USA > Rhode Island > The "Old Stone Bank" history of Rhode Island, Vol. IV > Part 28
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It would be interesting to hear of any person living who happened to be on the other end of that line in the City Hotel when, for the first time in history, the voice of a President was carried over a slender wire to a point at least twelve miles away. Several months before this first Presidential telephone message, a call over a much longer distance had been made when Prof. Bell talked from Provi- dence to Mr. Watson, his assistant, in Boston. The first trial was made from the old Union Station, using the Provi- dence and Boston telegraph line, but although sounds could be heard, the num-
ber of relays and the force of the wind blowing against the wires made speech unintelligible. The party then adjourned to make use of a new telegraph line in the editorial rooms of the Star and Press on Dyer Street, and this second trial proved completely successful.
These are the highlights of Rhode Island's contributions to the invention and improvement of Mr. Bell's idea, but another important and interesting con- tribution came from one who saw the opportunities for financial gain in the perfecting of the instrument as a practical means of intercommunication.
Colonel William H. Reynolds, who lived in Providence many years before his death in 1906, and who was the grandfather of the present well-known local citizen who bears the same name, became very much interested in Mr. Bell's invention, and made the acquaintance of the inventor. Col. Reynolds was a veteran of the Civil War, having served as Lieutenant Colonel of the First Regiment of Artillery in com- mand of Battery A at the Battle of Bull Run. For the sum of $5,000 Colonel Reynolds finally purchased control of Mr. Bell's patent for the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, and for $2,500 more, he secured controlling rights for Spain, Italy, Portugal and Russia.
One of the most interesting records per- taining to this subject is a newspaper account of the scene in Osborne House, London, when Bell and Colonel Reynolds displayed their telephone to Queen Vic- toria. It was Colonel Reynolds of Provi- dence who made it possible for Bell to journey to England and there arrange for the historic demonstration in the presence of Her Majesty. Colonel Reynolds real- ized handsomely from his venture, but it is recorded that the inventor and his Rhode Island financial backer worked for three months in England before they could raise a single shilling. How often this is the case with good ideas.
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DOWN THE BAY AND ALL ASHORE FROM THE "WHAT CHEER" FOR THE CLAM CAKES, CHOWDER AND ALL THE OTHER SEA DELICACIES THAT HAVE BROUGHT FAME TO RHODE ISLAND SHORES.
HIS HONOR THE CLAM
T THERE is one spot in the world where clambakes are properly prepared, correctly cooked and served according to historic tradition. Other places may have their barbecues, their May breakfasts, their holiday feasts and their Roman banquets, but both the art of conceiving and that of consuming a clambake remain the proud accomplishments of those who live near the shores of Narragansett Bay. This is no idle boast, no provincial egoism. Rhode Island has made an institution of the clambake, and the bakemasters who today perpetuate the old gastronomic revel, by popular demand, have lost none of the art (and it is an art) which genera- tions of their honored predecessors have mastered.
It seems strange that this Epicurean delight has not extended to any degree beyond Rhode Island borders during the last three centuries since Roger Williams founded the Colony and observed his
neighbors' great love of clams, and re- corded that "the Indian women dug these shellfish at low tide and boiled them in their natural liquor." Of course, other sections of the country, where seafood is plentiful, have clambakes. From Maine to the Gulf they are not unfamiliar. However, there is as much difference be- tween a Rhode Island and a Connecticut bake as there is between an English meat pie and a Virginia ham. Every locality has its own methods of glorifying the succulent bivalve, its own clam conscious- ness, if any; whereas Rhode Island bakes are distinctly original, historically indi- vidual. The same fragrant odors, the unchanged, indescribable flavors, the cherished order of courses, the informal table etiquette, and the rigid standards of perfection in quality and of care in prep- aration have remained unaltered for decades.
No one attempts an improvement, no
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one desires any; changes in methods of making a clam bake, substitutions in the established menus are not considered - here is a custom which has stood the test of time and will, undoubtedly, as long as the fertile mud flats of New England bays and inlets are the soft nesting places for the humble, unobtrusive bivalve mollusk. Here, and not elsewhere, you will find several exclusive organizations owning spacious grounds and elaborate club · houses maintained solely for private clam- bakes; in many of the popular summer resorts you will see huge public clambake halls where thousands of diners may be served at one sitting. In every corner of Rhode Island, from early Spring until late Fall, clambakes are served in tents, under the trees, on the beaches, back on the farms and in many of the hotels.
Where and when the Rhode Island clambake was officially born are, natu- rally, controversial questions. Just how far back the taste for clams as a delicacy goes is also not known exactly. It is cer- tain that the Indians who frequented the bayside included clams as a part of their diet, long before the advent of the white settlers. On the other hand, it may well be debated whether the Indians actually baked the clams they dug, thus being the
originators of the present institution. The clambake was probably, like many an- other custom, discovered quite by acci- dent and then heralded about from one person to another until it became a family and state institution. Historical records indicate that Buttonwoods, a pleasant summer resort not far from Providence, was the actual spot in Rhode Island where the clambake started. At least it was here that it first received local and national notice.
The particular event which brought the clambake into prominence was the great public event held at Buttonwoods in 1839 as a special treat in honor of William Henry Harrison, the Whig candidate for president, then on a tour of New England. A gentleman who was present on that day said, "Thousands came to that bake. All along the shore tripods were set up and kettles hung, filled with chowder; bakes holding uncounted bushels were made. The bay was full of boats from Newport, Bristol and Warren, and all along the shore. There were bands and speeches and eating and more enthusiasm than I have ever seen since. I think it was one of the history-making days in the annals of our State."
From the very beginning, the clambake
WHEREVER IT WAS HELD, THIS WAS A BIG ONE - ENCLOSING THE BAKE PILE WITH THE DAMPENED CANVAS.
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was as much a social function as it was a feast. In itself it is the pièce de résistance of many a church or club outing or family reunion, but it provides the popular and convenient stimulus for many a social function which otherwise might not take place. Of these social gatherings which center around the clambake, the family reunion has always been the first in im- portance. Immediately after the Button- woods affair such reunions and neighbor- hood parties were adopted with enthu- siasm by Pawtuxet residents who would gather at a fixed time, meet in their car- riages at some central point, form a pro- cession and drive off merrily to the shore.
Very soon, in 1844 to be exact, other sections of the bayside took up the prac- tice of holding great clambakes. In that year the White Church in Swansea held its first bake in Percy's Grove. The Horn- bine bakes started in 1860 and those of the Rehoboth Antiquarian Society about the same time. These three - the Horn- bine, Antiquarian, and Swansea - bakes soon became famous throughout the land. Buttonwoods gradually became less of a clambake center, due to the influx of settlers, but Rocky Point soon became an able successor. Crescent Park, an amuse- ment resort on the west shore of Narra- gansett Bay, continues to serve tens of thousands in a gigantic bake hall during the summer months. On the same side of the Bay, clambakes once brought fame to Bullock's Point, while nearer Provi- dence, Field's Point was, for half a cen- tury, another mecca for the clambake lovers.
Among the records are the names of many men who did a great deal to make the clambake famous. There was Smith Shaw; known to many as "King of the Clambakes" over a period of sixty-five years. His first establishment was at Mark Rock, but later he moved across the Bay, first to Cedar Grove, Riverside, and finally to Bullock's Point. His repu- tation was known throughout New Eng- land and he always did a tremendous business. Larned Peck was another of the many noted clambake artists, while the names of "John Jeff" Bishop, Arnold Medberry and Col. Atwell are familiar to scores of people. A typical Rhode
Island clambake was part of the hospi- tality and reception accorded President Hayes when he visited the state in 1877. This occasion had all the appearances of Navy Day. A great flotilla of ships filled the waters near Rocky Point, guns boomed - a presidential salute, and twenty thou- sand people gathered to join in the bake. It was an event which again brought the custom to the forefront in the news of the nation.
To this point only the clam itself has been mentioned in connection with the feast which has brought everlasting fame to the place of its glorification. It takes more than clams to make a clambake, considerably more as you will see, although as a delicious edible alone it deserves eminent distinction whether it be fried, steamed, baked, frittered or blended into that appetizing concoction of potatoes, onions, and salt pork known as chowder.
The clam has a most important func- tion in the construction of a bake, and a bake is actually constructed, in the true sense of the word. Let us visit the scene of a scheduled bake, view the parapher- nalia assembled for the ritual, watch the experts seriously going through the time- honored process, sit with the mouth- watering devotees at the long, rough board tables and do with the Romans.
Clams, bushels of them, have already been dug for the feast and deposited in some shady spot nearby. Those selected are usually about two inches long, of the white soft shell variety found in great abundance along Rhode Island and nearby shores. While the crowd gathers and preparations are under way for the feast, a roaring fire has been built in an open clearing, and as the flames from the crackling "four foot lengths" leap into the air an ample supply of round field stones or cobble stones is thrown into the blaze to remain until heated to a white heat. Judging the proper heat of the stones is most important, as insufficient heating will ruin all that is to follow. When the master of the bake gives the word, great heaps of trailing marine growth called rockweed are piled on the heated stones which have been cleared of all embers and ashes. Sometimes protected by light screening for easier handling, the
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clams, in the shells of course, are heaped upon the then steaming rockweed. On top of them more weed, and on this white and sweet potatoes still in their jackets, sweet corn encased in the thin covering of their husks, large slices of mackerel, bluefish or swordfish packaged in paper bags or cheese cloth, together with tiny sausages wrapped in the same manner. Old-fashioned dressing and peeled onions are then added to the same strata with the fish and sausages and the great mound is then quickly covered with a heavy tar- paulin which is well battened down with timbers and weighty stones. Then what happens? The white hot stones imme- diately transform the salt water, moisture from the rockweed, and the natural clam juice, into a fragrant, penetrating steam. The clams are baked by the moist heat from the stones and the rising steam thoroughly cooks the rest of the pile, imparting a true tang of the sea to every- thing enclosed in the canvas covering.
Now to the long, rough tables, in the open generally, where strictest infor- mality prevails regardless of the honored positions in life of distinguished guests and participants. Sometimes a coarse white cloth covers the scene of action, sometimes newspapers answer the pur- pose, and, in most cases, the bare pine planks serve properly and satisfactorily. Coats, vests, collars and ties are removed and belts are unloosed. An unmistakable fragrant breeze is wafted from the steam- ing pile tantalizing the eager diners while the "bake is served." Tables are already covered with dishes of sliced cucumbers, tomatoes, raw onions, radishes and olives - great pyramids of brown bread and white bread are within an arm's length, in fact, everything served from start to finish of this historic "gorge" can be reached without the annoying delays of passing.
The veterans nibble excitedly at every- thing in sight while the neophytes, on the strength of previously absorbed advice to eat heartily, bravely pitch right in. In the midst of this preliminary attack, waiters flock from all sides with great, deep dishes of "little necks on the half-shell," or small mixed quahaugs, with the meat temptingly resting in the opened shells;
a dash of tabasco sauce, a drop or two of vinegar, perhaps a dab of horse radish and down goes the delicious morsel. Just a word here about the clambake waiter. No royal butler serves his master more meticulously than does the bake waiter who aids and abets his or her particular responsibilities at the trencher. Regard- less of capacity, long after the limit has been reached and passed, the enthusiastic waiter not only urges but begs all to eat more of everything.
Little time is allowed for the quahaug course. Back again the waiters rush with tall, two-handled tureens filled to the brims with steaming Rhode Island clam chowder. Those nearest the tureens read- ily do the ladling and the bowls or soup plates provided on the tables are unusu- ally capacious. It is a breach of etiquette not to accept at least two helpings and three portions are the rule rather than the exception. There are various kinds of clam chowder served throughout the country but the real, authentic Rhode Island brand is made from equal portions of clams and quahaugs and prepared as follows: First, several slices of salt pork are fried out and to this are added cut up onions also fried to a delicate brown. The natural liquor strained from equal por- tions of clams and quahaugs is then mixed with the above. White potatoes, cut into small pieces are then boiled until done in the concoction. Then the clams and quahaugs, also cut into small pieces, are added, together with a flavoring of tomato and a few crackers, and the chowder is allowed to boil for a few minutes until all ingredients are properly blended.
While the diners are engrossed in the consumption of chowder and the inevi- table pilot crackers or hard tack, the men at the bake hole or bake pile remove the huge canvas cover from the sizzling heap and no time is lost in making the transfer to the tables. The baked or roasted clams are brought first in small two-quart pans, and other waiters follow in quick succes- sion with the corn, potatoes, fish, sausages and dressing. Generally the clams are served in double pans, one over the other to retain the heat during transportation, and to supply the diner with a spare receptacle to receive the empty shells,
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Courtesy, Providence Journal and Evening Bulletin
THE GREAT MOMENT IN THE MEMORIES OF COUNTLESS GENERATIONS IN THESE PARTS - THE OPENING OF THE BAKE.
The heat has parted the shells of the bi- uncommon sight to see a past master dexterously heave them over the left shoulder. In some sections of the state the baked clam course remains the order of the moment until the pile of empty clam shells on the table before the diner completely obscures the neighbor across the table. valves so no effort is required to remove the delicacy from within. At the side of each plate is a dish of melted butter and also a dish of hot clam broth. The clam is grasped at the snout with thumb and forefinger, dipped into the tangy clam water, swished through the golden yellow butter, dropped, with the hand and arm Then follow the lobsters either boiled or broiled and served with melted butter and vinegar. Some of the more pretentious bakes include French fried potatoes but the ordinary occasion offers nothing more than the lobster itself with a replenished supply of brown bread. After the lobsters, then the iced watermelon is brought on, followed, with time-honored adherence to a tradition, by Indian pudding and hot coffee. It seems incredible in the face of all which has gone before, but it is com- mon for the waiters to receive whispered inquiries from insatiable diners in regard more pan of hot ones. describing a majestic curve through the air, into the watering mouth. There is no other gastronomic evolution known to civilization that resembles in the least this peculiar and accepted arm, hand and mouth motion so delightedly demon- strated during the baked clam course. The process is repeated ad infinitum. Fresh and piping hot supplies are pressed upon the voracious Epicureans. Between bites ample justice is done to the auxiliary foods, no individual supply of which is allowed to suffer by the eagle-eyed waiters. Some pile the shells on the table, . to the possibilities of procuring just one others use the spare pans, while it is no
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The elaborate, private clambake em- poriums, the most important of which are the Squantum Club near Providence and the Newport Clambake Club, have embel- lished this historic feast with extra courses such as clam broth with whipped cream, "Tom and Jerry" (a delicious ice cream mixture) and innumerable side dishes. At the private clubs a "light" luncheon is served a few hours in advance of the main dinner and this so-called appetizer is con- sidered by most outsiders to be a sumptu- ous repast in itself. The Pomham Club, now disbanded, gained worldwide distinc- tion for the exclusive green corn which it was privileged to serve. It was grown especially for the club, its cultivation is secret, and there only could its miniature, tender ears be enjoyed.
Many of the private and public estab- lishments serve clam cakes with the bake from the chowder course on. These crisp, brown cakes are fried in deep fat like doughnuts and are made from an egg and flour batter containing a generous content of chopped clams. Of course, cool beer is again an indispensable adjunct to both the de luxe and everyday public bakes, and, quite often, the beer kegs are brought out into the open crowned with cakes of ice and delivered of their foamy contents into huge dripping pitchers. These pitch- ers make many round trips between keg and table before the happy devotees wander away from the tables to seek a
shady, breeze-swept spot, there to smoke quietly, talk, and, perhaps, to enjoy a short nap.
The barrel bake has grown in popular- ity during recent years. This type of clambake is especially practical for the small Sunday afternoon family get-to- gether. It is prepared in exactly the same manner as the regulation bake with the exception that the entire feast is baked within a common barrel, partially buried in the earth.
Many things can be used to classify a state or its people in an informal fashion so that outsiders, confronted with its name, can say glibly . . . "Maine? oh yes, that is where they raise potatoes" or "Colorado? The home of the Grand Canyon, of course." Very often the classi- fying element which embeds itself firmly in the popular mind is far from being any- thing important as far as the state in question is concerned. Vermont has many more important products to offer than maple sugar; New Jersey is certainly not the home of all the mosquitoes in the country; Kentucky is not one unbroken meadow of blue grass. However, long after sophistication in knowledge dispels popular allusions the same old classifica- tions linger in the subconscious mind along with a host of other catch-words and phrases. Thus it is with Rhode Island. Its industrial, historical and cultural importance is known throughout the
THE SO-CALLED "BARREL BAKE" POPULAR AT SMALL FAMILY REUNIONS.
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nation yet asked to name one thing, the very mention of which conjures up the name "Rhode Island" in one breath, millions would not hesitate a moment in answering, "The clambake." Of course, if the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, it is quite possible that the road
to a fixed place in his mind and memory follows the same route.' That may be the reason why clambakes and Rhode Island seem so widely synonymous. At any rate, where other places have made of the clambake a mere prosaic achievement, Rhode Island has made of it an art.
THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD
0 N the easterly slope of the beautiful, historic North Burial Ground in Providence lies a narrow carpet of plain, green turf. A simple grave, - no costly or ornate monument to perpetuate the memory of the deceased, no iron fence or curbing to separate it from hundreds of - other resting places, is seldom chanced upon by those who know of the man in- terred there. There are no flowers or shrubs by the side of this grave, there standing alone is a small rectangular block of Westerly granite inscribed with this simple inscription - Sam Walter Foss, 1858-1911, "The House By the Side of the Road." How plain and unaffected, - yet how vividly it recalls the character of an interesting New Englander who is, today, known throughout many lands as the author of that immortal poem, "The House By the Side of the Road."
Sam Walter Foss was born in the little village of Candia, New Hampshire, on June 19, 1858. His father, a country farmer, was highly respected by his fel- low-townsmen, and his mother, of Hugue- not origin, was a kind and devoted soul who idealized her infant son. His mother died when Sam was but four years of age, therefore, he was destined to live his boy- hood days without the benefits of ma- ternal guidance. His early education was received at the little country school in Candia, and, like many youths who have been reared in rural districts, he was ex- pected to perform his share of the work on the family's farm. In those days, work came before education and so Sam was forced to limit his attendance at school during the winter months when farm duties were the lightest. When Sam was fourteen years old, his father married
again and the family moved to Ports- mouth, New Hampshire, where the lad was forced to walk three miles every day to attend the high school. At this age he
SAM WALTER FOSS. BROWN, 1882.
began to take an interest in his studies, and he also began to scribble verses of poetry during the leisure hours. His teachers could readily see that he possessed a keen mind and they encouraged him to seek higher education after graduation from the high school. After spending one year at Tilton Academy Mr. Foss decided * that every effort should be made to send Sam away to college. Money was scarce
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in the Foss household but the boy was determined to see it through, so, with a few dollars and a wealth of ambition and confidence, Sam Walter Foss journeyed to Rhode Island and enrolled at Brown Uni- versity in the Fall of 1878.
While attending Brown he took little active part in college affairs aside from his studies, chiefly because he was forced to live some distance from the campus where he found inexpensive lodgings. He worked at a variety of odd jobs nights and Sun- days while a student at Brown, the most unique, no doubt, was preaching in a little Unitarian church just outside of Provi- dence. Summer vacations found Sam working from daylight until dusk on his father's farm in New Hampshire and Sep- tember would bring him back again to Providence. During his Junior and Senior years at Brown, Foss contributed quite freely to the Brunonian, a college literary fortnightly and records show that he was an editor of this publication the final year of his course. As commencement drew near he was elected to Phi Beta Kappa So- ciety for excellency in scholarship, and he was also elected class poet. The "Hes- perian," his class poem which opens with that well-known line "Give me men to match my mountains," was acclaimed by all who heard it at the exercises, and it remains today, in revised form, as one of his finest poetical efforts.
After receiving his Bachelor of Arts degree Sam Walter Foss was compelled to resort to the typical work of the average destitute scholar - canvassing. Plodding from house to house with a heavy packet of books held little appeal or inspiration for this ambitious scholar, but destiny finally directed him to the editorship of an insignificant weekly newspaper published in Lynn, Massachusetts, the Saturday Union. It was during his four years of activity with this paper that Foss, by a strange turn of fate, received his start as a humorist. He had, in his capacity as editor, contracted with another writer to prepare a weekly column devoted to humor. It happened that one week, just as the sheet was about to go to press, that the expected material for the humorous column had not been received. Some- thing had to be done without delay so
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