USA > Massachusetts > Worcester County > Templeton > The story of Templeton > Part 12
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The simple first decade of the century found the village with Main Street grown into North and South Main, and an important Central Street lined by store "blocks", with lodge halls overhead; also there was a bank building, all in homely but substantial style, and all in wood except the bank, which had been dressed up in red brick and stone in the sombre style of the eighties.
Facing the village green, but rambling around a corner onto another street away from the stores, was the three-story, mansarded Narragansett House. There was one sprawling livery stable at its rear and another across the side street, so there was ample provender and rest for beast as well as man. A murky well furnished drink for the horses, while most travelers gave the password for something more invigorating and less likely to cause typhoid.
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Between the Narragansett House and the river, crowded almost over the water's edge, was old Union Hall. Here in winter, home talent, reveling in melodrama, appeared in a contrasting procession of city slickers and country bumpkins; bold, over-dressed young ladies from town and shy, over- grown pigtailed heroines from the farm; bluff, heartless sheriffs and mortgage-haunted old folks bowed down with care. More novel were the occasional black-faced minstrels, with their sharp-tongued endmen whose barbs made even the most eminent citizens in the audience squirm.
A whole generation of small boys grew up firmly believing that the grandest performance of "Robin Hood" ever given anywhere was played on the boards of Union Hall! The same generation was dazzled by a frilled and highly starched bevy of older sisters in the "Floradora Girls". Though a little too young to be fully appreciative, the boys nevertheless had a vague notion that they had seen another all-time peak of performance.
Sometimes a shabby-genteel outsider came in with a Punch and Judy show, or a marvelous glass-blowing exhibit, or a bit of sleight-of-hand, to hold his youthful audience spellbound. And on one memorable occasion, a real "Uncle Tom's Cabin" troupe appeared, with Topsy, Little Eva, the bloodhounds (or was it just one plain friendly hound?) and all the frayed paraphernalia of a small-town road show. For months there- after, barn lofts and vacant lots echoed to the shouts and screams of this epic melodrama.
FIRE!
Steamer Number One, a gay-ninety creation of shining brass and nickel and brilliant red paint, was housed on the street floor of Union Hall. Seen through a side window, Steamer Number One and its gleaming red-and-gold com-
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panion, Hose Number Four, with their wagon-tongues pointed straight toward the street, both looked tense and alert as if ready to dash forth of their own accord with the first sound of bell or whistle. But alas! it often happened that the last echo of the alarm had long since died away before a handful of breathless volunteers could get the steamer out and backed to the riverbank, with flames and smoke of a freshly kindled fire belching forth from its stack.
Meantime, Hose Number Four awaited the coming of the nearest pair of work horses, which might have been busily engaged a half-mile or more away; at night the driver might have been sound asleep at home another half-mile away. And sometimes a second pair of horses had to be found to take the steamer itself to a distant part of the village, there to make its stand at some other riverbank or beside a small pool or reservoir.
Cynical villagers used to boast that Steamer Number One was a marvel at saving cellar holes, but that really was an exaggeration, as many a grateful home owner could testify. The steamer could hardly be blamed for its slow start, and once its steam was up and the engineer had give a warning "toot-toot" on its squeaky whistle, it delivered a stream deadly to both fire and the novice hoseman who struggled to control the nozzle. As it warmed into action and the whole engine sizzled and throbbed, timid citizens watched its safety-valve closely, more fearful of a possible explosion than of the con- flagration itself; but old Number One kept sizzling and throbbing long and honorably until at last it was peacefully retired to the junk yard.
VILLAGE SMITHY
Across the street from Union Hall, and also half perched over the edge of the river, was the village smithy, a low rangy
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building, grim and bare, quite without a saving chestnut tree, but a perennial center of childhood interest, nevertheless. Mr. Ellis, the blacksmith, was of rather small build, but any mis- chievous boy unwisely trying his patience quickly learned that a mighty man can live in a small body.
It was Mr. Ellis who brought the first gasoline engine into town, to use as a power plant for his workshop. A decidedly unpopular newcomer it proved to be, for its unmuffled ex- haust projected from the river side of the building and its ear-splitting, one-cylinder "bang-bang-bang" echoed over the water from one end of town to the other. Horses jumped, men cursed, and mothers of napping children wished Mr. Ellis in perdition. Fortunately for the villagers, and perhaps for Mr. Ellis too, the workshop was used only a few hours a week.
AWHEEL AND AFOOT
The village was the junction point of two railroads, a busy two-tracked main line and a much less busy single-tracked branch, affectionately labeled the "Huckleberry". Tradition had it that bored travelers had once been able to liven their journey by getting out to pick berries alongside the coaches, as the old diamond-stacked engine chugged slowly up the steep grades.
The railroad-building generation had had great expecta- tions, especially when they saw two lines converging on the village to make it a junction. But somehow the great ex- pectations never materialized, and the village did not become a teeming metropolis. One could have also said of the village what a later boasting wag said of his home town: "It's as large as New York, but it hasn't been built up yet".
Nevertheless, the railroad station was a vital center of busi- ness activity and sociability; and the old Vermont & Massa-
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chusetts line long provided a service to and from Boston which far excelled anything offered in recent years.
But though the railroad was such an important link with the outer world, the passenger coach in ordinary life played second fiddle to the horse and buggy. Everyone who could afford it, and a few who couldn't, owned a horse and some kind of vehicle, while two or three families boasted a "span of horses" harnessed to a glittering "double carriage". Wheels disappeared and sleigh bells rang merrily for a few crisp weeks in winter.
The horse and carriage still ruled supreme in the early- century scene, but this supremacy had already been challenged by the bicycle. A summer of inter-village cycle races had the horse-racing gentry worried. Modern-minded young people were beginning to prefer tandems to buggies and long, gruel- ling Sunday tours to restful all-day picnics at the end of a short drive. And on one boisterous, fateful day a trolley car came grinding and clanging its dusty way into Central Street.
Sidewalks were the exception rather than the rule in the village, and the streets alternated between dust and mud until a long-rumored State road brought a streak of macadam through the center. Snow lay where it fell in winter, there to be packed into ice by the traffic of sleighs and sleds.
The darkness that was Egypt's still reigned in the streets after the twilight hour, except on clear moonlit nights. Youth trusted to luck and more resilient bones, while oldsters carried spluttering lanterns, or more often wisely stayed at home. It was far safer to sit by the fire for a family game of whist or bezique. More reckless, outside diversions must await the full of the room. A few widely scattered, public- spirited citizens had private lamp posts in front of their homes - even as once did old Ben Franklin - where smoky oil lamps flickered dimly through the long winter evenings.
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TREE AND ROOFTREE
There were a few old homes, somewhat in the Colonial style, relics of a long-past day when upward-sloping farm acres lay back of them. The new mercantile generation had built a number of two-and-a-half story, hip-roof homes usually with an ell, sometimes also with a barn attached. A few of these newer homes were quite pretentious, but all, both large and small, obviously had been planned and built by practical car- penters, often with a flair for scrolls and turnings.
The more prosperous citizens, not yet knowing the roar of motor traffic, chose their house lots as near Main Street as possible, so as to have church, school and postoffice all within a stone's throw. Farther back, were many modest cottage homes owned by thrifty, skilled mill workers. And there were scattered "rents" to be found upon almost any street, ranging all the way from an ambitious but severely plain four- apartment, two-story brick block - it was always called the "brick block" to run-down little cottages appearing unexpect- edly and uncomfortably near better-kept homes.
The older parts of the village could boast many fine shade trees, chiefly elms and sugar maples. Most of the trees were in rows, obviously planted, but a few especially rugged speci- mens, causing awkward crooks in the street or appearing plump in the middle of a sidewalk, were just as they had sprouted in the original forest. The newer streets were still bleak and bare, except here and there where some high-pres- sure nurseryman had left a yard full of languishing exotic shrubs ill-adapted to the severity of the local climate. The simple decade was inclined to look to the green hill far away; an appreciation of New England's own vegetation was not to come until a later day when antiques and all things native, including trees, were again to be the fashion.
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For many years, even the village green or "common", unlike the commons of the older hill towns, remained barren, except for an uncertain cover of ill-nourished, self-sown grass. How- ever, in the middle nineties, a sensitive, esthetic young Doctor Baker made a planting of native elms along its sides. These trees remained unappreciated for many years, but a later gen- eration was to bless the young man (who left life while still young) for his unselfish foresight.
STEEPLES
Upon higher ground above the village green, discreetly re- moved from the turmoil of the busy lower street, was located a fine old clapboarded church with classic pillars in front and a tall, slender steeple topped by a delicately filigreed golden weather-vane. The steeple gave shelter to the four-faced town clock that harshly pealed forth its hours on a bell which had been cracked since no one knew when. The same bell slowly tolled the Sunday church call, and upon occasion fran- tically gave the village fire alarm. The old church looked solid and contented enough, as if it had been there always; yet the truth of it was that it had been in at least two other locations and had traveled several miles hither and yon before its early parishioners could agree upon a proper site for it.
An insurgent later generation had built a second church nearby, on lower ground, close upon one side of the green. This was a larger, more elaborate, roofy structure in the English style. There was a kind of abbreviated steeple, or bell-tower, rising only slightly above the roof-peak. Later a special niche had been added to house a resplendent organ with huge gold and silver pipes. The seats here were roomier and softer (and the pew rental higher) than in the old church, but the attendance lagged here, too, after the novelty had worn off.
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Now and then a discontented parishioner changed his alle- giance from one church to the other; but in general each parish was loyal to its own, each thought its building better, its pastor more eloquent, and its own way to salvation surer.
Baldwinville, like other sections of the town, has its scenic parts: Norcross Hill, Church Hill, and the location of the Hospital Cottages are some of them.
On Church Hill is one of the first farm houses built in the town. It was erected by Silas Church, for whom the hill was named, and was later occupied by the Hutchins family. The house is now the center one of the four colonies which form the institution known as the Walter E. Fernald State School - Templeton Colony. These four colonies are named Farm House, Brooks House, Eliot House and Narragansett House. Dr. Fernald bought this property in the year 1900, May 19th, and remained there twenty-four years. After his death, Dr. Ransom H. Green became the visiting doctor.
The estate is a large one containing 2,238 acres. At the present time (1946) there are three hundred inmates: those committed to the institution remain until they go out on parole. The entire colony can accommodate three hundred and twenty.
In 1903, Charles W. Hansel came to the Colony as head farmer and remained 42 years. Through his guidance and leadership, marvelous work has been accomplished in cultivat- ing the land and producing rich harvests. Mr. Hansel gave his best to the men of the Colony, and they served him faith- fully.
Irving Ashford is now in charge of this work, and Dr. M. J. Farrel is the head of the School.
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The companion hill, named for the Norcross family, has sent from its midst people of distinction, even two mission- naries to Turkey, Rev. William Goodell and Roseltha Nor- cross.
The story of the Hospital Cottages, located on another sightly elevation, has been written by Mrs. Edwin St. John Ward. (1945)
THE HOSPITAL COTTAGES FOR CHILDREN, BALDWINVILLE
In the northeast corner of the Town of Templeton is a children's hospital which for many years of its history was described as a "unique institution". Set on a hillside above the village of Baldwinville, it is seen as a group of buildings, no longer new, which house the present-day beneficiaries of the eager, far-reaching dream of one of the town's own sons. Unique it certainly was in its early days, for, so far as known, it was the only institution providing both medical care and schooling for its children-patients. It was the second hospital in Massachusetts founded especially for the care of diseased children, the first being the Children's Hospital in Boston; and it was the first in the entire country to give particular at- tention to cases of epilepsy among children. That was during the superintendency of Dr. Everett Flood, who was greatly interested in the institutional treatment of that disease and went on from the Hospital Cottages to become the first super- intendent of the State Hospital for Epilepsy at Monson, after twelve years of very efficient and devoted service herc.
The founder of the Hospital Cottages for Children was Lucius Willard Baker, son of Deacon Willard Baker of Baldwinville. He attended Wilbraham Academy after going through the schools of the village, and then studied with Dr.
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Ira Russell in Winchendon, with a view to entering upon a medical career. His studies were continued at a New York City school of medicine, and it was during this period of ser- vice at the Bellevue Dispensary that he became convinced that his patients, especially the children, could recover from their ailments far more rapidly in good country air and environ- ment than they possibly could in the crowded tenements and streets of a big city.
Speaking at the observance of the twentieth anniversary of the institution of which he was the originator, he "noted the need of special treatment, under proper conditions, for children afflicted with hip, knee, spinal and wasting diseases of childhood. However complete might be the equipment of an institution for this work in the city, it could not do the work of an institution situated in a quiet, healthful country place ... Country air was best in such cases". On returning to Templeton, he was interested in working through an Orphan's Home, so-called, at Lake Denison, where "the Coun- try Week movement, through his solicitation, brought sick children from the city and cared for them during the sum- mer".
In this work and in his dream of further efforts for under- privileged children, he had the hearty support of his father, and in 1880 and 1881 they succeeded in obtaining the backing of a large number of their friends in the establishment of a year-round hospital and home for children. Having as spon- sors for the new enterprise many influential men-clergymen, medical men, educators and business men - throughout the State, with Deacon Baker himself responsible for the provision of two houses on Pleasant Street in Baldwinville, which be- came its first home, the institution opened with formal exer- cises on June 17, 1882, and was incorporated in December of the same year.
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Dr. Baker had received his idea of a cottage hospital from the English Cottage Hospital Houses. On June 15th, only a few days before his hospital was publicly opened, he read a paper before the Massachusetts Medical Society entitled "Cot- tage Hospitals" which told how the system had developed in England. He outlined his thought as to its benefits for this country as well. "These hospital cottages", he says, "will pro- vide homes, under the best hygienic conditions, throughout the year, where chronic and incurable cases of disease among children can receive medical treatment, together with such educational, industrial and mental training as may be neces- sary to meet the requirements of each patient. By this method, much can be accomplished in the way of fitting them to occupy positions in after-life and in many instances prevent their becoming crippled burdens upon society." And he added, concerning his own venture, "Hospital accommo- dations in the country are here provided under good hygienic conditions, where children from the city or elsewhere, suffer- ing from chronic diseases, may receive medical care and careful nursing, together with all the advantages of fresh air, sunlight, and good food which country life affords. It is de- signed to be a charitable institution, after the English cottage hospital system, which shall take even the poorest child that can be found, and at the same time foster self-support by welcoming a return, however small, from the relatives or guardians of the little patients, more substantial returns to be expected according as the patient's friends have ability to pay."
When the Hospital Cottages were opened on that June day in 1882, there were only two patients on hand. But rapidly more came in, and the list of applicants soon reached over two hundred and fifty, when only a fourth of that number could be cared for. As early as 1887, a third building was felt neces- sary, and this was erected alongside the two on Pleasant Street.
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The three houses on Pleasant Street had carried out Dr. Baker's idea of small cottages, presided over by matrons and atten- dants, where the children could live as nearly as possible a normal home life, go to school regularly and have treatment for their differing diseases. As the number of applicants in- creased, it came to be more and more realized that the center of a village was hardly the place for these child-patients; they needed room for recreation; the older boys would benefit from work on a farm; and the institution should be able to expand its quarters for the many who were seeking help. By 1890, a large tract of land was acquired which contained a farm and farm buildings, situated on the northern boundary of the town. There three large buildings took shape, were dedicated in June with impressive ceremonies and occupied in December. The new buildings erected with state aid scarcely carried out the Cottage Hospital idea; but in all essential re- spects the institution has preserved the originator's dream of a hospital, home and school for underprivileged children and has kept the name of Hospital Cottages for Children as in the old location.
The institution has grown in acreage from the small amount of land held in the village to four hundred sixty-nine acres at the present site by the gift or purchase of adjoining farm or wood lots, both in the town of Templeton and the adjacent town of Winchendon; in endowment up to over three hun- dred nine thousand dollars ($309,000) in funds; and in the value of the plant up to over three hundred sixty-three thousand dollars $(363,000). Two more buildings were added within the next ten years to the original three on the hillside, one for wards and playrooms, and one to house the school, and several smaller ones as proved necessary. In later years, facilities for more adequate care of the patients have been added - equipment for surgical work, an X-Ray outfit,
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physiotherapy and occupational therapy, manual training equipment, and an outdoor swimming pool which gives both great benefit and pleasure to patients and workers alike. The capacity has varied with the exigencies of the years. During Dr. Hartstein Page's administration, the number of patients rose as high as one hundred forty and necessitated the em- ployment of two assistant doctors besides himself. In World War II, the number fell much below the average, chiefly be- cause of the lack of nurses and attendants to care for a large number. The damage caused by the famous hurricane of 1938, which took a sad toll of the big trees on the hospital property and injured both buildings and grounds, was, after all, slight in comparison with that accruing from war shortages and difficulties.
Through the years, there has been carried on a much needed service for the children of the Commonwealth and for their parents and families who have been appreciative and grateful for the thoughtful care given to their handicapped sons and daughters. This service has been made possible because the Hospital Cottages have been supported not alone by payment for board and care, but by the gifts and contributions of many kinds from people in all parts of the state and outside. At several points in its history, grants in aid have been made by the State Legislature for expenses or for building, the state has appointed a small proportion of its trustees; and patients have been sent by two of the state departments and cared for at rates considerably lower than cost. But it is not a state- controlled institution, and it is now some forty years since the latest grant in aid was made. Two women's organizations have been particularly effective and faithful in raising funds and soliciting gifts. The Boston Ladies' Committee was working as early as 1886, while the "Lady Board of Visitors", later called the "Lady Board" and still later the "Woman's
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Board", must have been helping almost as soon as the doors were opened; for the names of that first "Lady Board of Visitors" is given in the 1883 report. The Hospital Cottages for Children could not have been maintained but for the help of the many individuals who believed in the work it was trying to do and were willing to support it in a great many different ways. Several of those mentioned as helpers in the early records have descendants who are loyally furthering the wel- fare of the institution as did their fathers and mothers.
It is interesting to read, in the early reports, of the various contributions made by generous-minded townspeople. Pos- sibly the most influential promoter of the infant project was J. Wyeth Coolidge, who was one of Dr. Baker's personal friends. He had come to town after an active business ca- reer to recuperate from a breakdown, and took up the plan of his friend enthusiastically. With his wide acquaintance throughout the state he made many friends for the institution and himself gave largely of time and money to start it and to carry it smoothly forward. Several of the townspeople became incorporators when incorporation was sought in the very first year, and their names appear again and again in the records of the business of the early years- C. A. Perley, Gilman Waite, O. D. Sawin, Asa Hosmer, H. M. Small (later H. S. Morley), George Brooks, and the Bakers, father and son. These latter two were made by a grateful corporation Pres- ident Emeritus for Life, and Medical Superintendent Emeritus for Life, respectively. Francis Leland was not only on the corporation, but served for many years as its Secretary, and Mr. Small (or Mr. Morley) had over fifty years of service to his credit, many of them as President of the Board of Trustees. Deacon N. K. Lord of Otter River and his wife were bountiful givers, and the apples and potatoes they contributed to the Cottages must have been a great help in the feeding of the
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children. Some of the items of the records show the neigh- borly spirit: "Mrs. Philenia Baldwin, a little quilt finished by her on her 87th birthday, Nov. 18, 1885"; "Wallace & Hawkes, painters, 1884, painting on the inside of the buildings to the amount of $5 worth"; "L. E. Turner, $2 worth of work additional"; etc. The names of some of the helpful women of the town appear over and over, in the records - Mrs. Abiathur Fales of East Templeton, Miss Hattie Twichell and Miss Maria Cutting of Templeton, for instance; and many others would doubtless have appeared had not the annual re- ports soon been cut down to the least possible space and many interesting details omitted in the need to economize.
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