennebec above Vassalboro. As usual on such occasions, not all the liquid was under the boat. There was plenty inside as well, and it was so potent that the passengers became increasingly hilarious. They had time to sober up during the overnight stop at Bath; but there seems to have been enough left over for frequent imbibing on the way up the river the next day. All went well until they reached the upper end of Merrymeeting Bay. Then the steamer came to a sudden stop. She had run on a ledge. A farmer working in his field ran to the bank and yelled at them, “What in tarnation be you doing here? Don’t you know this place is filled with rocks?” That didn’t seem to trouble the joyous passengers, who were high if not dry. When the rising tide lifted the City of Waterville off the ledge, it proceeded up the river. It arrived at Augusta just before noon, and Captain Warren was sure they could get to Waterville before dark. But right under the Augusta railroad bridge they came to a halt again. There she was stuck until oxen and chains pulled her off the next morning. By that time the passenger-stockholders had had enough of Captain Warren’s navigation. They demoted him and chose as skipper a man who was not a professional seaman, but a lawyer, Warren Philbrook, who would later be appointed a justice of the Maine Supreme Court. After some skillful maneuvering, Philbrook and his crew got the clumsy craft into mid-stream and headed up the river.

In Waterville the company had built a handsome new dock especially for the steamer’s use. When word spread that the boat was at last nearing Waterville, a crowd gathered at the dock. Stores and offices closed, and the whole town turned out. Finally the boat came into view and the riverside resounded with cheers. Everything was prepared for a triumphant landing. Just as the boat started its sharp left turn from the Winslow to the Waterville side of the bay, wham – she struck another ledge. There she lay just off the shore, refusing to budge, as if she scorned the new wharf loaded with greeters. Passengers and crew had to scramble into rowboats to reach the shore. It was a most humiliating landing.

Twenty-four hours later the City of Waterville -was pulled off the ledge and actually went into operation with freight and passengers between Waterville and Augusta. But only for a very brief period in a part of one short season. She was never a success. People much preferred the faster rail trip for both passengers and freight. The boat was soon sold to a firm in Virginia and went into operation across Chesapeake Bay. So much for those two Kennebec vessels – one the sail-propelled Ocean Bird, the other the steamer City of Waterville. Now for another subject.

One of Maine’s oldest religious dominations is the Baptist, which came into Maine from Massachusetts, with the first Maine church in York County. The unit of Baptist organization is the Association, and the York Association is the oldest in Maine. On September 12 and 13 in 1866 it held its 90th annual meeting at Acton, and the printed minutes of that meeting recently came to my attention. One noteworthy point is how little money it took to run the association’s affairs. They levied an apportionment or tax, on each of the association’s 13 churches for a total of $341. Nearly half of that was paid by the association’s oldest and largest church, the one at South Berwick which anted up $150. The largest contribution by any other church was $22.50 and that was paid by four: Wells, Acton, Lebanon and Kennebunk. Sanford, which later became one of the largest and wealthiest of the York churches, then was able to-give only $7.50.

The minutes tell us that after an opening sermon, they listened to an essay by Brother Watt on the best method of conducting prayer meeting. It was voted to raise a fund to assist indigent young men to prepare for the ministry. They declared it was the duty of every member to take part in Sabbath Schools, regardless of the member’s age, emphasizing that Sabbath Schools were not solely for children. That meeting was held in Acton only a few weeks after the most disastrous fire that ever hit the City of Portland. So the group voted, “We hereby sympathize with our brethren and sisters of the First Baptist Church of Portland, in their losses by fire, and we cheerfully respond to their call for aid. We urge each of our churches to aid the Portland church by taking a collection to help them erect a new meetinghouse.”

Believe it or not, churches were concerned about attendance in 1866 even as they are in 1980. That body at Acton passed this resolution: “While we regret the obvious decline in general for observance of the Sabbath. we especially deplore the tendency of so many people to absent themselves from services of worship. We pledge ourselves to do all in our power to gather our people on the Lord’s Day and observe the day as sacred.”

Year: 1980