https://www.omekaclassic4.nhlibraries.org/files/original/2e7a18fd3351f3933fbe002696fb5f3d.pdf 6707d5c5a4383a2a41af82e892aeff94 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour Subject The topic of the resource Troubadour Description An account of the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour was a publication of the State of New Hampshire's State Planning and Development Commission in Concord, NH from 1931-1950s. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The State of New Hampshire Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The State of New Hampshire Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1930s-1950s Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource NHSL Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource State of New Hampshire Troubadour PDF files of the Troubadour OCR OCR of the Troubadour .:.. :!;■ The New Hampshire Troubadour COMES TO YOU EVERY MONTH SINGING THE PRAISES OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, A STATE WHOSE BEAUTY AND OPPORTUNITIES SHOULD TEMPT YOU TO COME AND SHARE THOSE GOOD THINGS THAT MAKE LIFE HERE SO DELIGHTFUL. IT IS SENT TO YOU BY THE STATE PLANNING AND DEVELOPMENT COMMISSION AT CONCORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE. FIFTY CENTS A YEAR ANDREW McC. HEATH, Editor volume xviii November, 1948 number 8 THE HARVEST SUPPER Ly $utk & Diefd The Town Hall windows are ruddy and bright, The Harvest Supper will be held tonight. Such a hustle and bustle and smiles of cheer, The country folk gather from far and near To partake of rich, deep chicken pie, Hot rolls and butter — oh me — oh my — Salads and pickles and food galore — You eat until you can hold no more. And when you are feeling quite inert, The good wives, beaming, bring on dessert. Pumpkin pies, mince pies, rich fruit cake — You eat some more though you get an ache — And then, upstairs, you hear the strains Of the fiddle, and promptly forget your pains. So you whirl and bow and "docey doe." And waltz a bit with the lights turned low. You forget your woes, know joy and mirth — Rub elbows with the salt of the earth At the Harvest Supper with the Hayshaker Band - Where you dance and dine on the fat of the land. — From Joe Harrington's column, "All Sorts," in Boston Sunday Post New Hampshire Troubadour 3 A NOVEMBER RAMBLE AT WARNER bu {/[/it far a LDe cJLiie in the Boston Globe I was walking up another hill, to get a closer look at Kearsarge Mountain, when I met an elderly gentleman coming down the road. "When the weather's clear," said he, in answer to my question, "you can see the mountain from the top of the rise there . . . but I think we're going to get a storm." He looked away then, not to the north where the mountain lay, but into the west. Just below us, across a near slope filled with the bare candelabra of the sumacs and lighted by a hundred gay red flower-flames, lay the deep, narrow valley of the Warner River. Rugged hills were massed across the valley — the Mink Hills, the man said they were — and clouds were rolling in over them. "And what is this hill we're on?" I asked. "Tory," said he. "Tory Hill." But of the name's origin he wasn't so sure. "Some old families," he said vaguely. I have since learned that in Revolutionary days a couple of families on the hill were not too enthusiastic over the war. They were pacifists, I gather, rather than real Tories; and in later years they joined the peace-loving Shakers. But fine distinctions are rarely made when tempers run high, so the Tories weren't popular with their patriotic neighbors. Warner people have always been quick to offer themselves in every time of public need — as a war monument in the village, right where this road begins, tells each passer-by. The bronze figure of Warner-born Gen. Walter Harriman, Civil War leader and later New Hampshire Governor, stands on the top of it; but the memorial itself is to Warner men of all wars up to the Spanish — 4 The November 7948 Autumn scene at Goffsiown. HAROLD ORNE and you'll find it supplemented by a World War I tablet on the nearby Town Hall, and a later Honor Roll in front of it. I had come up to Warner from Contoocook — traveling a back road that dodges highway traffic for about two miles. It is not a very pleasant road at first, because of a wide clearing slashed beside it for power lines. But eventually the wires swing off, and rocky pasture lands appear, and stretches of young woodlands — and the road becomes a happier place as it journeys among the trees. Have you ever noticed how fresh and brilliant the pine trees seem when the brighter greens of the hardwoods are gone, and the first early snows have not yet shielded the drabness of the roadsides? In spring and summer pines are dark on road and hill — but m a wmter-touched November day they seem gay, and give a youthful touch to the somber garment of the grizzled year. New Hampshire Troubadour 5 When I had got out to the main road, a young man drew up to give me a lift. "I've got to go to Boston myself," he said, when he learned where I came from. "Got to get my leg fixed." "Having trouble with it?" He reached down below his knee, and rapped. "Artificial," he said. "War?" He nodded. "E.T.O.," he said, simply. I thought of him again when, after he'd let me out in the village, I stood before the honor roll at the town hall. Warner's central village is strung out along the valley, where the highway runs above the river. "It's the Warner River," the young veteran had told me, "but I think there's another name to it." Duck hunting east of Manchester. WESLEY M. KRETSCHMER ^%* It was once called the Almesbury (which is perhaps what he had in mind); and the town bore that name, too. "Old No. 1 — 1735" the Warner welcoming sign reads — and Township No. One it was, legally, in those early times. But the first comers were largely from Amesbury, Mass., and they called their new home after the old one. But, somehow, it came out with an "L" in it. New Almesbury the town remained in popular parlance until the present name * was adopted in 1774. It is a busy place, this town — "Lots of business here," I was told — and it has several stores, a bank, a high school that serves neighboring towns, and the Pills-bury Free Library, given years N In honor of Golonal Johnothan Warner of Portsmouth. - - Ed. The November 7948 ago by Charles A. Pillsbury, the flour man of Minneapolis, who was born here and began business in his father's Warner grocery store. Another of the Pillsburys became a Governor of Wisconsin. Incidentally, Warner has also a third Governor to its credit, but I haven't his name at hand. Down by the Warner River a saw whines, and a plume of steam rises, above busy woodworking mills; and across the stream is the ski slope and tow where winter activities are centered. I can see the "slope" as I stand today on Tory Hill again. It is a later day than that in which I met the elderly gentleman on the hill; and the storm that he predicted has come and gone. The "slope" is whitened by the first light snow . . . and there are touches of white here on Tory Hill. And when I go up again to the topmost rise, Kearsarge Mountain lies out ahead with the morning sun bright on it. Its summit glitters. White snowfields are on its flanks. O lift thy head, thou mountain lone, And mate thee with the sun! apostrophizes Edna Dean Proctor; and her wish is come to pass here today. Kearsarge is not a high mountain, but it stands apart from its neighbors, bold and bright and impressive. This is the original Kearsarge, and is not to be confused with the North Conway peak that is properly Pequawket. The Warner mountain gave its name to the U. S. S. Kearsarge of Civil War fame. A boulder from its slopes, given by the townspeople, is the base for a tablet at the grave of Rear Adm. John A. Winslow, commander of the Kearsarge when she sank the Confederate warship Alabama. He is buried at Forest Hills. From Tory Hill I look off at the mountain, which once I had climbed and had hoped to again. It is no climb at all, for there's been a carriage road up it since the 1870's. But this is no time for mountaineering. So, with a last look, I turn back to town. New Hampshire Troubadour 7 AMONG THE GREAT OF THE GRANITE STATE bu /4. cJJuane S^auireSj J^h. JJj. Colby Junior College I. LEWIS CASS (October 9, 1782-June 17, 1866) Just a century ago, in November, 1848, the Democratic party nominated Lewis Cass for the presidency. He was unsuccessful in that quest, but it was only an incident in the long and noteworthy career of this remarkable son of New Hampshire. Lewis Cass was born at Exeter in the same year as Daniel Webster. He attended Exeter Academy in company with young Webster, and many times in his later life crossed the path of that other distinguished Granite State native. In early manhood Cass went to Ohio and participated gallantly in the War of 1812. Following this conflict he was named Governor of Michigan Territory, and for seventeen years held that office. In the course of his administration he visited every nook and corner of his vast domain which, in the early days, in addition to Michigan as we know it, comprised most of Wisconsin and Minnesota as well. That famous Minnesota tourist attraction, Cass Lake, was named by Henry R. Schoolcraft in honor of one of Governor Cass's inspection trips there in 1820. President Andrew Jackson appointed Cass Secretary of War in 1831, and later "Old Hickory" named him American Minister to France. He was chosen U. S. Senator from Michigan in 1845, and was Secretary of State under President Buchanan from 1857 to 1860. Although almost eighty years old when the Civil War began in 1861, Cass was actively interested in the course of the conflict, and was often called upon for advice and counsel. Lewis Cass manifested in politics many of the qualities which we 8 like to think of as characteristic of New Hampshire: devotion to public service without thought of personal gain; intense loyalty to the national welfare as opposed to the merely sectional or local; self-control, humor, and hard work. He was a man who should be emulated in our generation. THE NEW SETTLERS by ^-Menry //. ^tndreivd, /4r. During the long winter months when of necessity we pursue a livelihood far away from our New Hampshire farm we try to keep in touch with the countryside and the people of the beloved summer The New Hampshire Highway Department takes pride in the recently completed highway at Meredith, shown above (looking south), which by-passes the business section and eliminates a railroad crossing. Skirting the shore of Meredith Bay, it gives the motorist a beautiful view of Lake Winnipesaukee, and saves him at least four minutes' driving time. PAUL s. OTIS WENDAY View from Bow. months. The Troubadour helps more than a little, occasional letters from neighbors and other tidings of the hills drift in and are all welcomed. But a short time ago in a weekly newspaper we read with a mingled feeling of hurt pride and partial admission of justice a denunciation of the summer throngs who lightly invade the granite hills each summer. All sorts of folks live year 'round on the farms near ours and all sorts pour in for their few weeks of freedom from spring to fall, and even winter now. There are some of these vacationers that we meet on the lake shores, at country auctions, or along the roads who still look on the hill folks as remnants of a curious rural age. We're not proud of this minority any more than the old New Hampshire-men who always see through the veneer of their false city culture. And by contrast I am reminded of some of our summer-farmer friends in Sanbornton—and any other of dozens of towns would tally to the same account. One blustery day a few years ago the Parkers from down Boston way trudged up the steep hill to the old place that Robert Hunkins Jr. built in the very early years of the 10 The November 1948 last century. His father, a founder of one of our first families in town, arrived in 1788 to clear the unbroken forest and build a home for his young wife and growing family. But after more than a century and a quarter of honest wear Robert, Jr.'s home was just another nearly-deserted farm — broken windows, a leaky roof, and all that goes with the beginning-of-the-end for a hill farm. It was a spark of family life that had been nurtured into a glowing flame so long ago, but now just another dead load on the town's tax books. The restoration of this place, creating new beauty while holding the mellow patina of the decades needs no detailed elaboration. With sweat and toil it was fashioned into a living thing again where children play in the shade of old apple trees and fish in a nearby brook. It is not an especially unique story and the fact that another crumbling farm has been saved from oblivion and that a city man provides his family from his own garden — even these do not come quite to the point. But the love that has gone into this re-creation is as fine as the pioneering spirit of the Hunkins who cleared the pines from the hillsides. When these "new settlers" come with the spirit of a Stark, when they come to add their bit to the grandeur of the hills, to leave a better place than they found, then they have come to stay and they will do credit to New Hampshire. There are those who deplore the passing of the old ways, the farm lands grown to forest again, and the cellar holes by the wayside. There is much that was fine in the New England of a century ago, much in the customs, the morals and plain everyday living that cannot be replaced by any number of modern conveniences. We reached a golden age before the old settlers' families began to turn cityward and westward — but there are more golden ages for New Hampshire, and we summer farmers, or new settlers if you wish, are seeing to it that the old beauty is restored and new ones added. New Hampshire Troubadour 11 WILD RESTAURANTS bu s4ohn vDrevinan Abandoned apple orchards, when they are within or on the edge of wilderness areas, are interesting places in the fall. Almost every kind of New Hampshire game seems to visit them, some for the small scabby fruit that lies on the ground, and some to prey upon the smaller creatures that feast on the apples. Some of the wild orchards are small and consist of a few gnarled trees behind a decaying barn or cellar hole; others cover many acres of rolling sidehill; and there are a few that seem miles in extent because they mark several connected abandoned farms. The forest moves slowly into these orchards, first with briars, hardhack and saplings, and then with big trees that slowly choke out the gnarled apples. There is a favorite wild orchard that I remember well for the variety of game I saw in it one November morning. It occupies several acres of a knoll in a semi-circular valley that is enclosed by high ridges topped with spruce. The sun had not risen above the spruces, and the brown grass was crocheted with frosty cobwebs when I entered the orchard. A cottontail rabbit thumped and streaked off through the hard-hack. I did not shoot, because I had grouse on my mind. When I stooped to examine the apples under the first tree a young coon burst out of a thick place and ran up the knoll and quickly out of sight. A few yards further on a porcupine looked sleepily out of a sapling with stupid black eyes. A little later I heard the unmistakable snort of a deer and caught a glimpse of its white flag as it crashed down off the knoll and toward the timbered ridge. This angered a red squirrel that had been drying apples. Proceeding, I saw a field mouse, two porcupines and a varying 12 The November 1948 hare before nearing a clump of thick pines near the end of the orchard. I had not seen any grouse. An open space with two apple trees just beyond the clump of pines was a likely place and I took care not to make noise as I approached. Suddenly I heard the unmistakable ccquit-quit-quit" of a grouse and the rustle of bird feet on fallen leaves. It sounded like a covey, and I expected them to fly when I stepped out of the pines into the open space. HAROLD ORNE Deer hunters are often favored with early snow in northern New Hampshire. The scene above is First Connecticut Lake, Pittsburg, and Mt. Magalloway. I stepped out, tense, with gun half raised, and looked straight into the eyes of a huge bull elk that stood motionless under an apple tree a few feet away. We regarded each other for a very long minute. It looked as big as a horse. Presently it turned its head away and trotted leisurely off. I heard the sound of at least two other elk,* but the underbrush was too thick to see them. The grouse, five of them, rocketed into the timber, too, before I had enough presence of mind to shoot. On the way back through the orchard by another path I heard but didn't see another cottontail and had a fleeting glimpse of a fox (at least I like to think it was), but there were no more grouse. It's funny how vividly you can remember a hunting trip even though you didn't fire a shot! *The elk were evidently part of a herd that was liberated on the Pillsbury Reservation in Washington, New Hampshire, quite a few years ago. The herd multiplied and spread over a large area in the western part of the state, numbering at one time over two hundred head.—J. B. New Hampshire Troubadour 13 Front Cover: Hunter and dog near Randolph. Color photo by Winston Pote. Back Cover: Early snow on the Presidential Range, seen from Jefferson on the Meadow Road, connecting the Presidential Highway in Randolph with Route 115. The mountains (from the left) are Madison, Adams, Jefferson, and Washington. Photo by Winston Pote. Frontispiece : Methodist Church at Stark in Autumn. Photo by Winston Pote. A second series of short biographical sketches by J. Duane Squires, chairman of the department of social sciences at Colby Junior College, New London, is begun in this issue of The Troubadour. The earlier sketches were on T. S. Lowe, Ada L. Howard, William Ladd, Sarah J. Hale, and Horace Greeley, appearing in issues from October 1942 to April 1943. As many Troubadour readers know, the country is generously sprinkled with New Hampshire ''press agents" of all ages, who lose no opportunity to sing praises of the state. Fifth-grader Paul F. West recently gave the following talk in his classroom at Elmhurst, Illinois: "Driving through the White Mountains of New Hampshire, one sees vast stretches of forest and mountain land. As you pass along the highway you see an area of rock which looks like any other rock until you reach a certain point. There you see in Nature's most luxurious beauty, out of sheer rock, the face of a proud Indian chief. "Passing other beautiful mountains and Profile Lake one sees another similar cliff, and coming around another bend in the road, one sees on the cliff a true-to-life face of a man — the Old Man of the Mountains. "The White Mountains are visited every year by many people. On your next vacation why not see the world's most beautiful mountainous area — the White Mountains of New Hampshire." The New Hampshire roadside improvement contest, in its first year, aroused much interest in the value of and need for beautification along our highways. Contestants not only have improved the appearance of "measured miles" but also have provided such facilities as picnic tables and off-the-road parking strips. Prize winners were as follows: 14 The November 1948 first, Woodstock Garden Club; second, Haven Hill Garden Club of Rochester; third, White Mountain Garden Club of Lisbon and vicinity; fourth, Barrington Garden Club; for best planting work finished, Greenleaf Civics Club of Franconia; for poison ivy eradication, New London Garden Club; for individual effort in planting, Julius Mason of Hanover; for most perfectly kept mile, George Proctor, Wilton; for forestry work, Donald C. Kimball, Franklin. It has been announced that the contest will continue for another year. Prizes are donated by Harold Alexander Ley of Melvin Village, New Hampshire, and of New York. The contest is conducted by a committee which was called together by the University of New Hampshire Extension Service, and it is also sponsored by the New Hampshire State Highway Department and several other agencies. In 1763 General Jonathan Moul-ton, of Hampton, a personal friend of Gov. Benning Wentworth, and a grantee of Moultonborough, hoisted a British flag upon the horns of an enormous ox weighing 1,400 pounds, which he had fattened for the purpose, and with drum and fife ac- New Hampshire Troubadour companiment and a great parade, drove it to Portsmouth as a present for the governor. He refused all compensation, but as a slight token of esteem from so dear a friend, he would accept a charter of a small gore of land he had discovered adjoining Moultonborough. The governor pleasantly had the grant issued. It conveyed to the wily general 26,972 acres of land, now comprising the towns of New Hampton and Centre Harbor. — From History of Carroll County (1889) I have seen references in The Troubadour to Frog Rock, but no pictures. I enclose an old print of this interesting old landmark, which in years past was often the scene of our family picnics. Harold C. Hutchinson, Milford, N. H. Frog Rock at Now Boston DIVIDENDS A "buck" a day is all we're paid But yet this morning in a glade I saw a deer, a pretty thing. Until I started working here Just think, I'd never seen a deer. (Of course I may have seen a few Moping and hoping in a zoo.) Another thing I never knew Is what the smell of pines can do In somehow helping you to find The real resources of your mind — I feel — it may seem odd — We're getting extra pay from God. — By a young man enrolled in a New Hampshire CCC camp during the nineteen thirties. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available State of New Hampshire Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context troubadour111948 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource State of New Hampshire Title A name given to the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour November 1948 Description An account of the resource The November 1948 issue of The New Hampshire Troubadour. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1948 Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant New Hampshire Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource COPYRIGHT UNDETERMINED: This Rights Statement should be used for Items for which the copyright status is unknown and for which the organization that has made the Item available has undertaken an (unsuccessful) effort to determine the copyright status of the underlying Work. Typically, this Rights Statement is used when the organization is missing key facts essential to making an accurate copyright status determination. URI: http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/UND/1.0/ Language A language of the resource eng Subject The topic of the resource Presidential Range (photo) Stark (photo) Churches (photo) Provenance A statement of any changes in ownership and custody of the resource since its creation that are significant for its authenticity, integrity, and interpretation. The statement may include a description of any changes successive custodians made to the resource. New Hampshire State Library