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ALLEN COUNTY PUBLIC LIBRARY
L 3 1833 07363 5960
GC 974.101 C91JO
SEBAGO LAKE LAND
.:
SEBACON
H.S.J.
The old-time 'side-wheeler' the Sebago which churned the waters of the lakes during the early seventies. She was built by J. H. Dyer, Master-builder of Portland, and launched May 8th, 1871. 86 feet in length and 24 feet wide she carried 120 horse-power engine. Her passenger capacity was 400, and she was built at a cost of $8000. Fire destroyed her at the old Bridgton Landing in 1873.
Sebago Lake Land
IN HISTORY, LEGEND & ROMANCE Illustrated with Photographs & Pen Sketches
Herbert G. Jones
Published by the Author AT THE BOWKER PRESS FOUR MILK STREET PORTLAND, MAINE
COPYRIGHT 1949 BY HERBERT G. JONES All rights strictly reserved
Dedicated to
MY WIFE WHOSE HELP AND ENTHUSIASM MADE THIS BOOK POSSIBLE.
Other books by Herbert G. Jones I DISCOVER MAINE OLD PORTLAND TOWN OLD KOUSSINOC- MAINE MEMORIES PORTLAND SHIPS ARE GOOD SHIPS ISLES OF CASCO BAY
Contents
SEBAGO LAKE - QUEEN OF INLAND WATERS 9
"KING" SALMON - SALMO SEBAGO 37
THE CUMBERLAND & OXFORD CANAL & EARLY
TRANSPORTATION ON THE LAKES 47
THE TOWNS OF SEBAGO LAKE LAND AND THEIR STORY
73
WINDHAM & STANDISH 74
RAYMOND & CASCO 89
BRIDGTON & HARRISON 109
NAPLES & SEBAGO 121
Preface
E verybody knows Sebago, yet, - paradoxically speaking, - nobody seems to know anything about it! Even the library shelves are barren regarding it, as though history had passed it by. One of earth's great beauty spots, it surely has not deserved this fate.
This slight chronicle is in response to an ever-increasing demand from Sebago's legion of admirers and "pilgrims", for some information concerning its history, legend, and romance.
While this volume is in no sense of the word, "encyclo- pedic", it is hoped that it will fulfill its purpose, however slight, and provide some measure of pleasure for its readers.
The author wishes to express his grateful appreciation for permission to use the photographic material of his friends :-- Maine Publicity Bureau, Maine Historical Society, Gannett Publications, Portland Engraving Company, George B. Illsley, and "Skipper" Bob Norton.
Sebago Lake -- Queen of Inland Waters
"Around Sebago's lonely lake There lingers not a breeze to break The mirror which its waters make.
The solemn pines along its shore, The firs which hang its gray rocks o'er, Are painted on its glassy floor."
F EW of the beauties of Maine's glorious scene have been left unsung by the poets, and none sings so elo- quently perhaps, as does the "good gray poet" Whittier in his classical description of age-old Sebago Lake, -a beautiful body of water that stretches its forty-six miles of sapphire-like expanse between the dark wooded hills of Sebago Lake Land. Truly a bit of transplanted Switzerland in the heart of Maine. 'Tis true the solemn pines are not so abundant now nor the firs which "hang its gray rocks o'er", for the rich forest growth of the past has long fallen before the advance of the lumberman and the sweep of progress. But the lake itself can never be lost out of its mountain- guarded territory, nor can its charms be lessened by the touch of civilization. Though many summer camps and cot- tages now dot its lovely shores, Sebago still gives the same impression of grandeur and tranquillity as it did in the days of the poet, for the summer habitations nestle hidden among the trees of the still unspoiled woodlands.
It was a favorite resort of the great novelist, Nathaniel
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Hawthorne, who while not a native of Maine, spent most of his boyhood days fishing and sailing on Sebago's waters. He called it his "Garden of Eden", and writing to a friend later in life said, "I have visited many places called beautiful in Europe and the United States, but have never seen the place that enchanted me like the flat rock at the outlet of Thomas Pond, from which we used to fish. In an October afternoon just when the oak leaves put on their red coats, the view from that spot looking to the slopes of Rattlesnake Mountain through the haze of Indian summer, was to me more en- chanting than anything else I have ever seen."
It must indeed have been a tumultous moment in the life of the first white man to glimpse the shimmering beauty of Lake Sebago. Tradition says it was a squatter by the name of Elliott. He made his home on the banks of the Presump- scot River in ancient Saccarappa which we now know as Westbrook. Curious to see the source of his river, he set out one fine morning with gun on shoulder, and accompanied by his dog, started on a tour of investigation. Taking the right hand of the river bank and crossing with considerable diffi- culty its numerous affluents, he arrived after a hard day's tramp, at what is now called the head of the river. Here he camped for the night. Next morning after a careful survey of the surroundings he became convinced that a much larger body of water must lie ahead. So he again pressed forward and in a short time came to a spot in the neighborhood of the present White's Bridge. On looking across the channel he saw two Indians fishing from the rocks, while several more were paddling their graceful canoes across the lake. Alarmed at the sight he hastily retreated, fortunately with- out attracting their attention, and in due time arrived home in safety.
The lake and its proportions too, must have impressed the stoic Indian, for he gave it its name, Sebago, which in his language indicates "big stretch of water",-a name which happily survives despite later attempts to change it to "Great
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Pond" and Sabaguck Pond". And for countless ages it had been the earthly paradise of the Sokokis, and along its lovely shores the red man reared his birch wigwam, tracked the deer, and fished its waters, just as does the white man of today.
The whole region of Sebago Lake Land is one of the most beautiful watersheds in New England, a region that attracts the sportsman and vacationist, and is a mecca for the auto- mobilist from early April when the first ice leaves the num- erous lakes, until it again forms over their surfaces. Fishing in the Spring, bathing and recreation in the Summer, hunt- ing in the Fall, and winter sports during the winter months make it an ideal and popular all-year-round vacation spot. While Sebago Lake Land occupies but an angle of the south- ern part of the state, yet within that space one can find a truly wonderful variety of lakes, rivers, mountains, and land- scape. The smooth highways wind along an almost unbroken chain of clear lakes and picturesque valleys bordered by dark green growths of pine and hemlock. And here and there are the typical little Maine villages grown gray in the shade of gnarled old trees, that drowse peacefully most of the year, but bustle with activity in the summer months serving the wants of the ever-growing army of summer visitors.
Sebago Lake is practically surrounded by the towns of Standish, Raymond, Casco, Naples, and Sebago, and its shores for the most part are low and heavily wooded with occasional stretches of firm white beaches. But beyond are hills and mountains.
The giant form of Rattlesnake Mountain is seen in the northeast in Raymond, and it is here "the hills leave and the mountains begin." In the west are the Saddleback Mountains, with Douglass the principal peak, rising to a height of fourteen hundred feet above sea level, and eleven hundred and forty-five feet above the surface of Sebago Lake. It is the highest mountain in Cumberland County, popular among climbers wishing a hike that is not
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too strenuous, but which at the same time offers a scenic reward at its summit which is more than worth while. From here the entire town of Sebago can be seen, and eight lakes and ponds; - Sebago, Sabbathday, Perley's, Fitch's, Southeast, Tobacco or Hancock, Peabody, and Great Hancock. In the northwest are the Peaked and Tiger Mountains, and on a clear day the sometimes snowcapped summits of the White Mountains are outlined in the distant west.
For such a large body of water, Sebago contains surpris- ingly few islands. Indian Isle, a wooded knoll of one- hundred acres situated in the lower bay of the lake off the Standish shore, has a romantic and lively history. It was once the rendezvous of Indians, and it is here, tradition says, white prisoners were secreted in the early wars between the white and the red men. Ancient Indian relics are still to be found on the island from time to time. In the 1900's when the lake first began to develop as a summer resort a hotel was contemplated on the island but nothing came of it. It remained a primeval wilderness until the 1920's when a little colony of Thespians headed by Florence Reed of "Yellow Jacket" fame and her husband Malcolm Williams discov- ered it and purchased it for a comparatively small sum. Tired out by long seasons on Broadway, this actor colony fished, bathed, and loafed beneath the pines, and seeped in the Sebago sunshine in their island paradise. At night this Rialto group would make the rafters ring, regaling each other with the "bon-mots" of Broadway, before blazing logs in the great fireplace. But their happiness was short-lived however, for the Portland water authorities commandeered the island to avoid a possible menace to the drinking water supply, and it has now reverted to its primitive state.
Dingley Bay at Raymond which receives the waters of Dingley Brook, named after Captain Dingley the first settler in Casco, contains a beautiful cluster of fourteen islands of various size. The captain cleared some of the smaller islands
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for pastures to protect his sheep from the bears and wolves that roamed the mainland. Dotting the broad expanse of the lake are some of the smaller islands ;- the Quakers, Twin Islands, Millstone, Hubble, Squaw, Inner and Outer Islands, and Spider Island off the shores of North Sebago. The latter, a miniature gem, once changed ownership in a poker game.
The largest island in the lake is the heavily wooded Frye's Island, named after Captain Frye, an Indian hunter and a native of Scarborough. Its thousand odd acres have been practically uninhabited since 1890, its one-time familiar cluster of farm buildings having long since passed into obliv- ion. Separated from the island by a narrow strait of water called the "Notch" is Raymond Cape (once called Standish Cape), a strip of land which extends four or five miles into the lake, and which is associated with Captain Frye's pio- neer days. Pursued by a band of Indians, the Captain fled to the end of the Cape coming out upon the cliff, a pictur- esque rock that rises nearly eighty feet from the lake bed. He let himself drop from the top of the jagged rock into the snow which covered the frozen lake, whence he crossed to the island that bears his name. The Indians were so aston- ished at his daring leap when they saw him crossing the ice, that they abandoned the pursuit.
The cliff from which he jumped has since been known as "Frye's Leap" or "The Images", so called by reason of sundry characteristic "Images" having been painted on the surface by ancient Indians. Once vividly colorful, these examples of Indian art have faded and mellowed to soft hues blending beautifully into the rock. The "Images", now hardly discernible, once depicted Captain Frye making his leap, an Indian wigwam with the chief sitting at the door- way watching the cooking of his evening meal, a bear wounded by an Indian antagonist, an Indian war dance, and a deer bounding over the rock. An Indian girl is pic-
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tured who, according to an Indian legend, being pursued by white men, jumped to her death from the rocks.
She was Naragora, daughter of Waldola, an old hunter. Waldola's squaw had died, leaving him two children ;- the oldest a boy who lost his life on the St. Lawrence, and the younger Naragora, his hearth's only idol, who remained in the wigwam with her father. Naragora was affianced to a young chief who had gone to the wars at Quebec. Not long afterward there came to the wigwam of the old Indian a young white man sick, wounded, and famishing. He was received with pity, and Naragora watched over him and nursed him as a sister. The choicest bear skins were spread for his couch, and the best venison which Waldola's gun brought down served him for food. Days and weeks passed, and the white man still lingered at the wigwam.
One day when Waldora had gone for a deer, he called Naragora to his side and asked her to become his wife, promising to take her to Falmouth, dress her in silks, and make her a lady. Embarrassed, frightened, and blushing, the Indian maiden declined his proposal. Again and again he importuned, and as often did she decline, raising all the objections which their different stations, habits, and modes of life suggested. At last to free herself of his importunities. she told him that she was to marry a young man of her tribe and that in three months she looked for his return. At that the white man became enraged, and threatened her with an oath saying that she would never again see her lover. Half dead with terror the gentle fawn, for so her tribe called her. ran she knew not whither. Fainting with fatigue and fear, she met her father, and after resting and composing her, he took her back to the wigwam. The white man however, for his own safety, had fled.
The third moon was already waning and Naragora anxiously awaited the return of her young chief. One after- noon she had gone down to the lake and was gazing at its tranquil waters, when, being startled by a noise, she had
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scarcely time to look up, before she was in the grasp of her enemy. Long and ardently did she struggle to be free, but to no avail. She was hurried away into the forest. Night coming on however, before they had proceeded far, the man prepared a booth and she was permitted to lie down while he kept guard. Waiting until he was in deep sleep, she fled, and at the dawn of the next day was at her father's side.
Old Waldola felt that his daughter's safety depended on their removal from the lake, and for this was making morn- ing preparations when, looking up, he saw a squad of white men at hand. He was commanded to lay down his rifle, and not instantly obeying, was fired upon. There thus ensued a struggle during which Waldola was killed. Naragora, resolving that she would never be captured, and bounding as though every muscle in her frail limbs had been nerved for the final throe of expiring nature, fled from the whites with more than human swiftness. Striking her course south- erly, she had hardly gone two miles when she heard the triumphant shouts of her pursuers closing in on her. For a brief moment they stood together on the summit of the rock at the end of the cape, the pursuer and the pursued. Then Naragora sprang from the craggy heights, and the waters of Sebago closed over her forever.
This remarkable granite ledge which forms the "Images" has a fissure some eight feet wide which extends inward from its face, and is covered with rocks and earth that have fallen from the height above. A cave into which a boat can be drawn opens below. Walls of this bluff rise sixty feet above the water, and extend downward in a straight wall eighty feet from the mouth of the cave to the bottom of the lake. Hawthorne played about this shore when he was a boy, and it is said that he wrote the opening chapters of his great novel "The Scarlet Letter" in this very cave.
Sebago Lake itself, situated seventeen miles from the city of Portland, is the second largest body of inland water in Maine, and is a natural reservoir of the tributary offerings
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of many streams, ponds, and lakelets. It is reputed to con- tain the purest waters of any lake in New England, and because of that fact it serves as the main source of domestic water for Portland and surrounding territory, with an approximate population of one hundred and fifteen thous- and. An area of two miles long and two miles wide at the southern portion of the lake is set aside for this purpose. Bathing and any pollution of the water in this area is pro- hibited. It is interesting to record that no water-borne disease has ever been traced to the use of Sebago water.
The famed Songo River, - "the crookedest of all rivers", - is the chief connecting stream between Sebago, Long Lake, and a chain of small lakes to the north. The other streams are the Dead, Sticky, Muddy, Painters, Nor'west River, and Dingley Brook. Varied and picturesque indeed are the names of some of its tributaries; Trickey, Peabody, Brandy, Panther, Rattlesnake, Highland, Anonymous, Bear, and Moose. Sebago, in reality, is a vast inland sea constantly fed by living springs, and according to the topographical experts of the Portland Water District is approximately twelve miles long and eight miles wide in the widest places. Its total area is forty-six square miles, and with its contribut- ing lakes and streams, creates a watershed of seventy-two square miles. It has an elevation of two hundred and seventy-two feet above mean low tide in Portland harbor.
While the topographical experts say that it reaches a depth of from three hundred and six to three hundred and ten feet in the center of the lake between Sanborn's Point at North Sebago and Raymond Cape, it is reputed to con- tain one or more fathomless abysses. Early inhabitants of the neighborhood, without being able to definitely indicate the exact locality, - some from personal experiences and some from ancestral legends - relate the occurrences of deep holes, sometimes with an extreme depth anywhere from five hundred feet to half a mile. How else, they say, can one account for the baffling mysteries of its deep
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unplumbed depths that have never been solved, of the capsizing of a boat with five men off Indian Island, whose bodies have never been found. And for example, the almost incredible disappearance of a schooner-rigged pleasure ship with all on board some hundred years ago.
She was what was then known as a clinker-built ship, and she had a bad reputation along the Portland waterfront as a death ship, having capsized, and drowned several of her pas- sengers when used for pleasure trips in Casco Bay. Under the name of Ellen she was dragged to the lake by ox-team for use there.
One midsummer's day two brothers from Windham, and® the boatman and his young son, a lad of thirteen, set off in her from Standish landing for a sail around the lake. Towards sunset all signs pointed to a severe squall in the making which, as so often happens in this section, quickly developed into a storm of hurricane force. The anxious wife of the boatman and mother of the small boy went to the landing and sighted the ship in the middle of the lake, close- hauled, trying to fetch the landing before the wind struck with full force. Just as she turned to go back to her home nearby, a fearful flash of lightening seemed to surround her, but no thunder accompanied the flash. She thought she heard above the howling of the wind a wailing cry of dis- tress. Darkness, however, immediately shut in, and that was all mortal eye ever saw of the ill-fated ship and her passen- gers. Neighbors searched the beaches for days afterwards, but no trace of wreckage was ever found. That section of the lake was thoroughly dragged with grappling irons, and heavy guns were fired into the water with the hope that the bodies might rise to the surface, but to no avail. The death ship with its human cargo had completely vanished from sight.
A painful aftermath of the tragic episode was the sight of the stricken wife and mother maintaining her lonely vigil
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for the hoped-homecoming of husband and son. But like the fabled sea of mythology, the lake never gave up its dead !
It is very evident that the alluring charm of Sebago Lake Land has attracted hunters, fishermen, and nature-lovers almost since colonial times. Even before the State of Maine was established in 1820, enthusiastic anglers came in search of the wily salmon. The "Notch", the little passage-way between Raymond Cape and Frye's Island was a particu- larly favorite spot. But this was long before the era of cottage and camp building on the lake shores. An early map of Cumberland County published in 1871, shows not a single building actually on the shore. The first summer camp to appear was built at the mouth of the Songo by a Samuel Witham, a brick-layer, from Raymond, probably not much before 1880. Country taverns and hostelries were few and far between in those days, and it was the custom of the early fisherman and the fall hunter to "put up" at the farm boarding houses, where he found fairly comfortable accom- modations and "all he could eat" at a dollar per day. Many of the most popular summer hotels of today in this region saw their inception in the modest "farm-boarding house."
However, Sebago Lake began to be known as a delightful summer resort very early in the game. It was in a period before the railroad touched the lake, and the traveler who wanted to get a glimpse of its beauties had only the stage- coach to rely upon. Daily stages ran from Portland railway station, their rates being $2.25 for the trip to Sebago Lake, or one could go out on the Grand Trunk and get off at South Paris, and thence by stage at a cost of $1.25. Establishment of a passenger route from Harrison over the lakes to Standish and thence by stage to Portland was quite an event.
One of the oldest and most popular hostelries was the old Chadbourne House. It was a stately three-and-a-half story tavern landmark which stood near Sebago Lake Station for more than three quarters of a century. It was a very popu- lar resort for anglers in the spring, and vacationists in the
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summer. It fitted into the scenery at this point, where the traveler coming up through Windham and into the lake region, got his first view of the treasures that nature had in store for him. It was long known as a "Chadbourne" neigh- borhood, which was a hustling highway for commerce for more than half a century, particularly during the palmy days of the Cumberland and Oxford Canal, which tapped the lake a short distance from the tavern.
Other famous stage-coach taverns along the shores of the lake region, contemporary with this period, were the Church Inn at Naples, where guests arrived on the Oxford stage, and the old Cumberland Hotel in Bridgton which was the terminal for stage coach travelers from Norway en route to Portland.
The opening of steam navigation on the lakes was a momentous event in the lives of the inhabitants of Sebago Lake Land, and the ultimate successful operation of a fleet of steamers during the eighties and nineties turned a large tide of summer visitors to the lake region. The lake shores soon began to be thickly dotted with summer residences, hotels, and summer schools, so that a number of steamers making frequent trips were needed to accommodate the travel. In the early days the "fleet" consisted of only two boats which made no stops after leaving Chadbourne's land- ing at Standish until they reached Naples, and their only other stops were at Bridgton, North Bridgton, and Harrison. But by the turn of the century, passenger traffic had so increased that four steamers making frequent trips were needed to do the work for which two boats making two trips a day had formerly sufficed. Their regular stops were East Sebago, North Sebago, Raymond Cape, South Casco, the mouth of the Songo, Naples, Wildmere, Bridgton, North Bridgton, and Harrison, and they also stopped on signal at various private landings.
The first passenger steamer to ply the waters of Sebago and Long Lake was the Fawn, which made its initial trip
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crowded with dignitaries and specially invited guests late in the summer of 1847. While it was not a financial success, it was an historic occasion in the lives of the inhabitants of Sebago Lake Land. An eyewitness report says that the whole country was depopulated for miles around, to make up the immense crowd that was gathered to see such a sight as "ne'er was seen before". Men, women, and children arrived from long distances in every conceivable type of vehicle at Chadbourne's landing, prepared to stay through the day to witness the Fawn's arrival. Then came the grand rush to the lakeside when the little steamer "puffed" around Indian Island and came into view.
Several amusing anecdotes are told of the Fawn. She was of very light draught, on account of the shoal water of the Songo Bar and other places, and at one time the water was very low because of an unusually prolonged drought. One morning the boat had a good load of passengers and a well- known stage driver named Seavey was on board, looking after the welfare of the passengers who were to ride into Portland with him. Seavey suddenly remarked that he was mighty glad that there was a heavy dew the night before. One of the passengers, thinking that it was a strange remark, asked why he was glad. "Because I shall not have to get off now and tow this old craft over the Bar" replied Seavey.
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