William Roberts [1843-1913 ]                                         
                His mother warned him that he could catch a cold after he got his whiskers shaved and a Haircut.
                                                This photos was taken after he got his hair cut in Waterloo, IA.
                                                        Photo Courtesy of Polly Carmichael

Often I drive from Saco Street in Westbrook, Maine for a three mile distance across  Route 25 in Gorham. I am thinking about this road as William Roberts, an ancestor of mine who wrote a lifetime’s worth of diaries that spanned from 1867-1913. He lived on Saco Street near present day Eisenhower Road and traveled this road to visit his sister, Mrs, Randall [Frances] Elder. Frances lived across the road from the municipal building in Gorham in a farm built by the Elders in the late 1700’s. This farm was burned in 2002 by Gorham FD. I am interested in this stretch of road as I believe that there is not much today that William would recognize.     

            As he is traveling down Saco Street, heading for Gorham, he passes the Old Conant Place which is still occupied by descendants of the original family. The next familiar home is the house was most recently occupied by Century 21 Real Estate, formerly the Dewitt Manor, and originally owned by the Rines family. A half mile down the road is the Mosher Farm which is on the corner of the road which heads to Sebago Lake and Route 25. Today Beal’s Ice Cream is across the street from Mosher Farm. The Old Richardson Place is the next recognizable farm today that William traveled past on this stretch of road. There are no trees on this road that were here when William was alive. In fact the whole population of the world has changed nearly twice since his birth in 1843.

            He was one of seven siblings with six reaching adulthood. He lived in the same house nearly all his life. The world that William lived in was a different world in many ways. Farmers were tied to agriculture, watched the seasons, annual waterfall, and the heavens were watched closely. Everyone knew how to use their animals to help with labor, from using horses to help with lumber and getting it out of the woods, to using oxen to help move buildings.Chopping wood, tending crops, harvesting hay which took all of August, consumed a great deal of time. William even grafted trees and did so for  man named Skillins down by Long Creek in South Portland. Life was filled with chores, family duties, and there was little idle time. Each Sunday, William attended Church, sometimes twice and usually two denominations. Reading the newspaper and visiting were also reserved for Sundays. Superstition was not uncommon. The infant mortality rate was very high. My family had an antidote for scarlet fever, and smallpox and other ailments. One of the ingredients was foxglove. Neighbors and family relied on each other because that was how they survived. Life was very slow indeed.

            It is fascinating that he wrote his diaries with the intent that one day someone would read them as he left us a window to his life. Reading the diaries was not comparable to reading a book, as a book is much faster. As I read, I had to remind myself that he did not know what his future held, or what hardships lay in store for him: He did not know the ending. It was just like life, however if I wanted to look ahead to reference a death date, I usually became upset afterwards because I really should not have read ahead as I felt like it was as if I wanted to know my own future. One example was when his friend Sylvanus S. Hatch, a new father, lost his baby at the age of three months.. I had an emotional attachment to the characters in William’s story and it brought a tear to my eye.

William was most interested in world events, having gone Westward twice in his life. Written on Sept . 5th, 1869-Waterloo, IA, “ Didn’t go to meeting but read some in the Bible. Went up to where the bridge went off and saw two horses come near to drowning that they both died .” Once he wrote in his diary bout the huge Fire in Boston in 1872. Within a week he went to Portland and boarded a boat with his brother John [Both men served 9 month voluntary enlistments in 25th Maine Co. E, Civil War- 1862-63] While on this trip , he visited his friend George Browne from Westbrook, who was admitted to the hospital in Boston, before William left for Portland. In fact, William wrote that he accompanied George to the hospital. George died a few days later from Smallpox. His body was sent back to Westbrook for burial in Saccarappa Cemetery and the grave overlooks Beaver Pond. William writes that he becomes concerned he may have Smallpox as he is not feeling right. He starts off with an excruciating headache from the back of the head and he calls the doctor. The doctor is not sure he has Smallpox but confirms later as the headache is followed with severe vomiting. The diary entries were empty for two weeks or so and then he begins to feel better. He details how his mother also comes down with Smallpox and she survives. On Jan. 3rd, 1873, William wrote,

“ We washed some of our Smallpox clothes. Father did most of it but Mother and I helped a little and Charley helped hang them out”  [Charley was his brother who married Ella Whitney in later years and  moved to Edes Falls Road in Harrison.]

William’s diaries detail his time as Overseer of The Poor one year. The Poorhouse was also on Saco Street next to the John Roberts’ farm. He tells how one person at the Poorhouse was sent back to Canada at the town’s expense of a few dollars. He was very curious about people from different nations. He wrote of working side by side with a Frenchman and once wrote of meeting a  ‘Prussian by birth’ on one of his trips out West. His world was changing very fast. I know he marveled at his changing world but not sure he knew the full extent of how the Industrial Revolution and the Westward Expansion [Manifest Destiny] would change the world around him. Reading the paper once a week is so much different than being bombarded with images 24/7 on television, radio, and the internet. Our ever changing world could be a cause of more anxiety.  I am not sure we can keep up with all the stimulation.

The diaries have revealed more family clues than I ever imagined I would find. I have found ancestors in Australia, relatives on the West Coast and even the whereabout of William’s father’s sister, Harriet who was age seven in the census of 1820. One diary entry mentioned he had witnessed a man named Gustin digging up the remains of Uncle Otis’s wife[above mentioned Harriet] and child in 1888. She had been dead for 40 years. Her daughter had been eighteen months at death. The remains were buried in Saccarappa Cemetery overlooking the ravine. I was fortunate to find the burial location and an early transcription which had dates as the dates were illegible when I finally found it.

   One day, a diary entry gave a vivid description of his cousin Daniel Dole driving his wagon hurriedly from Stroudwater [near the burial ground], anxious to get some help as his father ,Moses Dole, had shot himself. William left his duties on his farm to assist his cousin’s family for two weeks, noting that Uncle Moses was buried two days after the incident. I am not sure if it was accidental or not. He also helped  care for his sick nephew for three weeks at his sister’s home on Beckett Street, Munjoy Hill which is now O’Brien Street. He went where he was needed. William’s father Charles worked until he was nearly 92 years, cutting trees and doing heavy manual labor. One article said he cut and stacked six cords of wood in one day as he was an expert ax man and skilled with a saw. Concerning Charles’ old age, William wrote, “Father is in bed with old age” Charles never sat alone at night during this time, as family and friends kept vigil by his bedside for three months. William recorded all their names.He wrote of his wife having a stroke and could not move in her bed. The doctor came and told him that she would be dead in two days. The doctor was right. She died at home. William’s world is gone but I am fortunate to be a witness to his diary entries he left behind.