That economic philosopher of Portland, Maine, Ed Chase, whom I have more\u00a0than once quoted on this program, had something to say the other day about 2 plus\u00a02. Everybody, says Mr. Chase, recognizes that 2 plus 2 equals four, and 2 plus 2\u00a0plus 2 equals six. But, says he, keep on writing 2 plus 2 plus 2 plus 2 on and\u00a0on to the point where the answer is no longer clear at a glance, and see how\u00a0gullible folks can be. Put down almost any number as the supposed total, and a\u00a0big majority of readers will never question it.<\/p>\n
But, says Mr. Chase, there is always an intelligent minority which comprehends\u00a0and accepts the whole only as the sum of all its parts. In the existence\u00a0of that minority Mr. Chase sees hope of our national economic survival. It is\u00a0they who understand that the total resources of the United States is only equal\u00a0to the sum of the resources of all its subdivisions.<\/p>\n
OUr listeners have long ago sensed that we are not in sympathy with a lot of\u00a0the claims for huge federal spending of money. We are not so stupid as not to realize\u00a0that some communities must have help, just as some individuals must be\u00a0aided, in our highly complex inter-dependent society. But we cannot go along with\u00a0the argument that the federal\u00a0government\u00a0can easily afford to do for all the\u00a0states what no one state can afford to do for itself. Just examine that argument.<\/p>\n
What else can it mean except, let the money come from the surplus by which the\u00a0whole of our national resources exceeds the sum of all the parts of our national\u00a0resources? There just isn’t any such excess.<\/p>\n
Many thrilling accounts have appeared in print about the great ice harvests\u00a0on the Kennebec. Some of them are almost poetic, such as the chapter in Robert\u00a0Coffin’s “The Kennebec” in the Rivers of America series.<\/p>\n
There has recently come to my attention a volume called “Picturesque Gardiner”,\u00a0an illustrated book about the industries, attractions and surroundings\u00a0of our neighbor city down the river. This book, loaned to me by James Wing of\u00a0the H & W Company, was published in Gardiner in 1896 and was part of the publicity\u00a0of the lively Gardiner Board of Trade.<\/p>\n
The volume has some excellent pictures of the harvesting, storage and shipping\u00a0of Kennebec ice. There is a full-page scene of ice cutting in front of the\u00a0huge plant of the Knickerbocker Ice Company; pictures of the trim, fast, threemasted\u00a0and four-masted schooners that carried the ice to distant ports; a view\u00a0of the Cochran-oler plant with its capacity of 175,000 tons. Altogether there\u00a0are pictures of the ice houses and ships of six companies with total storage capacity\u00a0of 600,000 tons.<\/p>\n
The first ice is said to have been shipped from the Kennebec in 1826. It was\u00a0cut in front of Gardiner and placed on board the brig Orion, which had been hauled\u00a0up at that river port for winter quarters. The next spring the owners took the\u00a0vessel along the coast, without selling the cargo until they got to Baltimore,\u00a0when the whole lot went for $700.<\/p>\n
In 1869 the Gardiner publication announced: “Today the largest and most convenient\u00a0ice houses in the world line both banks of the river, with a total storage\u00a0of 1,500,000 tons. More than a third of this capacity is at Gardiner and Randolph.<\/p>\n
The average harvest, compared with that first $700 cut in 1826, is now, 70 yep.rs\u00a0later, $2,000,000.<\/p>\n
Gardiner pioneers in the ice business were Tudor, Tiffany, Page and Cheesman.<\/p>\n
By 1896 outside interests had control, the largest being the Knickerbocker Company\u00a0of Philadelphia. The Morse Ice Company had already come in with small holdings,\u00a0but it was twenty years later when the Bath tycoon, Charles D. Morse, became\u00a0the ice king of America.<\/p>\n
What would those men of 1896 think if they could see their river in winter\u00a0today? Electric refrigeration has done to their ice what the internal combustion\u00a0engine has done to the horses that used to dot the river by hundreds when\u00a0the ice was being cut. Truly, other times, other ways.<\/p>\n
So many people have asked for a broadcast of the old ballad that celebrated\u00a0the murder of Edward Mathews by Dr. V. P. Coolidge, that I have decided to give\u00a0it to you tonight. No one knows Who wrote this ballad. It first appeared in the\u00a0form of a handbill of the ‘kind that, Mary Ellen Chase says, her Elu’e ‘!ill I parson\u00a0used to write, print and sell at hangings. It has been reprinted from time to\u00a0time in the newspapers during the last hundred years, but the original handbills\u00a0are rare.<\/p>\n
I am fortunate enough to have seen and copied one of those original sheets,\u00a0and it is from that earliest text that I read the poem tonight. The handbill is\u00a0headed “The Waterville Tragedy! or Death of Edward Mathews by Valorus P. Coolidge.\u00a0Tune — Mary’s Dream.”<\/p>\n
Indulgent friends and strangers too,<\/p>\n
A thrilling tale I’ll tell to you;<\/p>\n
‘Twill grieve your hearts the thing to hear,<\/p>\n
And many an eye will drop a tear.<\/p>\n
A mournful tragedy of late<\/p>\n
A young man’s life did terminate;<\/p>\n
The murderer’s hand has laid him low,<\/p>\n
Which makes our hearts with grief o’erflow.<\/p>\n
Poor Edward Mathews, where is he?<\/p>\n
Sent headlong to eternity.<\/p>\n
The mortal debt by him is paid,<\/p>\n
And in his narrow bed is laid.<\/p>\n
No more will anguish seize his soul!<\/p>\n
No more will poison fill his bowl!<\/p>\n
No more will friendship clutch his throat,<\/p>\n
And o’er his mangled body gloat.<\/p>\n
Oh, v. P. Coolidge, how could you<\/p>\n
So black a deed of murder do?<\/p>\n
You, on your honor did pretend<\/p>\n
To be his dearest earthly friend.<\/p>\n
For weeks and months you laid your plan<\/p>\n
To kill your friend and fellow man;<\/p>\n
You thought the thing to safely do,<\/p>\n
Take both his life and money too.<\/p>\n
You knew to Brighton he had gone,<\/p>\n
And watched each hour for his return;<\/p>\n
The pay for cattle which he drove<\/p>\n
You swore within yourself to have.<\/p>\n
You failed in that, but did succeed<\/p>\n
By promising a mortgage deed,<\/p>\n
Of everything you here possessed,<\/p>\n
So that he could in safety rest.<\/p>\n
The money from the bank he drew,<\/p>\n
And brought with faithfulness to you;<\/p>\n
Not dreaming of your vile intent,<\/p>\n
Alone into your office went.<\/p>\n
You said, “Dear Mathews, worthy friend,<\/p>\n
Our friendship here shall never end,<\/p>\n
A glass of brandy you must drink.<\/p>\n
‘Twill do you good I surely think.”<\/p>\n
He drank the liquor you had fixed,<\/p>\n
With prussic acid amply mixed,<\/p>\n
Then cried, “0 Lord, what can it be?<\/p>\n
What poison have you given me?”<\/p>\n
You grasped his throat and stopped his breath,<\/p>\n
until your friend lay still in death;<\/p>\n
Then with a hatchet bruised his head,<\/p>\n
After he was entirely dead.<\/p>\n
His money then you took away,<\/p>\n
And hid his watch out in your sleigh;<\/p>\n
Then called for your confederate<\/p>\n
And all your doings did relate.<\/p>\n
“I have a secret, Flint”, you said,<\/p>\n
“And if by you I am betrayed,<\/p>\n
The State will me for murder try<\/p>\n
And on the gallows I must die.<\/p>\n
“Poor unsuspecting murdered friend,<\/p>\n
My earthly race must sh0rtly .end,<\/p>\n
And I must stand before my God<\/p>\n
And feel his mighty. chastening rod.<\/p>\n
“0, Edward Mathews, could you know<\/p>\n
The scathing pangs I undergo,<\/p>\n
You surely would look down from Heaven<\/p>\n
And say, ‘Let Coolidge be forgiven’.<\/p>\n
“I see thy murdered form displayed,<\/p>\n
When night has cast its sable shade<\/p>\n
Around my dark and lonesome cell.<\/p>\n
Such horrid feelings none can tell.<\/p>\n
“When sleep, that harbinger of rest,<\/p>\n
Has spread its mantle o’er my breast,<\/p>\n
My thoughts will wander back to thee<\/p>\n
And see thee die in agony.<\/p>\n
“0, youthful days forever past,<\/p>\n
I thought thy joys would ever last;<\/p>\n
If I had worlds, them would I give,<\/p>\n
If I once more this life could live.<\/p>\n
“But all in vain, the die is cast,<\/p>\n
The prison walls will hold me fast<\/p>\n
Till to the scaffold I am led,<\/p>\n
To yield that life I’ve forfeited.<\/p>\n
“Take warning now by me I pray.<\/p>\n
Let right and justice guide your way;<\/p>\n
May Heaven’s choice blessings to you flow<\/p>\n
And save you from a murderer’ s woe.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
\nBrought up in a small town and in a small business, I have a strong\u00a0liking for the small, independent business man. But I cannot go a10ng with some\u00a0of the bureaucrats in Washington who condemn all big business simp1y because it\u00a0is big. To hear those fellows talk about mergers, you would .think that a merger\u00a0of companies was something sinister and evil. They talk continuously about how\u00a0the big corporation has swallowed up the little fellow.<\/p>\n
I have no doubt there have been cases of the ruthless strang1ing of competition,\u00a0but for every such case there are numerous cases where mergers have\u00a0brought strength and new resources to all parties to the combination.<\/p>\n
What is the United States, anyway? Is it not itself a merger of thirteen\u00a0original colonies into a federa1 union? Does anyone regret or now denounce\u00a0that merger? Why then are po1itical mergers good, but industrial mergers bad?<\/p>\n
By what reasoning does a government whose motto is “E Pluribus Unum” (one out of\u00a0many) pass a law making the economic observance of that motto a crime? To abolish\u00a0mergers in order to protect competition is no more sensible than to burn\u00a0down the house in order to get rid of the rats.<\/p>\n
\nI don’t intend for a minute to 1et you forget that I was brought up in the\u00a0horse and buggy age. I am still fond of horses, and I was delighted to see the\u00a0fo1lowing item in the September 29th issue of that good old Scotch newspaper,\u00a0the Peebleshire News: “Sandy, the horse which draws the milk-f1oat of the Cooperative\u00a0Society in Selkirk, has just returned to his normal milk round after\u00a0spending three weeks in Edinburgh, performing in the Tattoo whi<;ili was presented\u00a0nightly at the castle during the festival period. Sandy was one of four horses\u00a0chosen to pull the landau which carried Lord and Lady Montrose in the Installation\u00a0of the Governor tableau. Last year this horse was chosen for a pageant representing\u00a0“Transport through the Ages”, and this year Sandy came to the rescue\u00a0When the organizers could not find a grey horse elegant enough to fill the bill.<\/p>\n
Sandy fitted the part perfectly. Now he has returned to his milk round.”<\/p>\n
That item, believe me, brought back fond memories — <\/strong>memories of my favorite\u00a0horse, Old Charlie, who like Sandy was a big grey of elegant appearance.<\/p>\n
I have a picture of Old Charlie all dressed up and hitched to a decoratedgrocery wagon, ready to take his proud place in the Bridgton Fourth of Julyparade of 1906.<\/p>\n
He was unbelievably smart, that Old Charlie. Not only would he back between\u00a0the shafts of a wagon without guidance — a lot of horses could do that\u00a0but he could do a regular stunt that I have never seen duplicated. Between my\u00a0father’s store and the next building was a space exactly ten feet wide. All\u00a0freight brought to the store was unloaded on a platform that jutted out from the\u00a0side of the store some thirty feet back from the street. Every time we hauled\u00a0freight from the narrow guage freight house to the store the team had to be\u00a0cautiously backed into that narrow space to the end of the platform.<\/p>\n
At the risk of being accused of telling Baron Munchausen yarns, I seriously\u00a0declare that Old Charlie could and regularly did back the wagon up to that plattorm\u00a0without a hand on the reins. Many a time I have driven him up the steep\u00a0hill from the narrow guage yards, with a heavy load, turned him about to face\u00a0the street in front of the areaway, jumped off the team, thrown the reins over\u00a0his back, and said, “All right, Charlie, back her up.” And without touching a wheel to either building, Charlie would back up true to the platform.<\/p>\n
That ought to start some of you listeners with some of your own horse\u00a0stories. Let’s have them.<\/p>\n
Year: 1950<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Read the script for “Little Talks” program #87, broadcast on December 10, 1950<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":405,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1153,35296],"tags":[],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7182"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/405"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7182"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7182\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7182"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7182"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7182"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}