A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume II, Part 17

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 17

Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).

The morning he was seventy he awakened to a new realization, and thus soliloquized : "Well, George Burnham, here you are at seventy, and you aren't dead yet. Why be so blue about it? Better make up your mind to stay around as long as you can." So his spirit changed, he grew confident, and lived to be eighty-nine.

He was for many years one of Willimantic's leading business men, of abso- lute integrity in every respect, personally and business wise, and highly respected by everybody. He was intensely interested in public affairs, and a veritable "watchdog of the treasury"; public spirited, in favor of all substantial public improvements, but an alert critic of unwise expenditures. He was one of the larger tax-payers, and never failed to attend town meetings and speak on ques- tions of public policy.

He was raised among the "Shakers," but in early life became a believer in the Spiritualist faith. He followed spiritualistic phenomena carefully, and for a time was impressed by claims of "manifestations" from the spirit world.

A short time before his death, however, he said: "I'm worth quite a bit of money, and I'd give up a good share of it if I could know what is to become of me after death." Then he said to the writer: "I suppose you orthodox Con- gregationalists figure that I'm going to hell." I had heard him speak in that vein before, and I thought it a good time to check him up on that tendency. So I said: "George Burnham, just cut out that sort of talk. If there's any man in this entire bailiwick who's going to heaven, you are sure of a front seat, for no man hereabouts has a nobler record for clean living, high purpose and a life worth while for the community!" "Do you really believe that, Allen?" "I certainly do," and he seemed to take comfort in the talk.

A few days later I met him in the post office on North Street. "I want to ask a favor of you," he said. "Glad to do anything I can for you." Then out of a clear sky, "When I die, I want you to write my obituary-you seem to think well of me!" I answered jocularly at first-"I'll make a trade with you; if I go first, you write mine; if you first, I'll write yours." "No, Allen, I'm serious," he said, "will you do it?" "I certainly will, if I survive you, and that's your wish," was my reply. "Is it distinctly understood?" he con- tinued, proffering his hand. "Sure," said I, and we shook hands on it. So it came about that when he did pass on, I wrote an appreciation of him for the Chronicle and signed my name to it, and it was a privilege to keep such an agreement for a citizen of such noble character.

ECHOES OF THE CIVIL WAR By Rev. Dwight A. Jordan

The pastor of the Willimantic Methodist Church at the close of the Civil war was the Rev. Edgar F. Clark, who, when he heard of Lee's surrender, was in one of the principal stores on Main Street. He threw his silk hat clear to the ceiling, and with a yell of joy shouted "Glory to God !"

At the same time the church bells began to ring, and that of the Congrega-

1046

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

tional Church was especially noisy and busy. "Jim Martin," the cemetery sexton and janitor in charge, was intensely interested in the war. He was not a church member and sometimes used language that was thought to be strong. When particularly excited his common expression was "Dam-a-hell." Some- body passed by the church after the bell had been ringing constantly for about half an hour and found Martin inside tugging away at the bell rope for dear life, streams of perspiration running down his face, and he was asked: "How long are you going to keep this up?" He answered, "Lee's surrendered; dam-a-hell, I'll ring the bell till 6 o'clock."

One of the leading men in the Old Willimantic once said to the stone mason who was working for him and concerning the long, lank, troublesome son of another leading citizen, "D'you know what I'd do if I had a boy like that ?" "No," said the stone mason, "what would you do?" The old man chuckled and said with a twinkle in his eyes, "I'd have a turkey shute."

The Eighteenth Connecticut Volunteers cnlisted for three years, "or dur- ing the war." It happened that the time for their mustering out occurred just about the time of the surrender of Lee at Appomattox; but they were really serving over-time and had been for some days. There was a big brawny citi- zen of Willimantic who had lost one-half of his forefinger and who had a great habit when speaking of caressing the upper part of his throat and the under part of his chin with the thumb and second finger. He was greatly troubled about one word in the enlistment contract, and rubbing his throat and chin, he said, "I know what three years means all right, but I don't know, and don't know nobody who does know what this darned 'durin'' means." However, he found out within two or three weeks and was mustered out with honor.

READ HIS OWN OBITUARY

Senator Henry B. Anthony, who built the Providence Journal to a high degree of success, and in his later years served (1860-1884) four terms as United States senator from Rhode Island, was permitted the unique privilege of reading his own obituary. Senator Anthony was for several years before his death a sufferer from Bright's disease. During the Easter recess of Congress in 1884, while the writer was employed on the Journal, the senator came home to Providence, and a few days later started on the return trip to Washington. He was taken suddenly and violently ill in New York, and the word came to Providence that his last illness was at hand and to prepare for the worst. The late Alfred M. Williams was then editor of the Journal, and he sent immediately to one of the .professors of Brown University a message asking him to write an extended review of the statesman's life for publication in the Journal when the end should come. The article was written that night and put in type, being, as I recall it, three or four columns in length. But the next morning brought news that the senator was rallying. He steadily improved, and a few days later had so far recovered that he went on to Washington and resumed his place in the Senate. In the early summer he came home again and was able · to be about the city, though manifestly in feeble health. One day during the summer he came into the editorial rooms of the Journal and said to Editor Williams, "I wish to see the proofs of that article you have in type about me." Mr. Williams was taken aback by the request, as he had not supposed the sen- ator knew of the article; but, of course, he had no option but to obey the orders

1047

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

of his chief. He stepped to the tube-telephone and whistled upstairs an order for the desired proof-slips, and as they were sent down, he handed them to the senator without a word. Senator Anthony retired to his own private office and remained therein about an hour. When he came out he handed the proofs to Mr. Williams and left the office without a word. Not a mark was on the proofs. A few weeks later, in September, 1884, the senator died, and the obituary article was published in the Journal exactly as he had read it. It was supposed in the office that the writer of the article, a close personal friend, had told him about it and asked him to look it 'over.

FROM ASHFORD TO AFRIKY

The late A. Watson Armour of Kansas City, member of the famous Armour packing house, came east one summer to look up his ancestral records and par- ticularly to secure information concerning his grandparents who lived in Ashford.

He found in Ashford a native who knew his grandparents well and, in fact, was thoroughly familiar and posted on all the details of persons and events in Eastford and Ashford covering a period of nearly seventy years, as the old gentleman was nearing seventy-seven when Mr. Armour interviewed him.

The venerable informant told Mr. Armour a great many interesting details concerning the life of the latter's grandparents and he also told Mr. Armour that he had never been outside of Ashford except to make one trip to Chaplin and another trip to Stafford, and this latter trip involved a stage drive to Will- ington for a stretch of nine miles and then a ride of six miles on the Central Vermont Railway.

Mr. Armour thanked the old man cordially for all the information he had given him about local affairs and said, "It is really remarkable, Mr. Johnson, the intimate knowledge you have of the very things I wish to know. I suppose you've always lived right around here?"

"Oh, no," was the prompt reply, "I was born and raised two miles from here."

The same old Bill Johnson revealed his mental horizon in another incident. During the Paris Exposition a full-page illustration of the Eiffel Tower was published one Sunday by the New York Tribune. A summer visitor took a copy to Ashford and old Bill espied the picture of the tower. "What's that ?" he asked, and was told. After a moment's reflection he inquired, "Where's France?" Now to answer that question for a man who at age seventy-five has never been more than twenty-five miles from where he was born and has never read newspapers or books, is some job. Meanwhile, "Old Bill" was thinking still further abroad. He had all his life attended occasionally certain local meetings addressed by returned foreign missionaries, and listened to their appeals to send money and missionaries to "the heathen"; members of the Robbins family had also gone from Ashford to Africa as missionaries, as "Old Bill" knew. So his next question was "Where's Afriky?" That question was a poser for the summer visitor-how to convey to the questioner some idea of the location and meaning of "the dark continent." But he tried to explain, and then "Old Bill" declared, "I've allus tho't I'd like to go to Afriky and see them air heathen."

Vol. II-9

1048

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

HE DIDN'T LOSE THE MAIN POINT

Law schools were remote from Windham County in the days of Governor Chauncey Cleveland, and the young man who aspired to become a disciple of Blackstone coveted a chance to "read law" in the office of some experienced member of the profession. Particularly desirable was a chance to start under the tutelage of so distinguished a practitioner as the governor.

The story goes that Governor Cleveland was about to admit a new student and that his choice had narrowed down to two capable young men between whom he found it hard to choose. So he invited them both to spend the late afternoon with him and "stay to tea" as the early evening meal was then called in those days of simpler living than the modern "dinner." It was of course a great experience for these two young men. They were expected to conduct themselves with due modesty and would dare speak only when spoken to or asked questions.

The governor showed them around the farm and finally took them to the big barn, at the rear of which a wide first-loft hay door looked out over the hen yard and into the fields beyond. The boys had observed that the governor limped as he walked about with them. Pausing by this first-loft door, he said : "I was looking out here a few days ago, and spied a big hen-hawk circling towards the chickens; so I went into the house and secured my gun, and came back here and took good aim at the hawk and fired; and the old gun kicked so that it knocked me down those stairs, bruising me so that I have been a little lame ever since. Well boys, come downstairs now and I'll show you where we keep the cattle." Down the stairs they went, while the governor continued telling them various things about the stock and the farm. One of the boys became visibly restless and anxious to speak and the governor noticed it and asked what he wished to say: "Did you hit that hawk?" was the question quickly put. "Ah, you're the young man for my office," said the governor, "you don't lose sight of the main point."

PURELY PROFESSIONAL

One of the mooted questions in the realm of law and lawyers is how far a lawyer should go in defending his client who may be guilty. The theory of defense declares that the accused is entitled to every safeguard against convic- tion, and that if the accusers cannot prove guilt, sufficient to secure conviction by the court, the accused is entitled to go free. It is held by many lawyers that only thus can the rights of the accused be fairly protected against possibly unfair charges, and that in the long run it is better for the ends of justice that this theory of defense be followed.

A veteran counsellor at law, now of highest standing at the Windham County bar, was once defending a civil damage suit which was brought against his clients alleging personal injury to the claimant. In his closing plea to the jury, this counsellor made certain strong statements that surprised one of his friends in the court-room audience.

After verdict had been brought in against the defendants, the friend inquired of the defeated counsellor, "Do you mean to say, Mr. - that you believe those statements you made to the jury this morning?" "Oh, that was purely pro- fessional, purely professional, I assure you," was the suave reply.

1049

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

THE PRACTICAL VALUE OF LEGAL PRECEDENT

In his early experience as an enthusiastic young "reformer," eager to set the world right and make its pathways smoother, the writer once encountered the late John L. Hunter, then in the later years of his career as a Willimantic lawyer. Said the young reformer : "Mr. Hunter, what's the use of all this 'legal verbiage,' as found for instance in an ordinary writ of simple assault, charging that a mere drunk 'did, with malice aforethought and with force and arms, feloniously assault, attack and otherwise abuse and injure one John Doe,' etc. Why can't it all be cut out and the charge of assault made in simple Eng- lish, so that everybody will know just what is meant? What's the use of so many words in law anyway ?"

With a look of mingled pity and disgust, the veteran lawyer replied :

"Young man, the actual meaning of every word in those ancient forms has been established by centuries of court decisions. If it should be re-written as you propose, nobody would know what it meant until the courts had told us after many years of actual trials."

SOMETHING CHEAP BURNING

The late Hon. Edward S. Cleveland of Hampton and Hartford, a nephew of Governor Chauncey Cleveland, and who was for many years a leading law- yer in Hartford, and prominent in state politics as a democrat, member of the Assembly, state senator, etc., was himself keen at repartee and fond of a good story; and he was one also who could tell and enjoy a good story at his own expense. He and Lieut. Gov. George G. Sill, a fellow lawyer and democrat, were great friends. They lived near each other over West Hartford way, and on the trolley coming downtown their good-natured raillery often entertained a carful of people. Senator Cleveland enjoyed fine clothing and Governor Sill enjoyed a fine quality of cigars. One morning Governor Sill entered the car holding a lighted cigar in his hand, and seated himself beside Senator Cleve- land and, after the usual greetings, Senator Cleveland, sniffing his nose in mock derision, exclaimed, "I smell something cheap burning." Quick as a flash, Governor Sill brushed imaginary ashes from Senator Cleveland's coat and said. "Beg your pardon, Senator, I did not realize I had dropped live ashes on you !"

MAKING A RECORD

"Lake Robertson," as he was familiarly called (his first name was Laocoon), although a resident of the neighboring town of Coventry, was far-famed through- out Eastern Connecticut as driver of the 'bus line from South Coventry Station to the village, before the trolley came. In fact, "Lake" sturdily fought the coming of the trolley, but accepted the inevitable gracefully, and because along in years, retired to his fireside, where he still smokes his pipe in comfort and thinks over the varied experiences of his long life.

He was a faithful plodder, and moved with a precision that was on the whole efficient, as he almost invariably got his patrons there on time, but his pace was sometimes trying to nervous people, especially as they found it abso- lutely impossible to hurry him.

A certain former resident of Coventry, now living in the Central West, came back to the home town for the summer, and when returning at the close of the

1050

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

season nearly lost her train as she feared through "Lake's" slowness, and she had tried in vain to hasten his movements.

A few weeks later a local relative of hers told "Lake" she had just received a letter from the said western lady, in which "Lake" was severely chided "for his slowness." "Why," said the Coventry relative, "she says she has traveled all over this country, and in Europe, and never in all her life encountered any- body as exasperatingly slow as you are." "Lake" listened to this tirade, steadily puffing his pipe while driving the horses of the 'bus, and as the woman ceased, he took a few extra puffs and then drawled out : "Wall, it's a good idee to have a record for somethin'."

A YANKEE TRADER'S WIT AND THRIFT

The late Allen Lincoln, well known as a merchant in Chaplin and Willi- mantic during the years about 1850-1882, won an excellent reputation for square dealing, combined with Yankee thrift and shrewdness. In earlier life a farmer, he never really enjoyed it, and varied that life by occasional trips via stage and canal to New York State and Ohio, then the "far West" and there to trade in wools.

Finding mercantile life more to his liking, he finally sold his farm near North Windham and bought out his brother Jared Lincoln's store in Chaplin.

One day a traveling "drummer" from Norwich displayed to Mr. Lincoln a remarkable new instrument for making touglı meat tender-"a meat ham- mer," its broad head studded with dull iron points. The drummer insisted this was a marvelous invention and that the Chaplin people would buy them eagerly, so he proposed to leave a whole barrelful of them at the Chaplin store. Mr. Lincoln didn't take to them and refused to buy. The drummer insisted, and finally declared that he should leave the barrel anyway, and Mr. Lincoln could "accept them at wholesale price and for pay send me at retail prices anything in your store that you wish to offer in trade; certainly that's fair;" and so declaring, the drummer drove off leaving the meat hammers on the "front stoop" of the store. Merchant Lincoln didn't like that procedure; but soon an idea struck him-"send in trade anything in my store at retail prices," the drummer had said. So he packed in a box enough of the meat hammers at retail price to pay for tliem at the wholesale price and shipped the box "collect" to the drummer's Norwich address, writing him just what he had done. He never heard any more from that drummer!

Some years later, when Mr. Lincoln was in the wholesale flour business at the foot of Railroad Street in Willimantic, a certain shifty baker in Stafford Springs ran up a bill of flour on him for about $80 and then paid no attention to the account for several months, meanwhile trading at another Willimantic store and paying cash, as Mr. Lincoln heard. One afternoon the baker arrived from Stafford by the Central Vermont train and started up toward Main Street; Mr. Lincoln espied and hailed him, as follows: "Say, friend -, I've got a fine lot of flour today which I can sell you at a bargain," and he named a price per barrel which he knew was 50 cents lower than the baker could get else- where. "How much will you sell me at that price?" asked the baker. "All you want," replied Mr. Lincoln. ""I've got a good line, but of course that price is for spot cash." "All right," said the baker, and they went over to the store and fixed up the bargain for about $150 worth; the baker drawing a big roll of bills from his pocket and paying in full. Mr. Lincoln gave him a receipt,

1051

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

and said the flour would be shipped to Stafford Springs that afternoon without fail, to reach there very early next morning; so the baker departed, well pleased with his trade and wholly unsuspecting! By early "boat train" next morning the local sheriff went to Stafford Springs with a writ of attachment, and as soon as the baker's flour was delivered, attached it for the old debt, in Mr. Lincoln's name. The baker drew from his pocket what was left of the same roll of bills he had in Willimantic, the day before, and paid the old account with sheriff's costs, and without a word of comment !

SACRED OLD HYMNS ARE TRAVESTIED

That incident of New Year's eve in Meriden, Conn., where certain church members took umbrage because, as they understood, their janitor played ribald airs on the chimes, as the old year passed and the new began, was worth more than a passing notice, for it was really an incident of large significance in the current social order.

The airs or tunes in question, as will be recalled, were two. The first was understood by the shocked critics to be sung to these words :

"How dry I am, how dry I am, Nobody knows how dry I am."

The second was understood to carry these words :

"I'd rather have fingers than toes, I'd rather have eyes than a nose ; And as for my hair I am glad it's still there, I'll be as sore as can be when it goes," etc.

Small wonder that the church members whose only knowledge of the tunes played by the janitor on the church chimes was with words quoted, as they had heard them in frivolous gatherings, should express a horrified protest. Even more ready would have been their recognition, and even greater their horror, had the janitor played yet another familiar tune, recalling the words as so often sung nowadays in gatherings of jolly men :

"We're here because we're here We're here because we're here," etc.

But the janitor, so goes the Meriden story, was himself the more astoundcd and greatly indignant, to find that his critics seemed actually unaware of the original significance of the tunes he played, just as he, in his original simplicity, was apparently unaware of the modern versions. He protested that what his critics understood as "How Dry I Am" was in fact a solemn rendering of a once-familiar Christian song of which the first stanza runs :

"Oh happy day, that fixed my choice On thee, my Saviour and my Lord."

with the accompanying refrain

"Happy day, happy day When Jesus washed my sins away !"

1052

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

And the indignant janitor further protested that what his modern critics had interpreted as "I'd rather have fingers than toes," was in truth a rendering of the old hymn "Dennis," with its words in mind :

"How gentle God's commands, How kind his precepts are Come cast your burden on the Lord And learn his constant care."

And the later-day version known as "We're here because we're here," is in fact a perversion of the time-honored "Auld Lang Syne"-"Should auld acquaintance be forgot."

WAS IT A PREMONITION ?

The late George K. Nason, for many years a Willimantic lumber merchant on Church Street, was a man of original thought and of marked personality. He laid the foundations of his fortune in wool speculation, and ever there- after, if encountering a flock of sheep when driving through the country, he would lift his hat to them. Though never a church member, he was a deep student of religions, and could recite many striking passages to illustrate the similarity of the expressions of faith. He was an active Knight Templar, and when traveling in the Holy Land and through the Far East he became much interested in Mohammedanism. He remarked the contrast between the daily lives of the followers of Mohamet and of the man of Nazareth. "It's the dif- ference in their religions; no doubt of that," said Nason.

Mr. Nason was stricken suddenly with intestinal trouble, and died soon after the operation. A few evenings before he was taken ill, he invited Prof. W. O. Turner and another neighbor to come to his home on North Street and "have a sing." He loved old melodies and especially old-time revival songs. On this particular evening, one of the latter songs had an impressive refrain :

"Oh, be ready, oh, be ready, Ready when the bridegroom comes."

"Sing that over again !" he said, and then "Sing it again." And he called for its repetition for several minutes. He seemed in good health and spirits. Two days later he was stricken.

After recovering from the anaesthetic, he asked the nurse, "Well, what do the doctors say ?" She told him as gently as she could that it was a question of brief time only: "Oh well, if that's what it is, tell 'em I know how to die," and he faced his fate with quiet determination.

SOME STRUCTURE

There is one former pupil of Willimantic schools who is today a distin- guished educator, and his success is due to his general intelligence, business acumen, tact, and his ability to pick teachers who make good under his direction. And yet if you were to have received a personal letter from him, written before the days of trained typists, you would have marvelled at his superior ability to misspell words. Some people never can learn to spell, yet they succeed in life; while others can spell and never succeed; and still others can do neither.

Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.

A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume II, Part 17

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