A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume II, Part 13

Author: Lincoln, Allen B
Publication date: 1920
Publisher: Chicago : S. J. Clarke publ. co.
Number of Pages: 960

USA > Connecticut > Windham County > A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume II > Part 13

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But the impelling power of combined human selfishness is stronger than the restraining power of creeds and ecclesiastical restrictions, because more immediate and its goal more easily seen. So we have millions in this country who have substituted the labor union for the church, and yet to a less extent than obtains in Europe where the substitution among the industrial class is almost universal; exemplified in Russia, Italy, Germany, France; with Eng- land not far behind. The cause of the World war was largely economic or industrial, for Germany and Austria are so preponderantly manufacturing, as compared with-agricultural, that with their overload of population they must get more and wider markets, or starve, as Austria is doing. This country is trying the same mad experiment, but with immensely greater agricultural latent resources; but if these are not developed, it is only a matter of moderate time, when we shall find ourselves in like condition; which even at present plainly threatens, if we merely open our eyes to see.

Natural increase has provided a greater labor population than we had be- fore the war; the trouble is, they are not producing, especially of the necessities of life, to as great extent. Back to the farm and the fundamental occupa- tions! Stop importing consumers who make mischief, idle, or work on non- essentials, or who come here to exploit us. It may dawn upon us that Napoleon's saying "A nation of shopkeepers is a nation of thieves" may apply to the multi-

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tude of middlemen and profiteers. Jonathan Day, formerly in charge of the New York agency for selling surplus Navy food supplies remaining in hand after the war, says, "The food which costs you a dollar at your house, can be bought for 47 cents at New York city wharves, the rehandling and transfer costing 53 cents." The peaceable relations between employer and employed, remained under the old workingmen's unions, such as the Knights of Labor, who preferred co-operation, and legislative and political action to strikes and boycotts ; but times have changed since they succumbed in the '80s. We have now a "ruling class" in this country, as they have abroad, only it is much larger than the old aristocracy, with industrial militarism.

NEW ENGLAND RAILROADS IN THE FIFTIES

By H. V. Arnold

Back in the fifties Windham County did not have quite so much railroad mileage as exists in present times. Through the eastern portion of the county there was the Norwich & Worcester Railroad, opened to through business in the spring of 1840; through the southern part of the county there was the Providence, Hartford & Fishkill (so called in its early years) constructed about 1854; the New London, Willimantic & Palmer, which passed through the town of Windham only and crossed the other line at Willimantic; then in Thomp- son there was a section of road from Blackstone, Mass., which intersected the N. & W. road near Mechanicsville. For some years this line was but little used. It had been intended to run it through Northern Rhode Island, but the Legis- lature of that state, interested in another project called the Airline Road from Boston to New York, would not grant to the "Farnum road" a charter to pass through that state, so the line was constructed through Douglas and kept out of Rhode Island entirely.

In those times the New England system of railroads, so far as they had any existence, which was more extensive than elsewhere, was made up usually of short lines, each owned by an independent company. The era of consolidation into extensive systems still lay far in the future.

Sand and gravel being easily obtainable, the road beds were already well ballasted. Owing to the topography of the surface, the lines largely partook of the cut and fill type, creating numerous moderate cuts, often in rock, and embankments of moderate height. The depot buildings at stations were quite generally wooden structures painted a brown color, with freight houses opposite and similar to the depots, though for small places one end of the depot build- ing would be extended for a freight house. One side track of moderate length usually sufficed at the stations, sometimes connected with the main track only at one end.

The rails, probably weighing 56 pounds per yard and not over 24 feet in length, were in form somewhat different from the heavy, high necked stecl rails of present times. The tops and bottoms were similar, but the sides were more like indented half wounds. The joints were not clamped with bolts and strips of iron. Instead, they rested on pieces of cast iron about eight inches square and an inch thick with raised prongs that clamped the joints together, each plate having a hole near the corners to spike them down to the ties. The joints came opposite on what were called "joint-ties," a little wider faced than" the others. The ends of the rails rested a little loose in the pronged plates,

Vol. II-7

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or "chairs" as they were called, and in riding in passenger cars one heard in quick succession a loud "car-rack" sound as the tracks beneath went over the rail joints, there being a simultaneous noise for each side of the track, since, as noted, the joints for both sides of the track were on the same tie. The switches were different from those now in common use. Timbers squared to about seven inches were set in the ground with cross-pieces framed into them. On one side was an iron lever projecting above which shoved back and forth parts of two of the rails, and when closed, the lever was held in place by a movable clamp with a brass paddock attached by a small chain.

HENRY V. ARNOLD

Next as to the rolling stock, beginning with the locomotives. The same gen- eral type of the locomotive as still represented by the smaller sized ones with four driving wheels, had been attained in the early forties and for many years thereafter no very marked changes in their style of construction were effected. Yet when we consider minor points of construction there were differences suffi- cient to attract attention, were a modern one of that type placed side by side with an old one for comparison. In the fifties the majority of the locomotives in use were wood burners, with tapering smoke stacks three or four feet wide at the top in which was a coarse sieve to arrest sparks. The front of these engines only projected eight or ten inches forward of the base of the smoke stack. Next the cab with its vertical side inward there was an otherwise rounded dome about two feet high with the whistle at its top. About midway between the dome and smoke stack there was placed the sand box and the bell over it. A blow-off pipe also projected above the boiler. The pilot or "cow-catcher," as people called it, was apt to be made of bars of round iron of about an inch in diameter. The cylinders were higher up than on modern locomotives and tilted 'at a small angle. The writer saw no locomotive with horizontal cylinders

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until about 1860. The pump was forward beneath the boiler and worked only when the engine was running, though the steam operated pump began to come into use in the '50s. There were not so many appurtenances inside the engi- neer's cab as now, the throttle and reversing levers, steam-gauge, whistle and bell cords, being about all. There were still in use in the middle fifties a few loco- motives with only one pair of driving wheels, probably built in the late thirties. These still ran light accommodation trains. The number of locomotives to a road were limited, and usually no two were exactly alike in details of construc- tion, since they had been built at different shops. They had no numbers, but instead each locomotive bore some name similar to steamboats.

The common passenger coaches resembled those still in use, but had slightly rounded roofs sheathed with tin, painted and sanded, but no raised roofs with rows of ventilator lights. There were no patent couplers and no air brakes. The coupling was by link and pin and the brakes were like those of freight cars operated from the end platforms. Between stations the brakeman remained inside of the forward end of the car. The accommodation trains ran a first class car or two, and a second car. The first had upholstered seats as they do now, but the second-class cars had no cushioned seats. Considering the nature of the rail joints, to ride in one of these cars account or cheaper fares, was to get well shaken up by the constant jarring.

The standard length of box and platform cars was then 28 feet, and ex- cept for length and height they closely resembled those now in common use. Numbers of them, however, were 78 feet in length, being placed upon elon- gated trucks and so ran on four wheels only. There were also many short four-wheeled coal cars in use on the roads, also used as gravel cars in repair- ing embankments. They were called "dump cars" since their arrangement was such that their bodies, when certain fastenings were unloosed, would tip sidewise and their loads slide out.

In the fifties and early sixties the different railroad companies painted their box and other transportation cars different colors; that is, one road had red cars as its special color, another brown and still another yellow or bluish, so far as the principal colors gave a choice.

THANKSGIVING DAY By Ella S. Bennett

New England Thanksgiving-the best enjoyed of all old-time anniversaries -the day that encircles our little world like a magic ring, left nothing out for us to miss or seek; bound together all our home enjoyments, affections and hopes ; grouped everyone and everything around the hearthstone fire, and made the picture, in young eyes, complete.

The old house swarmed with life on Thanksgiving Day. The children, numbering ten or more, when they went out into the world, came home, even to the fourth generation. Huge fires in the old stone chimney crackled and sent forth light and warmth into every room. Savory odors filled the house, for the deep ovens held mysterious treasures of flaky chicken pies, golden Indian puddings and roasting turkeys. The plenty within the pantries and cupboards fairly swelled the doors ajar. Then there was a deal of laughter and frolic, running against each other in doorways, and racing around the chimney before the feast was ready.

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In the early days a Thanksgiving service was always held in the church about 10 o'clock in the forenoon. Some one or more of our family would attend. I can truthfully say that I enjoyed that hour better than the Sunday morning service. The proclamation was read again and commented upon and oftentimes the prayers and discussions were of a political or patriotic nature- which I could better understand. It was a People's Thanksgiving Day-thank- ing the God of Nations for all blessings, spiritual and material.

By . Annie C. S. Fenner

As a little child, my thought of Thanksgiving was entirely of its creature comforts, I am sure. It was a great and joyful day for everyone and particu- larly, we thought, for youngsters. There was so much more free time in which to amuse ourselves-outdoors when the weather was fine and indoors if the clerk of the weather so decreed-and if the latter, then there was a greater scope than usual for our energies and more of the house at our disposal, so long as we kept out of the way of our busy elders-and there were fewer calls to come and do things that we didn't want to do.

In the little church across the green, there was a church service which I was not obliged to attend (as I was on Sundays), and this fact of Thanksgiving freedom gave me sinful pleasure to contemplate for days before and after-for my legs were short and touched nothing when I was once seated in the pew. The Sunday service was long and beyond my comprehension, as it was no doubt beyond some whose legs were longer and heads older, but they had the advantage of years, which teach endurance without wiggling.

But the crowning glory of Thanksgiving Day to our young minds and stomachs was the dinner! The long, long table, loaded with everything to eat that was appropriate to the day-and at which we were all to sit, at one time- no waiting by children until after their elders had finished! This was some- thing for which to live. The place of high honor, in the exact center of the table, right in front of father's place, was occupied by the turkey-always roasted to the most wonderful brown, and served from the immense blue and white platter that had the picture of "The Errand Boy" on it and which, if memory serves, was never under any circumstances used for anything save the Thanksgiving turkey.

Flanking the turkey were big dishes of mashed potato and turnip, cran- berry sauce and gravy, boiled onions, and an extra dish of turkey dressing, as no turkey that ever grew could hold dressing enough to satisfy our appetites for the delectable mixture which we children always called "stuffing," and stuffing it was. Farther along on the table was a big chicken pie-which I think was there in case of emergency, as I never remember that it was cut or that anyone wanted it to be-and in later years it was dropped from the menu.

For dessert always three kinds of pie, apple, squash, and mince, with cheese, then fruit cake, hickory nuts, oranges and apples. The apples were last and I think we children always skipped them, for the best we could do with the orange was to take it in hand and go out into the woodshed, with its wide open- ing to the south, sit on a log-if not big enough or too full to climb upon the big chopping block, and talk of the glories of the table and boast of the amount we had eaten and how much more we could have swallowed, if we had wanted to-while every little scamp knew that he or she couldn't even suck the juice from the orange in hand-else why hold it intact ?

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The sports of the day varied with the weather and the inclination of the participants. My father and neighbors would sometimes go fox hunting, if the weather was right-starting immediately after breakfast, and back in time for dinner. Often when conditions were favorable, a game of ball was played on the village green by the big boys in school and their older brothers who were away at work and home for the day, and their ranks were often swelled by older men who loved the sport. My father always played with the younger men and continued his interest in the game and participated in it when he no longer cared to "run bases," but would bat with a good strong strike and then some youngster would run for him. Let no professional smile at that and think he is the first one to do it. We all laughed till we cried to see the game played that way-father included-but we had nothing but condemnation for the slow motions of any boy who didn't manage a home run or at least make a base or two so that father might bat again.

Target practice was a favorite game, and when the ground was bare, pitch- ing quoits. Indoors we seldom settled to any game until long after dinner. Then we played checkers and fox and geese, and "come-a'-she-come" for quiet games and numberless "ring games" and "hide and seek," which were more noisy. We popped corn over an open fire in "grandma's room" or on the kitchen stove, according to grandma's judgment as to which was the better place for it.

The day often ended in a "Thanksgiving Ball" at the hotel in Scotland for the older members of the family. The glories of the ball, the music, the prompting of Gurdon Cady, the "spring floor" of the hall and the supper at midnight were weird, fantastic tales that never paled with much telling and to our unaccustomed senses were as mystifying as the Arabian Nights, and as compelling then as the lure of the "movies" today.

THANKSGIVING ECHOES

From a personal letter of one correspondent who was writing of the old- time days in the typical home of the New England farmer, an extract follows, made incognito because of the frank but intensely human quality of the last sentence, showing what sometimes goes on in the mind of a child. The sentences first quoted, however, reveal the elder New England heart at its best.

"In all our memories of Thanksgiving Day, let us never forget the untiring, everlasting, never-ceasing work of mother, for days and days, sometimes weeks beforehand, that all things might be done for the comfort and happiness of the family for the great day of reunion and feasting and Thanksgiving-for really the spirit of Thanksgiving was real and was devout and humble-in the morn- ing while at the table and thereafter there was full outburst of home joys.

"Another feature of Thanksgiving not to be forgotten is that in those comfortable old days everybody who had plenty was moved to remember those who had not an abundance, or in rare instances had but meagre comforts. There was one family to whom my father sent a turkey every year for more than twenty years. And another incident, vividly impressed upon my sinful childish mind and even unto this day, that many and many a time I was impressed to carry a big dinner on Thanksgiving day to. an old lady who lived nearby and whom I cordially disliked, much now to my regret, for probably there was no

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satisfactory reason for it except a childish whim-and I always hoped I'd stumble and spill the whole menu before getting it to her-but I never stumbled on that errand !"

Another correspondent writes: "One of the chief old-time pursuits of the ungodly on Thanksgiving day was the turkey-shoot or turkey-raffle; the turkey- shoot, an outdoor sport of real merit where the turkey was won by the most skillful; the raffle, just a petty gambling scheme which found its chief place of operation in some tavern or saloon. The turkey raffle has persisted in sports even unto this day."

GRANDMOTHER'S DAY

By Alice Hall Darrow

To anyone whose memories of Thanksgiving Day reach back for nearly fifty years, the real name of the home festival becomes "Grandmother's Day," and I am inclined to believe that so it became, just so soon as our Pilgrim mothers had harvested a crop of grandchildren.

Or it might be called "Weather Day," because any variety of our famous New England weather may reasonably be expected. We can remember Thanks- giving Days, warm and still, when the row of "artimishias" under grand- mother's window were lovely (even though a trifle dulled)-yellow, pink, white-and the queer little terra-cotta colored ones that she called "Indjy plants," and our daughters call "button chrysanthemums." There were other Thanksgiving Days when snow was deep, sleet falling, and grandmother's anxiety concerning culinary affairs was eclipsed by her fear that "John's family" could not get to the feast.

But whatever the weather, we know what we should eat on Thanksgiving Day at my grandmother's. Our feasting began at breakfast-fried chicken (that was always golden brown), mashed potato, great fluffy raised biscuits, coffee.

Dinner-roast turkey, with delectable stuffing and gravy, more mashed potato, likewise turnip, and boiled onions, cranberry sauce, celery (then not long introduced as a novelty in eatables). There was bread and butter, of course. No one ever declined bread fifty years ago, because they also ate potato. There was home-made pickles and jelly, and there was always an enormous chicken pie, with crimped edges and a pie crust mouse on top. Then came dessert-mince pie, pumpkin pie, and last of all, a great dish of hickory nuts.

We, at our grandmother's, had neither soup nor salad, black coffee demi tasse, nor finger bowls; but we had shining table linen, the best china, and all the forks and spoons polished to their brightest. There was a wonderful butter dish of silver, standing upon four legs. The knob of its cover was a sturdy goat, in a recumbent position. In my later years I have speculated much upon the intention of the designer of that butter dish-what was the significance of that goat, especially as it had all the chin marks of a Billy ?

After dinner the grown-ups talked and the children played-often we all played together, and at dusk grandmother appeared with a silver cake basket holding always three kinds of cake-gold, silver and "French Loaf Cake." Tea was served by one of the mothers, while the youngsters betook themselves to the kitchen to meet grandfather and the milk pail.

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There were always church services on Thanksgiving Day, but I think they must enjoy the distinction among similar observances of being chiefly attended by men. Even the most deeply religious women seemed to feel more strongly the call of home, yet surely there was never a day in all the year when the sense of God's fatherhood and man's brotherhood was more pervasive and compelling.

Our Thanksgiving Days at grandmother's were almost unvaried, but she used to tell us of an earlier one, when she had arisen at 2 o'clock in the morning in order that the regulation dinner might be served as a wedding breakfast for a bride about to depart upon her long journey to the new home in New York State, and that feast was prepared in the chimney ovens by the fireplace.

And there was one Thanksgiving Day unlike the others, when one of the mothers was not there and the attached father was present for dinner only, and grandmother disappeared almost immediately after dinner, having aston- ished a granddaughter by the injunction to remain all night at grandmother's and go to bed early. Somehow all the company quickly dispersed and disap- peared. Grandfather sat quietly by the fire. Granddaughter went to bed and lay awake, vaguely troubled. By and by the outer door opened and a quick step came through the house. Little granddaughter sat up and listened.

"Well, it's come," she heard-and grandfather's question: "What is it?"

Granddaughter listened with all her might. It sounded like father's voice- yes, it was, and with such an un-Thanksgivingish tone: "Another girl," it said.

OLD DARN COAT By Dr. A. D. Ayer

In 1857 my parents bought a farm in the Town of Hampton-Goshen or Clark's Corner, as it is now called. It was on the main road from Willimantic to the county seat, Brooklyn, where then, as now, the jail was. It was a road- way that strangers, especially emigrants who arrived at Castle Garden, took in their search for work. At our house many a new arrival, especially from Ireland, found a resting place for over night. My father at times gave them work to do. I remember two brothers, Michael and Patrick Rourke. It was haying time and my father had been disappointed in help-was short of a man. Early one morning-I never will forget it-a rap on the door to the kitchen, we were at the table eating. Father answered the alarm at the door. There stood the two, yes, green, young men with a bundle on the end of a stick which they had over the shoulder. In the brogue of their country they asked for work; tired, hungry, having walked all the way from Castle Garden, slept in barns, done a little work-enough to get food.

"What can you do?" asked my father. One, I forget which, said he was a farmer, the other was a hedger and ditcher. They did not want to separate for a while. As my father had some swamps he wanted to drain and the hay- ing to do, he made a bargain with the two. They were both good workers, and later bought farms near where we lived.

The next peculiar person to come to our house was the man who was called "Darn Coat." He had been a regular overnight man at this house-the Dea- con Burnham place, half a mile east of Goshen or Clark's Corner. He related how the good deacon always took him in, etc .- my memory of him is as good today as if it were but yesterday I saw old "Darn Coat." His coat was simply a mass of twine, yarn and thread which for years-at places he called his

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homes-after the housewife had hunted up the strings of yarn or twine, he had worked into the coat. His story as told to my mother in bits-he only told a little at a time, but when put together-was as follows:

He had on that same coat he was wearing when he went to a certain place- he would not say whether it was a church or a house-to be married. The bride never came; he never knew what became of her. He then said he would never wear any other coat until he found her. So as time went on, when a hole or tear came, he darned it with many colored threads, strings and yarns; hence his name, old "Darn Coat." He usually wore a tall or stovepipe hat, in which he carried his glasses, kerchief, and a nice snuffbox with gold inlaid in the cover, which a woman had given him years before I knew him, and in the snuffbox was the bean which all snuff users had in their boxes. He was a man who was well-posted in current events and past history. He was a great reader. My father had a regular reading list, the Hartford Weekly Times, New York Ledger (Bonner's), Harper's Illustrated Weekly, occasionally, the Boston True Flag, Saturday Evening Post (Philadelphia), and mother had Ladies' Maga- zine. The "darn man" asked, soon after he began to come to our house, if he could not work a little and stay two or three days so that he could read more. He seemed to be much interested in mother's magazine. He would call her attention to a picture of a woman in a new style of dress, and then would sit down and gaze at it for a long time. Mother would ask him if it carried him back to the young woman he expected to marry when he saw those pictures, and he would say : "If I told you, you would know my thoughts, my memories of the past." Never would he give a straight answer. At times he carried a violin and would occasionally play dance music, but as I remember, he played sort of mournful tunes. He at times would sing, when out in the woodshed or in the garden, one song in particular-I do not remember the title, but I do remember his repeating this quotation : "She sat under the green willow tree"; then he would stop and take off his hat and stand as if gazing at something overhead, repeat this a number of times, then perhaps would recite Cassabianca, "The boy stood on the burning deck," etc.

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A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume II, Part 13

Author: Lincoln, Allen B Publication date: 1920 Publisher: Chicago : S. J. Clarke publ. co. Number of Pages: 960

Author: Lincoln, Allen B
Publication date: 1920
Publisher: Chicago : S. J. Clarke publ. co.
Number of Pages: 960