Games of Our Childhood

Journal Opinion, May 16, 2012


“The boys and girls, enjoying themselves, playing goal and tag, and pizen, and hide and seek, and blind man’s bluff, and igh spy, and wolf, and shouting and yelling till the woods rang with echoes.” This is a description of youthful fun at the May, 1780 Training Day in Warren, described in William Little’s 1870 town history. The games those children played were handed down orally from generation to generation and are an integral part of the memories of many area residents. Some are still being played by children today.

On Wednesday, May 23, the Bradford Historical Society invites area residents to join in a time of sharing of those memories. The program will be held at 7 p.m. at the Bradford Academy and will have enough active participation to bring out the child in the willing. The Society’s current museum display of antique toys will be at its display of games and toys at the 2012 Vermont History Expo at the Tunbridge Fairgrounds on June 16-17. When at the Expo, remember to stop by the BHS booth.

The original theme of this column was to include both toys and games, but there was so much information, that the toy, cards and board games portion will have to wait for a future column. This column deals with the games children organized for themselves, without adult supervision, and with a minimum of equipment, in what is now known as “free play.”

The history of games is as rich and varied as the imagination of the children who created and enjoyed them and may not include the favorite pastime of some readers. While varied, the amazing thing is how similar some of these games are from place to place and time to time.

It is thought that children’s games played in earlier societies were a way of preparing youngsters for adult roles through imitation. The rough and boisterous team games prepared boys for their participation as hunters and warriors. Playing house readied girls as homemakers. While few of my youthful companions ever became cps or robbers, it might be supposed that by playing that game we learned skills used later in life. There is no doubt that games contributed to the social, emotional, physical and intellectual growth of the children who played them.

Many of the games passed down through American history have their origins in the European countries from which the immigrants came. The term “game” comes from the Old English word gaman, meaning joy, fun and amusement. Some games, like blind man’s bluff, are thought to have origins as far back as ancient China. Hopscotch and marbles were played in classical Rome and Greece.

“Children’s Games,” a 1560 painting by Flemish artist Pieter Breughel, included over 200 children playing at least 80 games familiar to him. Many of those games, including leap frog, tug of war, crack the whip, follow the leader and marbles are still being played by children 450 years later.

Games were sometimes connected with historic events or individuals. But not always. It was thought for a time that Ring Around the Rosie described the great plagues of the Middle Ages and that London Bridge Is Falling Down referred to a 12th century attack on London, but both explanations has been generally discounted by folklorists.

In the rough life of early New England there was little time or tolerance for children’s games, except on festival days. There were few exclusively children’s games. Early school did not encourage games as a part of study, considering them frivolous. Some games that were played in Colonial times included hopscotch, jacks, cat’s cradle, cup and ball and stoole ball.

Work was made easier by the introduction of games. Husking and paring bees had an element of play involved. Other games, often in dance form, may tell of the way in which work is done. “Oats, Pease, Beans and Barley Grows” and “Threading the Needle” are two possible examples.

An article in 1847 edition of Vermont Agriculturalist entitled “The Mother’s Part,” autioned against too much play. “Children must play, but at the same time, they should be taught that play is not the principal thing. They should have set time for play, as well as other things.” A 1910 article warned against “vagrant street games” as appealing to “the inferior side of a child’s nature.”

Some games originally began with young adults for whom dancing was prohibited. In the 19th century in Haverhill, young people gathered to play Blind-man’s Bluff, turn the plate, chasing the squirrel and simon says, with kisses, “willingly given and quickly taken” well into the evening. These seem to be forerunners of spin the bottle and post office enjoyed by teens in later years.

In an effort to preserve the oral tradition of games, a number of collections were published. In 1869, Laura Valentine authored Games for Family Parties and Children.

In 1883, folklorist William Wells Newell, in fear that children’s traditions could become extinct, published a collection entitled Games and Songs of American Children. They both describe, by category, familiar games as well as others that have disappeared or undergone name changes.


Some of the game categories included blindfold, contest, trade, fortress, memory and chase as well as marriage and love games for those who were older. Specific games played in New England included the familiar and those lost to memory: Go In and Out the Window, Farmer in the Dell, I spy, callie-ball, genteel lady, hawks and hhickens and knights of Spain. Many of these games migrated across the country and variations appeared. Many of these games also appear in other cultures, sometimes with variations.

These collections can be accessed on Google Books, along with descriptions of many of the games mentioned in this column. I also reread two other interesting collections: The Great American Depression Book of Fun by John O’dell and The Foxfire Book of Toys and Games, edited by Linda Garland Page and Hilton Smith. Both books include “reminiscences and instruction” gathered in the early 1980s.

About that same time, my students conducted a series of interviews with elders who were area youngsters between 1890 and 1920. They mentioned a number of the games that had been played in earlier times. Many, who grew up in rural areas, agreed with one man who grew up on a West Corinth farm: “My life was pretty full with working on the farm, but when I did have free time we used to play stickball.” Depending on the season, they went sliding, skating, fishing, swimming and hiking.

As before, some diversions were limited by sex, location or family circumstances. Several women, who talked of playing dolls, said that baseball, bikes and swimming were not “lady-like.” Kids in rural locations with few others around were less likely to play group activities than those who were in town, except on the playground at the district school. Several mentioned that school recess allowed time for hop-scotch, tag and ball games. One elder said: “Our play we made ourselves. We made our own fun, made our own play.”

Bradford historian Harold Haskins who grew up in the early 20th century mentioned the restrictions on play on Sunday: “I can clearly remember when boys and girls quite generally were not expected to engage in games or play on Sunday.” He recalled that on a Sunday afternoon in 1907, “town officials” stopped a gang of boys from playing baseball on a remote field.

As these games passed from rural to urban settings, variations appeared. My friend Robert Robb who grew up in Detroit in the 1930s and 40s, told me of street games regularly played, including kick the can, tippie and tappy on the icebox.

Growing up on Bridge Street in Orford in the 1940s and 50s, play was a regular activity for the neighborhood children. We could be gone from home for hours at a time and play was only interrupted when a mom called one of us home for a meal. Seemingly carefree, and depending on the season, we wrestled, played tag, and hide and seek and pick up ball, went biking, fishing and sliding, had snowball fights and played lawn games such as mother may I and red light, green light. Imagination and innovation were the source of games. We had vines and tires to swing on and brooks and lakes for swimming.

Nothing was more enticing than a good mud puddle or better yet, a small stream of water for building dams or sailing homemade boats. Scrap lumber, a cardboard box, an abandoned car or an improvised clubhouse, sometimes tree high, could be combined with imaginations running wild to fill a summer afternoon. There were, of course, games that our parents knew nothing about.

Games often led to dirty or torn clothes and bruised bodies, a problem when Saturday night was your only bath night and mothers, in addition to being family doctor, had to spend most of a whole day doing the family laundry. It is a wonder most of us grew up with body parts intact.

When I caddied at Lake Morey Golf Course, the benches in the caddy shack were worn through from the jackknife game of mumblety-peg. In the school yard, we played marbles and red rover” and pick up games of baseball and soccer. With age, organized sports, dating and jobs left less time for informal games. But older kids sometimes duped younger ones into nighttime game of snipes, literally leaving youngsters holding the bag.

This is a boy’s perspective on games. While some of these activities included the girls in the neighborhood, girls had their own exclusive pastimes. They were more likely to play dress-up, hopscotch, house and school, paper dolls, jacks or jump rope, with no boys allowed. Of course, they also had games that were a complete mystery to yucky boys, which often included a lot of giggling.

Some games such at tick tack toe are now available as computer games. My 10 year-old grandson, Trever Robbins, tells me that play for boys his age means playing computer games on Nintendo DS, Playstation and Xbox, alone or with friends. In addition to organized sports, he tells me that they still, play army, complete with toy guns and forts, and tag and just plain “racing around.” My granddaughter, Rachel Jacobs, 13, a talented soccer player who also plays video games such as Angry Bird and Draw Something, told me about clapping games, jump rope and hopscotch played with her girlfriends.

“The saddest feature of our modern social condition and overcrowding in towns is that children have forgotten how to play.” No, this is not the editorial comment of a current observer. It is from an 1895 article in The Contemporary Review by Charles Roberts. Elders such as me often fuss over the loss of the games we played as youngsters, especially as a response to a grandchild’s plea, “I’m bored.” It has been said that “A true game is one that frees the spirit.” If you are lucky you might get them to teach you their new games while you teach them your older ones. It will free the spirits of both of you.

Dancing in the Kitchen, Singing in the Parlor

Journal Opinion April 11, 2012

Author greets speaker Mark Greenberg (left) prior to his April 18th presentation on "Kitchen Tunks and Parlor Songs" for the Bradford Historical Society.  His appearance before an enthusiastic audience was underwritten by the Vermont Humanities Council.  (Photo: Janice Neubauer)

Old time fiddler Harold Luce of Chelsea leads the current festivities of a kitchen junket at the home of Rick and Anne Rosten in Cookville.  (Photo:Anne Rosten/Journal Opinion)

“After the supper came the dance. There was no music save the fiddles…but was that not enough? Have ever feet tapped more merrily than to a rollicking scrape of some inspired old wool-thatched fiddler, swaying to his own strains and called out the figures in clear, rich tones that harmonized with his wild dance measure as only he could do.”

This is a 19th century description of what has been called kitchen junkets, kitchen tunks, tonks, rackets or scrapes. It is dancing in the kitchen. This column describes this New England bit of homegrown fun along with the often accompanying activity of singing in the parlor.

On Wednesday, April 18, musician-educator Mark Greenberg presented the illustrated program “Kitchen Tunks and Parlor Song” at the Bradford Academy Auditorium to an audience of about 60. The program was sponsored by the Bradford Historical Society with a grant from the Vermont Humanities Council. Greenberg currently teaches courses in American music at UVM and is a resident of Montpelier. He has researched the roots of Vermont music and has recorded this music in both CD and DVD presentations.

Beginning after chores were done, these kitchen dances were held in conjunction with a barn raising, corn roast or husking bee or just as a break from the isolation of a long winter. When one was planned, word went out about the neighborhood, passed from home to home. Most neighborhoods had at least one fiddler, although “scraping” was an appropriate description of his talents in some cases.

This was an opportunity for neighbors to get together and share the most recent gossip or commiserate about the weather. These family-centered events were held in the “great kitchen” of local farmhouses, often the largest room in the dwelling. When all the furniture, except the stove and sink was removed, an intimate dance floor became available. Sometimes adjacent rooms were also used.

The short story M’Randy Ann’s Romance by Helen M. Winslow that appeared in an 1894 edition of The New England Magazine includes a description of a northern Vermont kitchen junket: “Old Dave Burrows sat in state on the only chair in the room, scraping wildly on a fiddle with one string broken. Up and down the uneven floor a dozen young folks were going vigorously though the mazy evolutions of the Virginia Reel, while a half-dozen more huddled in the doorway that led to the great ‘square room’ or parlor as the next generation termed it, applauding the most graceful and deriding the least graceful of the dancers.”

The description goes on: “At ten o’clock the kitchen table was pulled out and loaded with doughnuts, apple sauce, pie, cheese and cider. This was pleasant intermission in the evening’s exercises, after which the dancing would go on with renewed vigor.” The figures included traditional contras, quadrilles and square dances, taken from English, Scottish and French traditional dances. They were so familiar to most participants that the caller only had to get them started and they could continue with just the music and whatever gusto they could muster.

There were, of course, variations. Sometimes the fiddler’s chair was on a board covering the sink to make extra room. A harmonica player or other musician might provide accompaniment. At times there was liquor or hard cider. Often a supper followed the evening of dancing.

Sometimes dancing lasted until well after midnight. Card games and group singing could be held in conjunction with the party. In some neighborhoods, the junkets rotated from house to house, whereas in others, the largest farm kitchen was used.

These frolics were not looked upon with favor by some. In the 1890s, the New Hampshire Superintendent of Public Instruction warned against students attending dances including kitchen junkets. “Such pupils are wholly unfitted to do substantial school work. For two or three days after these nightly revelings, their minds are unsettled, stupid and dull.”

In the early 1980’s my U.S. History students interviewed area elders about life in the period from 1900-1930. Many spoke, with fond memories, of kitchen junkets they had attended in their youth. I followed up recently with several additional interviews. Among the comments were: “I learned to dance there.” and “They were lots of fun, dancing and visiting.” Others mentioned “plenty of liquor” and “They had the best hard cider.”

One man said that his favorite song “to stamp the old feet to” was the “Soldier’s Joy.” Another, who lived in northern Bradford, told me that in his youth he had a horse-drawn sleigh and at the end of a very long evening of dancing, he could snuggle down under a lap robe and the horse knew the way home to the warm barn.

Greg Sharrow, writing about kitchen junkets in the Vermont Encyclopedia, attributes their demise “to an increase in rowdiness as the automobile enabled people to travel greater distances and people from outside a particular neighborhood began showing up in these local gatherings.” It is also true that commercial barn dances, featuring both round and square dancing and an expanded social experience, drew the younger crowd and led to the decline of the traditional neighborhood gathering.

There is at least one kitchen junket still held in the area. For the past 10 years, Rick and Anne Rosten of Cookville have invited up to 60 friends and neighbors to their home for a junket. It is held in conjunction with friends, family and the Bradford Evangelical Free Church. As the kitchen is not large enough to accommodate the numbers who attend, two adjacent rooms are used.

Veteran fiddler/caller Harold Luce of Chelsea does the honors for square dancing. Anne told me that the party starts with sledding and games and the evening ends with the “Virginia Reel.” She said they host the annual event as a way to deal with “cabin fever.”

An equally large number of interviewees said they never went to kitchen junkets as their families didn’t believe in dancing, cards or drinking liquor. But they did speak fondly of group singing. The other portion of Mark Greenberg’s presentation on April 18th will deal with parlor songs.

Singing has been a major part of Vermont folk culture. The art of singing, both sacred and secular, was encouraged from the earliest years of area towns. In March 1794, Newbury voted to appoint choristers to teach and lead singing. Jeremiah Ingalls and Jacob Bayley were among those chosen.

Singing schools were common in many area communities, meeting in churches and schools. The history of Ryegate described the social importance of these schools: “The witchery of the singing schools drew young people from far and near… pleasure and instruction were equally mingled.”

There were also those who accompanied work or relaxation by singing the ballads passed to them by their ancestors. One farmer, James Atwood, also known as a folksinger and poet is quoted: “I’m not what you’d call a regular singer, you know I never learned by book nor never saw nothin’s writ down. I’ve allus sung ‘cause I can’t help it. My father was the same and my grandfather before him.”

Greenberg related the history of traditional Vermont ballads, many of which had roots from early Vermonters’ European roots. Two collections of these ballads mentioned were those of “the Old Revolutionary Soldier of Sandgate, Vermont”(1823) and those collected by Helen Hartness Flanders (1931). Included are many familiar ballads passed down orally from generation to generation. “Barbara Allen,” “Billy Boy” and “Young Charlotte” are just three well known to many.

Parlor music became popular in America before the Civil War and continued into the early 20th century. Stephen Foster’s compositions are examples of early parlor songs and represent the most widely sung pieces of the 19th century. Two of his most popular were “O Susanna” (1848) and “Jeanie With The Light Brown Hair” (1854).

Originally marketed to the middle class, the popular of these musical pieces coincided with the rise of the American piano and organ industry. This was an era in which many individuals played musical instruments. Songwriters realized there was a large and lucrative market for sheet music and song collections. If they could get a popular entertainer to feature a piece, the number of sheets rose significantly.

Until the 1920s a truly popular song might be defined as one of which a large number of people could recall both the tune and some of the words. In a society more attuned to communal music, the common denominators of a popular song included a tune that was easy to sing with basic, direct and intelligible words. Songs were styled for solos, duets and group singing. Parlor music fit this bill. The melody was usually simple, the words ranged from comic to sentimental.

In Sweet Songs for Gentle Americans: The Parlor Song in America 1790-1860, Nicholas E. Tawa wrote that these songs were about “shared human experiences” and reflected “commonly-held ideas that were readily understood and deeply satisfying.” This was truly “music for the millions.” While most of the songwriters were men, it was “overwhelmingly women who collected this music.”

In the period after 1877, songwriters in New York’s Tin Pan Alley marketed their songs aggressively. The song to sell a million sheets was “After The Ball Is Over” (1892), eventually selling over five million. “Take Me Out To the Ball Game” (1908) became a popular favorite and still remains the unofficial anthem of the game.

War, which tends to focus national sentiment, was a major catalyst of the type of songs popularized by parlor songwriters. Songs were popular among both military personnel and civilians. They reflect the varied strong emotions that war evokes. Popular songs of the Civil War include “The Empty Chair” and “Just Before the Battle, Mother.” During World War I, ”Keep the Home Fires Burning” and “Oh How I Hate To Get Up in the Morning” were popular.

Greenberg includes in his collection of popular Vermont parlor songs instrumentals of the following: “Wait for the Wagon” (1850), “Darlin’ Nelly Gray” (1856), “Golden Slippers” (1879) and “You Are My Sunshine” (1940). Several of these, as with other parlor songs, were originally written for blackface minstrel shows.

My first introduction to this music genre was when, in my very early years, I sat next to my elderly Orford neighbor Florence Workman while she played her parlor piano. Together we sang Foster’s “Camptown Races” (1850) and “The Big Rock Candy Mountain” (1906) written by Harry McClintock. That memory is as sweet to me as the divinity fudge she made. We also sang some of these songs during music time at Orford’s elementary school.

The rise of the phonographs and radio created a hit parade of songs, but led to the decline of parlor singing. It is no wonder that there were no parlor songs in the Rolling Stone magazine’s Top 500 Songs list. While there are a few songs, such as “God Bless America” (1918) or “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” that can cause an audience to break into song, most of the thousands of the songs are now lost to memory.

There is no doubt that the omnipresence of music today, emanating from radio, television, iPods and from hidden speakers in many public places, has led to the decline of singing by average folks, except as an accompaniment to the professional. We no longer need personal singing to set the cadence for work or fill the relaxing evenings.

Singing is something more likely to be done at us than by us. We are less likely to whistle or hum that merry tune as listen to it via an ear bud. As we don’t sing in the parlor, we don’t dance in the kitchen. And I am not sure that we are more secure in our personal wellbeing for it.

(Editor’s Note: The author’s second book of essays In Times Past: Essays From the Upper Valley, Book Two will be available in May from local outlets. )

Picture That! Photographers of the Upper Valley

James A. Cutting, born in Hanover in 1814 and grew up in Haverhill. After moving

to Boston, he patiented the ambrotype, an advance in photography. The name of the style was taken from Cutting's middle name.

This hand-colored portrait is known as a carte-de-visite or CDV.

It was popular during the last half of the 19th century and was the

first photograph that could be reproduced in any number the

customer desired. (Bradford Historical Society)

E.H. Allen's Photographic Studio. This studio was located on the east side of Bradford's Main Street and was described by The United Opinon in 1895 as ranking among the best int he state. It housed Allen's photograph studio and "an extensive and beautiful line" of artist supplies. (Bradford Historical Society)
This cabinet photo was by Charles F. Bracy. He had studios at one time or another in Warren, Wells River, Woodsville and Fairlee with a career that lasted from at least 1877 to 1910. His elaborate advertisement appeared on the back of his formal portraits. (Bradford Historical Society)

Bradford's Railroad Photographer. This photograph of the Bradford station was taken around 1942 by Phillip Hastings. Over a 50-year period, Hastings became one of the nation's foremost railroad photographer, capturing the transiton of the industry from steam to diesel. (Bradford Historical Socielty)

Journal-Opinion December 28, 2011

Someone in your family probably has them. They are stored in a box or a timeworn album. They are photographs from which your ancestors look out in tones of black and white, sepia or even blue from times past. They depict infants, soldiers, new graduates, married couples or grim elders. They chronicle vacations, celebrations or family reunions. Some were taken by amateurs, others by professionals.

When they were taken, the family knew who and what was pictured. Now you know who they are only if someone bothered to write names and dates on the photographs. For the others, the people, times and places are lost to memory.

This column deals with the first century of professional photography in our area. It describes the advancements in photography from before the Civil War to the 1950’s.Included are the names and contributions of those professionals who worked in the area and those who had local connections, but made their reputations elsewhere.

The daguerreotype was introduced in 1839 and was the first widely used means of photography. It used a polished, silver-plated sheet of metal to produce a one-of-a-kind image directly from the camera. While it was replaced by less expensive methods, it fixed the idea of photography in the collective consciousness of Americans.

West Fairlee was the birthplace Albert Sands Southworth, one of the pioneers of American photography. That town’s historical society states that Southworth was born in 1811, grew up on Blood Brook Road and graduated from Bradford Academy. Although he left West Fairlee at the age of 18, he often returned to visit the family farm.

Southworth was fascinated by daguerreotypes and opened a studio in Massachusetts in 1840. He and his partner, Josiah Hawes, became recognized for their “aesthetic accomplishments and technical finesse.” Among the dignitaries who sat for them was John Quincy Adams, the first American President to be photographed. In 1862, the partnership was dissolved and Southworth became an independent photographer and lecturer. After he died, his remains were buried in the Blood Brook Cemetery.

One method that replaced the daguerreotype was the ambrotype. It was patented in July 1854 by daguerreian James A. Cutting of Boston. Cutting was born in Hanover in 1814. His family moved to Haverhill,where he lived into adulthood. Using the money from his invention of a new type of beehive, he moved to Boston and entered the photography business. The term ambrotype is based on Cutting’s middle name. It was an advance that gave multiple positives in a clear image and was presented as a matted and cased photograph. This method protected the image by sealing it between two pieces of glass. It had an advantage over earlier methods as could be viewed without holding it at a correct angle. It was also the first time that wet-late photography was used.

He sold his patient for the ambrotype for a reported $40,000, an enormous amount at the time. He then used his fortune to create one of Boston’s first aquariums and other places of entertainment. He also had a yacht which he called the Ambrotype. The report of his death in Connecticut’s Hartford Times in August 1867 mentioned that he died in an insane asylum. .

The popularity of the ambrotype was short lived, and it was replaced by tintypes, carte-de-visite’s or CDVs and cabinet cards. All three of these methods were introduced about the time of the Civil War and remained popular until the end of the 19th century.

The tintype was a single image produced on a thin iron plate, without the need for a negative. CDVs were mounted portraits, about the size of a calling card, thus their name. They were often hand colored. They could be easily reprinted to produce the number of copies desired by the customer. Images of some celebrities sold in large numbers.

Cabinet cards were larger than CDVs. Both types were pasted on cardboard or mounted in ornate cases made of leather over wood. A union case was two photos in the same case facing each other. With these advancements in photography, the general public came to realize it could have portraits made. Formerly that had been limited to the wealthy who could afford to hire painters.

E. H. Allen of Bradford was one of the first photographers in Vermont. He moved to Bradford in 1858 and set up a studio in the Hardy building near where Perry’s Oil Service is located today. He first produced daguerreotypes, but soon adopted the more popular ambrotypes and CDVs. His studio burned in the fire of 1883 and he relocated across the street. That studio also was destroyed by fire seven years later, but was rebuilt.

In 1895, The United Opinion ranked both the studio and the photographer as one of the best in the state. Allen died in 1917 and is buried in the Upper Plain Cemetery. Allen’s clear professional photographs of local scenes and individuals are a valuable tool for local historians.

One popular type of photograph that Allen apparently did not produce was stereograph. These featured two nearly identical images mounted side by side and when viewed through a special holder, provided a three-dimensional image. Both itinerate and local photographers specialized in this type of photograph. They were a widely popular form of entertainment in the late 19th century.

From 1875 to 1881, itinerant photographer was Carlyle Goodrich of Plainfield traveled through northern Vermont taking images of buildings and their inhabitants. A recent publication by Richard J. Petit on this photographer includes stereographs of several local towns. Petit writes “[Goodrich] captured the styles, dress, homes, livestock, and occasionally, significant family events of the era defined by his career.”

A local stereographic photographer was Amos F. Clough of Warren and Orford. As early as 1865, Clough had a studio on Main Street in Orford and began publishing local stereo cards. He is best known, however, for his winter landscape photographs. In the winter of 1869-70, he joined geologists on the top of Mt. Moosilauke and recorded the impact of the wind and temperature. The following winter, he joined a group on Mt. Washington in a similar project. He is described as “eminent in his profession” and “a true lover of nature and devotee of science.”

Daniel C. Chapman, another professional recognized for his photographs of natural phenomena, was born in South Corinth in 1826. In 1863, he began his photographic work in New York City. Over the next thirty years he gained “a world-wide reputation” for his experiments in the photographic process including making plates more sensitive and creating a device for making photographs to exact scale. Additionally, he is recalled for his photographs of phases of the sun and moon. He served as the chief photographer for the U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey and the Bureau of Weights and Measures.

There were a number of contemporaries who provided professional local photographs in late 19th and early 20th century. Lucius L. Pollard was a traveling photographer and artist who had a studio on North Main Street in Haverhill from 1880 to 1885. He previously had studios in Waterbury and Springfield.

A photographer by the last name of Corliss produced photographs in both East Corinth and Newbury. It is possible it was Elizabeth Hunter Corliss who is listed in the Newbury history as a photographer around 1902. If so, she is the only local female photographer I found in that era.

The introduction of the Kodak camera in 1888 made the taking of photographs available to a larger number of people. They took pictures of almost every aspect of their lives, and Kodak did the developing and printing. New types of photographic film and papers were introduced and the practice of pasting photos to cardboard mounts was mostly dropped, although cardboard holders were used.

Around 1900, the “Real Photo” postcard was introduced, allowing both amateur and professional photographers to print pictures on cards that could be mailed. The golden era of post cards was in the period before World War I, and cards with pictures of individuals and local scenes were common.

Even with affordable cameras available, professional photographers continued to be important. W. D. Chandler of St. Albans, H. L. Bixby of Chelsea and R.M. McIntosh of Northfield were traveling photographers who visited this area. Photographs bearing their names are in the collections of the Bradford Historical Society.

The most accomplished photographer who traveled to our area was Clara Sipprell (1885-1975). Her life-time affiliation with Vermont began in 1915 when she was invited to photograph a catalog for Camp Hanoum in Thetford. Sipprell and her business partner rented a studio nearby and, until 1939 she came to Thetford off and on to photograph the Vermont landscape and its people.

In a 1988 Vermont History News article by Gisela Gamper, Sipprell is quoted: “In and around Thetford I think my best landscapes are made. My Vermont neighbors enriched my life by their friendliness…there is a magic of roots growing deep in this state which touches the whole world.”

Sipprell’s photographs exemplify the style known as photopictorialism. It involved the use of natural light and soft-focus lens as an artistic tool. Her works include portrait of many celebrities and contributions to well-known periodicals. In 1974, the State of Vermont honored Sipprell with the Governor’s Award for Excellence in the Arts, “recognizing her contributions to the history of photography with her luminous images in the pictorial aesthetic.” Her portraits are represented in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C.


Important to the local historical record are photographs by Bracy and Adams. Charles F. Bracy worked in Warren in 1877, Wells River in 1886 and operated a studio and art store in Woodsville in 1890. It was said to, “compare favorably with any establishment in New England.” In 1910, he was advertised as being a partner with A. L. Adams of Fairlee. For the next decade or so, Adams took photographs that varied from local bands and farm workers to school photos.

Several photographers operated from studios in Woodsville. W. E. West had a studio in the Hotel Wentworth on Central Street in 1890, followed in 1894-96 by C. F. Bracy and J. J. Towle around 1900. H. C. Bailey opened a studio and art store in 1890 and was known in the state for his use of innovative techniques.

Silas Hobart operated a studio “specializing in photographs of all kinds” on School Street from 1914-1923. In 1925, E. McLeod Sipprell began to operate a studio on Central Street. Among his specialties were class pictures for local schools, and he was known as a “genial photographer.” In 1952, Sipprell’s studio was sold to Winthrop Klark, who, according to Blaisdell’s Haverhill history, had operated a studio in the Opera Block since 1948. It was later sold to George F. Scheller who operated the studio until 1960.

Bradford native Philip R Hastings (1925-1987) was one of America’s most gifted railroad photojournalists and is credited with inventing modern railroad photography. Born and raised within sight and sound of Bradford’s Boston and Maine station, he became a devoted railroad enthusiast. Beginning at the age of 12 and using a box camera, he began a life-long interest in railroad photography. It was in Bradford that Hastings began capturing in photographs the ritual that was the railroad industry, including both the equipment and the people in the railroading community.

His early mentor was Burnside Hooker, Bradford’s long-time station master. Railroad enthusiasts readily recognize the contributions Hastings made to capturing the soul of railroading, especially as it transitioned from steam to diesel. He contributed many illustrated articles in railroad magazines and contributions to and authored numerous books on railroading. His photographs depict an American landscape that has largely disappeared.

A collection of over 55,000 black and white photographs and 32,000 colored transparencies by Hastings are now housed at the California State Railroad Museum in Old Sacramento.

Hundreds of photographs of all types fill the archives of local historical societies and private collections. They were taken by professionals using elaborate cameras and by amateurs using less sophisticated ones. The pictures are of both private and public events and places. Those photographs help us to understand the local landscape and the lives of inhabitants in ways that words cannot. Even when the subjects are not identified, they add to our understanding of times past.

Professional photographers still delight us with exceptional pictures of ordinary and special occasions. But many Americans have the capacity to take photos using their cell phones and digital cameras. Images can be easily printed, posted on the Internet or stored on computer software.

The holidays are a time when many are added to our collections and two thoughts come to mind. Will these photographs, like those taken in the past, be available to view 100 years from now? Will the contents be identified or will they end up nameless, with no one knowing or caring about them? Take care with your images, as they will be a way your descendants will know who you were.

Lest We Forget: Veterans Day 11-11-11

Armistice Day originally observed the end of fighting in World War II.

The armistice took effect on November 11, 1918 at ll a.m.


Copeland Furniture employee Carol Brown of Warren had the job of laser engraving
376 names of Bradford veterans on individual pieces of wood. The names were mounted
on three veterans plaques designed by Armin Driver.



PLAQUES BEING CRAFTED. Copeland Furniture Company owner Tim Copeland

looks on as employee Herman Durkee III of West Fairlee puts some of the finishing

touches on the plaque bases.



Some of the 150 residents who gathered in the Bradford Academy
Auditorium to share in the dedication of the Veterans plaques.

Robert Fish, shown in the end seat of the first row, was the veteran
who called on Larry Coffin and asked that plaques be created honoring
Bradford's veterans. Fish and his two brothers grew up in Bradford and
participated in WW II.

Color guards from American Legion Post #20 are shown with the Vietnam plaque. The Boy Scouts and the National Guard also provided color guards for the other two plaques.

November 9, 2011 as printed in the Journal-Opinion

“In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.”

This is the first verse of the famous World War I poem by Canadian Lt. Col. John McCrae. The Great War or the World War, as it was known until World War II, left millions of combatants dead. It began in August 1914 with the Allies, composed of the British Commonwealth, including Canada along with France and Russia against the Central Powers of Germany, Austria-Hungary and Turkey. Modern methods of warfare such as the machine gun, giant cannons, tanks, airplanes, poison gas and trench warfare led to mounting casualties and a stalemate on the Western Front. A generation of young men died in the horror of the trenches with little gain for either side.

The United States entered the conflict in April, 1917 after Germany declared unrestricted submarine warfare on American vessels. Over 4.7 million Americans, including men and women from our area, joined the military service. The American Expeditionary Force, led by General John J. Pershing, tipped the balance in favor of the Allies. An armistice was declared and the fighting came to an end at 11 a.m. November 11, 1918.

The war cost the United States 53,402 battle deaths with an additional 204,000 wounded. Over 63,000 other servicemembers died, many from the influenza pandemic. Many veterans came home suffering from shell shock, now known as post-traumatic stress syndrome. The nation rejoiced on that November day with school closings, church services, factory whistles blowing and spontaneous parades.

Bradford celebrated as people gathered in the streets in front of what is now the Bliss Village Store and “sang songs of joy and praise and thanksgiving, under a great star-spangled banner flying overhead across the street.” In Haverhill, as in other towns, the bells rang all day.

That day and hour became sacred in the memory of the victors. November 11th became known as Armistice Day in the United States and France and Remembrance Day in Canada and Britain. In 1919, President Wilson proclaimed the first Armistice Day anniversary observance.

In 1920, the newly established American Legion Post in Woodsville observed the anniversary with a dinner, concert and dance. Legion There were also Legion Posts in Bradford, Rumney, Lyme and Newbury. Veterans of Foreign Wars Posts were established in Wells River, North Haverhill, Groton, Fairlee and Bradford, some before and some after World War II.

Among their civic activities, these veterans groups sold poppies to raise funds for the needy children of France and for disabled veterans. Selling poppies, reminiscent of the poppies in McCrae’s poem, has become an annual tradition for veterans groups. Communities also used the observance to promote annual Red Cross drives.

In 1921, Armistice Day was declared a national holiday. The most solemn observance that year was the establishment of the Tomb of the Unknown at Arlington Cemetery. The custom of observing moments of silence at 11 a.m. in remembrance of the war dead became widespread. It was during the 1920’s that several local communities, including Fairlee and Bradford, erected monuments to those who had served.

In the 1920s and 30s, most states established Armistice Day as a legal holiday. Because the establishing of legal holidays was a state prerogative, it was not until 1938 that the Federal government made it a legal national holiday.

Only occasionally did local reporters for The United Opinion mentioned Armistice Day observances by schools and veterans organizations. Elders with whom I spoke recall that Memorial Day was more often observed with programs in school than Armistice Day.

In November, 1929, an editorial entitled “Armistice Day Thoughts,” praised the work of the American Legion in support of war veterans and their dependents. As it cited the Legion’s civic programs, it decried the lack of support for ex-service men by of the general public.

In 1935, the Bradford Legion post used the newly-dedicated Academy gym as a location for an Armistice Day dance featuring the Bar X Cowboys and caller George Bedell. By that time it had become an established tradition for stores to close for the holiday. This practice continued for some time, although by the 1950’s only some stores closed for the entire day.

World War II and the Korean War created millions of additional veterans and in the early 1950s, interest in observing a day in their honor grew. In 1953, a special Armistice Day assembly was held at Bradford Academy at which the school was presented with the flag that covered the casket of the late General Herbert T. Johnson of Bradford, former Adjutant General of Vermont. Orators spoke of the meaning of Armistice Day. On that same day, Loyalty Day was observed in the Fairlee elementary school.

In 1954, President Eisenhower signed legislation changing Armistice Day to Veterans Day. In keeping with the theme of honoring all service men and women who have served, special ceremonies were held locally. (Because it is a day honoring all veterans, Veterans Day is spelled without an apostrophe.)

In 1968, the Federal government, as part of the Uniform Monday Holiday Act, moved Veterans Day to the 4th Monday in October. However, when the legislation took affect in 1971, some states began to move the observance back to November 11th. In 1978, with popular support, the Federal holiday observance reverted as well.

Gary Scruton, Past Commander of the Legion Post in Woodsville, told me for some years the post and its auxiliary, joined by the Sons of the American Legion, the Newbury Legion Post and the Haverhill Veterans of Foreign Wars have held a short parade to the veterans monument on Woodsville’s Central Street. The ceremony draws up to 100 participants and spectators depending on the weather and the day of the week on which Veterans Day falls. The veterans groups also sell poppies.

Veteran Leonard Dobbins told me that Veterans Day ceremonies have been held in Bradford for decades. Scott Johnson, Bradford’s American Legion Commander, says since the mid 1990’s, a short Veterans Day observance has been held at the Bradford Gazebo. The American Legion provides a script for the half-hour program. He indicates that up to 40 residents including Scouts usually attend.

In 2010, at a special Veterans Day assembly, Oxbow High School and River Bend Career Center dedicated an honor roll to the students, faculty and staff members who have served in America’s armed forces. The plaque is located next to the flagpole on the front lawn.


This year, as in other years, newspapers will include mentions of Veterans Day in columns and advertisements. Television programs will make note of the day. Some businesses will close and others will offer special deals to service personnel and veterans. Veterans’ groups will hold ceremonies. Concerts, parades and wreath-laying ceremonies will be held across the nation. Flags and poppies will appear. Some will raise a glass to departed comrades.

For the first time since 1918, there will be no World War I veterans in America. Frank Woodruff Buckles pass away in February at age 110. In November, 2008, on the 90th anniversary of the signing of the armistice, he had been recognized by the secretary of the Department of Veterans Affairs as “our last living link” to that Great War.

The observance in Bradford this year was special. On Friday, November 11, at 11 a.m., Bradford dedicated Veterans Honor Rolls for its veterans from World War II, Korea and Vietnam. The ceremony, which took place in the auditorium of the Bradford Academy, was attended by about 150 local residents, including some 6th graders from the Bradford Elementary School. Bradford historian Larry Coffin outlined the history of the project. He said that this project has been underway since l965. At that time, Bradford historian Harold Haskins began compiling a list of World War II veterans. The project then languished until about five years ago. It was again set in motion on a summer evening when elderly Robert Fish arrived at my door.

He said that he was a World War II veteran and had joined the service along with his two brothers. They had all grown up in Bradford. He decried that there was no honor roll listing the names of Bradford veterans. He mentioned the monument that had been placed on Bradford’s Memorial Field in 1965, but noted that it did not include an honor roll. Mr. Fish attended the ceremony./

Scott Johnson, Wayne Kenyon and Larry Coffin took up the challenge. With the help of Copeland Furniture and its staff, and with the approval of the Bradford Selectboard, plaques bearing the names of Bradford veterans will installed on the east wall of the BA Auditorium. The 376 men and women named are those who were residents of Bradford at the time of their induction. It is anticipated that, at some later date, an additional plaque will honor those from Bradford involved in the recent wars in the Middle East.

It took Bradford 56 years to erect an honor roll for those who served in the Civil War, three years for the Great War. As the legions of servicemen and women from World War II, Korea and Vietnam grow old and pass away, it was long past time for Bradford to establish an honor roll to them. Placing this list of names in a most public place will help to honor them, lest we forget their sacrifice.

In November, 1926, The United Opinion featured a retrospective editorial entitled “Back to Plowshares” heralding the return to normalcy in the general population. But it went on to say, normalcy came to “…all except the shattered shell-shocked bodies and the bereft minds and morale of the unfortunate heroes. To them, then, is due all deference and reverence on Armistice Day, the first to respond, yet the most futile to restore and recompense, for an imperishable service.”

For Veterans Day, 2011, with a whole new group of veterans returning from conflict, this is a timely message.

Halloween's Mysterious Tales

KNOW YOUR INTENDED. It was widely believed that Halloween was a time when one could discover a future mate. In 1871, a Bradford newspaper article described the charm depicted in this vintage Halloween postcard.

THERE BE WITCHES. Early New England residents believed that witches
carried out the Devil's work. The witchcraft hysteria that swept Salem, MA in 1692 led to the execution of more than 20 residents. This 1855 painting by Thompkin H. Matteson depicts the Salem trial of George Jacobs Sr., an ancestor of the author.





NOT ALL TRICK-OR-TREATER. The ghosts and spirits that appear on Halloween may not be just the ones looking for candy. Some residents believe that the answer to the question, Is Bradford Haunted?" is "Yes." (Photo composition by Michelle Sherburne)







As published in the Journal-Opinion
October 26, 2011 (with some additions)

Next Monday is Halloween. After dark, little costumed hobgoblins will come to our door, and we will distribute chocolate to ward off any hex they might put on our house. It is a night deep with tradition, with activities ranging from parties and harmless pranks to vandalism. There are also thoughts of witches, vampires and ghosts. This column examines the history of Halloween as well as the stories of the supernatural from our area.

This autumn observance has roots in the religions of pre-Christian Europe. The autumn solstice was observed as the festival of Samhain, the space between the seasons and the New Year. On this day, the Lord of Death gathered the souls of the dead, many of whom wandered the earth. Bonfires ruled the night and fortunes were told for the coming year. When these areas were converted to Christianity, the Church co-opted the pagan festivals it couldn’t stamp out. November 1st became All Hallows or All Saints Day. The night before became All Hallows Eve.

In each country, the observance took on its own features. In England, November 5th was Guy Fawkes Day, recalling the Gunpowder Plot of 1605 in which a group of Catholics plotted to blow up Parliament. Children in England celebrated the day with the burning of “guy” effigies and begging for candy or pennies. Elsewhere, treats were left out to ward off the wandering souls. Cabbage Night has an origin in Ireland where ungathered garden produce was considered inedible because the spirits had spit on them.

The earliest settlers of New England observed the fall festival. To them, it combined all of the elements mentioned above as well as the completion of the harvest. But there was also a darker side. To them, the Devil and his evil band were a real part of their lives, something to be greatly feared. Witches were among them, casting spells on those who offended them. In Europe, thousands of suspected witches had been hanged or burned during the previous centuries.

The Salem witch trials of 1692 are the most well known manifestation of this fear. My 8th great grandfather, George Jacobs, and my wife’s 8th great grandmother, Susannah North Martin, were both tried and executed as witches during that hysteria.

In the early 19th century, the belief in witchcraft had not died away. There are stories of witches in the local area. William Little’s History of Warren states, “Every town has had its witch or wizard, but if tradition is correct, Warren had more than its share.” Among the tales he relates is one of Nan Tucker, “who once sold some walnuts in old Haverhill, much to the displeasure of a certain elderly lady. That night Tucker and his wife could not sleep; all night long there was rattling of walnuts on the kitchen hearth.” In the morning, walnuts were piled in the form of a pyramid on the hearth-stone, having been returned by the witch.

“But stranger yet, the silk handkerchief that Mrs. T. had used as a night-cap, when she went to take it from her head, fell to the floor cut in a thousand pieces.

Wells’ History of Newbury relates the story of an old West Newbury farmer, “who affirmed that he had seen witches dancing along the crane in the fireplace at midnight and believed that some malady which affected his cattle was caused by a woman in the neighborhood.” Molding an effigy of the woman from tallow and beeswax, he stuck it with thorns and melted it before the fireplace. It was said that at that moment, the elderly woman fell down stairs and broke her arm.

Topsham Sketches includes the story of the witch house of Dame Tucker near Waits River. Having a dislike of a certain man, she put a spell on him as he was driving his team of oxen past her house. “She ran out to the road and snapped her fingers at the oxen and their yoke fell off,” not once, but twice. It was also reported that she would go into a trance, take the form of an animal and “annoy her neighbors.”

Probably the most famous story of a vampire in our area is the tale of Old Doc Benton. He was reported to be the son of early Benton settlers. The story, which I first heard at Dartmouth’s Ravine Lodge, relates how Benton, while studying in Germany, traded his soul for the secrets of eternal youth.

Returning to practice medicine in Benton, his strange behaviors soon drove him into seclusion. The story tells of numerous strange happenings involving his attempts to secure the blood of children, adults and animals for his bizarre experiments. While he has not been seen since the 19th century, rumors of him around Mt. Moosilauke persist. It is a story best retold in a darkened room lit only by the flickering light of a fireplace, especially at Halloween time.

If you live in a house built before 1940, it is likely that former residents died there. That gives rise to the idea that older buildings may be inhabited by the spirits of the deceased. In September, the Bradford Historical Society offered an opportunity for local residents to answer the question, “Is Bradford haunted?” Over 50 came to tell and hear story after story of spirits and unexplained phenomenon.

Residents of a 1785 house on South Main Street report hearing a child crying when they tried to sleep in a certain upstairs bedroom. Mysterious nighttime sounds of footsteps in a Main Street home may be those of the long dead housekeeper Mary Tuttle, trying to find her way to her upstairs bedroom. Visitors to a home across the street report ghostly apparitions and mysterious noises.

Joi Winchell of Corinth recently told me that she has experienced unusual occurrences at her 18th century home. She related that late one night she heard laughter and the sounds of someone jumping on the bed and floor of an unoccupied upstairs bedroom. Twice, she heard the sounds of work horses passing on the road when there was none to be seen.

Jenn and Andy Boyce of Post Mills live in a house built on the site of the Commodore Hotel. The hotel was destroyed in 1910 and the Boyce home was built in 1914. They and their neighbors have heard unexplained old-fashioned music. Apparitions in 1890’s apparel have been seen. In a recent interview, Jenn Boyce said that they thought of their home’s ghostly guests as friendly and benevolent.

Not all the occupied structures are old. The family of Crystal Eastman of Bradford lives in a home built in 1995. It also has a family of three ghosts who live in that home. Eastman said the interactions between these two families led her to invite the Vermont Paranormal Investigators to examine her home. She said these ghost chasers found evidence of orbs, anomalies suggesting the presence of spirits.

Other places might also be haunted. A late night worker at Bradford Academy reported seeing a ghostly presence. In Topsham, there is a haunted cellar hole and in Haverhill, there was an afflicted tavern.

Mysterious New England has many tales of phantom ships. It is said that Fairlee’s Lake Morey is the haunt of the ghosts of Samual Morey and his boat. Florence Kendall wrote a poem about it that appeared in a 1928 edition of The Vermonter magazine. It read in part: “…And each year when midnight cometh, of the day he sank his boat. On the waters of Lake Morey ghostly craft is seen to float. On her deck the eerie Captain guides her swift and silent flight.”

Whether or not one believes these stories of ghostly happenings, Halloween brings a yearly opportunity to let the imagination run wild. Called Hallow-Een is an 1871 edition of Bradford’s newspaper, The National Opinion, it was described in terms of the spells and charms that might be used on that night to predict a future mate. Searching the available copies of The United Opinion from the 1880’s to 1910, I found no references to Halloween observances. That is not to say there were none, as other Vermont and New Hampshire publications report Halloween activities in many communities.

From 1910 forward, local columnists for The United Opinion mention holiday social activities for people of all ages. Schools, community halls and church vestries were the venues for activities ranging from masquerade balls to children’s parties. One such notice describes plans for a celebration to be held in Newbury where, “witches, fortune tellers, your future husbands and wives will be in attendance.” A harvest supper and promenade were included.

One prank that occurred at the time, and reported 50 years later, was played against a 220-pound bully. Several youths removed his union suit from the family’s laundry line and strung them up on a power pole in front of the Academy. To the delight of all, “the November breeze ballooned it like an airport wind sock” The bully, “scowlingly prowled abut his usual haunts, grim as a who-dunit detective, but he found no clue.”

On November 4, 1921, the Newbury columnist wrote: “Quite a commotion on our streets last Monday with ghostly figures in sheets and pillowslips which gave us creepy Ku Klux Klan feelings, which were not dispelled until their young mouths were filled with marshmallows and cookies.” The West Fairlee Center’s school, along with other area schoolhouses was filled, it was reported, with, “jack-o’-lanterns and white-robed spooks.”


There was a fine line between mischievous Halloween pranks and outright vandalism. In the November 6, 1931 edition, the following appeared: “Halloween night gave some of the mischievous of town a chance to perform some pranks, some of which were interesting and others were damage to public property. Would those who participated please right up what they tipped over?”

That this was perhaps a long standing tradition in Bradford is evident in the 1934 post-Halloween report: “Numerous disappearances of such things as chairs, screen doors, various dump carts and other articles not fastened down, as well as mysterious markings on windows. It was a great night for the youngsters and some of the older residents who the next day had to go about retrieving pieces of property that turned up in the most peculiar places. As those older citizens were on their salvage expeditions they no doubt were thinking of the number of years before when they too had made a lot of work for somebody on that night.”

Growing up in Orford in the 40’s and 50’s, I recall that October 30th was trick or treat night. Weeks of planning went into carving pumpkins and arranging costumes. Notes reading, “Be ready for trick or treat, or else!!” were left on neighborhood doorsteps. While some of the older boys were involved with vandalism, most pranks rarely rose above stringing toilet paper, smashing a pumpkin or applying a bit of soap to a window or two. As in most area towns, a Halloween party was held on the 31st. Ours was held in the Town Hall in Orfordville, complete with bobbling for apples, trying to eat donuts hanging from a string and a costume parade.

By 1946, some felt that Halloween was getting out of hand. An anonymous letter signed “A Mother” was published in local paper stating: “Hallowe’en has become a menace to many of the citizens of Bradford. Damage makes our village anything but Bradford the Beautiful.” An accompanying article read: “BAH!!! very inadequately expressed the way we feel about the way Hallowe’en is handled in this community.” It referred to the trick or treaters as practicing “rank bribery.”

A Bradford resident, a teenager at the time, recalls that others dumped a truckload of gravel on the front steps of the Bradford Academy, dropped water on the head of the owner of the Bradford bowling alley and created a potentially dangerous situation by removing the wooden front steps from some folks’ homes.

Despite these concerns, Halloween didn’t go away. Trick or treating for UNICEF was added. Families and businesses spent more on decorations and treats. Parties sponsored by community groups attempted to deter vandalism and in some communities, they did. The Bradford party in 1954, drew more than, “400 children, adults and ghosts” for a parade, skits,
treats and prizes. More elaborate costumes, often purchased or sewn by talented seamstresses, compared with costumes fabricated by youngsters themselves made judging the “best costume” contest difficult.

Personally, I love Halloween and all the harmless fun that goes with it. As the last vestiges of summer disappear and the days shorten, we decorate our home with our Halloween collection. I grow tiny white pumpkins and paint the faces of “guys” on them to give to friends and family. We always buy more candy than we need for the 75 to 100 trick or treaters who ply South Pleasant Street, many of whom come in from the surrounding rural area for better pickings.

A horror movie on television during Halloween week reminds me that when my heart beats faster and my palms get sweaty it is a sign that I am still among the living. No walking dead at our house, at least not this year. As to the “inexplicable activities” of ghosts, goblins and other horribles that stalk Halloween night, Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote: “Nobody has any conscience about adding to the improbabilities of a marvelous tale.”

Plain Talkin'

What the Old Timers Said. Vermonters, such as the ones shown above, frequently used a visit to the local general store to swap stories and discuss the weather. But not too much.

(Library of Congress Farm Security Administration.

Plain Talkin' in West Newbury. "Oxen were better for breakin' out then horses." This is how Arthur Carleton responded to an interview in 1938. This 1899 photograph shows oxen being used on the Carleton Farm in West Newbury. (West Newbury Women's Fellowship)

Journal Opinion , September 28, 2011

The old Vermonter said, “Oxen was better for breakin’ out then horses for when they’d come to a snag on a stump or a root, they’d ease off. Horses are better for snowrollin.’ Made quite a sight, six-seven pair horses, heavy fellers, too, big rollers squinchin’ over the snow and the rocks tumblin’ and thumpin,’ steam comin’ out o’ the horses’ noses, an’ men a shoutin.”

No, this is not a script for a television parody on rural Vermont life. These comments are taken from a 1938 interview with West Newbury farmer Arthur Carleton for the Federal Writers’ Project. Carleton spoke with the traditional Vermont accent and dialect. This column describes that dialect and how those words are spoken. It also lists some of the words and expressions that were common to this region in years past. As there is a whole raft of them, with tongue in cheek, I only scratch the surface of that task.

The Europeans who settled southern New England were British: English, Scottish and Scot-Irish. Many of the English came from southwestern England and spoke with the accent of that region. Settlers from southern New England settled our region and brought with them the traditional way of speaking. It has been said that the traditional Vermont way of speaking is quite similar to the traditional dialect of East Anglia, on the southeast coast of England. In Vermont, that dialect continued through much of the 19th and early 20th century, especially among those who were most isolated by their rural settings.

Contact with Native Americans and through the unique experiences of Vermont life brought some changes to the traditional vocabulary. Names on the land included traditional native titles, e.g. Ompompanoosuc or Cohase. A farmer in Vermont knew that “apron-off” was the test to determine whether maple sap was cooked enough to be finished syrup and a late snow was poor man’s manure.

Linguists such as Alan A. Metcalf say that Vermont has a “divided linguistic personality.” The Connecticut River valley shares the speech patterns of eastern New England, whereas western Vermont is more like that of western Connecticut and northern New York.

Some examples of the eastern rustic dialect include letter dropping. That means not sounding the “g” from words ending in “ing” (hayin’), swallowing the “r” in words such as farmer (farm-uh) and the “t” sound in words such as bottle (baht-ul).

It also includes adding extra sounds, dragging out or substituting sounds. Calf sounds like “caaf”and idea like “ideer.” Regardless become irregardless. Words that are plural sometimes have an extra “s” sound added. Recall the Ames’s store in North Haverhill. Yes and no are “yup” and “nope. Pumpkin is spoken as “punkin.” Across is pronounced as if it ended with an “ed” or “t” .

This traditional accent has been described by writers from away as droll, twangy, gravelly, flat, slow, clipped, nasal, chewy and even as thick as, “overcooked maple syrup.”

Of course, not all Vermonters spoke this way. Those Vermonters with more education usually lost most, if not all, of any dialect lilt they might have gained in childhood. Immigrants had their own way of speaking, even when speaking in English. The French, Irish and Italian immigrants added their variations to the collective language.

Our region had a strong Scottish presence. Mrs. Robert (Elizabeth) Oliver of West Newbury was interviewed in 1938 by the Federal Writers’ Project. Of Scottish descent, she said: “Aye, I’ve the twa boys and four gels. Ooh, the times we’ve had. I come awa’ t’ this country twenty-eight years past. We furrst wint t’ Michigan where Rabert he’d some o’ his family t’come too. I dinnd like it there. It wasna’ like home t’ me.”

The linguistic division caused by the Green Mountains was also seen in the words used to describe things. Teeter-totters in eastern Vermont were sometimes called see-saws in the western region, fire-flies were lightening bugs, dropped eggs were poached and dish wipers became dishcloths.

The rise of standard English as spoken on radio, television and schools along with the significant influx of tourists and permanent residents from other states have hastened the decline of the more rustic accent. Under the influence of this nationalized language, words that were commonly used have disappeared while new ones were added. For years, I made frappes at the Fairlee Diner, until McDonald’s began to call those ice cream delights shakes. At that time, we had no idea what Tex-Mex foods like enchiladas or burritos were.

UVM Professor Julie Roberts has published several studies on Vermont’s traditional speech patterns. She finds it still exists, at least to some extent, among both older and younger generations of Vermonters.

She writes: “All speakers use language as a way to affiliate with (or dis-affiliate from) others. In Vermont, men tend to be more likely than women to affiliate with the traditional, agrarian lifestyle of Vermont, and are, therefore, more likely to retain a stronger dialect.”

Two generations of my students included in their conversations one of the most common grammatical mistakes in the Vermont vocabulary. It is the substitution of “didn’t” for “did, as in: “I went to the movies last night. Well, so didn’t I.” I hear the speech patterns in stores, meetings and when a group of traditional Vermonters gather in their dooryard to chew the fat.

Nothing in this column should be construed to say that I think rural speakers are dumb. I grew up around men with very strong local accents. Woe be it to the person who took that as a sign of ignorance. I recently spoke to Joe Sampson of Bradford about the dialect he picked up from childhood contacts. Sampson is proud of that accent. He says it has served him well in dealing with others, who, because of that accent, underestimated his ability to uphold his side of a discussion.

Just as speech patterns have changed in our region, words and expressions have also undergone change. Bradford historian Harold Haskins, author Charles Edward Crane and Burlington Free Press writer Molly Walsh offer many examples of words and expressions used in times past. Many of them have been part of the vocabulary of my growing up.

Things around the house were called tumbler (water glass), spider (frying pan), nappy (small serving dish), all of which might be stored in the buttery or pantry. If ma had enough gumption (pep) after a day of hard work galore, she might stodge up a suppa. The youngin’ might wait out on the stoop (steps). The folks never thought to splurge by going to a hifalutin’ vittlery, that would be “livin’ high on the hog.” “Thingamajig” was what you called an item when the proper name eluded you. .

Events of life were described in terms that have disappeared. A guy might have a girl on the string and might call her the cat’s meow, that is, quite a rig. But if she was no longer interested, she would give him the mitten. From his point of view, that might be just hunky dorey, water over the dam. A person who died had bought the farm and was dead as a doornail.

Vermonters were careful with their hard-earned money; it was scarcer than hen’s teeth for many. But they might criticize a skinflint (miserly cheat) who was tighter than the bark on a tree. There was little patience for laziness or failure to act with intelligence. One might be described as a bump on a log, too dumb to suck alum and drool or pound sand in a rat hole. There was also contempt for the educated fool.

Individuals might be busier than a one-armed paper-hanger with the itch, independent as a hog on ice, or have a face that would stop a clock. They might be mad as a wet hen, fit as a fiddle, as quick as greased lightning or slower than molasses. There were those who felt bluer’n a whetstone or stood out like a blackberry in a pan of milk. Things might be just a fine kettle of fish or perhaps even fair to middlin’.

There are words frequently used today that would never be used in days past, at least in polite company. What passed for profanity in those days might be expressed by any of the following: land o’Goshen, for the love of Mike, land sakes alive, my stars and garters, shucks, my soul and body, fiddlesticks, jeezum crow or the more profane hell’s bells.

They knew proverbs of vernacular advice. Living close to the edge, many Vermont farmers recalled the adage: Half your wood and hay you should have on Candlemas Day” (Groundhog Day). Others included: least said, sooner mended, mind your p’s and q’s and let every man skin his own skunks.

With “Silent Cal” Coolidge as an example, Vermonters became known for being laconic in their speech. The expressions are, in a way, examples of that. They create a familiar picture in the mind with a simple simile or metaphor. While some may not be much of a hand to talk, I have spent too many sleepy evenings waiting for my Vermont-born father to finish discussing a deal to say that all Vermonters are short on speech. I have, over the years, enjoyed stories told by my elders, often in the greatest detail, even if the incident occurred decades before.

I always encouraged my students to talk with the elders they knew. I will never forget the terse response that one elder East Corinth resident gave to the student question: “Did you ever go to a city?” The reply was: “Went once. Didn’t like it. Never went back!”

Even for those who are short on speech, the weather is always a topic for discussion. There is of course, the old saying about weather in New England: “If you don’t like it wait a minute.” Rain before seven, done by eleven or fog goes up the mountin’ a-hopping, rain comes down a droppin’ might be a guide to a farmer planning his day. Seasons bring days that are hotter than the hubs of hell or colda than your grandma’s preserves.

Writing this column as summer draws to a close, I am thinking there might be frost on the pumpin’ tonight. I should look to see what the bands on a wooley caterpillar coat are as a predictor of the harshness of the coming winter and know that when there’s snow on Moosilauke, it will be in my dooryard in six weeks.

Tradition has shown that many Vermonters display a terse sense of humor, “that loves understatement.” It lives in the dry comment or retort. Forty years ago, Dartmouth professor Allen Foley collected some examples of that humor in a book entitled, What the Old-Timer Said (to the Feller from Down-Country and even to His Neighbor—when He Had It Coming!)

Foley was a frequent speaker at gathering throughout the valley. You may actually have had the opportunity to use one of his favorite retorts when asked: “Lived here all your life?” to which you respond, “Not yet!”

Foley writes: “Yankees from the hill-country are noted for responding to questions by asking one of their own, as epitomized in the exchange: “How’s your wife?” a neighbor inquired. “Compared to what?” was the canny counter query.”

Personally, my ear is tuned to hear the words spoken with a traditional way either in myself or others. I have been addressed as Mr. Mawdratah and have addressed others as Mister Man or Lady Jane. While I may not know what it means to be a ringed-tailed snorter or to bust a gusset, I do know what it means to feel like I have been dragged through a knothole, have too many irons in the fire or be pulled in forty-‘leven different directions.

Readers will undoubtedly have examples of the local dialect, accent and humor from both sides of the river. Those parts of our language help to define our traditional culture in a voice that is different and to many, more familiar. Hearing that voice brings back memories of local folks we have known in our past, in both rural and village settings. And while this article has not listed the whole kit and kaboodle, for now, its nuff said!

More Mining Mania

The buildings of Copperfield village in Vershire surround the Ely Copper Mines in the 1888 photograph (UVM Special Collections)

The Crushing and Flotation Mill at the Elizabeth Copper Mine
in South Strafford around 1907. (UVM Special Collections)

Granite workers are shown in one of the stonesheds of the Ryegate Granite

Works (1880's). About this time the workers began to organize a local

labor union. (UVM Special Collections)

The Concentration Mill at the Pike Hill Copper Mine in Corinth.

(UVM Special Collections)

Workers at the Pike Hill Mine were housed, along with their families, in these

shanties near the mine. (UVM Spcial Collections)

Some of the businessmen and workers gather at the site of the Fairlee

Granite Works on the north slope of Sawyer Mountain. The company was founded in 1893 and went out of business after 1895. (Fairlee Historical Society)

As published in the Journal Opinion, August 31, 2011

In May, this column was devoted to the mining and quarrying activities of the western portion of Grafton County. It described activities ranging from the quarrying of soapstone in Orford and whetstone in Haverhill to the gold fields of Lyman. It included the history of successes and failures, valued commercial enterprises, cruel financial hoax and crushed dreams.

This column describes similar activities in adjoining sections of Vermont. It includes the lead, slate and gold mining ventures of the region, as well as the granite and copper enterprises in Orange and Caledonia counties. Those interested in more complete details are directed to Katharine Blaisdell’s Over the River and Through the Years, Book Four and Collamer Abbot’s Green Mountain Copper.

In 1848, the Boston Mercantile Journal ran an article entitled “Discovery of a Lead Mine in Vermont.” It reported that, “a truck load of bar lead” had arrived in Boston from Thetford, attracting “considerable attention.” The article described the mining operation, saying that the lead “appeared to be inexhaustible” and that two men could produce a ton of lead in a 12-hour day. It concluded by stating the belief that this shipment from Thetford was, “the first lot of New England lead ever brought to market.”

According to Thetford historian Charles Hughes, this mining enterprise was started as early as 1812 with the establishment of the Orange Mineral Company. The mine was located northeast of Thetford Hill.

An 1824 description stated: “The ore is rich, yielding 75 per cent of pure lead, but the vein is small, and has been pursued to the depth of 23 feet.” Small quantities of silver were also being taken.

The State approved the establishment of the Vermont Lead Company in 1849, but by 1861, the Vermont State Geologist indicated that the one hundred foot shaft and adjoining buildings were abandoned. In 1872, his report spoke of the, “ill success of the Thetford hill mine … taken tribute from men expecting riches from mining should prevent any further rash expenditures in this section.”

There was also an early soapstone quarry in East Thetford, “worked before 1855.” In 1845, the State Geologist described, “an irregular bed of soapstone about eight feet thick which has been quarried.” Hughes writes: “Since this quarry was soon abandoned, it does not appear to have been a profitable enterprise.”

Just north of North Thetford was the quarry of the Howard Slate Company. Incorporated in 1855, this company produced “remarkably tough roofing” for a number of local buildings. Hughes writes that in 1857, the company, “employed four men full time at a weekly wage of $35.75.” An 1862 report on the geology of Vermont states: “No quarry in the State is more favorably situated than this [for] an unbroken face of slate stands boldly up, as if inviting capitalists to unlock this storehouse of hidden wealth.” Apparently the company began to have difficulties by 1866 and there is no mention of the quarry in the 1888 county gazetteer.

Mineral operations in nearby Fairlee were of limited success. In 1857, the Fairlee Slate Company was incorporated. Its quarry was located northeast of Lake Morey, on the land of Amos Waterman. The quality of the slate was reported to be, “unobjectionable, and the quantity inexhaustible.” But as the quarrying required the removal of overlying rock from a relatively inaccessible location, the company soon failed.

Nearby, at the north end of the lake, there was a gold and silver mine on the property of Mrs. S.A. Davis. The United Opinion of May 28, 1897 reported that Professor N. A. Bibikov had “been engaged by St. Johnsbury parties to examine properties in that vicinity.” The 1902, the State Geologist reported, “gold in the value of $9 per ton and silver $30” were found there. It was reported in 1914 that a small quantity of gold had been taken from the mine, but apparently it cost more to get it than it was worth.

The north slope of Fairlee’s Sawyer Mountain was the site of another unsuccessful quarrying attempt. In 1893, a group of local businessmen incorporated the Fairlee Granite Works. Blaisdell quotes a local newspaper from that year: “The Fairlee Granite Works now have a good carriage road to their quarry and are rapidly getting into shape to do a large business. Dealers throughout the country are speaking highly of the quality of the stone.”

The United Opinion editor Harry Parker wrote, “As Bradford’s future growth and prosperity depends upon the success of this enterprise, all public spirited citizens should be willing to lend it aid and assistance. We believe it will prove a profitable investment for the stockholders.”

An article in the August 16, 1895 edition quoted a quarryman: “I never put my foot in a quarry where stone can be quarried for as small an amount of money as it can be there.” It might be noted that Parker was the president of the company.

This optimism was not to last. The quarry produced unusual dark blue granite, but as it was of inferior quality and quantity, the company closed after 1895. The granite water box that, for many years, faced the center of Bradford village, bears “Fairlee” in raised letters on it, an advertisement for the ill-fated company.

Granite was also quarried in Topsham for a short time. There were two small quarries, one south of the Ryegate line and one at the western foot of Pine Mountain, in the northeastern corner of the town. This latter quarry was owned by Isaac Ricker of Groton. The quarried stone was hauled to the railroad depot in Groton. The State Geologist reported that the Pine Mountain Granite Company quarry, “is being vigorously worked,” and had been for several years. He reported that the stone was of good quality and of varied color and grain. But, by 1909, the quarry “had been idle for a number of years.”

The Ricker quarry was at the south end of a deposit of granite that extended into Groton and Ryegate. Quarrying of that granite had a profound impact on the economic and social history of those two towns.

Mister Glover’s Groton describes the history of that town’s granite industry. The first quarry was opened on the Hatch farm in the southern part of town during the early 1890’s, the beginning of, “what was to become Groton’s dominant but short-lived industry.” Its potential attracted considerable attention, but an 1899 article in Granite, the industry magazine, indicated that its future depended on the influx of a considerable amount of new capital.

“Three principal quarries supplied the stone, much of it comparable in quality to Barre granite, and used extensively in monumental work for cemeteries. The decline of the industry was hastened, however, by the discovery that much of the stock quarried was unfit and had to be discarded.” By World War II, the quarries had closed, although several stonesheds continued to operate.

As early as the 1790’s, granite was quarried at Ryegate’s Blue Mountain for both local construction and export. Around 1800, a proposal to build the state prison in Ryegate included having inmates work in the quarries. Local opposition caused the prison to be built in Windsor.

In the period after the Civil War, the demand for monuments and gravestones and the building of the Montpelier and Wells River Railroad in 1873 increased the market for local granite and eased its delivery.

The May 14, 1897 edition of The United Opinon mentioned the Ryegate Granite Works shipped a large monument to Philadelphia and the company had, “quite a gang of men at work on the mountain and considerable granite is being taken out every day and brought to the sheds.” This “gang of men” may have numbered over 300 in the quarries and stonesheds. Many of them were Italian immigrants who added their talents as skilled stonecutters to the original Scottish workers.

Those workers organized a branch of the Granite Cutters’ National Union in 1885. The company resisted by threatening to blacklist members. It resulted in a series of court battles and community upheavals, but eventually the company recognized the organization.

A 1906 report indicated that Ryegate granite was, “growing in favor each year.” The 1913 History of Ryegate reported: “For the past few years about two carloads of finished granite are being shipped from South Ryegate each working day valued at about $10,000 per month.” Subsequent years brought a decline in the operations. The high processing cost of stone that did not have the quality of neighboring Barre and the Great Depression caused the failure of several of the remaining quarries. According to Ryegate historian Dwight White,
the last quarry closed in the early 1990s.

Gandin Brothers is the only stoneshed remaining in Ryegate. Its president, “Butch” Gandin indicates the company remains in business, despite foreign and domestic competition, by creating a nitch in the monument industry. Using granite from Asia, Africa and North America, the company manufactures monuments that match earlier ones.

The most significant mining operation in Orange County was of copper which was discovered there as early as 1793. In 1817, President James Monroe visited Strafford. His visit highlighted the national importance of copper mining in Orange County. Copperas, a chemical used in dyes and other industrial and agricultural uses, was the first product of the mines. By the 1830s, smelting furnaces had been erected and copper was produced, continuing despite ups and downs through the 1870’s.

The Elizabeth Copper Company was formed in 1883 and, over the next few years, extensive improvements were made. Falling copper prices and a major fire caused the mine to be closed from time to time. During World War I and II, the demand for copper led to increased production and employment. In an ad in the August 6, 1943 edition of The United Opinion, the company sought 100 additional workers, offering $48.43 for a 63 hour week. Workers would be supplied with a room for $1 per week and meals for fifty cents each. It also offered a new health insurance policy as a bonus.

Several attempts were made in the postwar years to revitalize the Elizabeth mine and in 1954-55, it was producing over 8 million pounds per year with over 200 workers. Its closure in 1958 brought an end to the longest operating copper mine in the nation.

Copper was also discovered in the southeastern corner of Vershire about 1812. The coming of the Connecticut and Passumpsic River Railroad allowed ore to be more easily transported out of the region. In 1853, the Vermont Copper Mining Company was formed by New York investors. By the 1870’s the operation had become a “boom copper camp” of Irish and Cornish miners. The town of Vershire was officially renamed Ely after Smith Ely, principle owner of the mine.

The Copperfield village included a giant smelting shed, roasting beds, a large store that contained a library, offices and meeting hall, two churches, sawmill, gristmill, school and over 50 dwellings. At the peak of production, the village had close to 1000 inhabitants, with over 800 workers. In 1880, the mine produced 3.5 million pounds of copper.

From its very beginning these copper enterprises were at the mercy of market conditions. A decline in the economy meant a decline in copper prices. When new sources of copper opened in the west, Orange County was no longer the nation’s leading copper producer. Additionally, the Ely mine was plagued by legal and management issues. Even when copper prices soared during the Civil War, the company was nearly bankrupt. While the 1870’s saw good times for the company, by 1882, it was again deeply in debt and unable to pay its workers.

In July 1883, the situation led to the so-called “Ely War.” Faced with worker unrest, the company’s acting president, ex-governor Roswell Farnham of Bradford asked Governor Barstow to bring in the state militia. The first to arrive was the Bradford Guard. The arriving guards found no riotous armed mob, but rather workers desperate for wages and supplies. After sharing their rations, the guardsmen marched back to the railroad. Despite attempts to revitalize the mines, they closed and in 1905, Copperfield was dismantled.

At the other end of the copper vein were two mines at Pike Hill in Corinth. The work began there about 1847 and was continued by the Corinth Copper Company and other firms. Roswell Farnham described the operation: “Those were days of prosperity for the Corinth and Union mines and their success gave life to all the business of the town.” Ore from the mines was transported to the depot at Bradford.

Farnham concluded, “Everyone made money except the companies that owned the mines.” As with the other mines, the Pike Hill operations were at the mercy of the market and closed and reopened several times, closing for good after WW I.

Neither Bradford nor Newbury had any mining or quarrying activities. About Newbury, historian Frederick Wells wrote in 1902: “Its hills have not yielded any mines of useful ore or precious metals. There are no quarries here to furnish the stone for the walls, or rich marbles for the costly adornment of great edifices in the cities.” Businessmen from both towns did, like Editor Harry Parker and Governor Roswell Farnham, invest their money and serve as officers in a number of these enterprises. The Bradford Savings Bank and Trust Company failure in 1898 was caused, in part, by its investments in the Ely copper mines.

All that remains of these mining and quarrying operations, other than several stone crushing sites, are abandoned flooded quarries, overgrown mines and piles of slag. Pollution from the abandoned copper mines has led to them being designated as Superfund sites by the EPA. Cleanup has already cost millions of dollars. Neighborhoods that once thrived are reduced or abandoned.

I close part two with the same sentiment as in part one, for it is no less true in Vermont: “That is not to say that the hills that hosted these mines and quarries no longer have treasures to offer. Abandoned mining roads have become hiking trails. Mountain sides offer sites for recreation and forestry operations. Seasons are heralded by their changing colors. And for those of us who have grown up in their shadows, they provide the reassurance of having a horizon against which you can rest your eyes.”