USA > Massachusetts > Worcester County > Templeton > The story of Templeton > Part 7
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The historian of the future may be able to record startling achievements. Who knows, through airplanes and radar, a Templeton boy may be the first to communicate with the planet Mars!
IMPORTANT DATES
1924
The Historical Society reorganized and named Narragansett Historical Society
1925
to
1938
Special celebrations given by Narragansett Historical Society
1926
Buses supplant the electric cars
1927
State highway built - Route 2
1932
Mrs. Adelaide B. Howland's bequest to the Narragansett Historical Society
1933
Old brick store restored
1936
Girl Scouts organized
1938
Hurricane
1939
Two churches in Templeton Center federated
1940
Steeple on Unitarian Church restored
1941
Rev. George Ackerly recognized as Minister of the Federated Church
1939
L
to
World War II
1945
1946
New business in Templeton Center
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BROOKSVILLAGE
by
LIZZIE E. HADLEY
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BROOKSVILLAGE
A' RE you ready for a ride? Dolly is hitched to the top bug- gy and waiting patiently at the door, so let's be off - across the Common, past the old town hall and Revolutionary cemetery, down the Brooksvillage road, now Athol road, for our two-mile ride to Brooksvillage, clustered among the trees on the opposite ridge, with the white spire of the Phillipston church in the background.
Down the hill we jog, past the "farm without a weed" of Charles May; past the Paul Kendall place - now the home of Charles Rich - where in early days a double room could be made for dancing parties by unhooking separating doors and folding back at will; on to the Sibley house where a dancing room could be made upstairs by hinging the doors upward overhead, while people gathered in the wainscotted fireplace rooms downstairs for other entertainment and refreshments. Across the way, on a knoll, was the Goodrich place - the Goodrich who built the first church organ in the First Parish Church. Here the downstairs double rooms could be thrown into one big room by opening large folding doors in the or- dinary way. Later this house was owned and occupied by the Lucien N. Hadley family for forty-seven years. These were some of the oldest houses in Templeton.
Again we jog on to the lower part of the valley where we' pause to view the Hawkes pond or Bourn and Brooks pond --
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later Bourn-Hadley pond - and the sawmill where later sprang up a factory which made chamber furniture.
Now begins the uphill climb, past the Pine Grove Cemetery with its glades and hollows of beautiful old-growth pine, later laid waste by a fierce hurricane, though little damage was done there otherwise. Our direction now turns to the left, as the right-hand road seems little used, except by travelers to outlying farms. The nearest of these is the Riley home - the name which originated the Riley Switch of later electric days. Up a steep pitch, called Gravel Hill, we go through dense woods which some years kept the roads icy late into spring.
A resting place is just beyond, at the foot of the Long Hill. Here we listen to the fall of water over the dam from Mosquito Pond on the right and watch its progress over the meadow at our left and maybe hear the buzz of a sawmill out of sight in the woods. This is known as Bourn's Mill or Hadley's Mill. Many raspberries were picked nearby on old cut-off timber lots - and many hornets encountered!
In imagination we smell the fragrant Mayflower, the Trailing Arbutus, which grows on the right under the pines, and recall the snakes sunning there as we pushed aside the leaves in our search for the dainty pink blossoms. We also recall the cranberries to be picked on the farther banks of the pond when the water was low in the fall.
It is time to move on - past the Marvin Miles place on the left - and begin the steady climb to the steepest part of the Long Hill, where Dolly must get a breath and where, in win- ter, the coasters almost lose their breath, as they rush down on double runners to Gravel Hill and over to catch a ride back with the logging teams.
On the left are blueberry bushes in a big pasture from which many ten-quart pails of berries have been gathered by the village children for many years and used for pies and winter
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canning. Pastures were not posted, "No Trespassing", for there seemed to be enough for all.
On we go, steadily upward to a hollow in the hill for our next rest, near a house where Cyrus Cheney and his wife, Nancy, come out in front to see what is going on, as Peter Cheney, the little black dog keeps up his furious barking, caused by the pestering of the school children. On our right, in another pasture, the children used to play a game seeing who could go longest walking on stones without touching ground, as the stones left by the glacier were more numerous than plums in a pudding. Down over the hill were the June Pink bushes, the sweet pink azaleas which shed their fra- grance abroad every spring, and very large chestnut trees in the woods which gave cherished food to children as well as squirrels in the fall.
At last, we reach the top of the Long Hill and enter Brooks- village, a prosperous, thriving village in the western part of the town of Templeton.
We stop under the Big Elm which forms a center and stands at the divergence of the five roads of the village, forming the Milestone for the many who have gone away and hold it in memory dear. Longfellow said in "The Golden Milestone":
"Each man's chimney is his Golden Milestone, Is the central point, from which he measures
Every distance
Through the gateways of the world around him. In his farthest wanderings still he sees it;
Hears the talking flame, the answering night wind As he heard them
When he sat with those who were but are not.
We may build more splendid habitations, Fill our rooms with paintings and with sculptures, But we cannot
Buy with gold the old associations."
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Many a wayfarer gone from the village recalls this Big Elm and cherishes an old-time picture of it as a part of early life and old associations.
Over the head of Dolly goes the feed bag, with its ration of oats which she enjoys and which will keep her quiet and contented, while we munch our sandwiches, viewing the village meanwhile and recalling various people at their duties.
On our left, at the edge of the village, just in sight, is Dis- trict No. 7 schoolhouse, on the South Road leading to Golden Village, an industrial part of Phillipston, and on to Barre. A notice on the schoolhouse points in that direction, reading "Barre, ten miles". A crossroad, leading to the old Petersham road, with its outlying farms, by Skunk's Misery, helps enclose the schoolhouse. From these farms came pupils to District No. 7-Ella Leland, Carrie Matthews, the Robinsons, the Glasheens, Esther, Elisha, Emma and Moses Leland, children of Charles Leland, Ella Roper, Inez and Orrin Miles and others. Children would race out at recess or noon-time, yelling, "Three old cat, my first bat" or "Hill Dill come over the hill", to gain their first positions.
In the old days, we might hear a great clatter on the hill from the east, when the Boston stage coach reaches the top and stops with a flourish at Brooks Tavern on the right, for refreshment for the travelers and a change of horses or rest and food for them in the large barn and stables attached to the rambling tavern.
Opposite the tavern stood the Bowker Boot Shop where the men and boys of the village and from nearby farms worked each day. Out they come for the noonday meal, hurrying home or out under the Big Elm to eat their lunches. A few seek the tavern.
Lunch quickly eaten, they indulge in a ball game, cards, jokes or politics during the rest of the noon hour. Almost a
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perfect diamond is in the center of the village, and many a ball game is played there, with spectators sitting or reclining on the slope under the Elm, nature's ampitheater. Here each night would gather men and boys for sport and relaxation or to discuss what Congress ought to do! During the day, little girls with their dolls and toys would gather under the Big Elm to play house, being within call of their homes. Older children would meet with pails to decide where to go for blueberries or which field had the best wild strawberries. Woe to the boys caught in the tall grass where the straw- berries were most plentiful and sweetest, or in the turnip field, pulling turnips to eat raw in the fall!
Just across from the baseball diamond was a large field with a face-wall, lined with fruit trees - black and red cherries and apples. Up the hill from this field was the large house of Warren Bowker on the Phillipston road. Mr. Bowker was the owner of the boot shop. Sometimes the village was called Bowkerville; but Brooksvillage it became, and it is still known by that name.
The nooning is over, back hurry the workers to the shop, and out come the passengers from the Brooks Tavern to regain their seats in the coach which has been overhauled and fresh horses hitched to it by the stablemen. Now off it starts with a clatter of harness and whir of whips, amid shouts of hurried good-byes. Up the center and main street of the village it rumbles on, to the woods at the end which soon hide it from view; and only a faint rumbling is heard as it passes the Gil- bert and James Carruth farms down the next hill on its way to Athol and Brattleboro. Just a remembrance remains of busy stagecoach days; the stops at the taverns at East Temple- ton and Templeton on the way to Brooks Tavern at Brooks- village; for the steam engine drowned its clatter, as the railroads became the main channel of communication over
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the land; and the Ware River Railroad, not far away, became a reality. The stagecoach was a thing of the past.
John Brooks, owner of the tavern, built a brick house on the main street, with long ells, big barns and out-buildings of a big farm. Here he took his wife, Sarah Spear Brooks, and family - Isaac, Lucy, Mary Ann, John and Julia - to live. John Brooks later sold the tavern to Isaac Bourn, who had married Mary Ann Brooks, who later became my grand- mother. Their children were Jeanette, Sarah and George Winthrop Bourn.
Isaac Bourn used the big barns for his many horses, kept for lumbering and for taking the logs to the sawmills. He lodged and fed many teamsters and carried on his farm lands, producing hay for the animals and fruits and vegetables for the family. Blue Pearmains, Greenings, Pound Sweets, Porters and Minister apples, with pears and plums, were especially delicious; and Northern Spies, Baldwins and Russets would last all winter in the cool cellar. About twenty families in the village sent workers to the boot shop of Warren Bowker and on logging business for Isaac Bourn.
The North Road furnished pupils for District No. 7. Mr. Brigham, farthest away, sent his son, James, and Otis Starkey, a ward. Eugene, Clara and William D. Rice came from the old Luke Brooks farm, owned by a relative of the village Brookses; Howes and Olivers came also. Lysander Whit- comb, brother of Mrs. David Spear, sent his family to the vil- lage school - Angelo, Malora, Elphine and Abbie Zurilla Whitcomb. Later, Abbie Whitcomb taught school in the village for many years. She was the teacher of my sister, Mary Ann Hadley, throughout the latter's district school days. Earlier, she had sent a class of one boy and four girls to the center, to take a day's examination before three august school committee members - Percival Blodgett, Asa Hosmer, Fran-
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cis Leland - in Colburn's Arithmetic and all subjects, both oral and written, for admission to the Templeton High School. That was when I was admitted and later became a pupil of Hosea F. Lane, as did my mother before me and most of my brothers and sisters afterward.
One day the boot shop took fire and burned to the ground and all the storehouses with it. Also, the David Spear house at the top of the hill nearby, was burned; and nothing but cellar holes covered with brush remain to show where the buildings once were. The local fire hand-engine was manned by citizens and shop-workers who worked with zeal, but nothing could be saved. My mother, then Jeanette Bourn, and John Brooks, Junior's mother, then Ann Richardson Howe, teacher of the village school, helped in pumping and carrying water for the men. Mary and Lucy Baker's mother, then Ella Leland, was one of the first to carry the news of the fire to the center.
Warren Bowker was away from home at the time of the shop fire. He didn't rebuild and soon left the village never to return, but suspicion remained behind.
Sardis Fairbanks, with his wife, Caroline Brooks Fairbanks, a relative of John Brooks, bought and came to live on the Bowker place; and produce from his farm took prizes at the agricultural fairs in Athol for many years, both apples and vegetables. Mrs. Fairbanks took flowers and wreaths made of hair or wax to exhibit. It might be of interest to add here that a beautiful hair wreath, made by Mrs. Fairbanks, now hangs on the walls of the ladies' parlor of the Trinitarian Church. In a frame, under glass, measuring 19"x15", the wreath is in the form of a crescent, with a small cross in the center. It is made entirely of the hair of those who regularly attended church fifty years ago. This wreath was presented to the pastor, Reverend Lewis Sabin, D. D., and shortly after
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his death went to Mrs. Mary J. Work, who has had it for the past twenty-five years.
This hair wreath is a beautiful specimen of an art which has now passed into oblivion. Each leaf or flower is made of the hair of some one person - or in some instances hair from the heads of an entire family. Mrs. Work presented the wreath to the Trinitarian Society as a memorial to those early members. One of the most conspicuous flowers is com- posed of the hair of Dr. Lewis Sabin; and another of the hair of Mrs. Lucy Richardson, mother of Moses Richardson, donor of the Templeton Inn.
Kate Fairbanks (Nichols), mother of Edith Nichols Stevens, attended District No. 7 school, as did also her brothers and sisters, Edgar, Webster, Eugene, Emma, Jennie and May.
The Roper place, a short distance beyond the schoolhouse, at the left, was owned by Ephraim Roper, a stone cutter. At times, he had apprentices to learn the work. One of these, of whom he did not approve, fell in love with his daughter, Ella, and wished to marry her; but the father would not allow it. In a large boulder in the field facing the front of the house, Mr. Roper had cut a seat. The young man had cut above the seat these words, "In God we trust". The letters were kept clean and visible by Inez Miles (afterward Chute) who lived there later; "we trust" is still there.
Mr. Roper sold his fifty-acre farm to Vernon Miles whose wife, Susan Bourn Miles, was sister to Isaac Bourn. Mr. Roper moved to a house in the village, opposite the brick house, where he had a little repair shop of interest to the children. I have in my possession a cradle he made for my doll. He was lame, and his wife was crippled; but she had a fine flower garden with the sweetest pinks I ever knew.
David Spear, son of Sarah Spear Brooks, moved his family to the house at the right of the Big Elm, after fire destroyed
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their home. His children, Helen, Ned, Francis, Bert, Emma and Ella, attended the village school, as did Stella Sprague, who later lived with them. For years, the Spears took charge of the village mail for people who paid to have their mail left there, as the Phillipston mail had to be taken by team from Templeton Center. It was brought to Templeton by coach from Gardner. Spears and Spragues remained there until the people of the village began to change and move away. Then they, too, moved to the center, with George W. Bourn and Mary Sprague, his wife - father and mother of Theodore and Winthrop Bourn and Helen Bourn Hawkes.
We think of many families, as we gaze around the village. Jason Mixter, an agent for gummers to clean machines, lived in a flat-roofed house at the left; Osgoods at the corner; Youngs, Deans, Fairbanks, Beamans and Wrights on the Phillipston road; Ropers, Jillsons, Aikens, Blandings, Gilbert and James Carruth on Athol road; and Partridges, Brookses, Spears, Hadleys and Bourns back to the center; Hadleys in the small house next the brick house.
Now came a period of local industries. John Brooks, the son, who now ran the farm at the brick house - with its ells, big barns and outbuildings - raised cattle, pigs, poultry and dairy cows. Often creatures were butchered at the big front doors of the barn - his own or those of the neighboring farms. He had rooms where large pieces of dried beef were hung to freeze for winter use.
My father often had a quarter of beef to freeze and keep in a cold place in a barrel through the winter, to be fried or roasted at will. Fat pork was salted in brine, and hams were pickled and used when needed. Many housekeepers, my mother among them, did this work for family use. They made lard and sausages from other parts of the animal; and
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many thought the "crackle" a dainty part of a meal. Later, butchers' carts peddled all kinds of meat from house to house.
From the back hay-doors of the Big Barn in winter, children slid on the crust over the fields; passed the shiner box where bait was kept for fishing through the ice; slipped over the walls to the North Road and beyond on their swift double runners or single bob sleds - a happy sight.
In the Bourn or Brooks farm, after haying, a big threshing machine was set up to thresh the oats or other grains. It was fascinating to see the work horse steadily walking, walk- ing on the rollers, never getting ahead; yet the oats spilling out of the hopper and the dust flying about showed that progress was made. Lesser farmers often used a flail to thresh their beans on the barn floor, as well as grain.
Later on, husking bees were held in the big barns at different times and places, to husk corn for the bins, chests and mills to be ground into meal for the plodding oxen that drew the hay and broke out drifted roads in winter. It took two days to get to town through the drifts of the blizzard of 1888, using many oxen and men to do so.
"Many hands make light work" when fun accompanies the husking; and the same red ears are found several times by the youths present! After refreshments of doughnuts, apples and cider, the laughing group trooped home.
In the fall, herbs were gathered from garden and field; sage for Thanksgiving dinner; wormwood for medicine; thoroughwort to be made into boneset tea for a spring tonic.
Everybody was glad to see the tin cart make its rounds in the spring, so as to get a new broom or some cherished tin piece, payment being made with rags saved for the purpose.
In the spring, the bulkhead of our cellar was opened, and lye was leached from the barrel of wood ashes saved from the winter fireplaces or stoves. The lye was mixed with masses of
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grease and made into soft soap of a rich amber color. I can recall letting it run through my fingers as I took some out of the dark-colored soap barrel to put into the wash boiler or the dishpan. Only occasionally did one make hard soap.
Drawing in rugs was another home industry for many. I recall a large collie on one home-hooked rug in a boy's bed- room for many years. Some women preferred braided rugs or patchwork quilts. Still another industry carried on in the home was candle-making. The collected tallow was put into molds or used for dipping. In the latter process, the prepared wicks were dipped time and time again into the hot tallow until the candles had attained the desired size.
Only a little weaving was done, as sheep were not plentiful on the farms near the village. My grandfather kept a few sheep but mostly for meat and wool for knitting mittens and stockings.
Many women and children seated chairs. The empty frames were placed in a bench which usually held two, clamp- ed in tight. Marshall Howe, who later married my aunt, Sarah Bourn, used to come at stated intervals with loads of frames from Gardner. These were left at the various houses along his route into the surrounding towns. He would pay for those done and take them on his return trip. How proud we felt with the few pennies earned in this way! Sometimes people would visit one another with a chair seat instead of the ever-present pieced bed spread or knitting.
Gardening and farming were carried on in nearly every household, also the canning of fruits, berries and vegetables. Berries were dried and stored away with the dried apples for future pies and cakes. The farmers made butter and cheese when fattening calves left plenty of milk to use. As we always had a cow or two, we had fresh butter and cheese at times' and always our own fresh eggs.
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How we did enjoy the cherry season! Every child in the village came to eat black cherries, so sweet and juicy; and we enjoyed the sour red cherries made into sauce and pies in the winter. There were also the mountain cranberries which were made into jelly.
Surprise parties at the Vernon Miles place were pleasures of the winter, where older people gathered in the huge fire- place room to visit with Great-grandfather and Great-grand- mother Bourn who lived there; while the younger ones pulled molasses candy, popped corn and made cornballs in the large kitchen. Afterward, they played games - Copenhagen, Roll the Plate, Clap-in, Clap-out and Post-office. Great fun for the boys and girls! Sleigh-rides in the cold, fresh air - home at a late hour - induced healthful sleep.
Maple sugar parties featured the toothsome maple wax - hot syrup poured on fresh, clean snow - accompanied by pickles or codfish to balance the feast. These were always held at Grandfather Isaac Bourn's house for relatives and children. His younger children - Robert, Alice Eudora, Will, Ernest, Edward and Clara - have descendants away from Templeton.
Singing schools and prayer meetings were other gatherings held in the schoolhouse at regular intervals.
The district school has gone. Pupils walk to Riley's Switch and from there are carried by buses to the center school or to the high school. Where formerly each large family filled a carriage or sleigh and went regularly to church on Sunday, now a few automobiles take those desiring to go.
Few of the older houses are left, and new families occupy them - Millers in the Brick House, Merkels in the David Spear house, and Lester Pease on the Fairbanks place. Many houses have burned - the Isaac Bourn house among them, so nothing is left of the old tavern. A few small village houses
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remain. Lester Pease has transformed the many fields of the Fairbanks place into orchards where he raises quantities of MacIntosh and other apples for market, employing many helpers for spraying, picking and sorting.
Mr. Pease is a leading citizen of the town and an influence for good in the village and community. He had two sons - Paul and Robert in World War II. He has been the super- intendent of the church school for many years; and his two daughters, Marjorie and Dorothy, have helped in church work.
Dolly is getting restless, longing for the hay and grain wait- ing for her at the barn; so we'll turn homeward, down the hill, viewing the valley and the home at the foot of the hill where Lizzie and Emma Miles lived in district-school days. On we go by the cemetery and the pond and climb the ascent to the Ware River Railroad, where the Bourn-Hadley Com- pany factory was rebuilt after a fire. It is now a branch of Conant-Ball Company, of Gardner.
On the other side of the road is the Ware River Station, and just beyond we pass the house built by Horace Chute, the first station agent. He married Inez Miles of the village. The place is now owned and occupied by Mrs. Ernest Bourn. Let's pause for a rest at the knoll (beyond), as we recall that Mrs. Nancy Briggs once lived there - before Mr. and Mrs. Lucien N. Hadley and their children, Lizzie, Arthur, Mary Ann, Lucy, Herbert, George and Walter. There come to mind many happy family gatherings during the forty-seven years at the Homelands.
We start on, passing Mrs. Will Bourn's house near the May place, and in a few minutes are back at the center again, after a memorable trip to Brooksvillage.
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EAST TEMPLETON by
RUTH M. BISHOP
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EAST TEMPLETON
A S the traveler on the state highway (Route 2) approaches Templeton from Boston, he first enters that part of the town known as East Templeton. Like many New England villages, it consists of one main street where most of the public buildings are found - Memorial Hall, the church, the store, the postoffice and the schoolhouse. Various side streets ex- tend from the main avenue; and here are found many of the homes, including some interesting old houses.
Continuing along the main street, which runs directly south, about a mile beyond the postoffice, one comes upon the little settlement known as Partridgeville. This is the historic section of the town, for it was here that some of the original settlers established homes. Also, from this section, grants of land were given out to the families of our town.
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