Miscellany by George W. Woodland
Preface
This first Chapter of George W. Woodland describes his life in the 1870s on a family farm in East Cumberland County, Nova Scotia near the town called Wallace. His grandfather lived nearby his father's farm. The chapter takes us through the seasons of the year on the farm and is an excellent description of what life on a farm during that period was like.
His daughter Margaret Jane Woodland's daughter was Pessah Ogilvie who married Charles Drysdale so this is his connection to the family. He was one of nine children and he himself had six children.
In his preface, one finds the following:
"The author is deeply grateful to those who helped in the preparation of the manuscript: Miss Viola Leach; Miss lice Fales; my Granddaughter-in-law, Dorothy Elizabeth Wells; my Granddaughter, Jane Woodland Bellevue, and my Daughter, Elsie Woodland Wells."
"This is not a biography of my life although it relates experiences and doings connected with my life. It also expresses my thoughts and feelings, in verse and prose, about things mundane and sacred not in excellency of speech, just everyday language, hoping it may be interesting and helpful to those who may think it worth the time and effort to read it."
The table of contents lists the following chapters:
A Narrative of my Childhood and Youth on the farm••••••••••••••••••••••••• 1
My Business Experience- 60 years in the Building Industry ••••••••••••••••35
My Religious Experience•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••52
My Theology•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••64
My Father ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••85
Heaven Described••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••95
God's Supreme Creation-MAN••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••98
The Great Rebellion••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••108
A Sermonette on sin and Redemption•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••127
Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it Holy•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••133
A Description of the Great Last Day••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••137
Some Things Wrong with the World•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••143
Miscellaneous Verses•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••145
Mountain Climbing••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••158
Eulogy of Rev. Frank M. Hol••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••159
Repeal of the Eighteenth Amendment•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••163
Progress I have seen in my Lifetime••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••165
Looking Back Fifty Years from 1950•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••167
A Memorial Day Visit to the Cemetery•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••169
A Visit to my Mother after Years' Absence••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••171
Poems on Nova Scotia•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••173
Poems on Florida•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••177
The Living Church of God•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••179
Stewardship••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••185
Fruit Bearing Christians•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••187
If God's Will were done on Earth as it is
in Heaven •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••191
A Brief History in Verse of Three Great Men••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••195
A Few Lines Dedicated to my Parents and Odes to my Great Grandsons•••••••199
A Train Trip from the City to the Country and Thoughts inspired from
the car window••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••201
A Later Visit to my Old Homestead••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••209
Conclusion•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••211
A Narrative of my Childhood and Youth
I was born on March 3, 1867. The event of my entering into this world was seemingly celebrated by Nature in the form of a blustering snowstorm, so I was told (I was there but I do not remember).
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| From his description, this is likely the location of the farm |
My memory now carries me back to a great misfortune that befell the family when I was four years old. My father was a carpenter and wheelwright as well as a farmer. His shop adjoined the house, where he used to make carts and sleds for the neighbours. One windy day in May, my mother was absent, talking her usual annual trip to the carding mill with the newly shorn wool from the sheep. My oldest sister was keeping house and caring for the children, accompanied by our cousin, a girl about my sister's age. Father came in from the shop or the field to see the time of day by the old pendulum clock that hung on the wall. It was time to prepare for dinner. He told my sister to start the fire. She brought an armload of wooden shavings from the shop to start the fire with. The strong wind drew the lighted shavings up the chimney and they fell on the dry wooden thatched roof. My father was at the pump, which was in front of the house, getting water in which to cook the vegetables for dinner. When he looked up and saw the roof all on fire, he rushed into the house and told us to get out quickly as the house was on fire. I remember my sister getting my coat and cap on and hurrying me out of the house, but to my grief, as I stepped outside the door a gust of wind caught my cap, which was a new one that I was very proud of, and carried it into the midst of the fierce, leaping flames of the burning house. I started to run after it, but was caught by my sister and led away. My father tried as best he could to extinguish the fire but without avail. He narrowly escaped with his life trying to save the seed grain that was stored in the granary on the second floor of the house. In a few minutes the house was reduced to ashes: the house that my father built with great care and many long days of laborious work: the house that he built to shelter his young bride and make a comfortable home for her and the children which would be born unto them. The house that was sanctified by parental love and devotion to one another and their children which now numbered five: the house where a fond mother tenderly cared for her little ones in sickness, where she spent sleepless nights ministering to their needs and comfort, where she burned the midnight oil or tallow candle sewing their garments or knitting their stockings and mittens, that her loved ones might not suffer from the cold: where she entered into their joys and sorrows: the house where Father rested after a long day, working to clear the land that he might have soil to grow the needed grain and vegetables for his increasing and hungry family: the house where five children first saw the light of day, and were coddled, cradled, fed and clothed; where the walls vibrated with their shrill voices as they romped from room to room in childish play, now lay in a smouldering heap of ashes.
I did not at that time the gravity of the situation. I was enrapt at the spectacle of the red and yellow flames as they leaped skyward in their fury, licking up all that stood in the way of their progress. I wondered at my sister's moans and tears as she frantically pumped and carried water in a vain attempt to extinguish the flames. There was little saved. The stove, which was comparatively new, was carried out still hot, to a place of safety. My grandfather who lived on the next farm to ours, asked us to come and live with him until my father could build a new house. My grandfather had five at home in his family at that time, and there were seven of us. He had a small house of five rooms all on the first floor, and an unfinished attic. This house had to accommodate twelve people, or twelve people had to accommodate themselves to this small house, for about six months, I remember the bed of straw and woollen blankets that was spread on the bare rough floor of the attic on which we three brothers slept.
My father had to mortgage the farm, with its stock and tools, in order to get the necessary funds to build the new house. I remember the fun my second oldest sister and I had watching the cellar being excavated and the foundation of quarried stone being laid; also the lumber being framed, mortised and tenoned by Father and his helpers. After a heavy rain the mortises would be filled with water. My sister and I used to call them wells and dip out the water with pieces of wood.
We moved into the new house when it was only partly finished. There were only two rooms plastered and the plaster on them was still soft. It was a cold day. My father constructed some temporary seats around the stove, for we had few chairs. The house was damp from the green plaster and we were cold, but happy to get away from such cramped quarters and come into our spacious new house even if it was not half finished inside. We had a tight roof over our heads, and walls that kept out the cold, piercing winds of winter.
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| My old homestead built after the fire |
The latch on the outside door of our kitchen was higher than I could reach, and as well as asking permission to go out of doers, I had to get someone to open the door for me; but one g1ad day I found I had grown tall enough to open the door myself. Now I could go out and in without asking anyone's permission or help, and walk out in the great out-of-doors and stroll the large fields, enjoy the sunshine and gentle breezes of a summer's day; watch the lambs at play, gambling over the green, chasing one another or teasing their mother; hear the songs of birds, watch the swallows build their nest of clay under the sheltering eaves of house or barn; follow the farmers at their work tilling the ground, sowing the seed, driving afield their teams; hear the rooster crow, the hens cackle, the ducks quack; look for eggs, watch the wild bees fly from clover to clover, and blossom to blossom, gathering sweets the whole day long; or watch the insects crawling hither and yon, each busy providing for its special needs.
My sister, who was two years older than me, was my companion in play. One of our pastimes was to build of clay a nest as near like the swallow's as we could. We would build it in a place where we could get at it easily in hopes that the swallows would use it and we could see their eggs, and the young when hatched. So
each of us would get a lump of clay and start to build the nest all in one day, or at one time; we would get it half done when it would fall to the ground. Then we noticed that the swallows took days, sometimes weeks, to build their nests. They did only a little at a time and waited until that was dry before adding more to it; so we decided to copy them. We would go to the clay bank where the swallows went, take a pinch of clay between our thumb and finger about what the swallow would take in its beak, and run to the barn flapping our arms for wings as we went stick the bit of clay of the wall and go back for another pinch, the distance was several hundred feet It was slow work, but in the course of time we would get the nest completed. But the swallows were too wise to risk: their eggs and young in a place where we could easily get at them; our self built nests were never used by them. We had miniature farms, each a little plot of ground which we used to plow with a lobster's claw on a stick and sow our grain or plant our potatoes. We had miniature rudely fashioned barns for our hay and grain. We also had some round sticks about an inch in diameter and four feet long, which we called our horses. These we would hold by one end and in one hand and let the other drag on the ground, and run with them.· We gave each some horse name.
Many happy hours, days, and seasons were ours in play. I was very down-hearted when my sister, who was two years older than me, felt that she was too grown up to further participate in such childish play and was getting interested in boyfriends other than a brother. I did not at that time wish to grow out of my childhood. I enjoyed my home and playmates too well to wish any change.
When I was in my eighth year of life my father was building a house for a deacon in the church where he and my mother were members. This house was about six mi1es from our home. My father used to stay at this place through the week, coming home over Sunday. We had an old horse that my father used to convey himself and his food supplies to the job. He used to take me with him Monday mornings to bring the horse
back home. I also took him supplies in midweek and went after him Saturday afternoon to bring him home. The horse was a very slow traveller, it took hours to
make the trip. It seemed to me to be a long and lonely road, but I was proud to know I could drive a horse all alone at that early age. Like all farmers' boys in our district at that time, I went to school in winter and helped with the farming through the summer months. I remember when the days would warm up in the month of May, with great delight we children would take off our shoes and stockings and go barefooted until the weather grew cool in the autumn. Oh, I pity the child who has been denied the privilege and the luxury of being born and reared on a farm; to romp carefree, barefooted, through meadows and woodlands, to gather the dandelions, buttercups and many other wildflowers that bloom in the meadows and by the roadside; to pick the wild strawberries, to go blue-berrying, to fish in the brook, to watch the birds in flight or building their nests, to look for eggs, to go afield astride a workhorse, to watch the plow as it gracefully turns the unbroken furrow, to hear the clatter of the mowing machine and see the tall timothy grass totter and fall before the onslaught of the swift-motioned cutter; to go afield in a hay cart to tramp down the hay and build the load; to go to the old well and draw or pump from deep down in the ground nature's cold, pure sparkling crystal-like nectar, to quench the thirst and cool the brow.
When I was seven years old there was a great event at our house which·came as a surprise to us, children, some of the neighbourhood women were called in, father hastened to harness the horse in the buggy and drive away at high speed. There was much whispering among the womenfolk. There was a sense of mystery in the air. I was told that Mother was sick, and they got me ready and took me to my grandfather's house, on the next farm to ours. I played around his house kind of lonely, wondering what all those doings meant, in the afternoon I was allowed to come home. My oldest sister led me into my mother's room, set me on a low chair, and then she brought something all bundled up and placed it on my knees, saying, "Here is your little baby sister which the doctor has brought," I did not at that time care much about such proceedings; in fact, I would just as soon have had the doctor take it to some other family or keep it himself. Everybody exclaimed over the perfect-featured, blue-eyed, golden-haired cunning baby, and I soon grew to like her. Many were the hours that I rocked her in a fancy cradle made by my father. Now, the family was made up of an even number and evenly balanced, three boys and three girls.
The routine of the farm life was as follows:· Beginning with January, the month of snow, good sleighing and sledding, to the woods for those who were not at school, cutting the birch, maple, oak and poplar for firewood, hauling it home three or four miles. This wood was usually cut in sled lengths, about eight feet long, loaded on sleds and hauled home by horses or oxen. Then there were fence poles or rails and posts to cut from spruce and juniper, to be distributed around the fields where the fencing would be done later. Oh, the wonders and mysteries of the deep, dark woods, where grow the birch and maple to burn to warm the house and cook the food; the pine, hemlock and spruce to sawn up for boards and timber to build homes for people and stables for animals; the oak and ash and other hardwoods to make furniture, wagons, sleds and handles for tools, the axes, picks, shovels and forks. The beauties of snow-covered trees and snow carpeted ground, the animal tracks in the snow, the well-beaten paths of the rabbits; the mysterious crackling and loud reports as of the firing of guns - some sapling being frozen with the zero weather and expanding until it burst with a bang; the wind moaning among the treetops, the screams of the magpies; I have sometimes fed them from my lunch basket and watched them fly away with a morsel of food, to hide it in some moss-grown tree or were the bark was loose. They would quickly come back for more. One day I carelessly left the basket which contained my lunch unprotected. When I went back for my lunch after a hard forenoon's work I found it empty. The magpies had found it and eaten the food all up.
The familiar January sounds, the screeching of the sled runners on the frosty snow, the musical jingle of sleigh bells, the swish-swish of the wind-driven snow upon the window panes, and the periodical rattle of a ladder that was placed on the roof of our house for fire protection, the occasional base caw of the crow, which was heard with joy for it was the harbinger of warmer weather.
February was much the same as January. We had our usual February thaw, slush and difficult travelling. Work in the woods was continued when possible to do so the usual attending to the farm animals, feeding and watering stock, milking the cows, also repairing broken farming tools, making axe handles, repairing wagons and sleds, or making new ones. The young people enjoyed the long .evenings visiting one another, having candy parties, playing games, skating on the frozen ponds and rivers, or coasting down the hills on the crusted snow.
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Landscaped view of the neighbourhood where I was reared. |
March was the month of high winds, and blustering snowstorm's and fitful weather, but the days are getting longer and warmer, the sun shines brighter. This is the time to chop up the wood in lengths suitable for the stove, the wood that was left in the dooryard sled lengths eight feet or more. This was a job that took several weeks, cutting and splitting, making many chips which were used along with birch bark for building fires, which had to be done every morning. March was also the month when: the soap for family use was made. Father would bore some holes in the bottom of a barrel, place some straw in the barrel, then fill it with hardwood ashes saved for that purpose, then set the barrel on a bench over a large tub and pour water on the ashes until the barrel would hold no more and what a lot of water it would take. After it had time to soak through the ashes it would drip from the holes in the bottom of the barrel and fall in the large tub in the form of good strong lye. This would be put in pots and, boiled on the stove, adding to it some of the fatty substance from the interior of the critter from which we got our winter supply of beef. When boiled down to the right consistency this made excellent soap.
April. Spring has come, glorious spring! Allnature rings with job, the snow is receding, the bare fields are appearing, the ice is melting, the roads are getting muddy, sleighs and sleds are being stored away, while wheels are in evidence. The pussy willows are budding, the barnyard is getting noisy with, the cackling of the fowl, eggs are getting plentiful. My sister and I vie with each other in the early morning getting the egg the goose has laid and carefully covered it over with straw and·feathers; we would look the pen occupied by Mrs. Goose and see the nest all covered over flat as if no goose had been there. What, no eggs this morning? Let me see. Dig down in the straw, something hard! Revove more straw Ah, sure enough, there lies the white oval egg which fills my two chubby hands. Be careful, walk slowly, do not slip and fall, bear the precious egg to the house without injury; place it in a basket where no harm shall come to it, for in all probability there will only be twelve or thirteen eggs laid by the one goose. There will be need of them all when the sitting time comes, when for four long weeks the patient goose will have to sit on the eggs, while Mr. Gander wanders lone and forlorn about the barnyard or the meadows. But once each day Mrs. Goose rises from her eggs, covers them carefully over .with the soft down from her breast mixed with straw, and comes out in the light of day to get some food. She first utters her call to Mr. Gander and is quickly answered even though he, Mr. Gander, be at the further end of the meadow. Then he comes, half running, half flying, and what a joyous and happy union. They put their heads together and both gabble vociferously for a minute or two then walk off side by side. Were ever lovers more fondly devoted. In the latter part of April, the frozen ground being thawed out and the fields beginning to green, it is time for fence building.
May is the planting month. The sun is now high up in the sky and the gentle winds are drying and warming up the clay soil. The cherry trees are in bloom. Mayflowers with their delicious fragrance can be found in the dell where the snow has recently melted away. In the fields, the sounds of the cultivating instruments can be heard grating against the loose stones, and the voices of the drivers as they shout to the horses or oxen, "get up there, get up, haw haw there, gee over there, whoa, whoa," and so on. The rumble of the cart wheels, the squeaking of the harness as the horse is driven forth and back, forth and back, from barn to field, from field to barn, hay carting out the winter's accumulations of manure to to top dress and fertilize the soil for crop growing. The alder leaf is now the size of a mouse's ear; sow the grain, farmers say; yes, and children, take off your shoes and stockings, walk over the newly cultivated fields in the yielding mellow soil, or the soft green, grassy meadow, or the warm dust-covered roads. The swallows have come and are-building, their houses of clay under the sheltering eaves, the sheep are panting in the hot sun with their heavy winter grown fleeces of wool. It is time for the sheep shearing, listen to the clip, clip of the shears and the occasional bleat of the sheep as she answers, the piteous high pitched cry of her young, while she is being separated from her thick matted covering of wool.
June, the month of roses; it is now time to plant the potatoes and · other· tubers. Come, Mother, and children, all who are able to slice a potato, sharpen your knives. Here are bags and·baskets of·seed potatoes already beginning to send forth white worm like sprouts. Cut them so·that there will be at least one sprout, or eye to each· piece; better if you can have two. Never mind the discoloured hands from the mud and juice. Work on; drop, drop goes the dividend spud into the big bushel basket. Father is in the field with horse and plow making furrows to receive the seed. Come take a basket of newly cut seeds on your arm. Drop them in the furrow one by one, not over twelve inches apart. Father will cover them with the plow making long straight rows. If we are going to have the pleasure of eating those delicious well browned pancakes next f.all, now is the time to prepare the ground and sow the three-sided: sharp-cornered seed the buckwheat, the last grain of the season. The wild strawberries are showing red down in the grasses and clover of the meadows. Come children get the shiny new tin dippers recently bought from the tin peddler and go strawberrying. We "'Will feast on the lush, rich-flavoured strawberry.
Hot July brings cooling showers. The grain fields are growing green, the potato tops are shooting up above the ground. Now comes the hoeing and cultivating time. Oh, the tedious· and·tiresome back-breaking task of hoeing the long rows of potatoes. The sweet-scented clover fields are already turning brown, the timothy heads are in bloom, here and there are refreshing sweet-scented odours of new-mown hay. Haying time is ·here. Grind the scythe, replace the missing teeth in the hand rakes, oil up the mowing machine, and make hay while the sun shines. Everybody in the hayfield from early morning till the dew falls at night. The air is full of the hay gathering sounds, the clattering roar of the mowing machine the rhythm of the scythe as it swishes through the wind-rippled grass, the rattle of the steel-toothed rake as it gathers in windows the sun-cured fodder, the chime of the fork and the rustling of the dry hay as it is forked-into bunches or pitched on the hay wagon. The robins are chirping over the cherry trees which are already red with the ripening cherries. Were there ever cherries as sweet and luscious as those that grew on my father's trees? If there were, I have yet to find them. Many were the hours I have spent in those trees eating those juicy cherries.
Bringing in the Hay
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| Bringing in the Hay |
It is a pleasing sight-to look upon a broad field after it has been closely mown and cleanly raked and well, trimmed around the fences. The completion of haying was generally celebrated by the whole family taking a day off and going to the blueberry plains. Father would harness a horse or horses to the big hay wagon, covering the wagon bottom well with hay or straw, then the whole family, Mother, sisters and brothers, would pile in, bringing with them all manner of receptacles, pails, tubs, tin dippers and earthen jars, to hold the berries and baskets filled with food for our lunch. Generally some of our neighbors would hitch up their teams and come along with us. What a picnic we did have, as we drove through woods and clearing some five or six miles to the blueberry plains. There we would unharness the horses and give them plenty of hay to eat, then we would start in picking, filling our dippers and pails with the sweet, ripe blueberries which were plentiful and easy to pick. In fact we stripped them off by the handful. You have not had all the joys of life until you have spent a day with family and friends picking blueberries, breathing in the perfume of the sweet ferns, the odours of the fir, and pine, hearing the monotonous, one-tone, high-pitched continuous song of an unseen locust, on some tree nearby, gathering around the well-prepared and filled lunch baskets, with soiled hands and black mouth but with keen appetites and much gab and laughter.
August is the month of· early new potatoes, fresh, tender string beans and ripening-grain. Oh, the never-to-be-forgotten days when as a young boy I cone home from school or the field and found that my mother had discovered that the early rose potatoes and string beans were matured enough to be cooked and eaten and she had a nice pot full of each, cooked, steamed and ready to sate ·my ravenous appetite. The grain fields are taking on that mellow, yellow gold colour of ripening grain. The harvest time has come. Oh, the joy of the harvest. when the, products of the farm are garnered in, and the barns are well filled. The wheat and oats have now been gathered in. There remains the buckwheat to mow and the .potatoes to dig.
Now comes the pleasant month of September. The sweet-smelling blossoms of the buckwheat have long since disappeared. The green kernels of grain are turning gray and beginning to shell off. It is ready to mow, but be careful; be sure it is wet with the dew which falls copiously these cool September nights, otherwise, the grain would fall from its stalks and be lost on the ground. So it is necessary for the mower to get an early start in the morning to mow in swaths and rake in small bunches the dew-moistened grain before the bright September sun is risen high enough in the sky to dry it off. When these bunches of grain have dried sufficiently they are taken to the barn in a blanket or quilt-lined cart so as to catch the grain that is shaken off through the process of conveying it from field to barn. It is thrown loosely on the barn floor, which has been swept clean. It is then spread in a layer-across the floor some six feet wide and threshed with flails by one or two men or boys, rap about. When the grain is off the top side it is turned over and threshed some more. Then the straw is pitched out of doors and another layer is put on the floor, to repeat the same operation. You may hear the·thud, thud, thud of the flails all day long. The straw being thrown outside we children would have great fun digging through it; making apartments in it, where we would enter them by tunnels, for the coarse spongy straw was adapted to that purpose, if you did not mind its musty smell and its chaff or small particles of straw getting in your hair and down your back.
It is now potato digging time we have had a frost; instead of the sparkling dew drops on the after grass in the meadows in the early morning showing spider webs glistening in the sun the ground is covered white with frost, the potato tops all blackened and limp lie sprawled on the ground. Bring the flat-tined fork and free the earth-bound spuds, spread them in the sunshine. Be careful. Avoid stringing them on the prongs of the fork, get the fork well under them; lift up the earth and all, shake them loose and be sure there are none left covered in the mud. Shake the tops and stack them up, level off the ground in preparation for another forkful. When the potatoes are exposed to sun and wind long enough for the damp mud to dry and fall off them, then ca11 for the potato pickers, which in our case mean my sister and I. Somewhat· against our wills we would go to the potato field with our half-bushel baskets, pick them full of the smooth, hard edibles; and carry them to the dump cart that was p1aced nearby; keeping count of the number of bucketfuls we dumped into the cart by mark on the side of the cart one I stroke for each bushel till we put down four strokes, then we would draw a line diagonally across the four strokes for the fifth bushel. When the cart was filled the horse was hitched to it and driven to the house and the potatoes were dumped into the cellar through an opening in the cellar wall, making a roar like thunder as they rattle down. The last of September and the first of October was the time for fall plowing, turning over the long damp furrows of clay, which polished by its contact with the smooth plowshare, shines in the sunlight like a varnished floor.
October is also a pleasant month on the farm. The rush of the summer's work is nearly over: there is more time for leisure and play. We children go gathering hazel and beech nuts. The acid, juicy, prickly covering of the hazelnut has blackened with the frost making the tasty, meaty nut easy of access. The frost has also broken in two the thorny burs of the beechnuts, letting fall to the leaf-covered ground the dark brown three-cornered mealy nuts where we could easily fill our pockets from among the leaves on the ground. The weather is growing colder, the farmers are getting ready for the winter, repairing the barn,banking the house to keep out the cold. Ice is forming on the ponds. Soon you will hear the ting and the clash of the sharpened steel skates as the skaters swiftly fly over the transparent ice, making figure shaped marks and dashes as they go. The birds have come together in flocks. You can hear the honk, honk the wild geese as they fly high over your head in a V shape formation, on their way to the sunny South. There is something sublime in the flight of honking wild geese, seeking a warmer clime. Who will not look up in the sky no matter where he is or what he is doing, when he hears the horn-like sounds of the south-bound geese?
November, though sometimes dull and dreary, is not without its interesting and enjoyable days. This is generally the moth when the grain is threshed, winnowed, separated and made ready to be taken to the gristmill, to be ground into flour. Grain threshing days are grand days. It is a time of brotherly love; at least it seems so, for all the neighbours come together to help one another. The great, long, bulky threshing machine is set up on the barn floor, together with the treadmill with its tilted revolving plank floor, where two horses tramp, tramp all day long and never get farther than, where they have started. The floor goes around and turns the huge flywheel which·supplies power to run the threshing machine. All children like motion, and when children get together there motion and commotion, but here is motion: the thud, thud, thud of the horses' iron-shod hoofs upon the wooden planks, the hum of the flywheel, the noisy whirl of the cylinder with its vicious-looking iron teeth that mangle the straw and bereave it of its grain; the roar of the fanners that blow the chaff from the grain; the rattle, rattle and shake, shake of the carriage that conveys the grainless straw from the cylinder to the rear of the barn, where it is dumped in a heap outside the door, we children helping to mow it away or covering one another up with it. Commotion and bustle in the barn, on mow and floor, everybody busy in their appointed places. Commotion and bustle in the house, mother, sisters and helping neighbours; roaring fires and steaming pots and kettles, preparing for the sumptuous banquet; fresh-killed meat and fowl, chicken or goose, all varieties of vegetables, good, strong, hot tea, sugar and cream, and oh my, the well-spiced pies - apple, mince, pumpkin and custard, lard-fried doughnuts, a variety of cake and cookies, wild strawberry jam, etc. What a feast for tired bodies, hungry mouths, and dust-filled throats. For us children this was the meal or meals. It was a merry crowd· that gathered around the table. Stories would be told, jokes sprung, uproarious laughter with the rattle of dishes and sipping of tea.
When the threshing was completed at one farm the machinery would be moved to the next, and all the neighbours would gather there and repeat the operation of the previous day, and so on until the theshing was all done in that district.
The last of November and the first of December farmers do their butchering. I never liked these days of .slaughter when I was a child. The squeal of the pig as he was caught and held by strong hands and butchered used to send a chill to my heart. Often I would go to the barn and cover myself up with hay and hold my hands over my ears till the killing was over, but it had to be done to provide the meat and fats for the nourishment and health of the family through the cold winter months. Usually one or two pigs and a beef would be killed; cut up and salted down in wooden casks. I would have revived from the shock and was much interested in seeing the pig plunged in a cask of boiling hot water; then taken out and scraped over with sharp knives to remove the bristles; or to see the beef strung up by its hind 1egs and its hide removed. This hide was taken to the tanners and made into leather, from which shoes for the women and girls and long legged boots for the men and boys of the family would be made. I well remember my father taking a load of us children to the shoemaker to have our feet measured, and our shoes or boots were supposed to be made according to these measurements but I often found mine were a size or two larger.
'
All through the Fall months, I had the unenvied task of going down to the dark-cellar and by candle light picking out of the great heap of potatoes those that were small or marred, putting them in a large pot, pouring in water, setting them n the stove and letting them boil until cooked; then putting them in a large wooden tub, pouring over them a peck of bran, and mashing them up with a wooden spade. I was much relieved now since this labour in providing for the fattening of the pig was over. The fat from the interior of the beefed heifer or cow my mother would try out, as it was called, by melting it and running the grease into cakes of tallow. Later it would be melted and poured into the candle moulds from which came our candles, our only means of light in the long winter evenings. The lard from the pig was used for frying doughnuts, only instead of building them around a hole they were made of long strips of dough doubled and tied together, and were called "twistcakes." Now we had meat for head cheese and mincemeat. I remember us children taking the pig's bladder after removing the fat from it; we would dry it, then by means of a goose quill wee would blow it up into a nice toy balloon.
You would now often hear these words, Christmas will soon be here; the long-wished-for day is drawing nigh. For months I had been looking forward to Christmas, just hoping that I would not die at least before Christmas. Not that we got many presents in those days but oh we had fun, that is it was fun to us then. Many were the preparations that went on in the days immediately before Christmas. Not only did we have our family to provide for; we expected to be visited by friends or relatives. The house was saturated with the appetizing odors of cooking pies, frying twist cakes steaming plum puddings, baking of bread, cookies and cake. The fat goose would be killed, plucked, drawn and stuffed ready for the oven. The night before Christmas my brother, who was six years older than I used to tell me that I had better look out, for Santa Claus generally left a birch switch in naughty boys I shoes. The shoe, not the stocking, was the receptacle we placed on the hearth for Santa to fill in the days of my youth. But whether I deserved it or not I never had a switch left in my shoe. I noticed when I went to bed on Christmas eve my father and mother seemed to busy about something or other in the pantry or around the stove. Well, at any rate we children went to bed with great expectations. Rising early Christmas morning we would seek out our shoes from the row of shoes on the hearth. What is this? Santa Claus on a ladder made from the dough used for twistcakes, well cooked in lard. My, what a treat! Oh, here is something else, a stick of candy all striped with red, and here is something round - a rosy red-cheeked apple, and more fried cakes in the· shape of some domestic animals. (I knew my· father was clever at forming things out of dough but of course we must believe Santa had brought them.) Did ever princes better fare? If they did they could not be more satisfied nor more happy.
On Christmas Day the grown-up boys and some of the men too would meet at some house, sometimes ours, and have a shooting match, sometimes for practice, sometimes for a stake. Each one would put up ten cents and whoever came the nearest to the bull's eye would take the boodle. Call it gambling? No, they did not consider it so, just for sport and to create more interest in the game.
The evenings between Christmas and New Year's were spent throwing the coppers, or raffling, putting seven cents in a cup and shaking them well, then dumping them-out on the table and counting the upturned heads on the cents. Whoever got the most heads in three throws would win. The children would take part in this game. Then there was· much checker and domino playing. There were sleighing parties and there was little work done that week-but a good time was had by all, and thus the year ended.
My little narrative of the experiences of my youth on the farm would not be complete without the mention of an industry of which the women were the main operators, namely the woollen industry. The carding, spinning, warping and weaving. All the implements and machinery used in this industry were made by the skillful hands of my father, even-to the wooden spools on which the cotton yarn was wound that made up the warp. After the sheep were sheared the wool was picked and washed and taken to the carding mill, to be carded and made into rolls.
When I was a child my mother used to take me to the carding mill. I enjoyed watching the cylinders turn around, hear the scratch, scratch was the wool was carded and see the snow-white, soft rolls as they dropped from the rollers into a large basket or box. From these rolls the yarn for lmitting and weaving was spun. I used to watch my oldest sister spin. She would take a roll, attach one end of it to the spindle of the spinning wheel a,s·she turned the big wheel around, first slowly stretching the roll to doubleeits length, then turning the wheel rapidly and running backward, stretching the roll as she went to a long, even thread. Then she would wind it up around the spindle, hitch on another roll and go through the same performance until the spindle was full. Then she would place in position an implement called a reel. It had four arms and revolved on a horizontal axis, each arm being about fourteen or fifteen inches long with a crosspiece at the outer end, some four or five inches long; to one of these pieces my sister would make fast the loose end of the yarn to the spindle, then she would turn the reel, and as she turned the yarn would leave the spindle and be transferred to the reel in the form of a skein. She would count the revolutions of the reel; calling each revolution one thread, forty threads one knot then tying a string around the forty threads she would continue to reel off another. When she had twelve knots it became a skein and was taken off the reel, twisted up and laid aside for later use.
It used to be an interesting time to me when Father set up the warping bars, an implement that was made up of two oblong frames about five feet wide by six feet long, set upright at right angles to each other, having a hole in the centre of the bottom and top pieces, where they cross each other for a pole to go through which extended from the floor to the ceiling and around which this framework revolved. Upon the four projecting parts of this frame was wound the cotton threads which made the longitudinal structure for the web of cloth to be woven. This cotton yarn was bought prepared and done up in skeins or balls. It was to be wound around wooden spools and this was done by placing the spools on spindles of the spinning wheel, attaching the cotton yarn to them and turning the wheel, being careful in holding the yarn, playing it back and forth to evenly fill the spool. After filling them, some thirty or thirty-two in number, they were placed in a spool rack, made with a lower and upper section, fifteen or sixteen spools in each section as the case might be. They were held upright in the rack by a wooden dowel which went through the frame of the rack and through a hole in the centre of the spool, allowing it to revolve freely. The ends of the threads on the spools were taken and fastened to a pin in the lower part of the warping bars. As the warping bars were turned around the threads being guided by hand were wrapped around the bars in a spiral form from bottom to top and back again, etc., until all the yarn was taken from the spools. I loved to watch this performance. The threads coming from the spools reminded me of reins on horses, and as they were held in the hand of the operator I could imagine him or her driving a team of sixteen pairs of horses and the noise the spools made as they revolved in the rack sounded like the rattle of loose spokes in the wheels of as many carriages.
This aggregation of threads was taken from the warping bars and was ready to be wrapped around the big roller at the rear of the loom, to be woven into a web. The loom was made of a wooden frame about four or four and one-half feet by five feet, and between six and seven feet high, with a large roller at the rear to hold the un-warp of the web, and a smaller one near the front of the loom to hold the woven web. There were four treadles to operate the gears with foot power, four wooden jacks on which the gears were hung by cords; then there was the lathe from the foremost part of the frame, arranged so it could swing back and forth. It was quite a tug of war to get the warp on the large roller. After it was carefully attached to the roller by tying the threads of the warp to a rod, then fastening the rod to the roller, the other end of the warp was held tightly by one person, pulling with all his might while another person turned the roller with a stick by putting it in hole that had been bored in the roller near the end. Thus the warp was tightly placed on the roller. The gears were made of twine tied to a strip of wood at each end of the twine, the strips being about six inches apart. Each piece of twine had a loop in the middle of it through which a thread of the warp, or a "thrum" as it was called; was passed. There seemed to be myriads of these loops when I had to crawl in through the framework of the loom and crouch under the warp and pass its thrum one by .one to my mother who sat at the front part of the loom and put them through the loops in the gears. It was a job I did not relish, as I sat there the stillness of the day being broken only by the singing of the kettle on the stove, the ticking of the old clock on the wall and the clarion notes of a crowing rooster in the barnyard (for this loom was set up in the kitchen). Drowsily I would hand the thrums one by one to my mother until my neck ached and my arms-were tired. I was always glad when Mother had to attend to some household duty and I could crawl out between the bars that composed the framework of my wooden prison house. When the gears were all filled, two or four as the case might be, there still remained the task of putting the threads through the reed. The reed was made up of very thin splints of hardwood. about three and one-half or four inches long set between two rods spaced their thickness apart, or about one-sixteeth of an inch. The threads were put thr~ugh these spaces-by means of a hook made of very thin strips of hardwood. After this was done the reed was placed in the lathe, the warp was pulled through the reed and around the breast piece of the loom and attached to the small roller underneath. The warp was then tightened up by means of sticks, cords and wooden buckles, attached in an ingenious way to the large roller.
Now a11 was ready for the weft or woof the quills must be filled with the woolen yarn and put in the shuttles to make the woof. For the quills we children used to gather a weed called quillwood which grew along brooks. It had a hard stem with a hollow centre. We would cut these up in the desired lengths, about four inches or nearly so. These were placed on the spindle of the spinning wheel; then we would take a skein of the yarn that my sister had spun, place it on the swifts, an implement made with two crosspieces of wood having a hole where the two pieces crossed each other. This was put on an upright axis on a shaft of wood set in a wooden base. These arms revolved horizontally and had wooden pins placed vertically at each outer end. ·Over these pins was placed the skein; the end of the yarn was secured to the quill on the spindle, then the spindle was spun round, transferring the yarn from the skein to the quill. This job fell to the lot of my second oldest sister and myself. We lightened this tedious task somewhat by making a play out of it. We made believe the empty quills were lean pigs and when we filled them we were fattening them, when we carried them to the weaver we were taking them to market, and we would. bring back a drove of empty or lean ones to be filled and fattened. The filled quills were placed in wooden shuttles which were made of a piece of hardwood about ten inches long, tapered and rounded at each end, having an indentation gouged out of the center to receive the quill, the same being placed in the shuttle after the fashion of placing a bobbin in a sewing machine. I used to like to watch my mother weave. She would sit on the loom bench, feet placed on the treadles, shuttle in one hand, the other hand on the lathe. As she pressed on a treadle, the warp would part by means of one gear being pulled down by the treadle and the other being lifted up by the jack, making an opening between the two layers of threads through which- she would throw the shuttle, with one hand and catch it at the other side of the loom with the other, then pulling the lathe upon the thread left by the shuttle as it sped through the opening with the hand with which she threw the shuttle. Hour after hour you could hear the rustle of the shuttle and the whirl of the unwinding quill as the shuttle was thrown; the thud; thud of the lathe as it was brought forward to press the threads together; the tramp, tramp on the treadles and the rhythm of the jacks and gears as they systematically changed positions. Thus was the cloth manufactured that the family garments were made of, from underwear to best Sunday dresses and suits. What wonderful cloth it was, warm and tough, just suitable for the rouge wear it was subjected to by rollicking children.
When I was fourteen years old, one morning in October my brother and I were threshing buckwheat. Two men of our neighbourhood drove up to where we were working and told us that they were going to work for a concern who had a contract to build a section of a railroad that was then under construction at a place about twelve miles from my home. They each had a horse and cart which they were going to use on the works, and they wanted a boy to drive them. They asked me if I wanted the job. My brother said he could take care of the farm work and I could go if I wished to. So I engaged to go for seventy-five cents per day. I would have to pay my board and lodging out of that. I well remember the morning I left home for the twelve miles journey. I had to get up at four o'clock. It was a chilly morning and it was a long tedious trip in a dumpcart loaded with loose hay and bags of oats for the horses. I was cold and uncomfortable and did not enjoy the trip as I had thought I would. I inwardly wished I was home helping my brother thresh buckwheat, but I consoled myself with the thought it was big stuff to leave home and have a job of my own, to go out in the world and take care of myself.
Eventually we arrived at our destination and found a boarding house, a small farmhouse. Our room was in the attic. The bed I slept in was under the rough: hewn rafters, so close to them I had to be careful in turning over that I did not bump against them. I had to get up long before daylight to feed and water the horses, as we went to work at seven o'clock in the short days of Fall and worked until six in the evening. My job was to lead one of the horses with well-filled cart out to the dump while the other cart was being loaded, come back with the empty cart and take the other horse out. One of the horses used to bite my arms when I took hold of the bridle to back her up on the dump. It was not long before my arms were black and blue from her bites. The carts were loaded so heavy in front that it took all my strength to dump them, making the muscles of my body so sore I could hardly turn over in bed. One day as I was backing this biting horse on the dump she nipped my arm, then as usual she jumped back but she was so near the edge of the fifteen foot dump that she went over, cart and all, and rolled down to the bottom. Although I was frightened, thinking she might be hurt and the cart broken, yet I had inwardly wished she had broken her neck.
Those ten-hour days seemed never to end, the work got very monotonous, and I presume I was some homesick. At any rate when the ground began to freeze in the mornings and the weather was getting disagreeable I decided to throw up the job. I was glad to start for home although I had ·to walk all the way twelve miles through woods and country roads that were new and strange to me. I had ·some misgivings as to what my folks would think of my throwing up the job, but I found they were glad to have me home again, and I was glad once,mor.e to have a comfortable bed to sleep in and food to eat that my mother cooked. I went to school that winter but the next spring I went back to work on the s.ame railroad, this time taking my own horse and cart, that is a horse and cart belonging to the family. I felt quite grown up. I was fifteen years old now and had the care of registering with the company for work, one horse and cart, myself the teamster, and so on. I also had the responsibility of caring for the horse-buying hay and grain from the farmers, feeding and watering and harnessing the horse, oiling the cart, getting to work on time, and other duties.
I enjoyed the work more than I did the previous fall. The days were longer and the weather warmer, and I was getting used to being away from home; intact I felt I was some world roamer, for when I heard some of the men singing these words: "O, the days of my boyhood, my old native home, I love it the better the longer I roam" to stick a sympathetic chord in my heart. Had I not been away from my home now for a number of weeks?
One day the shovellers amused themselves by loading the carts well forward, making it so heavy that the teamsters had a hard time dumping it. I suppose they bought it would delay the cart in coming back and give them a little time for rest. Anyway, they loaded my cart so heavy it broke a shaft, rendering the cart useless. Now, what was I going to do? I must have a new shaft. I drove the horse to the stable, unharnessed and fed him, then I borrowed an axe from my boarding mistress and started to the woods to find a tree the right shape to make a shaft out of. After much hunting, I found a maple tree the right shape to make a shaft, a tree about six inches through at the butt. I cut it down and cut it off at the desired length and started to carry it home about a mile. I found it was too heavy for me to carry, so I had to drag it a few rods at a time. Finally, I reached my boarding house Now I had t shape it. I flatted one side of th~ stick with the axe, then turned it over and flatted the other side making it about the thickness of the old shaft. Then I went to a neighbour's house where I knew they had some carpenter's tools and I borrowed a wrench plane bitstock, and bits. I took the irons off the old shaft, and laid them on the flatted side of the stick I was preparing for the new one, marking the shape and the bolt holes for the irons, after boring the holes taking the axe and roughly hewing it to shape then using the plane to smooth it off, then bolting on the irons and putting the shaft in place on the cart.
Next morning, bright and early, I was on the job ready for work. Sometime after this event, I felt much flattered when my father, · afte·r carefully looking over the new shaft, said it was a better-shaped shaft than the other one, and my father was supposed to know, for many were the shafts he had made. Well, this time I stayed on the job until the company failed and the work was given up for a time.
Further Chapters of the book can be read by following the links below:
Miscellany Chapters running from pages 52 through pages107
Miscellany Chapters running from pages 108 through pages 161
Miscellany Chapters running from pages 161 through pages 211
LEAVING HOME AND COUNTRY
In. the .!,ifetime of all liying ·organisms' th~re come
cOIJleS a time when their offsprμig must,. iiave their;·
parental care and shift for :themselve~·. , ~ls.reare
for thei.r young· just so long, then,.treat- them as if-·
they never knew them.. Some birds shpve their ·off.;. .. ' ....
spring from_ the rtest- ·to make -them to .d~pend ori''their
own ab:i.lity to fly and get their o~ fo·od. But I ·was·
not shoved out by rrry·-parents or anybody eiae •. Cir..;
cumstances, · necessity and a strong desire to _get a·
job and a _living _c_aused, me to. lea.ye_. ·
For some· _y.ears_· r iow my father had been awayf ron1
home for_ the· ~ose of earning money to pay off·
the mortgage _placed on the fa.r.m,a. t the time of--the
building of the new house. My oldest brother· and myself
were doipg the farming but there was not:enough
money to . be ~e _ on the farm to wholly support"· the
family,... My -Pi:-9ther had a pair. of horses and ·u s:e·d to
do teaming o:u~si~e of the farm work, when·~be ·could ~
get any teami~g to do, but that only enabled him to ·
provide things for his own need. · • .. ·
I .w as now nineteen years of age ~ it began_. to:···• ·
dawn upon me t~_~t I must get. r911t. and earn for myself,
so I qecided to ---got o the Undt,e i:I States, if I could :
get ~~ wherewitha1·i to make .the journey. · I heard · _.:..
that ~ cousin, who lived seve~ =_miles from our farm, ._.going ~o Boston so I went t,o see him, walking a1·1 - -.
the way tpere and back. I fourid out· that he was
going·_in. a few·days. I could.not get any money to· .,-1
pay for the _expense of the tr~p., except ten dollars •.
that_ my father had serit home-. 1 I decided. to go on the· ..
ten dollars·~ · - " . . · · .-.·: . . .· ·. ·
. : .~ : r. ,_ • .
It" w~s t~_e. CW!~om''·in those ·c(ay~;sh.e ii"niaking a ·•lon~.:>
j 0:urney ;t c?"__p ack yo1:ll' belongings. (such as· _youm ight-- -..: .
need)i in_·_a· t~. r· had very little tielpngitigs: and I:;had
no t~ •.. -My father always ~ook hi~ _t6bl' chest ·
32
along with him when he went away to work, so the idea
came to me, why not make a tool chest that would take
the place of a trunk, and it might come in handy if !
should get a job of carpentry. For this purpose I
would need some thoroughly dried finish lumber, of
which I had none. One of our neighbors had a pine
plank two inches thick and fourteen inches· :wide,
about six feet long,which he said I•might have.
But how could I make a chest out of this crude piece
of lumber? The walls of the chest should·be only
board thickness~ not over seven-eighths of an inch.
There were no saw mills near. My father always kept
his saws sharp, well filed, so I secured the rough
plank, put it-in a vise, took my father's rip saw and
sawed this fourteen inch.wide plank into two pieces,
each being one inch thick. It took me hours to do
this fourteen inch cut. After planing these pieces
to the desired ·thickness I was ready to proceed with
my chest making. After it was completed I had little
to·put in it but it served the purpose and I found it
use·ful for years afterward. My mother had bought a
suit. of clothes for me which was much too large.
Nevertheless I was now ready for the trip. ". '.~ J.· ~-
:The . day of ·my home leaving arrived. I had to be
driven fifteen·miles to the nearest railroad station
by my: brother •. While my brother waited in the carriage
for me I had the distressing duty of bidding
the family good-by; one by one leaving my mother till
. the last.· I will never forget the 1.ook of anxiety
and loneliness upon her face and the tear filled eyes
as I took her hand and said good-bye. My own heart
sank within me as I left her standing there on the
. hall floor looking at me as though she would collapse.
Poor mother, what would she do without me? Did I not
always carry in the wood and get the kindling ready ·
to start· the fire, and keep it going through the day,
and help her milk the cows? Who would be her helper
now, and how can I in a strange place get along without
my mother? How am I to get my clothes to wear
At the Age of Nineteen
33
artd have them w~shed or be t~ld when to change them,
of' get my socks mended or buttons replaced.? With
many misgivihgs I entered the carriage ~hich was
waiting for tne. When ! arrived at the station I
bought a second class ticket to Boston at a cost of
eight and one-haif' doiiars, leaving a balance of one
dollar and- fifty dents. ·
..
The train was due in a .few minutes bi.it there was
no cousin in sight·; tlie train crune but no cousin
showed up. I did not know what to do. My brother
had gone home. Would my second class limited ticket
be good for a later train? Maybe my cousin at the
last minute had decided not to go. What should I do?
The train went and left me, a forlorn boy, standing
on the platform. I found out there would be a night
train and my ticket would be good on that train. But
what a day that was, with the depressing experience
of my leavetaking from all I loved so well still
burning in my memory, and now the uncertainty of my
cousin accompanying me on the trip, and how would I
get anything to eat? True I had some luncheon in a
box that my mother had done up for me, but that had
to do for the whole trip. I must not spend any of my
one dollar and fifty cents. I would need that when I
got to my journey's end. In those days the trip took
about forty hours, so I loafed around the station and
railroad tracks, feeling lone and forsaken. Short]..-.·
after noon a man I did not know approached me and
asked me if I were Richard Woodland I s boy. I said I
was. He invited me to his house nearby and gave me
some dinner, which greatly relieved my harrowing experienc~
of the day.
As the sun sank behind a mountain peak (for the
station was part way up a mountain) and the chill of
evening air swept through the valley, my cousin arrived.
In the distance could be heard the warning
Whistle and the rumbling wheels of the westbound
train, so the day ended with my cousin and I sitting
34
_sid~.by,.,side in the .seat of :an- ~~~t:t9n_·:,;~a~s n
· · '~e .'spe~ded on , ~ver increas'ing t~_En_:~ l?.e:':_ o f .~les
tp.~t sep~ated '.US.f 'Tom_ our ·nativ~- s()_:p.,.°_. ~-_.loved
ones .and all .that- our, hearts he,td dear!> ...·
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MY BUSTI-JESSE XPERTF.NCEF OR SIXTY 'YEARS.
IN TI~ BUII..DING :INDUSTRY
In the year 1886 I ca~e to Wakefield, Massachuetts,
U.S.A. from a count::y farm in Wallace, Nova
:cotia, at the age of nineteen. }t" education consisted
of what an ungraded country school could
give one whose attendar-ce was irregular. I engaged
to work for a builder at ar..y work he might want me
to do at a wage of $1. 25 per a ten-hour day, six days
a week. W.nen I was not driving a lumber wagon, picking
apples or cleaning out cellars I. worked with the
carpenters on new buildings or repair work. I worked
with this builder two years. '!he.second year my wage
was raised from $7 .50 per week to $10.00. Work became
slack and I was laid off for two-weeks. This
was in July. I. had made a trip to Brookline to see a
relative on July L, and on my way I saw a large .sixapartment
being constructed. They were. laying the
first floor. The thought came to me then that I
would like to be working on that job, so when I was
laid off I went straight to this building and was
hired. I worked there until the building was completed.
Then I went with the same builder to Newton.
Wlile there I was visited by an acquaintance
from Wakefield who had a proposition to make.
It was winter and carpenters in those days had much
lost time on account of the weather. Some. of them
used to cut wood and sell it, so his proposition was,
he had a chance to buy the wood off three and a half
ai::res of land for $125 and he wanted me to go halves
With him in the deal. I agreed to. do so. The purchase
\.las made; but before we got started cutting wood we
had an offer,of $250 for this same standing wood. We
decided to sell. Later on the same ,acquaintance came
to me with another proposition. A certain real estate
developer wantad a carpenter to remodel an.old house
on an estate which he controlled~ known as the Judge
Nash estate, on the ou tsk:i rts of Wa.kefie ld, in which
he lived, and w~s ~lan~in 5 o~ building many houses on
this estate, so ·,- l,3f·l, my job in Newton and 't."ent to
work for t..>iis rr.~;1 c".loug ·v..~th my ac1:1air..tance, Mr. Beach,
Wlile I tras remo11el1ng this houoe the owner, Mr.
Boynton, who had M_f-j uffice in Bostbn, used to say
every day when he r"i-➔ -!:.U'l'.'[lcd from Bo3ton, 11Well,. George,
I have another housi:: .for you to build." He· kept that
up for a month or two and I was near the .completion
of the work on the old house, but none of-this prospective
work ever materialized, so to save face he
had me build a house on his o-m account. I p.rew the
plans for the same, the first plans I had ever drawn .•
It was a large house of ten rooms, four rooms .on each_
floor and two attic rooms. It had a round tower, as
was the style iri :those days for something showy. . Up ·
to this time I had never worked on a round tower. I
made out the schedule for the lumber, frame and .boarding,
and had it delivered on the grounds when ~e cellar
was compl~ted. I supposed my acquaintance, Mr. Beach,
who had gotten me this job, being a much older man and
having worked many more years at the carpenter trade,
would do the framing.
I was 9nly twenty-two years old at that time, so
when we got ready to start work on the frame I waited
for him to start laying out the work. He said he did
not know how to frame a building and I would have to
do it. I was some surprise·d at that, but nevertheless
I tackled the job and got through with it all right.
I had to saw out the feirms for the circular tower with
a bell-shaped roof all by hand, even to the making of
th9 gutter that encircl~d the piazza that was carried
around· the tower.
v.hile I was worldng on this house a woman who lived
nearby was having a house built. She sent to ~ine
·for. her two .~ephews to come and build it for her. ~en
• . they came th~y said they would work on the }jouse but
they had never.done any framing, so they.came to me and
l ••
,#6
This young lady became my Wife
ked me to frame it for her. I did so. while I was
rking on this :10use the 1-'oman for whom. it was being
· 1t tolr:l me of a ver.1 pNtty and capable young lady
war, living n ...,(.i . door -.' ) her, saying that I should
e her acquaintar .. ce as S!lA wc1ld make a perfect wife
r me. I did not tl1ink r1uch of it at that time but
two years this ~rol·n g lady be came my wi.fe •
Bef0re I got throubh b-Qilding the house for Mr.
p1nton he ran out of cash and could not pay me or the
who worked on the job. He asked me to pay them
he· would have the mon~y for me as soon as he closed
e of his large deals, about which he was always talkI
paid the men untii' I ran out of money myself. · ·
. Boynton ~as going to give me a lot 0£ land for tb~
ey I had advanced, but he kept putting it off for ·
eks and months. I was getting· kind of desperate with
money or work but at last I got a deed-to the iot
d he secured a loa.'1 for me to build a house on it.· I ·
arted to put in the cellar. ·There were some boulders
the lot mich had. to be"blasted: to make stone for
cellar walls. I hand drilled the boulders, carried
dynamite in my pocket from Bosten, and blasted these
lders after working hours, so the·stone masons would
e material for their work. I built the house by my
plans and much by irry own labor.· I was fortunate
:ugh to sell this hou·se shortly after completi,ori.
n Mr. Boynton wanted :me to keep right on building
ses. He would seu·· me the land -and eet enough inoney
mortg-age loans to pay for them. I built a number
t.~em but he faiied to get enough money to pay for
whole post •. There was no town water in that part
Wakefield. Water had to be carried from a large
in"' nearby. ·Mr. Boynton kept promising to have, the
,er put in but i.t_ was not done. People would not
· houses without water. '!hen Mr. Boynton failed :to
u·re the mortgages on some of the houses, so, I had·
go hunting for mortgage money, whidl proved to be
d and expensive as I was not known by. banks or. mo.ney
ners; and to make matters worse, when I was asked
give references I referred them to Hr. Boynton and
t
was told if I had any connection with Mr •. Boynton they
did not want anything to do with me. I had to go to
mor;tey sharks who made construction loans at 3 per cent
per month interea-c,, 36 pe::: cent per year; and that was
not all. I had to pa,_v-a bonus and obtain this loan
through brokers who ch~rged a 3 per cent commission;
and, as this was only a temporary loan, w:ien the house
was completed I had to fay the brokers a commission to
get a permanent loan. and pay off the temporary loan,
all of wh1.ch cost me from $300 to $350 to finan,,e a
· house that would sell for $2000 to ~2500.
I found I-was running in debt and not being able to
dispose· of the houses. I had a chance to figure_on two
p.uplex houses to be built for a Mr. _q.oss, _ _-~o whom I was
recommended by Mr. Boynton. Hr. Goss called on me to
talk the matter over. I made him a sketcq of. plans of
whic..11h e approved, but he hesitated on giving me. the job
to build. I was so young and looked younger. thcj!l I was.
One day he called on me and took r.ie in his carriage
to look at a house that was recently built.. After I
had looked all through it he asked me how much it would
cost_ to build a house -like this one. I said about
$2350 •. He jumped up and clapped his hands, saying that is exactly mat it cost. That gave him a little more
confidence in my ability to estimate costs which could
be gained by experience in building houses, so after
keeping me in some further suspense he gave me the job
of building the. two duplex houses. B~fore I had finished
them he gave me two single houses to build. This
· was the beginning of my experience iri contract building,
•,
Soon after this I got married. -r built a snug sixroom.
house on land purchased.from Mr~ Boynton. My_
cousin who lived in Cambridge came out to see me. Be
was a carpenter and OU t of a job a~ that time. . He said
he knew an architect who was working on plans for a
li'ouse to b~ built in Malden, Mass. He wanted me to
figu.re on this work and if I was to get the job he
wanted me to g:i.,ve him and his brother employm~nt on fue
building, which I agreed to do. I figured the_ job and
tendered my bid and was· a1,iarde9 the contract. I· did
not go far with the work before I found there ·was ·something
wrong. The expenses were going far.beyond the
payments received.· I looked over my figures and found
I had made a mistake in totaling the fi&,ures of one
unit but it was in the fourth figure left of the period
making $1000 less than it should have been. Besides· '
thi_s my labor bill was overrunning my estimate. r-fy-·
cousins ·accomplished little i.n the progress of the· work
so I got heavily in debt. One thousand dollars in· '
those days was a lot of money. The owner of the house
helped me out some~ -I got riq of my cousins, hired new
help and completed the house_. I deeded my snug home to
my largest creditor and move~ :to a hou~e fn _which I had
. a_part interest, with two other families, .my-wi.feis.'
sister and her husband and my wife 1s brother and.his
~f~. \'le ~a~h paid five dollars per. week to buy provisions
ana run the house. The balanGe of my earning
went to pay my debts. Finally my brother-in-law i:mo
?wned the g,reater share· in this house., sold his _:interest
111 the house to the creditor to whom I had turned _·over
my home, and by signing. off my interest in this house
I se~tled his bill in· full, which was a great relief to
my mind, for it left me free to pursue my business_ caree1
~ this way I received my bu_si!].ess education by ex:
rience. It was a hard w~y but a way that gave last-
7g results, the same way I. gained .the art of drawing
P-a'ls • I had never seen anyone use the drawino- implernents
I . . t b h b e ~ _ Jus oug ta set and learned to use. them by
xperience, the same way .I learned to. use the steel
s~uare, and frame buildings •.. ·I knew ·a manufacture.r
~ 0 ~ad·lost $7500 in .his business but was now well-to- od I asked him how he recovered from this large loss
: . made a success. He replied "right in. the same
p~siness where I lost it.· If you lose an article the
bu.~~~- to find it is where you lost.it. 11 So I kept on
f .1 ing by contract and land developin~. The only
aJ.. ur I a . :r Wa$ _es_ ma~e were when I tri_ed to do something else.
soon able to buy. back th~ h_ouse I had tu'ri1ed over
~
to my-creditor and replace the carpets and furniture
as it was before, but I was still far from being on
easy· street.
The great financial panic of 1893 was on in full
force. It was difficult to get work and the pay was
very low. My wife had to have a very serious operation.
I had no money on ·hand. Something had to be
done at once. There was a mortgage-of $1800 on our:
house. r·tried to get a second mortgage on it but
could not find anyone to take it. , One day in Boston
I met a man on the street.to whom the money brokers I
used to go to for loans of.ten placed it with. It seans
these brokers had told him.I was looking for a loan~
for he said "I understand you are looking for a loan."
I said I. was and related the circumstances. He said ·
he had just- come into possession of -a tract of land iri
Greenwood and he would like to have me help him develop
it, to get builders started to build on it and"
to.build on it myself; he would help me finance it and
he would loan me $500 on my house to help me in this
time of need. I agreed to do what I could to- help him
in the development of this land. He made the -loan of
$500, taking the secona mortgage .on our house at a
high rate ,of interes.t. After paying a bonus, the examination
of the title, back interest and taxes, recording-
fees, etc. there was only $130 left. This
mortgage was made for the term of one year. I paid
it off before the year was over.
The summer of 1894 was a very busy season for me".
I had many houses under construction. In the fall of
that year I· started work on :the now called Green
Stree.t Baptist Church and a block of stores for George
Boardman. · ·
Uear the. close of the nineteenth century the mining
industry se.emed to possess the minds of many people.
There was organized ·a company called 11'lhe Copper Cro'wn
Mining Company •. If They were operating on mines· at
Wentworth, Nova Scotia, near where I was born and re·ared.
TheY had an office in Boston which I visited and looked
ove·r their samples of ore. My brother had foun_d cropings
of copper ore not fa~ from the place where the
paid company was mirdng a.ud sent me some samples. I
~ompared them with the said com9any 1s samples and found
them the same. I went to Nova Scotia and took out a
search warrant from the Government. After being encouraged
by the results of prospecting this area, having
some.: samples of ore assay~d, of which some went as high
as -ninety percent in copper, I obtained a lease to mine
-the .mineral on a certain des_cribed tract of land. This
lease was signed by Queen Victoria of England •. l.returned.
home and talked with some of my bus_iness .friends
about the possibilities of opening up a·mine on this
property with the result of a 9ompany being o~ganized
for this purpose. The aforesaid Copper Crown Mini_ng
Company was building a smelter at Piqtou, Noya Scotia
and were advertising for ore to smelt. Our._.idea was
to mine the ore and sell it· to them, which looked simple
and easy. I ordered a half ton of dynamite -from a -company
in Halifax and had it deli·vered on the grounds. I
bought the necessary mining tools, hired some men, and
went to work. We started a tunnel wh~re the b~st showing
of ore was found, on the bank of a brook. We drove._ this
tunnel eighty feet into the bank._ I sent a ·few hundred
pounds of the material taken from the.tunnel to the snelt
er. The result was that they found only a trace of.
copper in it. The samples I had previously a.ss.ayed._ were
nuggets and they proved to 'be rare. I reporte·d this to
the president of our company; he· engaged a mi'ning engineer,
from Halifax to give us advice. He came and examined
-our worki_ngs.,: ·He said the good showing on the
bank where we started the tunnel warranted all that we
had done but he would not recommend that we go any
further-with the work. When our president got this
: 8Port he sent word to get a gold mine, saying there
l.s nothing like gold.· ·There had been a number of gold
~nes worked in Nova Scotia, so I advertised for a gold
llU.ne in a Halifax paper, from which I received letters
f:om people all over the country who had found rich
llU.neral deposits on thei~ property. So my_qext _job ~as
to investigate_ these rich fincis. · Most of the letters.
came from the vicinity of I'1alione Bay. I ~ook the train
to Halifax and went from there by boat to Lunenburg,
and from there eeven miles ·by- carriage to_ Mah~ne B~.
I interviewed several men and looked ?ver their, cl.aims.
While there I heard of -a mine from which.there natl been
taken out $250,000 in gold.· The pumps they used were
inadequate to keep the vast flow of water out of the
mine so they ceased to work it and it was full of water,
I was told by men who had worked in this· mine that .a .
· certain make of pump would keep the water out. I w?-s
convinced that this mine was worth working. I go~ 1n
contact with. the owners and secured an option on it to
purchase it for $9000. After making a satisfactory
test of it I went to Halifax and bought a steam pump
and had it installed. After the water was. pumped out
we had an :expert geologist make a test. His repor~ . __
was unfavorable. After ·he went a'fl!ay a pock:_t of pay~ng
ore was uncovered. When our president received the .
report his verdict was to cease work on, it and it was
given up.
· \-bile ih Mahone Bay I met a barber who had ·cont~~l
of some property 'ltlich ·had a su~rio; quality ~f -slate
on it; variegated colors from which ne was ~ing ..
razor hones. It had a f~ne grit that made hi~ grade
hone. There was some green slate. I brought some
samples to Boston and showed them to members of the
company. They were very plea~ed, with_ tl:em and thought
we should do something about J. t. I VJ.Bl. ted sever!-1
slate dealers and showed ·the sample. 'Ihey·all said
there was a good demand for ·slate. I showed· a sample
of the g~ee_n - slate to ~ man who furnished s.ahool
supplies. ~EJs· aid if I could get. sheets of t~at ·green
slate large enough f~r blackboards_he ~uld give larg~
0rders.. Another manw: 1iom· anufactured vaults. fo:r .ce~~taries
.said.he ·wou~d.give-•large orders for the blue~
black. slate.· I got in. contact ·with .an ._expert sla~ .
·man from Mainea nd had him go W?-t!h11 et <:>_;NoVS:ac otia_
to make a test of this slate.- 1 We found ~ t. ·co~ld not
be quarried in large slabs, but f9r hones -'and -whetstones
it was superior, so we got control of the property,
put up a building on it, had a rubbing bed made
by a Vermont concern who manufactured rnachimery for
the marble and slate industry. I went to Framingham
and bought a seco~d-hand s~am engine andha d it shipped
to the n~arest railway_ station from the slate prope'rty.
The rubbing -bed -was shipped to Charlestown, Mass. and
unloaded there/ 'from "t-thich it-was never taken and tbe
engine was ri'ever taken from the freight train \y the ·
company !Or· lack of ··funds; the members 0f thE3 company
not_pu~hng, together and our president getting -in.terested
in ·other adventures, this ended.our unsuccessful adventure
•. But it added another chapter in.my 'business·
education and experience and was_ about_ th~_; oq.ly- time I
went off on a tangent from rrzy-building and .re-al estate
business. ·
I was doing f ai-rly well wh~n I left ·rrzy.-busine~-~ and .
went P:bspecting. :.. Now after two years spent' a~ay. ir9m ·
my business·- and with. no money, I had to start all' over
again. ·
A builder friend of mine had a large house to -bu~ld
~~ c?ntra?t at-Ar~in~ton Heights •. He wanted me to go
~ th h1.m on this. Job. When this house was completed
I built some houses in Winchester. While I was building
there I had an offer to trade the equity in two houses
for a farm in Groton, Mass. I used to buy and sell
h?uses as well as.build them and sometimes when they
did not- sell readily I would exchange them for other
iroperty. My wife's brother, who worked for me, had
• ;~g-wan~d to run a farm,· so I traded the equity in
t two Winchester houses for the farm in Groton and
iraded the equity in two other houses which I had bought
~e!1:lrose for twelve head of thoroughbred Jersey cattle..
befo ~as. some hay in. the barn left over from the year
i re. -which-I sold and With the money I bought farming
/1..
1
Phl~ments and had my brother-in-law run the farm furb~
us o 1.ung .hii m w.i th t wo h orses to do the work. I wa's very _at_ this t~me building houses, but occasionally I
d spend a day witn.rey- brother-in-law on the ,~~m~.
After two -years my brother. gqt tired of his job and
wanted to go back to carpen.ter work. I sold th~ _farm
for part cash and part tr~de_, mostly trade.
After this I built ·a ,very expensive house for the
former-president of our copper company, Henry W. Jackson,
dealer in doors and windows. While building this
house I got acquainted with a Mr. Driver, who was
trustee for an estate, and in order to get income for
the heirs he decided to build some two-family houses
for rent and I built a number of them for him. ive
bought ·some land in Winchester on which I built a house
for· him:and one for 11\YSelf, which I sold before it was
finished. I built several h.ouses for a Winchest,er
woman by contract.
One day I called at the office of the aforesaid Mr.
Jackson-; ,off.:wtiqm I was .buying· door~; and l(.i.nct.ow.•s. . He
told-fue· .. a.bout:··a·.1arge estate ·in West .Medforq_.that, ~as.
fo:i(·sale that some rea1 es:tate:· ..b rokers was :_trying. to,
sell him. '.Ihis was the fifty acre Brooks estate. J;:··
had ridden by it many a time and admired this beautiful
estate with its broad fieldB of·hay.,and grain~. its four
acres of rare trees, shrubs, an.d flo-wers and sh~dy walks,
its stately mansion, stone·walls lining the s~r,eets on_
two sides of the estate an.d ·the My;sti~ Valley ..P arkwey_ :
on another side skirting :the,:.Yw.sti.c Lakes a,ndJ~tver., .I
used to think if this estate .ever came on the m.μ-ket -~ , ·
what beautiful building lqts.. it would make. Mr. Jack ..
son said if I could find someone to finance this deal
he would go .in with me ·on.it . · I was interested at on.ce.
It was ~lways nzy-ambition·. to develop a large tract of
land; to--lay -it out, :design the houses and build them,
'making ·a:·l ittle .commun-tiy · o.f nzy-own production. Here-:
· was--Iliy ·op--por:tunity:, but.what little money I had WJ~ . . ·
t:ied up-tn-hotises. Mr.0• Jackson's money was tied _up.
in but:t1nes·s.··-How·c an this undertaking be financed?
The,. 'e stats was assessed.for $228,000. W3 could bμy. it
f o~ -~~00 ,_?OO cash •. -.: · ....
...
-One;day·r was talking.to,Mr. Kilgore, who wa~·-dp:i,.qg
al estate business. I mentioned this proposition
a ~im~ He said th~ Eastha.!71pton Savings Bank had
roaned a large sum of. money-on a slate property in
Blanchard, Maine. They_hari to t?-ke thi·s·property over
on foreclosure and had it on their hands and the Bank
Examiner w.as after. them to get -rid of it. They would
finance someJ.arge deal if they could wor.k·this slate.
property in to ~ t. ,. I asked him to get in. tau.ch with
the bank and· see .. what they ~ght do. -He wrote _to the
president of .. the banl~ ~\l_ing him_.~bout the-mat~r. . ..
\o.e tried ·to get an_ op,tion on the··purchase. of this es- ·.
tate bu.t tpe .he:Lrs who ,had the selling of it wqu+d riot .
give us one,.· They said.·whoe__ver would come ·to tlleni with
the cash f:j_rst q.9\lld have the· property. This made the.,
transactiqn dif!_i cult n,ot being sure of get ti~g . tni, . :
property if we were fortunate. enough to get. it finance~~-.
At any rate the president of the bank wrote back .he ···
would like to l)l3et us and talk the matter over. The
appointrnent._was· ,l'!l!),det.>9 meet at the Lenox Hotel. i.n.
Boston,~.'., We .. met the ·q~k president, Mr. Pitcher·,. ti\~re
and after a six, course _dinnet paid for by him, we retired
to a room to talk the matter over and get down
to business •.. W~ ,stated the case to him exactly as it : :
was-- the amount we:could buy it for and the amount of.
money we woμld neE;id• .-_He ~~w all about this estate._,for
he lived.n~ar t,here. when he_ ·was·-a boy. He seemed .to .. ·
be favorably impre s.se d with the situation. He said he
would take the proposition to the bank and see what they
might do about it.. ·
The bank made a searching investigation into the
~v~s, the business career; _the honesty, the_c~pab11i
ty and trustworthine ss c;>fM r. Jackson and nzy-self .
E~idently they were sa~isfied with the results of this
investigation .f,or they made the following proposition:
they wouJ.,d:.loan us $11.6 ,000-- $100,000 in. cash and turn
over all. ·the,· stock in · the slate· quarry company for the
?alance, $45,,ooo.·W. e _asked for $10 ,ooo more as an aid
in the development of ttze estate ~d they gave it,
taking a mortgage in the' estate-·for $155,000. The
broker who sold ti\e esJate .ftfr' the Brooks heirs re.cetve4·
a comm1&s1.on of $5000 and· divided it with us~· Likewise':
Mr: Kilgor: -7eceiv:d a commis~ion_ fr'oin the· b~k of'_ $~0·00
~uch he di·1,1ded-with us~ making $15,000' for·deve~<?Pllieht 1
purp·oses. We fo:nned a company,·taking Mr. ·Kilgore··1n
with us, the \tkst- Medford Real Estate Trust. To this
company was the property deeded and· this C?rnpany gave
th.e mortgage to the ·bank, after the bank's attorney ~ent
a whole week••in examining the title. T'ne bank officials
their attorney·,_ the Brooks heirs with their attorney, Mr'.
Jackson, and rey-self met at the Registry of ·Deeds in East
Cambridge to-pass the papers·on the deal; 1'1:r.J ackson
and• myself· signed th'e mortgage as trustees~ the bank.:gave
us-another check··for·$10,ooo and turn·ed over all the···
stock in·.·the Moose Head National Slate "company.· ··Tfiefr i.
ventory of.this slate property, outside;·th~·1an:ci·•~4 :,:,,
slate·· gave the value civer $50 000. ·· '. : · ··' · · · ·· ., ..
' ... ,-: !.••: '.";••.· •,• ,•••.. :, : ,.:' .: '•.~•,••I • .,'i:: ' ,,.~; •;
The:rie was· a·m ill for preparing''tlies·l ate ·for· ·markJt,·
a larg~-,:building all well·equipped witn ·enjine and . _·-·.: ~.
maeh-ine·ry. It had one of tlfo· 1a.rgest_ rubb~r:ig ·beds ·e\;er ·
cast, everything in running orde_r, ie.acly t'J···he operated
any time. There wre a nun1ber·'of houses on :·the property
two-family and single hou's'es' a1i :furnished_fo f' the help~
even a private post office alt equ:it>pe·a· an·drtt rnished -~-with
individual- letter boxes/·· Thfs plant· was~h ut dot~r{
on account of a landslide eaus:i:n_·igt large ·aerrick to'.be..:
buried in the pit where -the ·s_lat:ew: as quarriect. ~- ·.: ::y . :·:.
. . • • , ~ r · 1 . : · ,, · • 1 ~ .: •• • • ! t.. · • ',;: , ·· : : .• • • '
I had all I could do in the developmenit ·of the estati
at W3st_ Medford and had no time to put to _the slate property.
0 q,ye. niTed Mr., Ki:lgor~. to find a ·':e1fstomer'·for· the
property.: but ·-the neare·st he':came to getting a cd~tomer .
fo!,' ;i.t, was, a·-dea1- h(f:niade_0 with Barrett .i~ufacturing :_-'.Comp~
y; ....· They,a·: -sk~d'f dr:_ an option on it, which we:_'g_~~~
and l'or· which··:they' p~id. ij._s::'$1000. They thought they·_:·
could use: the-pulve:dzed'slate to coat their asph_alt ··
shingles~· 'After -a year: ?Jf ·e_xperimen ting they could n~t
make•-it·-wo-rk and gave- •it up~ Thei:e were over eigpty' _-_
tons of- coal ·and many ·'cords. of wood ready f-or use·o·t i-'._. .
the property) mich we:· sold at a good price. · We hifed ..
a matr-t-o·:lo. ok after the .. property but he prov1:fd f~ls~:~,.,
f{e evidently sold out the whole _work~ or let some one
teal it, for the machinery disappeared, the buildings
~re taken down and_ carted awa;r _11tnil there was nothing
left but the land with some .timber on .. it, a gaping pit
filled with water and a mountain of refuse slate and
shale_ •. Woodsmen ev~n sta_rted to cut the timber, but
t<Jere de·te cted in time and were made to pay for what they
had cut~. Later on w:e sold the land with the timber. In
all we probably received not over $3500 for this property
for which w~-adqed to the mortgage of _the ~st Medford
estate $L5,900 with interest at fiye- pE:ircent, which eventually
cost us nearly $70,000 which was taken from the
profits made on the sale of houses and land on the West
Medford, estate.
,· J1eaford· did. not have a good name as .a re_siden tial
. cornrm,mity at·. the time we started. to develop this property.
· We had· .to make our own way by ac:ivertis~ng and
by building res_tricted, substantial,. conveniently,
arranged.and.~t1stically desig~ed houses, -seli~ng them
.·on the low side of reasonable prices, which we :were
able· to do by sagi,lcious plann;i,ng, strict attE;ln.tion to
, business, long hours_ of unstin_ted labor six day.s a week
and on holidays. No work or busine 9s on Sundays.- I
had'.ri1any calls for appointments on Sundays but I always
told customers and prospectj,.ve customers I would •.meet
them any week day, any hour in _the day or night, but
not on Sunday. I1YS' undays were spent at church and with
my family.
I have only praise and best wishes for the Easth?
1'1pton Savings Bank, for they helped us generously
W1 th funds to finance our building project. All I had
to do was to te 11 them I had a house on a certain lot
in process of construction and wanted a loan of so many
dollars. They sent me a mortgage to sign and return to
them. As soon as they received it they would ~ail a
check for the full amount. I had not to wait for my
• last payment. un ti 1 .the house was completed and thirty~
rie _days after, as is generally. t..J..iec ase with· bank
0ans. · When the house was sold this mortgage was paid
~f. . .
After the building of the streets leading through
this estate, making available 300 house lots, and
building and selling many houses and house lots, and
years spent on this property, the time came when we
were .able to make the final payment on this $155,000
mortgage. The money was paid and the mortgage discharged.
The Easthampton Savings Bank gave Mr. _Jackson
and myself an urgent inv.i,tation to a bank celebration
they were having. They. saic;l if_ we would Gome
to it they would give us the bigge~t time l_ole ev~r had.
Mr. Jackson was busy and did not want to go; so· we
missed that big time.
Near the close of the development of this estate.
my son Lester and myself formed the partnership of
George W. Woodland and San.- Fqr tl_renty y~ars we ·designed
and built many houses covering .many citfe.s and
towns, Arlington, Winchester, Jvi3dford, _Malden, Melrose,
Marblehead, Nahant and Weston. -_Practj,cally all. the_._
houses ·and buildings I have built I n_ot only _designed
the most of them, I laid out the work.in fraroi~g them,
levelling the sills, making tlle- marks for the men to
work by and foremaning the job. As we1=,l as using the
square and pencil, I used the saw and hammer, put up
the stair carriages, put together the door and winqow
frames, prepared the material for the outside trim ready
to be nailed on, and many other parts of the work. I
always feel that part of myse'lj was put into- each building.
This is only an outJ,ine of my -business experience.
There .. is much to be re1,1d.between .t~e- lines. There have
been times when real estate has gone begging for purchasers
. and _finding none. There was a time lben Melrose
"!as full of. vacant houses, nobody wanted to buy and fell
-~anted rents.- . A _certain savings bank which had loaned
heavily on real estate in Malrose was foreclosing their
mortgage and selling the property for much less than
the inortgage. · It has been said they dropped $750,000.
Among the money loaners Melrose was rated a poor risk.
I had two houses I could not get sold for they were
rtgaged and the interest was eating up any profit.
~o finally traded the equity in them for four pianos
at $600 each, and these pianos I could not sell only
t give-away prices. The broker who made the deal took
~e for his commission~ I sold two for $175 each and
I still have the other one. Any business man at times
will meet with loss and discouragement, rut honesty,
praYer. an~ fai t~ will win out. I have al:vays been optimistic
in buSl.ness deals. I always believed you have
to ta..~e risks in order to make gain. Nothing risked,
nothing gained •.
In the yea:r 1920, shortly after the ending of the
First World War, there was a lull in business. People
were uncertain about the financial situation. I started
to build two houses in West Medford.. I called. at
the Medford City Hall to sign for the water service
connection for the houses •. The man in charge just looked
straight at me for a few seconds, then he said, ·11Have
you gone crazy to build houses at ~uch a time as this?"
I sold one of the houses before the first floor was on
at the price of $7500 for the complete house, and before
the house was finished I was offered $9000 for it,
for there started a real estate boom that lasted over
ten years, prices advanced sharply and houses sold
readily.
I person.ally believe in the capitalistic system and
free trade government. It goes with~ut.saying ours.is
~he best country on earth. Any young man with average
intelligenc.e can make a success in business if he ·selects
a business that is suited to his liking and is
w:i.ll~ng to spend long hours at hard work if ne.ed be, use
economy on personal spe_nding, give generously to worthy
causes, and mind his own business. The sane mind will
not shun work, ~.or work is a blessing_ to mankind and can
an~ should be made a pleasure, for it is a beneficial
Prl'Vilege not only in earning the means to feed and
clothe t.ne body but for the peace and tranquillity of
~~ul and mind. · w-io enjoys nature and the things of this
lfe and gets _the most satisfaction in life, the man
( so to speak) born with a silver spoon in his mouth and
comes heir to millions of dollars, who traverses the
country in his Rolls-Royce and sails the waters in his
expensive -yacht and maintc:.::ins an estate of many acres
with well cared for walks, fountains, swimming pools,
gardens of gorgeous flowers and shrubbery and a mansion
to live in, or his chauffeur who drives his car, his
boatswain who sails his yacht, or his gardener who keeps
his grounds in order, cultivates his flowers and shrubbery,
mows his lawns? I think the ones· that do the work
They may go home tired in body but they have accomplished
something. '!heir minds are at rest and· th·eiI' sleep will
be sweet.
Ah, to_ build, to build:
· ·That is the noble st art · of all· the arts,
painting and sculpture are but images, are 'merely
shadows cast by outward things on stone·
or canvass, having in themselves no seperate .
existan ce. Architecture existing in itself. • and
not in seeming a soroothing it is not,-surpasses
them as substance shadow. ·. Longfe-llow.·
, : ..
It is interesting to see the planted seed springing
forth, and to watch its daily growth, first ·the. bla4e, ·
then the ear, then the full corn in the ear~.. Just, so
with building. Nothing ·gave me more pleasure than to
take r:zy-blueprints, spread them o,it beside a pile o_f
lumber, _lay the timbers on the sawhorses, take my, steel
square, pen.cil and the ten-foot pole, measure off the
length, and mark where and how to saw them to conform
with the bl~eprints, fitting them together to make a.
structure and watch it grow from day to day, first. th~
skeleton, then the rough covering, then the completed
stately. bui+diQ.g. It gives me pleasure today, my.' age
in the tenth decade, as I walk by"·btiildings I have designed-
and .built over sixty-eight years ago, .t.o . .look
these over and see·, after their. defiance of ·winds, sno~
and rain thes_e· many years, how they stand four-square,
st-ately,· plumb .and true, and· will last many years -to_
come. I consider the hours·or· toil I put into them. and
el they are a part of me. In the mining business,
;;en you finish, all you have to show is a hole in the
round filled ~th water; in the insurance business- all
g ou have to show is some printed forms; in the lumber. .
~d pulpwo_od_b. usi~es~ ~11 you have. to show is. a depleted,
brush covered, uninviting forest; ·1n the banking business
you have· only bank notes, stocks and bonds. hidden in
strong iron and cement vaults. In building you are erecting
monum~nts to your skill that will be useful to,
and appreciated by mankind while you live and many_ years
after. you are gone.
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