What follows appeared in the February 27, 1896, edition of the RANGELEY LAKES newspaper and on page 5 “all the news that was fit to print” from the tiny logging outpost at Redington was shared. We need to understand that at the time, news of this sort from such an obscure locale truly mattered to folks back in the bustling cities of Rangeley and Phillips. It was the dead of winter, and a great portion of the menfolk were off in remote places such as this, risking life and limb while working in the woods. This series of short excerpts from the place many called “Sawdust City” may have been all the news the folks back home got, especially if their loved one either could not write or was too exhausted at days end to do so. This missive shares everything from a whooping cough outbreak …to the prospects for a good payday from the “log-cut” to a humorous tale about emergency dentistry in the big woods. Enjoy what follows, count your blessings and remember that the ‘Good Old Days’ were not always so good.

(Bill’s commentary found in italics)

Redington Notes

The whooping cough patients are on the gain.

(Due to poor sanitary condition diseases could spread extremely quickly and the men often worked despite severe symptoms with mouths to feed back home).

“A warm sun and a strong south wind,” is just what the loggers do not want.

(Snow cover was absolutely essential to the operation).

Gene Graffam reports that he is still in charge of the boarding-house and has 64 regular boarders.

(And the Company got paid from your wages for room and board right off the top).

The pond is being fast covered with logs which teams take from the log-train and distribute on the ice. They’re just hustling in the lumber these days! The log-train makes seven or eight trips a day, and the teams hauling onto the pond are by no means idle. (see photo).

Pat Taylor was badly injured at Camp 13, last week. He was loading logs, when a stake gave way, and he was caught between two logs. He was taken to the boarding-house and, under the care of Supt. Gene Graffam, is doing well.

(Many were maimed for life or died in this dangerous business and to be so hurt and so far from even the rudimentary medical services of the day had to be brutal).

“It all depends on the weather,” said Paymaster Eaton, this week, speaking of the prospects for the log-cut. If we have a late spring and good hauling, we shall put in the usual amount. If not, it will be impossible to do so. We’re hoping for the best, though.”

(Even today, for so many of our important “economic engines” like logging, skiing and snowmobiling, success or failure still depends upon the weather!)

Redington is rather pluming herself on her mild and balmy air this winter. When Phillips and Rangeley were doubled-up with a temperature of 40 below, Redington was only 24 in the shade. But some evil-minded persons are mean enough to say the thermometer has been doctored!

(Too cold to work at 40 below? Just adjust the thermometer up 64 degrees or so, and you won’t feel so cold).

Last week Pearl Seeley, the blacksmith at this place, had a severe toothache; it was so painful he could not sleep; there was no dentist nearer than Phillips, sixteen miles away. In despair he arose, went to his forge and in a short time had constructed a pair of forceps. Calling to his aid, a muscular friend, he instructed him in the use of the instruments, braced bis feet and in an instant the aching molar had been extracted. Dr. Palmer, of Phillips, has secured the forceps as a curiosity. Ingenuity and nerve are certainly combined in the makeup of this blacksmith.

(Ol’ Pearl here was obviously one tough dude, and I bet no one teased him about his first name, otherwise they would have probably needed a dentist too!)

Have a great week everyone!