Sangerville (Me.).

Sangerville, Maine, 1814-1914. Proceedings of the centennial celebration, June 13, 1914 online

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turning bedstead posts, etc., and the other for turning wooden
bowls which were much in demand at that time.

We did not live very long at French's Mills however, but
moved away to Milo, returning again to Sangerville village in the
summer of 1856, where I worked for Augustus Williams making
drag rakes and went to school in the winter following. At that
time the village people used to assemble at Owen William's store of
an evening. Cotton Brown's adopted son had been to Massachu-
setts and brought back a first-class set of boxing gloves. I used to
box with the boys of my own age but the bo3's of the same age as
my brother Henry would not box with him because he was such a
hard hitter, I remember one evening he was matched against a boy
three years older than himself. He said it wasn't fair but Cy
Prince was there, as large as life and twice as natural, and said,
"That's nothing, I've often put on the gloves with old Elder Clark
and he is more than twice as old as I am." Cy Prince was about
thirty-two and Elder Clark was over eighty. By the way, Elder
Clark was a cousin to my mother. His wife died while we were at
Sangerville village and one day while I was walking up the main
street I noticed approaching me what I took to be a very dapper
young city man. He was dressed in black broadcloth with a black
satin vest, white necktie, patent leather boots and the shiniest kind
of a silk hat. He wore lemon colored kid gloves and carried the
slimmest kind of a black cane with a gold head. His hair, eye-
brows and moustache were jet black but his face was about the color
of lard. It was old Elder Clark and a week later he was married
to a maiden lady of forty.

I regret exceedingly that I have nothing classical to write
about Sangerville although I have a very soft spot in my heart for
it, the land of my birth.

Many years after I left Sangerville I revisited Maine and of
course Sangerville. I first visited Captain Samuel Maxim, my uncle
who lived near Brockway's Mills, and the second day I started to
walk through the woods down to French's Mills. As I emerged
from the woods I saw a very old man working on the land with a
hoe. When he saw me he dropped his hoe and walked towards me,
seized my hand and said, "It is Hiram," then he commenced to
laugh, he said that I was "the queerest boy that ever lived.'' I


remonstrated and said that cei'tainly I was very mucli like other
boys. "Not a bit," said he, "I was in your father's house at one
time and you had a bip; bottle fly. You were holding it by both
wings and pulling. Of course one wing came out and then you
said in a very thoughtful manner, 'that fly's wings were not put in
even ; if they had both been of the same strength they would both
have come out at the same time.' Then again, you were the only
boy in the world that would cut down a big tree with a butcher's
knife. You caught every fish in the river and left nothing for any-
one else."

Of course the people in the State of Maine are nearly all of
pure English descent. After living many years in New York City
and coming to London it appeared to me that nearly everybody was
fresh out from the State of Maine, they looked and talked alike.

I have carried many of my State of Maine habits with me
through my life ; I have never tasted tobacco in any form ; I only
commenced to drink wine after I was forty, but the quantity that I
drink is not great ; I am, however, very fond of my tea and it is the
only drink that I care for.

I wish I could weave some little romance round my sojourn in
the town of Sangerville, but I can only think of one little episode:
I was not very old at the time; my mother left me with old Ma'am
Edgley for the day and it appears that I did not behave myself as
I should. The old lady was not particularly fond of children,
especially naughty boys of tender age, so she twigged my ear with
her thumb and finger; her nail cut through the rim of m\" ear and
made a notch that has lasted all my lifetime. When my mother
returned home and found the blood running down my neck and my
shirt saturated there was a lively scene which I shall never forget.
I shall have the notch in my ear to remember Ma'am Edgley.

Goodbye and good luck, dear old friends in Sangerville.


Speech by Honorable Stanley Plummer

Honorable Stanley Plummer of Dexter spoke in part as follows :
Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen :

I have been long out of practice in the art of public speaking
and did not come here to make a speech, as your committee well
knows. But I was born in this town and that is why I am here to-
day for I have little respect for the man who does not love the place
of his nativity — the old town in which, wherever else his feet may
have strayed, wherever else his interests may have centered and his
life focused, the first toddling step of his infancy was taken.

Colonel Plummer then spoke for some time in a vein reminis-
cent of the people and events of his early life, saying of his mother's
birthplace : On the way to this celebration when we approached the
high land at Jackson's Corner, near the spot where Uncle Sam Farn-
ham, hale and hearty at eighty-four, was killed by lightning, with
tender emotions I looked upon the fields on which my maternal
grandfather toiled hard for his daily bread and very little more ; the
very house in which my dear mother's eyes first saw the light of
day, July 4, 1825, the old spring, too far away to suit our modern
ideas of convenience, from which she helped to carry water, sweeter
than the sweet waters of Europe which fall into the Golden Horn,
for their frugal meals, and the remnants of the beautiful grove with
its rocks and big boulders still undisturbed, on which as a little girl
she delighted to play and as a big girl to sit and dream and dream
as is the wont of our New England maidens of all generations.

After more reminiscences suggested by the road leading to the
farm of his paternal grandfather, the big woods which have now dis-
appeared, and the immense boulder which his Bible-reading grand-
father told him was cleft in twain at the time of the crucifixion of
Jesus, and the village, in his boyhood called the "mink-hole," but
now thanks to water power development, one of the neatest, thrifti-
est and most beautiful in the state, he closed as follows :

Now, Mr. Chairman, while I am not ready to say that Sanger-
ville is the best town on earth, coming as I do from the town which
touches its southern border, I unhesitatingly say, it is next to the

One regret presses constantly on my mind and heart today and



that is that Owen B. Williams, William P. Oakes, Charles A. Clark,
Doctor E, A. Thompson and the grand old centenarian, Moses Carr,
did not live to see this anniversary today. How pleasant for us as
well as, doubtless, for them would it be could they be here in body
as we love to hope they may be in spirit.

Fortunate is the town which has a citizenship so loyal and pa-
triotic that it could not let this anniversary day pass without due
celebration and fortunate is the town which numbers among its liv-
ing native sons such an orator as Willis E. Parsons, such a his-
torian as John F. Sprague, and such a poet as William Smith


was born February 25, 1846, in Sangerville, Maine. When seven years of age, he removed with
his parents to Dexter, iVTaine, which has since been his domicile, except when he has been

absent in the public service.

He was educated in the public schools,
Foxcroft and East Corinth Academies, Bow-
doin College, and the Albany Law School.

At the age of twenty-two, he became a
member of the House of Representatives in
the State Legislature from Dexter. He was
county supervisor of public schools for Penob-
scot County for two years; was chosen city
solicitor of Bangor, but before entering upon
his duties went to Washington to be chief
clerk of the Department of the Interior.
After two years' service in that position, he
was made internal revenue agent, and served
for years in all parts of the country. He was
postmaster of the United States Senate for
four years. In 1895 he was again a member
of the State House of Representatives, and
from 1899 to 1903 he was State Senator from
the Tenth Senatorial District. In 1896 he was
a Reed delegate to the Republican National
Convention held at St. Louis, and the same
year he presided over the Republican State
Convention of Maine. During the four years,
1888 to 1892, he was colonel on the staff of the
governor of Maine.

In 1904 he married Miss Elisabeth Bur-
bank, born in New Hampshire but then a
resident of Boston, and together they made a
tour of Palestine, Egypt and Europe. In
1911 they made another extended tour of Europe.



To whom reference is made on pag-e 110.

(Courtesy of Bangor Daily News)

Keinembrance in Rhyme

By Prof. William S. Knowlton.

I haven't a theme, I knew 'twouldn't do,
To poUtics talk with election in view.
And yet I lament, with tearful regret,
I can't say a word for the sweet suflragette.
If I talk about sin, and things that are evil
The lawyer wiU think I mean him, or the devil.
If I talk about death, that monster so grim,
The doctor will think I am squinting at him.
But, says the croaker, "the Centennial
Is the theme of the day for Poet and all."
But Pegasus' flight, tho' near to the stars.
Unshackled, free-lanced, and l(>aping all bars,
Will fall to the earth in direful distress,
In attempting to follow Bro. Parsons' address.
And Sprague, so skilled in antiquarian lore.
Can produce the log-book of old Father Noah,


Could tell if the apple that Eve did devour

Was bitter or sweet, or pleasant, or sour.

Fair Sangerville, All hail! thy birth,

Fairest land, to me, on earth.

Each pond and river, hill and dale,

Wood and stream and grassy vale,

I love not less, though long away,

The prodigal returns to-day.

Like Manhannock's rocky shore.

Black Stream lily padded o'er.

Majestic hills, whose native oak

Still survives the axman's stroke,

The towering church upon the hill,

The blacksmith's shop, and Carleton's Mill,

The fairest farms in all the State

And orchard fields, select and great,

These all come back to me to-day,

A tired child, come home to play.

And what more lovely stream than this.

Our boundarj' line, Piscataquis?

Ah! Centre Pond, a sparkling gem,

A diamond in a diadem,

I sat, one day, beside that lake.

Where every echo echoes make.

Where water lilies fill the air.

With perfume never known elsewhere.

Where oft, at morn, or eve, or noon,

Weird notes were heard, of duck or loon.

The circling wood of spruce or pine.

Perfumed the air like eglantine.

The white birch, through the denser shade,

Fantastic ghosts and shadows made.

The daisied field of Spooner's land.

Seemed a tiara's golden band.

The fish hawk, circUng rovmd for prey,

The lambs in Flanders' field at play.

The tiny waves along the shore.

Sang their chansons o'er and o'er.

The fragrant fir distilled its balm.

The pine tree sighed a holy calm.

In retrospection still I see

They all come back to-day to me.

Here Father Sawyer preached and prayed.

And married many a swain and maid.

On Muster Days — but stop, my pen —

There wasn't prohibition then.

My early youth I now recall.

And memory reproduces all.

Who don't remember Johnny Cleaves,

With paper cap and rolled up sleeves,

With quaint conceit and ready joke?

He always spat before he spoke.

And Joseph Fowler, tall and slim.

Sad of face and long of limb.

He led the choir on Sunday, too.

And sang as only saints can do.

Stood first on heels and then on toes,

And sang "Old Hundred" through his nose.


And Colonel Oaks, with beaver hat,
Gold headed cane and silk cravat,
Was quite sublime, inspu-ing, grand.
Lord of mansion, stock, and land.

Silas Coburn's wrinkled face,

Lapse of time will ne'er efface.

He dyed his hair at sixty-two,

Put on the soldier's coat of blue.

More lasting fame he said he found.

Than on domestic battle ground.

Remember Aunt Lois, just under the hill.

Her humble abode is standing there still.

When arrayed in her best, with neckchief of blue,

She surpassed any fashion plate, ancient or new.

Even the suit Queen of Sheba had on

When she humbugged that wily old King Solomon.

She regarded the novel as a work of the devil.

Put poetry, too, all on the same level.

Read Uncle Tom's Cabin, every word, through and through,

And read it again, then read it anew.

"Papy" Oilman, called the "Squire,"

Of politics would never tire.

He'd talk all night and sleep all day,

And drove an antique "one-hoss shay."

Remember Leonard Dearth, "By Gad,"

Was the only oath he had.

He made sweet cider, so they say.

And mowed potato tops for hay.

He once had been a Democrat,

And oft among the leaders sat.

He then became Republican,

And read the Tribunes, every one.

My father was an old time Whig,

Of the Daniel Webster Rig.

When Daniel died, and Clay and Pratt,

My father turned a Democrat,

So he and Dearth could ne'er agree,

And both were stubborn as could be.

They'd argue long with zeal and zest,

And never give the tongue a rest.

And Heircey the, though his stature was short,

Had a voice hke Goliath of Gath.

His whisper was mild as the dove's in its cote.

But Niagara roared in his wrath.

And good Deacon Drake, I remember quite well.

He told me one Sunday I was sliding to hell.

I ran to the house, put up my sled.

And spent the whole day in terror and dread.

The Deacon came of Puritan stock.

Was firm in his faith as Plymouth's big rock.

He hated the Baptists, and put on a level

Universalist, Methodist, Bishop and Devil.

And Brother Bridges, tall and straight,

I heard him preach at eighty-eight.

A grand old man, with classic face.

He might have filled a broader place.

He preached on Sundays, not for pay.

And worked his farm each other day.

And Brother Perry, staid and slow.


With hair as white as (h-iven snow,

He'd preach at ten and afternoon,

And eat his lunch in chvuTh at noon.

In winter time, when north winds drove,

They'd eat their dinner round the stove,

They then would fill a long T. D.,

And smoke and talk Theology.

At one o'clock with might and main.

The preacher would expound again.

The wreaths of smoke that round his head

A whitened halo seemed to spread.

An incense from an urn of clay.

That drove all bitter thoughts away.

While listening to some I'ash tirade.

When preacher seekd to just upbraid,

I've often thought that a T. D.

Would soften his theology.

Their children they trained in the fear of the Lord,

Prayed with them first, then handled the rod.

The boys were taught to i-eap and mow.

To hold the plow, and reap and sow.

And when he drove his old "mobile,"

It was a barrow with one wheel.

They weren't allowed to courting run

Till they were fully twenty-one.

And when the climax came at last.

To make the contract strong and fast,

He'd to the old man straightway hie

With sheepish look and downcast eye.

And ask, as though in colic pain,

"Please-Sir-may-I-have IMary Jane?"

The girls were taught to knit and sew,

And spin the wool, and flax, and tow.

They'd on old Dolly's bare back hop,

Take her to mill or blacksmith shop.

They did their hair up in a knot.

Each satisfied with what she'd got.

And looked as sweet in homespun tow.

As costly silk, or calico.

Each mother saw, when Jane was wed,

She had a cow and feather bed.


When Rebel shots on Humj^ter fell

The house of Clark, in Sangerville,

Became a camp of v.'arriors true,

Each one arrayed in Northern Blue,

Went forth the Countrj-'s life to save.

And wrench the shackles from the slave.

They are sleeping now. For a moment let's pause,

And let our heart beats record our applause.

And others there are who gave up their all,

And gathered at once at Abraham's call,

And millions of men, through the length of the land.

Honor, today, that patriot band.

The sons of William G. Clark referred to were Whiting S., James and Frank,
•who were members of the First Maine Heavy Artillery, and Colonel Charles A.
Clark, who was a member of the Sixth Maine Regiment. There were three other
sons, George, Eugene and William G. Clark. These last named were too young
to enlist. William G. is the onlv one now living, who is a lawyer in Cedar Rapids,
Iowa.— EDITOR.

Son of Colonel William and Mary (Weymouth) Oakes and a direct descendant of Nathaniel
Oakes (Oak) who came to Massachusetts from England in 1660. He was born in Sangerville,
March 8, 1838, and died in Foxcroft, Maine, February 1, 1913. He was a graduate of Colby Col-
lege. For many years he was a successful school teacher and was a member of the Piscata-
quis Bar. He was far famed throughout Eastern Maine as a very competent civil engineer and
land surveyor. A writer for the press at the time of his decease well said of him: "Few men
in Piscataquis County have left a record so full of usefulness, good citizenship, fearless in-
tegrity and sound judgment as has William Pitt Oakes."



Born in Vienna, Maine, April 22, 1810. Died in Sangerville, July 13,
1911. The picture shown on page 154 was taken on his one hundredth

Much of the business prosperity of Sangerville is due to the energies of
Mr. Carr and it was largely through his efforts that the beautiful Univer-
salist church in Sangerville village was built.


Grandson of Moses Carr and one of the proprietors and the Manager of
the Carr Woolen Mills in Sangerville. His picture is shown on page 158.


Was born in the city of Glasgow, Scotland, July 30, 1830. While a
small boy the family moved to Galaspiels, Scotland, the seat of the woolen
industry of that country. He served an apprenticeship of seven years
learning this trade. Believing the opportunities for a young man were better
in the United States, he came here in 1855, landing in New York nearly
penniless and had to take a job carrying a hod to get money to take him to
Rhode Island, where he secured a position of foreman in the carding de-
partment of a woolen mill. He worked as foreman in several places in
Rhode Island and Massachusetts for several years, coming to Dexter,
Maine, in 1860. After working a few years for the Dexter Mills he leased
a small custom carding mill at Corinna, running there a season or two, and
it not proving satisfactory, he with a Mr. Lewis leased the old Copeland
mill at Dexter. Their partnership only lasted a short time, he purchasing
the interest of Mr. Lewis, carried on this business until 1867, when the
plant was burned. He then came to Sangerville and in company with a
Mr. William Fairgreve, started the mills there. Their partnership was soon
ended, and alone, and later in company with his sons, Angus and David,
carried on the business successfully up to the time of his death, February
15, 1910. His picture is on page 156.


Chairman of the executive committee, chairman of the historical committee and a member
of several of the other committees, is the man to whom, with his capable associates, all
credit belongs for the success of Sangerville's Centennial; indeed but for their enthusiasm
and hard work the celebration would not have taken place.

Mr. Marsh was born in Greenville July 27, 1861. He was educated in the public schools of
Bradley, Maine, the Maine Central Institute at Pittsfield, and took a special two years' course
in chemistry at the University of Maine. He was graduated from the College of Pharmacy in
Massachusetts in the class of 1888. For several years he was engaged in the drug business in
Old Town, and while a resident of that city served as superintendent of schools.

In 1906 Mr. Marsh purchased the H. L. Densmore drug store in Sangerville and since that
time has conducted one of the strictly modern stores of the county.

In 1910 he was elected county treasurer on the Democratic ticket and served the county
well while in this office, conducting the affairs in a strictly business-like manner and meeting
the approbation of all the citizens of the county.


I^ist of the Centennial Connnittees


Alfonso F. Marsh, Chairman, WaUcr R. Farnham,

Leslie M. Seabury, Secretary, John A. Wheeler,

John Farr, Treasurer, Leslie O. Denieritt,

S. Valentine Ripley, Will E. Leland,

James Lynch, John L. Howard,

Ekner J. Prince, Fred S. Campbell,

Forest L. Hutchinson, Charles H. Sawyer,

George P. Williams.


Mr. and Mrs. C. Winslow Thomas,
Mr. and Mrs. Sanger A. Knowlton,
Mr. and Mrs. LesUe O. Demeritt,

Representing Patrons of Hu.sbandry.
Mr. and Mrs. Omar F. Carr,

Representing the Masonic orders.
Mr. and Mrs. Alfonso F. Marsh,

Representing Independent Order Foresters.
Mr. and Mrs. James Lynch,

Representing Knights of Pythias.
Mr. and Mrs. Stillman Hutchins,

Representing Ancient Order United Workmen.
Mr. and Mrs. C. Leslie Weymouth,

D. of H.

Alfonso F. Marsh, Will E. Leland, Walter R. Farnham.

Elmer J. Prince, Alfonso F. INIarsh, Leslie M. Seabury.


John Farr, Floor Manager,
Alfonso F. Marsh, Assistant Floor Manager.

Thomas C. Parshley, Sangerville.

Orville D. Carr, Sangerville.

George P. Williams, Sangerville.

Harry M. Bush, Dover.

Frank Washburn, Guilford .

Paul D. Sanders, Greenville.


Archie L. Getchell, Bar Harbor. Harry M. Bush,' Dover.

Hiram Percy ]\Iaxim, Hartford, Conn.

Harold M. Carr, Forest L. Hutchinson, Arthur A. Witham.



James Lynch. John L. Howard,

S. Valentme Ripley, George P. Wilhams,

Fred S. Campbell, Will E. Leland,

John L. Demerritt.


Elmer J. Prince, Fred S. Campbell, Walter R. Farnham.


Alfonso F. Marsh, Harold M. Carr,

John Farr, Will E. Leland,

James Lynch, Ehner J. Prince.


John Farr.


Harold M. Carr, Chas. N. Stanhope,

Clifton E. Wass, Mrs. Maud Genthner.

com:mittee on collection of antiques.

D. Alden Jackson, Josiah F. Prince,

Kendall P. Knowlton, George Pond,

Freeland D. Thompson, Hannibal H. Campbell,

Charles Oakes, Martin V. Smith,

Frank B. Lewis, S. Valentine Ripley,

Gideon Dexter, Melvin J. Jewett,

Enoch A. Flanders, Samuel M. Gile,

Forest L. Hutchinson, George H. Douty,
Jedediah P. Leland.

Captain Abner Turner Wade

(A tribute written by his nephew, Wm. O. Ayer, Jr.)
(Read before the Piscataquis Historical Society, January 24, 1914.)

I have been asked to prepare a memorial of my loved uncle. Captain Abner
Turner Wade, to be read before this Historical society and to be preserved in its

This purpose to preserve the memories of noted men and women who have
lived and wrought faithfully, is a worthy one.

Charles Reade says in one of his books: — "Not a day passes over the earth
but men and women of no note do great deeds, speak great words and suffer noble

We all recognize the truth of this; but it would be well if effort were made
more insistently and sj'stematically to do what you are doing, viz. — to see to it
that such worthy lives shall not be forgotten, butthat record be made of them for
the instruction and encouragement of a wider circle of men and women who come
after them.


Noble lives have been lived in the Piscataquis valley of whom we are justly
proud. Worthy hves are now being Uved. It is not right that such lives should
suffer obscuration and echpse just for the circumstance that these worthy ones are
no longer seen on our streets, in our places of concourse and in om- homes.

We are continually blessed by their posthumous influence, good thoughts and
good deeds after their voices are hushed in death and their bodies committed to
the tomb. The remembrance of their names and their personal traits should be
cherished not only by the inner circle of surviving relatives and intimate friends,

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Online LibrarySangerville (Me.)Sangerville, Maine, 1814-1914. Proceedings of the centennial celebration, June 13, 1914 → online text (page 4 of 8)