<\/p>\n
Several months ago on this program I talked about the Maxim brothers, Hiram and Hudson, who between them perfected several important inventions in the area of munitions. Hiram worked out the machine gun; Hudson gave the world smokeless powder. It was Hiram who took residence in England, became a British subject, and was knighted by Queen Victoria. Hudson remained in this country, so that Maine stories about him are even more prolific than about his brother.<\/p>\n
My friend Ray Tobey of Fairfield recently called my attention to a book published long ago called “Hudson Maxim, Reminiscences and Comments”. So, as we begin this program today, I want to tell you some amusing incidents from the recollections of that remarkable native of Maine. Bear in mind that it was in various places in Piscataquis County, chiefly in Sangerville, where the Maxim boys spent their childhood.<\/p>\n
Here is a memory Hudson Maxim had of his grandfather. “My grandfather”, he wrote, “was a predestinarian, a thorough believer in hellfire and brimstone. He considered joy a sin and sympathy ungodlike. One day I borrowed his axe to chop some wood. I cut my foot rather badly. When I was bandaged up I went to grandfather’s and told him what had happened. His only remark was ‘Did you dull that axe?” ”<\/p>\n
Hudson Maxim could not bear to have animals tortured, and he especially detested dogs who chased woodchucks. He was sure his prize Airedale would do no such thing. But one day the Airedale killed a woodchuck. Maxim, then a man of importance, told his secretary to see that the dog was destroyed. The secretary protested, “Now, Mr. Maxim, you can’t stop a dog from kill ing woodchucks. It’s his nature.” “Punish him! Shoot him!” yelled Maxim. “But”, the secretary remonstrated, “don’t you see that a dog is bound to kill woodchucks anyhow?” “Not if he’s shot”, said Maxim. “I never knew a dead dog to hurt a woodchuck.”<\/p>\n
Early in life Hudson Maxim learned business tricks and was wary of them as long as he lived. He wrote: “Once Father got a circular from N.Y. that advertised what it called Greengoods Men. The circular contained alleged accounts from newspapers stating that original plates for printing certain greenbacks had been stolen from the U.S. Mint. The circular advised Father that, if he would come to New York, he would have a chance to buy a lot of those bank notes, passable anywhere and the fellows would sell him $50,000 worth for only $5,000. ‘What a chance for profit. Father wrote back that he was too busy to come to New York, but they might deduct the $5,000 and send him the balance.”<\/p>\n
Maxim liked to tell tall stories of his boyhood days. Listen to this one: “Mother was always doctoring somebody. One qay she was sent for to treat a bed-ridden girl. She took one look and decided what the girl needed most was a bath. The girl’s mother cautioned, “I hope you don’t mean to put water on that poor, tender skin.” But mother went right ahead with water and plenty of soap. And what do you know she found seven shirts on that girl that had been lost for years. And I want to tell you, that girl got well.”<\/p>\n
Maxim remembered the old cord beds: “We used to have cord beds the way everybody did where we lived. Sometimes, when you had nothing but a featherbed under you, the feathers would work one way or the other until you lay directly on the cords. The next morning you’d have a pattern of those cords on your back and the family could play checkers on it.”<\/p>\n
Maxim said there were weird spellers in his boyhood town: “A fellow named Jackson lived a couple of miles from us. He was an illiterate fellow and one day he wrote a note and sent it by a boy to the store at Abbott Village. He wanted some coffee, and he managed to spell it without using a single correct letter. He wrote ‘kauphy’. ”<\/p>\n
Hudson said his brother Hiram prided himself on his ability as a public speaker. Once Hiram said to their father, “I am often surprised at my own eloquence.” The father’s reply was, “Well, Hiram, did you ever surprise anybody else?”<\/p>\n
In the days when the Maxim brothers were boys, larger families were common. Hudson had a story about one such family: “We had a neighbor who had a lot of children. One day we boys got to betting on how many he had. To settle the bet we accosted the fellow on his way home. ‘Bill” we said, I you’ve got to help us settle a bet. How many children have you got?’ ‘By gum’, said Bill, ‘I don’t rightly know. I ain’t been home since morning. “‘<\/p>\n
Hudson Maxim had one story about how family disputes were sometimes settled: “Daniel Ames 1 ived in a small shack on the Piscataquis River. One day we saw him lugging water from the stream, a pailful at a time, carry it up a ladder to his roof and pour it down the chimney. When we asked him what in the world he was doing. Dan told us: ‘My wife locked me out of the house and won’t let me in. So, by Judas, I’m goi ng to drown her out. ‘”<\/p>\n
The Maxim boys had little use for the kind of religion that invaded Maine country towns in their childhood: “What some pious folks called protracted meetings, we sinners called distracted meetings. Up in the Hollow lived a fellow named John Tinkham, who was a baptizer. He wasn’t a real minister, but was one of those all too common spoofers who took on themselves to be John the Baptist. He did his baptizing at the mill pond. He would wade into the stream with a convert, grab the victim’s left hand with his own left, grasp the clothing at the nape of the neck with his right hand, and souse the victim down backward out of sight. On one occasion his most notable convert was a Mrs. Bennett. She was a veritable harridan, and we boys couldn’t believe that even an ocean of water could wash away her sins. So, as soon as she was ducked, we boys, armed with clubs, whacked and whacked at the water, shouting ‘Kill the sin! Kill the sin!’ But I fear our efforts were of no avail any more than those of this John the Baptizer. In a few days the old lady was right back at her usual life of the village scold.”<\/p>\n
Probably Hudson Maxim was not the only farm boy who disliked to milk cows. Anyhow, this is what he said about it: “I hated the job of milking. Once in a while I’d get kicked. Now a cow’s hind leg is hung so that she can reach forward and get a kind of fishhook pull on you. And a cow’s sometimes mean enough to put her foot in the pail. But folks seldom threw the milk away on that account. They only said it tasted kind of cowy.”<\/p>\n
Hudson tells about his teen-age dating: “When we were living in Guilford I got acquainted with a young lady who lived over in Township No.8. She was a very ordinary-looking girl. In fact it was she who suggested that I take her to a husking bee. I called for her with our horse and sleigh, and on the way to the party we stopped at my home. When she sat down in front of the fire to get warm, my mother saw a big louse stroll down from the girl’s hair to her forehead. Mother told me privately that I had better not go with that girl any more, and I never did.”<\/p>\n
Maine has a lot of good stories about horse trades, and Hudson Maxim told one of the best. Here it is in his own words: “Camp meeting was a great place for horse trades. It was a regular stock exchange, the stock being most of the horses for miles around. One old fellow I knew went to camp meeting and traded horses seven times in one day. At the meeting he found plenty of liquid refreshment and he was a bit woozy when he got home. But he was still able to talk and he bragged loudly about his horse trading. He said he had brought home a wonderful animal that had cost him only $50 boot. The family went out to the barn to take a look at that super horse and behold! Tied up in his familiar stall was the same horse the old man had left home with in the morning. ”<\/p>\n
Hudson Maxim attended Kents Hill School and some of his stories concern his experiences there. Here’s one of them: “At Kents Hill we had a French teacher who thought she was pretty good at the language. Seeing a French Canadian chopping wood over in the principal’s yard, she invited us to go over and hear her talk with him in his native tongue. So along we went. She began to speak French to him. The old fellow looked up at her and said, “No comprend Anglais! ”<\/p>\n
Hudson Maxim liked to scribble verses. He once attended a banquet of the Plymouth Rock Society of New York, where long-winded speakers droned on and on. He recommended that next time they sing new words to the Star Spangled Banner:
\n“The banquet’s red glare,
\nThe burst of hot air,
\nGave proof through the night
\nThat the Rock was still there.”<\/p>\n
When he heard anyone extol the virtues of poverty, Maxim was incensed. He once wrote: “I’m not a believer in the advantages of early poverty. I saw and felt too much of it. My dreams are so filled with its horrors that, when I wake to find myself a fairly rich man, I feel mighty relieved. I tell you anything I have accomplished has been in spite of poverty, not because of it.”<\/p>\n
When Maxim was well along in years, with a mouth full of dentures, he received a bill from a New York dentist for filling several teeth. This was Maxim’s reply: “I have received your bill for filling my teeth. Now, as it has been a long time since I have had a tooth in my head, you must have filled the teeth of a counterfeit. How could you possibly be fooled by someone looking like me, because I know of no one except Santa Claus or Father Neptune who bears the slightest resemblance to me. I am indeed often mistaken for them.”<\/p>\n
I like very much what Hudson Maxim wrote about retirement. He said: “Nobody ought to retire completely. Idleness tends to decay. Activity and useful service are regenerative. He who would live long should work long. When a man retires from all useful service, Nature begins to retire him from earthly existence.”<\/p>\n
Well, our time on the air at this hour has now run out, and we can only say, as we close, that Hudson Maxim was not only a famous inventor; he was also a man with wholesome Yankee philosophy and a saving sense of Maine humor.<\/p>\n
Year: 1966<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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