"Once Upon a Time in Waterville..."

Just a few tidbits of the many stories swapped at yesterday's Oldtimers' Story Hour at the Library. There are usually twenty to thirty folks on hand and once storytelling starts, it just doesn't stop 'til the library closes!

Once upon a time there was a fire on Union Street - now Babbott Avenue - and villagers rushed to join the "bucket brigade." The fire was successfully extinguished; the property-owner was grateful, but the fire chief's letter to the enthusiastic citizenry asked that, "next time, please don't throw the buckets into the fire along with the water!"

Same scenario: a Hooker Street (E. Bacon Street) barn was aflame and a small well house threatened. Buckets were brought, along with any other containers that would hold water, including old milk cans, and fire fighters divided their efforts between barn and well house. All was going well until the watery contents of one rusty milk can hit the flames, and that was the end of the well house! Apparently, the container had once held gasoline. (Oooops!)

(Both stories courtesy Jack Youngs, who also remembered this........)

In days not-so-very-long-ago, village youths walked or rode eastward along White Street (right in front of his house!) to cool down in the reservoir on hot summer days. Well, Jack had a pretty good idea where they were heading; he followed; and for quite a few years the young trespassers spent the rest of their vacation applying paint to village hydrants - without pay.

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About forty years ago, the late Hilda Barton took me to Sangerfield to tour one of the very earliest frame buildings in the community - the "Sangerfield Exchange." At that time it was an antique shop operated by Ruth Allison and it was jam-packed, floor to ceiling, with dusty "treasures" of every description.

There was one open spot, however, and after having been shown the extraordinary width of boards in floors throughout the 18th century building and the brick oven in the old kitchen and the beautifully-shaped banister, it was to that open spot that the ladies led me. It was in the first room on the left just inside the front door - the ancient bar room. Hilda and Ruth stood on the sides of the open spot and told me to look at the floor where a large, blackish stain spread out on the worn and dusty wood.

A blood stain, they said, created during a baroom fight when a "Mr. Locke" had either caused someone else to bleed in great profusion or - I never could remember which - Mr. Locke had unintentionally created the stain, himself.

In the many years since that day, with both ladies long gone, I've asked if anyone else knew the story ----------- none! And I really began to think that I must have dreamed the entire incident....

................... until a week or so ago when Kristen Strohmeyer sent me an Email asking if I knew anything about an 1850 stabbing in a tavern in Sangerfield!

"Yes! Yes!" I replied!

(Thank You, Kristen!!)

In perusing old upstate newspapers online, she had come upon complete coverage of the three-day trial in 1851 of one Benjamin Button (how curious is that!) who was found guilty of fatally stabbing to death an Edward Locke in Bennett's Tavern in Sangerfield. The fight had begun with fisticuffs and Mr Button appeared to be getting the worst of the bargain when suddenly he was seen with knife in hand, and he lunged at Locke's midsection. The description of the resulting wounds lacked no detail: Locke's "insides" were suddenly observed to be on his outside and 'though Dr. Preston was summoned to put things back in place (which he claimed to have done, finishing up with two or three stitches) and the young man was transported to his father's house (currently the Bishton residence on Route 20) the victim soon expired - not surprisingly - from loss of blood.

I asked the "oldtimers" if anything of that sort had ever happened in the village, and the reply came in a growing chorus of chuckles from the back row: apparently George Kelley, Jack Youngs and Kas Von Matt were all thinking of the same story at the same time.

The event happened, like so many others, on "Hooker Street," on a brutally cold winter night with "Mr. A" coming home earlier than usual and discovering (of course!) "Mr. B," all nice and cozy ...... and so forth and so on! "Mr. A" wasted no time in ejecting "Mr. B" from the house and into the cold night without even giving the fellow time to put his clothes on.

The snowplow crew discovered - or uncovered - him, yet again, the next morning. Too late. No charges were ever filed.

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Sometimes unusual, even surprising courtesies have been shown to guilty parties who, in other communities, might have been immediately handcuffed, hobbled and hauled away.

In one instance, a person who had made a full confession in front of legal counsel, clergy and police of having committed a murder was allowed to go to his home for the night, unescorted, with the understanding that he would return, voluntarily, in the morning. He did.

When another person - we'll call him "Mr. C" - became physically abusive to his wife one morning, she called the police. They came and he was ushered directly to the back seat of the police car. As the vehicle was exiting the village to go northward, Mr. C said to the officers, "Would you stop at the minimart and get me some coffee and a doughnut? I haven't had any breakfast, yet!" And they did.

It seems that there is no bottom to the well of memories that come to the surface every other Friday, and - thanks to the Waterville Public Library - these gatherings will continue into the Fall! (and Yes - we will be returning to the morning schedule!)

Next gathering: Friday, August 7th at 4:30

Start-off topic: Hop Picking!