<\/p>\n
Today, when we breeze about the countryside at fifty miles an hour, and even call that slow travel, we have all but forgotten the horse and buggy rides of long ago. Indeed anyone who ever rode in a buggy is almost sure to be labeled as aged and decrepit. But I am sure some of you will have fond memories restored by an account of a ride which appeared in the Waterville Mail just 90 years ago, in 1869. Here is the way the writer recorded that journey: “Now we are off. Our mile stones are Waterville College, Doolittle Farm, Hogan’s Hotel, with Kendalls Mills in the background; a long bridge, then a stretch of road surrounded by more grass than houses, terminating in a nice little dot called Benton. Here on the right, as we cross another bridge, is a new mill with fine water power, where our former fellow townsman, Joseph Hall, has invested his industry in making matches. A little way back we passed two stores, Hinds’ and Winnis.”<\/p>\n
“Now we go on up the hill. This fine farmhouse among the trees is the home of Asher Barton, deputy sheriff. We turn left at the corner by Lunt’s store. Here are the homes of prosperous citizens, looking down upon the water power in front. with much the same sensation as a Waterville man gazes from Ticonic Bridge upon the power of the falls. Continuing up the hill to the east, we come to the old homestead of Asher Hinds, one of Benton’s best men. We hurry up, for this plain old road to Albion leads for two or three miles through what is called Hardscrabble, formerly called the Slough of Despond. An oasis about half way is the farm of E. Flagg. How clean as a milkpan it looks. Just ahead is the beautiful farm of Albert Crosby. Here is Lovejoy Pond. It is about a mile and a half long and 3\/4 of a mile wide. It is filled with perch and pickerel, and its water is very cold. The pond took its name from Rev. Daniel Lovejoy, a Congregational clergyman, one of the town’s first settlers. Mr. Lovejoy depended so largely upon the fish he caught in the pond that it was called Lovejoy’s pork barrel. On several occasions he caught more than a barrel full of pickerel in a single day. He found it more profitable to be a fisher of fishes than to be a fisher of men. He committed suicide by hanging himself in his barn, and in accord with the bigotry of the times, he was buried in the highway, as it was then considered more wicked to die of hemp than of rum. The better charity of friends later removed his remains to the orchard adjoining his house, where a modest stone now bears his name. He was the father of Elijah Lovejoy, who was shot at Alton, Illinois, while endeavoring to establish an anti-slavery press.<\/p>\n
“Albion is a small town, but has a good agricultural population. It has five churches: Congregational, Universalist, Christian, Baptist and Quaker, none of which could be charitably judged by the parallel of piety and paint.”<\/p>\n
That nice, long leisurely ride of 1869 we can now take in half an hour, but we whiz by so fast we actually see less and have much less time for reflection than did that writer of 90 years ago.<\/p>\n
When we get concerned about juvenile delinquency, as we ought indeed to be, we can take some comfort from the fact that, in one form or another, it has always been with us. In 1870 the Waterville Mail was stirred up about it, especially in relation to the Maine Liquor Law. It said: “The drunkenness that has been constantly increasing since the authorities of Waterville proclaimed they would not molest the rum traffic, now rolls like a flood over our village. It is no strange sight to see little boys of a dozen years staggering home. Two little fellows, not yet in their teens, were seen behind Ticonic Row, seated on each side of a bottle, which they declared had just been filled for them at a shop near by. Almost every night boys not fifteen years old are seen reeling down Temple Street. A fine looking lad is often met as he reels up Main Street, and another is just as often seen on College Street. Who for many years has seen such a town meeting as our last, when half a dozen men were seen together drunk, and the doors of the grog shops were thronged with bleary eyed and foul mouthed men?”<\/p>\n
Just as we learned many years later, the fault was not with the law, but with its enforcement. Down in Portland, Neal Dow showed conclusively that the liquor law could be enforced when honest men were determined to enforce it. So, in 1870, the Waterville Mail was quite right when its editorial concluded with these words:<\/p>\n
“It is useless to inquire about what should be done. Everybody knows what ought to be done and can be done. Scores of good men are laboring earnestly for the moral interests of this community, but that is not enough. The law must be enforced. Is there any doubt as to the way duty points?”<\/p>\n
Conditions were apparently little better in 1872, for then there occurred in Waterville a death which caused the editor of the Waterville Mail again to pay his respects to the liquor traffic. On May 19 the Mail reported: “Mr. John Hudson, employed in the liquor shop of Mr. Loud, in Merchants’ Row, was found dead Thursday forenoon, at the foot of a flight of stairs, leading to an upper room where he slept. He was an intemperate man and is supposed to have fallen head foremost down the stairs and died from his injuries.”<\/p>\n
A week later, on May 26, the Mail had a more detailed story: “The jury of inquest in the case of John Hudson, found dead on a stairway near Loud’s liquor shop, held a protracted sermon under Coroner A. H. Barton of Benton and agreed upon a verdict of death in consequence of intemperance. Most of the testimony was vague and unreliable, as is generally the case when either rum or its friends kill a man. It appeared that Hudson left Atkins’ liquor shop, opposite the Williams House, about midnight, deeply intoxicated. He had eaten heartily of clams during the evening. Being a large and fleshy man, with his system weakened and poisoned by continued drunkenness, he was a fit subject for apoplexy. Loud’s shop, where he was employed, was on the other side of the street and several doors farther down. His pocket book was found on the street, with his papers scattered near it, but containing no money, although it was testified that he had been seen to have some $25 during the afternoon. No wounds were found on the body, except a slight scratch on one ear. There was no suspicion that he had been murdered, though there was ground for thinking he had been thrust into the position where he was found. It was plain that\u00a0 he had not fallen down the stairs, at the foot of which he was lying. We think it safe to conclude that he entered the door at the foot of the stairs for the purpose of ascending to his room, fell in a fit and expired.<\/p>\n
“Many reports have been circulated, indicating foul play, but we think them without foundation. Foul rum, foul companions and foul food led to the common end to this drunkard — an end that threatens to come speedily to several men who contributed, at least indirectly, to his fate.”<\/p>\n
Only three months later the Mail had to report a similar death. In August, 1872, the paper said: “Mr. Eben Garlin, an unmarried man aged 54, a resident of Waterville, fell down and immediately expired on Tuesday morning, while passing in front of I. H. Low’s drugstore on Main Street. An inquest brought the verdict that Garlin was killed by poisonous liquor furnished him in defiance of law and common morality by the rumsellers of Waterville.<\/p>\n
“Constable Brown had found the man drunk about 9 PM the previous evening, beside a shed adjoining Jewell’s rum shop. The constable had taken Garlin to the lock-up, where he was received by Constable Keith. In the morning Garlin told Keith that he had been robbed of his wallet while sitting somewhere on the street, by a young man in light colored pants. Discharged, Garlin made straight for Jewell’s rum shop, but Jewell later swore that Garlin drank nothing there. Jewell’s little boy, who was examined separately without knowing his father’s story, stated freely that Garlin drank several glasses of rum. Jewell did testify that the man was carried from his shop into the adjoining shed stupidly drunk, but that had been on the previous evening. Other testimony leaves no doubt that Garlin was robbed of $20 to $30 soon after he was carried from Jewell’s shop. The deceased was an industrious, kind and worthy man except for the habit of periodical sprees.”<\/p>\n
It is always well for a community to know what outsiders think of the place. Here is what a Gardiner visitor thought of Waterville almost a hundred years ago. Visiting our town in 1860, he aired his views in an issue of the Gardiner Home Journal. Here is what he had to say: “For elegant residences we think Waterville excels any other town in Maine. It seems to be in fact finished and doesn’t grow — merely aggregates, the same as a stone. Its inhabitants do nothing except what is absolutely necessary for comfort. They have a few stores, because even its nabobs must have something to eat and wear. They have grog shops because they must drink. In fact they rather overdo this branch of trade.<\/p>\n
“The village did once have some mills, in which large quantities of lumber were manufactured, but the pursuit was too plebian, so they were burned or torn down. In Waterville to do anything to show that one is alive is improper. No one who wants to work for a living is needed there, but those who can live on the interest of their money will find it a quiet paradise. Such fine dwellings and such elegant gardens can be found nowhere else in Maine, and nowhere else congregate such literary people, such refined ladies, and such eminently proper men. Everything is highly respectable and quiet. Not even the noisy sect of Methodists has invaded the community. In Waterville, even religion is on the quiet side.”<\/p>\n
I wonder what that sarcastic Gardinerite would say if he could visit Waterville today. Waterville slow, unenterprising, and sleepy compared with Gardiner? 0 my! 0 my!<\/p>\n
It is interesting to note who were the largest taxpayers in Waterville exactly a hundred years ago. In 1859 the heaviest tax was paid by John Ware, $679. Next was the estate of Nathaniel Gilman, $421. The estate of Timothy Boutelle had been dispersed among the heirs, of whom the son, Dr. Nathaniel Boutelle, paid $185, while the son-in-law, Edwin Noyes, paid $218. Samuel Appleton’s tax was $237, James Stackpole’s was $181, and Charles Hathaway, the shirtmaker, was taxed $130. Only ten Waterville men paid a tax of more than $100, the tenth of whom was Samuel Redington.<\/p>\n
Did you know that there used to be a hotel near Fort Halifax? On October 16, 1863 the following ad appeared in the Waterville Mail: “The Halifax House, situated in Winslow on Fort Point, at the mouth of the Sebasticook River, will be sold at a great bargain, or exchanged for a farm if applied for soon. For further particulars inquire on the premises or of Hiram Simpson at North Vassalboro.”<\/p>\n
And so ends the last broadcast of the eleventh season of Little Talks on Common Things. We expect to return to the air in September for the twelfth consecutive year of this program, still under the public service sponsorship of the Keyes Fibre Company. So, for old times sake, we say goodbye until September.<\/p>\n
Year: 1959<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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