What follows appeared in the November 19, 1896, edition of the RANGELEY LAKES newspaper. As we do, in these installments of “Snapshots in Time”, in the late 19th century the RANGELEY LAKES newspaper printed historical anecdotes sharing what the region was like “in the old days”. Below “Old Laker” shares some of his memories with readers in 1896. Stay warm and be sure to make some great Rangeley history of your own!
(Contemporary commentary in Italics).
RANGELEY RECOLLECTIONS
I recall the landscape pictures of the lake region as among the finest in New England. Those who have stood on the summit of Bald Mountain, rising from the borders of two lakes and commanding a view westerly to the White Mountains of New Hampshire, can imagine the magnificence of the wider outlook in all directions from Mount Saddleback. A minor view of great beauty is that from the hill rising easterly from the village. Where is there a finer western horizon than the wooded mountain west of Lake Cupsuptic bathed in the gold and purple of sunset? If the soil of Rangeley has produced no poet it was not the fault of environment, and her laureate may come soon. As to future hotel accommodations in Rangeley, the man who preempts the top of Bald Mountain, builds a hotel there and a railroad and telegraph to it will have selected the finest site in the lake country and opened up an enterprise not only full of financial promise to the investor, but of unique delight to thousands of summer patrons. A railroad passing over the mountain from lake to lake, with termini at steamboat landings, making easily accessible a great hotel on the summit, would make old Bald Mountain the “Rigi” of the mountains and lakes of northwestern Maine.
(The resort region of Mount Rigi in Central Switzerland is still known as the Queen of the Mountains. The whole massif is almost entirely surrounded by the water of three different bodies of water: Lake Lucerne, Lake Zug and Lake Lauerz…just as is Bald mountain by Rangeley, Mooselookmeguntic and Cupsuptic. Hence the comparison as well as the vision for a mountaintop hotel, which of course never became a reality).
It is announced that the Androscoggin Waterpower Company has abandoned river-driving and will transport its lumber by rail. If this is true it suggests the hope that the new mode of transportation together with the use of electric power at Rumford Falls, Lewiston and Livermore, may tend to supersede the necessity of holding back the lake water by dams, and that the demolition of these structures may result in restoring the old-time beauty of the sandy shores now under water.
(In addition to shipping logs to the mills on the region’s two railroads as described above, many lumber and paper companies would continue to move logs and pulp on the region’s rivers until just after WWII).
The hotels and the club house of Rangeley are a great convenience, but the fine aroma of the lake country was not impaired when the campfire went out under the tall poplars at Indian Rock (Oquossoc Angling Association). Table d’ Hote dinners are served there now, but what old frequenter of the spot is there who would not gladly exchange them for the coarser fare and the appetite of fifty years ago; for the tea brewed in a tin kettle over the burning logs and the potatoes sautéed in an improvised vessel of birch bark or roasted in the ashes; for trout broiled on the coals, or browned on wooden spits? (YUM)!
The old-time farmers of the settlement who were short of barn room used to stack the overflow of hay and grain. So, when a poor fellow took to himself a wife before he had provided a shelter for her, Aunt Mary Toothaker suggested that he would probably dispose of her as the farmers did the surplus products of their fields. Aunt Mary was born Quimby, and she enjoyed a good share of the family wit.
The only husking bee at the Lakes that remember was on the old Rangeley place when William Plaisted occupied it. The corn crop west of Saddleback which was mostly “pig ears,” (livestock grade) and did not encourage the festivity. If we were able to get a few roasting ears about the time of the first frost it was thought to be a bit of good luck. As I failed to get an invitation to the Plaisted husking, history must be silent as to the outcome of that rare event in our local annals. If there were any red ears of corn there they were probably brought surreptitiously from Phillips. (“Splitting Bees” where a winter supply of firewood would be sawed and split by hand, was a regular rite of fall for many families in the region).
I believe Miss Almira Whitney, now Mrs. Staples, was the first white woman who climbed to the summit of Bald Mountain. Late in the 40’s two Boston women made the ascent, came down and spent the night at Indian Rock. But on their way thither, night having come on, they and their escort lost the path through the woods and were preparing to bivouac, when one of the party, who had pressed ahead to discover the lay of the land, returned with a torch and escorted his companions to their destination. A comfortable camp, a good fire and a supper of boiled potatoes and butter delightfully contrasted with the hardships of the day.
In consequence of an unpleasantness in his school-district, which resulted in the establishment of Amanda Allen, mother of “Nordica,” as teacher, the writer of these memoirs was sent to a private school at the Rangeley house and afterward for a term at a district school at Elijah Welch’s, near the east shore of Dodge Pond. We drove thither on the ice, sending the team home without a driver to remain until the school was out for the day. There came one day Peter Smith, peddling clams, and scholars were allowed to go out and see the first black man who had ever come to the settlement. Peter afterward kept store where the “city” now stands. (Imagine that… “Unpleasantness” in the community over the school system? All that is old is new again, I guess. Of note: Lillian Nordica (1857 – 1914) of Farmington was a very famous American opera singer in her day and had a major stage career in both Europe and the U.S. Her Homestead, located in Farmington, is now a museum and is worth the visit).
I do not remember that anybody in the settlement kept bees, but in its many fields and pastures of clover, red and white, the undomesticated honey gleaner abounded, and many were the nests of sweetness discovered and ravaged by the boys in those days, when “boughten” sweets were too costly for everyday use. Honey has never tasted “so good” since!
Near the end of the 30’s there came to the settlement a United States official with a big roll of bank notes and a big dog. His business was to distribute among the citizens a moiety (part) of Uncle Sam’s treasury surplus. It was only two or three dollars for each legal voter, but I think nobody in the settlement neglected to meet the disbursing officer and receive the little bonus. Today our Uncle Samuel has other ways of getting rid of his cash. ~Old Laker ($3.00 in 1830 is equivalent to about $100.00 today). Have a great week everyone!