Likes2Write

Almanac Anecdotes

2008-11-28T00:50:16Z

Some of these anecdotes came from an almanac dated 1855.

Lightning- According to Mr. E. Merriam, of New York, a distinguished scientific writer and practical philosopher, a person struck by lightning should not be given up for dead until at least 3 hours. The first 2 hours, the person should be drenched thoroughly with cold water. If this fails in restoration, then add salt and continue for another hour of drenching.

Here are a few interesting items about education and money.

Average income in 1855 for each person in Europe and the United States.
England-20cents per day
Ireland-eight cents per day
France-fourteen cents per day
United States-In the most industrious states about 30 cents per day-Average for whole nation is seventeen cents per day

Livestock in the United States-The census of 1850 there was about 600 million dollars worth of livestock in the United States. Their value exceeded that of all manufacturing establishments in the country, and also exceeds the capital invested in commerce, both foreign and inland. [ The Industrial Revolution was in the 1860’s and 1870’s]

Education in the United States- For the free instruction of the people,it seems there are now in the whole United States, in round numbers, 60,000 schools, which are supported at an annual expense of something less than 6 million dollars. More than half of that is expended by the two states of Massachusetts and New York.. In this survey of the common-school facts of the different states, we find little cause for boasting, though much for hope. For though every state in the Union has recognized its duty to see that no child within its borders grows up in ignorance, yet only a few of the states have taken up the subject of universal education with anything like the earnestness which its importance demands. Teachers are ill paid and hence ill qualified; and it is a startling fact that the people of the United States pay half as much every year for the support of their dogs as they do for the education of their children. A well informed man is still a rarity, and multitudes of people ’spell character with a k’ and are ready to affirm that ‘oats is cheaper than they was last year’ [Home Journal 1853-4 ]

Boston was said to be the richest city in the world in proportion to its population in 1853. Each inhabitant was worth $ 1440. if its taxable property was equally divided. By the same rule, each New Yorker was said to be worth half as much, namely $ 584.

According to’ The Boston Traveler’, Boston’s valuation was worth 3 times the State of Maine and a combined valuation of three states combined, New Hampshire, Vermont and Rhode Island.

Here is some wisdom on building houses. Never erect a house after you are five and forty. Have five years income in hand before you touch a brick. Always calculate the expense at double the estimate.

I was most interested in the updated lists of banks with Worthless and Uncurrent Bank Notes. This list was for all of New England. Maine had several. Here is the list.

Worthless-
Agricultural Bank, Brewer
Bangor Bank, Bangor
Bath Bank, Bangor
Castine Bank, Castine
Citizen’s Bank, Augusta
Damariscotta Bank, N obleboro
Exchange Bank, Portland
Frankfort Bank, Frankfort
Globe Bank, Bangor & Portland
Georgia Lumber Co, Portland
Hallowell & Augusta Bank, Hallowell
Kennebunk Bank, Kennebunk
Kennebec Bank, Hallowell
Lafayette Bank, Bangor
Machias Bank
Bank of Old Town, Orono
Passamaquoddy Bank, Eastport
Penobscot Bank, Bangor
People’s Bank, Bangor
Saco Bank, Saco
St. Croix Bank, Calais
Stillwater Canal Bank, Orono
Waldo Bank, Belfast
Washington Co., Calais
Waterville Bank, Waterville
Wiscasset Bank, Wiscasset
Winthrop Bank, Winthrop
Bangor Commercial Bank, Bangor
City Bank, Portland
Citizen’s Bank, Augusta
Megunticook Bank, Camden
Maine Bank, Portland

Uncurrent-
Calais Bank, Calais
Mercantile Bank, Bangor
Westbrook Bank, Westbrook

Also of interest…..
Massachusetts in Miniature- In 1851 there were 34,235 farms in cultivation and 9637 manufacturing establishments.

Snowstorms and Depth of snow for ten years past. This information came from a writer in the Boston Transcript who furnished it to the almanac.
1843-4/ number of storms was 44/depth 7 feet seven inches
1844-5/number of storms was36/depth 3 feet three inches
1845-6/number of storms was 27/depth 3 feet seven inches
1846-7/number of storms was 32/depth 2 feet eight inches
1847-8/number of storms was 27/depth 2 feet one inch
1848-9/number of storms was 27/depth 3 feet one inch
1849-50/number of storms was 38/ depth 2 feet eleven inches
1850-1/number f storms was 28/ depth 3 feet one inch
1851-2/number of storms was 38/ depth 6 feet three and ½ inches
1852-3/number of storms was 20/ depth 3 feet two inches

There was much interesting information about the National Debt which was usually in the 75 million dollar range from 1790’s and was somewhat steady until the Civil War when it reached the 2 billion mark. Maybe this seems like a lot of useless information but it helps to put things into perspective when we can compare to today’s numbers. And of course for any one interested in farming, there is a wealth of information on how to care for your livestock, to rid your crops of pests and how much manure you need for an acre of land…..300 lbs. of guano should suffice.

Almanac Stories

2008-11-27T01:11:29Z

The past few weeks have been spent reading some old farmer’s almanacs from the mid 1800’s. They are full of useful information on being a good farmer. There are anecdotes about being a better person, raising better children, taking care of your orchards, and caring for your animals. I will be inserting some information from these almanacs which I found interesting.

The following was taken from an almanac [Robert B.Thomas was the editor/published in Boston] dated 1853

“The Yankee Boy and His Jackknife”

The Yankee Boy, before he’s sent to school,
Well knows the mysteries of that magic tool,
The Pocketknife.
And in the education of the lad
No little part that implement hath had.
His pocketknife to the younger whittler brings
A growing knowledge of material things;
His elder pop-gun with its hickory rod,
Its sharp explosion and rebounding wad,
His corn-stalk fiddle and the deeper tone
That murmurs from his pumpkin leaf trombone,

Conspire to teach the boy
Thus by his genius and his jackknife driven,
Ere long he’ll solve you any problem given,
Make any gimcrack, musical or mute,
A plough, a coach, an organ, or a flute.

Make It, said I? Ay, when he undertakes it,
He’ll make the thing, and the machine that makes it;
For when his hand’s upon it, you may know
That there’s go in it and he’ll make it go!

By John Pierpont

Later, I will be adding more from these almanacs as they are full of fascinating glimpses into yesterday with wisdom for today. This has been a nice week as I am on vacation. We will be spending Thanksgiving with my sister Carol’s family. It will be nice as all the cousins will be there and the kids will have a rip roaring time while the men try to watch football and the women gather in the kitchen to gab.
I have been busy collecting stories from people who remember the plane crash in Redbank , South Portland, Maine in July 1944. I have been researching archives and staying on target with that project. I hope to have a nice collection of stories for SP Historical in the following months. My sister asked me to see If I could find a way to sell that little drawing I did of Redbank, entitled Greetings from Redbank. She was hoping she could get some postcards. So I decided to put them on a website in the event anyone else was interested. I put the design on mugs, pins, notecards, postcards and stickers. I only marked them up between 1-2 dollars, hopefully making them a unique and affordable item for Redbankers. They can be found at www.cafepress.com/redbankgirl I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving Day with your families.

In Sickness and Health

2008-11-16T22:58:19Z

                    Seldom do I get sick but I have been treated for asthma complications twice in the past month. Both incidents involved having a cold first. I was put on prednisone and later antibiotics. I am still not 100% but getting there. Thankfully, my ten day vacation starts on Friday.
                     I am not the only one who has been under the weather. My husband, youngest son and my oldest son are fighting colds. My oldest son, Michael, needs extra attention to prevent him contracting pneumonia. I frequently use a cough assist on him, sometimes in the night. If you are not familiar with this machine, it is a marvel. It should be a marvel as the cost is equivalent to a car. However, we all know there is nothing worth more than good health. We will do anything to have good health. A cough assist is a machine used on a patient who is unable to cough mucus unassisted from their lungs. It can be compared to the iron lung of yesterday. Today’s cough assist is a small machine, which is portable and has gauges and dials on the front. When it is plugged in, it makes a loud sound like a respirator. It can be a little frightening. There is a long flexible hose that attaches to a face mask and that is attached to the machine. On the gauge is a needle that needs to be completely verticle when the mask is pushed tightly against the mouth and nose. I help Mike with this and I gently hold the back of his neck when I do it. The needle moves to the far right when he inhales and to the far left when he exhales. We continue this five or 6 times and then he coughs on the 6th time. When he coughs, the air which has entered his lungs forces the mucus to come out of his mouth. Then we repeat this about 6 times. It expands his lungs and keeps him healthier.
                    Michael called me at work the other day, having some distress with his coughing. I called my youngest son JT who was 5 miles away at his job. He was able to get to the house and help Mike with a treatment. Mike instructed his brother how to use the machine. The following day, I asked my mom to visit and try a treatment on him as well. She had never tried it, but was happy she learned to use it. I am very thankful to have a supportive family because I need it. I have been very aggressive in his treatment because I don’t want him to land in the hospital with pneumonia. This machine is also used for people with Cystic Fibrosis. The world today has seen much integration between man and machinery. Though I am thankful that Mike has all of this marvelous equipment, ultimately as he gets older, as his own guardian he will decide how much more intervention he wants. The complexities of the world are more than my own mind can handle at times.
                    I have learned to accept many things. It did not come easy to me, almost like doing everything in slow motion with one hand tied behind my back. In the beginning, it was a struggle often to accept my own son’s condition and to see him lose his abilities slowly. I struggle with time management, working full time, being a full time caregiver and trying to meet my own needs as well as the needs of my family. I have had to learn to manage my anger and accept some of it. It is important to me that Mike accepts himself, so I had to also learn that. I would say I have learned the meaning of grace, courage, discipline and sacrifice. My son has been my teacher.
                     It reminds me of a phone conversation with one of my sisters about acceptance. She told me that I have not accepted everything. I said she was correct. I accept things that cannot be helped but those that can be helped, cause me great distress and sometimes anger. Acceptance… I suppose my definition may seem very black and white, but it is my way of prioritizing what is important to me. Yes, I am far from perfect, but I do strive to be true to myself so that I may true to others.

Redbank Plane Crash The Gerrish Family

2008-11-07T00:08:43Z

                    Last year, I interviewed a few people regarding their recollections of the plane crash in their neighborhood in 1944. I wrote a story about the Redbank Plane Crash posted on this blog under the category ‘Redbank Years’. It continues to generate traffic each day. It is fortunate that some have chosen to contact me about their memories, so I have made it my mission to collect as many stories as I can while people are willing to share. I will present the collection to South Portland Historical Society. With permission from select families, I will post some of the stories here for people to read, so the stories are not idle on a shelf after they have been revealed. After all, these stories will soon be lost if someone does not collect them.
                     One woman wrote to me and told me about her father’s brother. His name was Edward Gerrish. Mr. Gerrish and his beautiful family lived in the Westbrook Street Trailer Camp, located at 276 Westbrook Street, in South Portland where the plane crashed that day on July 11th, 1944, simply known as the Redbank Plane Crash. This location today is behind Olde English Village Apartments, at the foot of the hill where the Maine Youth Center overlooks the Fore River. Edward Gerrish was age 32 and his wife Virginia Wescott Gerrish was 26 and pregnant with their fifth child on the day of the disaster. Their oldest daughter was Roberta, age 7, son John [Jack] was age 6, and a daughter Rose was age 4 and the youngest was Marion, age 2 ½. The only survivors that day were two of the Gerrish children who were outside playing at the time, Jack and Marion. They survived, according to their family, with burns and injuries from shrapnel. Later they would be sent to live with relatives. John [Jack] died in 2004. Marion is still living but her whereabouts unknown.
                     They located to South Portland from Orono, Maine. At the time, the economic situation in Orono was not good, so Edward decided to move his family to South Portland for work opportunities. He worked at the Shipyard. His plans to live in South Portland were temporary as he and his family planned to move back to Orono when the economic conditions looked better. They had started construction on a home in Orono. The photo of Edward with his three children was taken in front of Gerrish’s store in Orono, owned by his parents. I was curious as to how families were notified of the disaster especially if they lost loved ones. I was told by Edward’s family that his parents in Orono heard of the plane crash when they tuned into the 11:00 PM news on the radio. Families were supposed to be notified by the American Red Cross prior to the news story, however in Gerrish’s case this never happened. It is difficult to imagine being a great distance from family during such a tragedy with communications and travel being what they were in 1944.
                     There was also another gentleman who was a former police officer from Orono who lived near Gerrish, named Charles Mitchel. The family believed he had a wife and two children and they all survived.
                     Edward Gerrish’s niece scanned these pictures as a way to honor her family who perished that day. When I read her family account, it was ‘real’ to see their faces and to see what a nice little family they were. They could be any family. To see Edward Gerrish holding his children on the storefront steps really compelled me think back to the horror that people witnessed that day. Edward’s brother, Stanley, rarely spoke of his brother, sister –in-law and children who perished. According to his daughter Anne, it was just too painful. A memorial for those who perished in the plane crash may be long overdue, simply because it has never been spoken about by those who experienced it, and those lives lost ended with no memory except to the families and people of the neighborhood who lived with the aftermath. Those who perished survive in snapshots and fragmented memories in the minds of family members who keep their lost loved ones close to their hearts.
                    Neighborhood children, now seniors, perhaps thought they were being bombed, after all it was wartime. Many of them have never spoken of that horrific tragedy they witnessed as children as some of them even lost their classmates. Those seeking to contact me can do so at fiddlinsuz@roadrunner.com

Thank you to Anne Gerrish Mitchem and her mother for their willingness to share their family’s story along with photographs. It was a privilege to tell their story.

roberta,rose and john

The Election

2008-11-06T22:04:44Z

It has been a busy few weeks, with the Election being a priority to many of us. It is nice to see so many engaged and becoming active to make a difference in Washington. I am a Conservative…there I said it. It has been a difficult road to be labeled Conservative, mainly because we have not had the best choice of characters looking out for the best interests of our Country. My belief is that I can take care of myself pretty well and want very little government interference, and want NO handouts. If I knew someone needed a hand, I would be there. It is important to me to spend at least 15 hours per week volunteering. I have done this for years. I bet many never knew Conservatives did this.
Unfortunately, whether Democrat of Republican, most of our leaders hold the status of millionaire and will work hard to maintain that wealth. They seem to have no problem lining their own pockets, at our expense. Capitalism is a great thing, but not when the Commoners are the ones who are being robbed. When our Nation began, the idea of a Monarchy was refused. Today, we have many ‘kings’. They steal from us, and have done far worse than the original 23 crimes which England committed against the Colonies, written about in our Declaration of Independence. Frankly, I am appalled that we have not done more to hold out leaders accountable. With that said, may we all work a little less and enjoy a few of the same benefits that our leaders enjoy. Of course, I do not see any of that in my future, but we can always hope.

Westbrook Treasures on Ebay

2008-10-30T05:34:06Z

Since my family of Roberts’ came from Saco Street in Westbrook, I have always been curious about the Poorhouse also known as the Almshouse. It abutted my family’s property in the late 1800’s. One can move from household to household when searching the 1880 census on www.familysearch.org , which is free. In this census, once you know a family name on Saco Street, as it is not divided by streets online, you are able to see the inmates at the Poorhouse. I would like to share the contents of a letter I recently purchased on Ebay for my personal collection written in 1835. It was one sheet of rag paper folded resourcefully with one section containing the contents of the letter and the rest fashioned into an envelope, complete with address. There was no waste with paper materials. When this was written, Maine was only a State for 15 years. President Andrew Jackson, our seventh President, held office at the time this letter was written. Understandably, I get very excited to find a treasure like this on Ebay.
The letter was addressed to Gentlemen Overseers of the Poor of Bingham, County of Somerset, Main. It had been sealed with red sealing wax. Maine was spelled with no ‘e’. Inside the contents are as follows:

Westbrook September 15th, 1835

Gentlemen,

                      Mrs. Abigail Knight an inhabitant of your town has now become chargeable in this town as a pauper. We conceive it necessary to give you this information that you may order her removal or otherwise provide for her as you may judge expedient. We have charged the expence of her support which has already arisen to your town and shall continue to do so long as we are obliged to furnish her with supplies ~ Mrs. Knight is now at the house of Mr. Saml. A. Proctor in our town at an expence of one dollar twenty five cents per week & information we rec’d by Mrs. Proctor, a daughter of Mrs. Knight Certifies that her Mother was Lawfully Married to John Knight formerly a resident in your town.
                      We are Gentlemen with much respect
                      Your Most Obedient Servants

The Gentlemen Selectmen or Overseers of the Poor of the Town of Bingham}

                                                                                    Isaac Mason
                                                                                    Cyrus Cumings } Overseers of the Poor Westbrook
                                                                                    H.C. Babb

                    Some of the town reports regarding the almshouse and farm reveal a great deal of the problems of those who were unable to care for themselves, from other towns as well. There was mention in many of the early diaries I have been transcribing of my Roberts family, of having circle at someone’s home and many people in attendance, sometimes fifty. At these circles, women would make clothing for those in need and men would do tasks which were considered men's work. It seemed that men had their circles and women had their circles. There are some old records of the Martha Washington Charitable Society at the Westbrook Historical Society dating early 1840’s which were an attempt to help those less fortunate. I am not sure the inhabitants at the poorhouse would have been recipients of the items sewn at circle. The town considered these folks to be burdens to the town and in many cases, some were sent back to where they previously lived, in some cases to Canada. Inhabitants of Westbrook who had skills needed to sustain the Poorhouse, were compensated for their efforts. One year Lorenzo Towl was reimbursed for mason work $21.96, John Wood, received $17.25, S. E. McLellan, blacksmith work $48.84 and the list goes on and on. Total expenses one year were 1268.32. There is also mention of the Outdoor Poor. I am not sure if that meant that they boarded with families rather than the farm. Some of the itemized costs on this list include: Frenchman’s expenses to Canada $15.00; Amasa Winslow, furnishing coffin Knight Child $ 4.50; S.S. Rich, coffin to French child; Burial of Knight child $8.00; Insane Hospital , 3 qrs., Nettie Libby , $108.74, Insane Hospital Ester Kennard $ 102.22; B.M. Edwards , supplies to French family $2.86; Charles Jameson, board of William Jameson $19.50: Town of Deering, acct. Willie Jameson $79.00
                     Later it was written that Nettie Libby and Esther Kennard were still at the Insane Hospital at the expense of the town. The legislature of 1874 having passed an act looking to the discharge of ‘idiots and incurables’ from the Insane Hospital, we deemed it advisable to make preparations to receive Nettie Libby at the Alms House, and accordingly fitted up two rooms. But fortunately for the town, she is still retained at Augusta. They fitted up two rooms for transient persons as well. Since September it was written that the Alms House lodged and fed 112 vagrants, also called ‘tramps’. It was reported there was trouble from the tramps from other towns, many from Portland, brought about by the severity of winter and tough times. They were made to pay their way by sawing wood. The Jameson boy from the previous report was being boarded with Mrs. Joseph Barbour at 3 dollars per week, which was paid in equal proportions by the town and by his relatives.
                     I found it most interesting how many of the troubles within a town were usually handled by the town, in a day when there was not too much help for anyone. If you could not carry your own weight, you were considered a burden. I am glad that some of those attitudes have changed a little over the years. I often wonder what it must have been like to have a serious disability back then. Life was tough , and family and neighbors were a vital part of each family’s survival. Treasures on Ebay… you never know what you may find.

Westbrook Street Trailer Camp 1943 Maine

2008-10-12T14:22:50Z

This information is taken from the Portland Maine, City Directory in 1943

Redbank Village in South Portland was in the process of being built and there were only a few streets which had apartments occupied by tenants. They included MacArthur Circle East, North and West and also Wainwright Circle West. The rest of the village was in the process of being built. I am very interested in the early tenants there and hope to do some interviews at some point. I am enclosing a list of the families which were living in the trailer park known as Westbrook Trailer Camp. This is where the plane crash of July 11th,1944 occurred, situated down behind McKenney’s gas station and Olde English Village. Both Redbank and The Westbrook Street Trailer Camp were built to house the thousands of military families who came from all over Maine to work in the shipyards for the War Effort.

1943
Trailer Park-276 Westbrook Street

Arthur M. West
Russell E. Parsons
Joseph A. Jarrett
Roy G. Noyes
Paul O. Gibson
E. R. Tupper
Vance R. Watson
Paul H. Faulkingham
Edward L. Palmer
Alphonse J. Arsenault
George W. Thibideau
Fred J. Wakem
Arthur R. Noyes
Arthur G. Milliken
Fred A. Tapley
Edmund G. Thompson
Guy I. Farrington
James R. Findlay
Granville E. Bickford
Joseph P. Zane
Edward Reynolds
Maurice M. Carr
Donald R. Veazie
Weldon F. Wyman
Earle K. Bowes
Charles O. Chatley
Douglas A. Robbins
Richard M. Holmes
John B. Pelletier
Lawrence W. Arnold
Armand K. Ferlat
Earl N. Dewitt
Fred A. Moore
Melvin S. Kimball
Charles E. Mills
Archie A. Cody
Warren S. Nesbit
Richard R. Noyes
Frank P. Ireland
John D. Scott
Durwood D. Glidden
Francis J. Goudreault
Elwin S. Barclay
Roy A. Freeman
Joseph P. Ciarrochi
Angus E. Hamm
Joseph Spearin
William S. Stuart
Linwood L. Kennedy
George H. Bowden
James A. Lambert
Joseph P. Gardiner
Cecil R. Brown
Robert O. Gould
Basil E. Perkins
Arthur O. Hersey
Carl E. Steele
Kenneth F. Crockett
Robert D. Smith
Alex J. Dumas
Howard A. Tisdale
Harold F. Jones
Roland P. Pelletier
Ernest W. White
Lowell M. Barter
Bickford R. Stevens
Morris R. Hall
Herbert R. Robbins
William F. Bathjer
Conrad W. Ekholm
Arthur R. Studer
Merton B. Crow
Earle F. Brown
Thomas E. Murray
Raymond E. Grant
Arthur E. Holt
Leonard St. Germaine
Arthur D. Fletcher
Blaire A. Lloyd
Arthur F. DeVoe
Donald W. Buchanan
Theodore C. Lindquist
Everett L. Morrison
Donald W. Multy
Rodney E. Saunders

These trailers, I am told were in clusters of 4 or 6 and spaces between the clusters. Since these are not alphabetical, I can only guess maybe the names were taken of families in order of how they were situated in the trailer park.

Thoughts on a Sunday Morning

2008-10-12T14:24:13Z

                    These cool crisp mornings remind me of my youth walking to school with a gang of kids from my block. We all left our homes around the same time and met our friends and it was a social time before we ventured onto the playground. There would be gangs of kids from other blocks ahead of us and behind us. I was giving thought as to why the Redbank site under South Portland at Mainetoday.com was so popular and I have come to a conclusion. First of all, who would ever imagine that posting my old grammar school pictures would generate a nationwide response? The beauty of it was that it never could have been orchestrated. Classmates.com has been trying to build such a community, but personally I would never pay to belong to a “club”. Why should any of us pay when we are the ones contributing to its success? It would not have been so interesting had it been for just my stories and the few others who wrote stories however the interactive piece formed the success of the site. The comments generated by the many readers who lived there at one time, made it spread like wildfire, all by the grapevine. Then again, that shows you that geography is not all that makes a community. It is the people who foster relationships with those from their neighborhood, long after they leave the neighborhood and move away. I also believe it connected people not only to their neighbors but to their youth. Each generation feels they lived in the best of times are perhaps only yearning for a time when life was simpler. Technology integrated with our faster pace of life is like a train and we are always running to catch up with it. We are getting further away from things which matter most to us. Maybe we are losing some of our connections to people, the earth, and our spiritual being is getting lost in the chaos. Take it easy…. It is Sunday morning.
                     While searching through my traveling desk which is a large bag filled with notes and scraps of paper with ideas for stories, I came across one note. I had been giving a lot of thought about Patrolman Michael Connolly’s death (from my story -The Unsolved Murder of Patrolman Michael Connolly 1930) when I heard a song on the radio. The song was by Cold Play entitled ‘Swallowed by the Sea’. I began to think about the possibility of drowning and actually finding a body on shore. I wonder if he had been washed ashore, that his body would have shown more signs of scraping. Quite often bodies are never found. Then I had a horrific thought that he may have been held over the side of a boat by his feet until he drowned. Maybe his body was thrown on the beach as a warning to others. Then my thoughts went to his cap. The search was endless for his cap. Did someone keep it as a ‘token’? I wonder if, in the chaos of the crime, someone was afraid they misplaced it and it would get into the wrong hands. With technology today, I also wonder if his badge has ever surfaced for sale? After telling his story, I am honored I had that privilege. Maybe one day we will know what really happened.
                     In closing, I must relay a funny story told to me by my longtime friend who is a divorced mom with kids. She is a survivor, one who has been through some very bad times. However she can still get me laughing especially with the following story. She was headed somewhere when she and her adult daughter drove through the Dunkin Donuts drive- thru window. She said her mouth dropped when she witnessed the most gorgeous man she has ever seen lean out the window to talk with them. “His eyes were blue, green, like the ocean and his hair was black with curls.” she replied, “and when I made eye contact I went ‘unconscious’.” My friend said she asked him if their orders could be separate when he replied, “Of course” in his Russian accent. The window closed and my friend turned to her daughter and asked, “Did you see that guy?” The daughter replied she had not. So my friend said, “When the window opens again, take a good look.” When the Russian man came back he smiled revealing his beautiful white teeth as he delivered their orders.
                     A few days later my friend decided she would to Dunkin Donuts drive-thru window again. She was hoping to see the Russian again. She was greeted by an older woman. My friend asked, “What happened to that handsome Russian man?” The woman replies, “Oh Vladimir? He went back to Russia.” My friend then told the woman that he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. The woman responded with a big smile , “Have you seen Rafael? He is from Brazil.”

Homeland Security or Insecurity?

2008-10-05T19:04:42Z

                    This story is an offshoot of another story I wrote, ‘Homeland Security and Other Tales’. These are times of hysteria and there is plenty we are forced to swallow because of that hysteria. My parents just got back from a trip out West to Zion National Park, Bryce Canyon and Vegas. Due to complications with flying now, they were on separate flights both ways. It reminds me of all the different tax forms and telecommunications today. In an effort to make them accessible and simple, it's simple all right… simply a mess. Want to live simply? Turn off the television, get a horse and start growing your own food. Anyhow back to the original story. My mother opened one of her bags which had been checked and found a document explaining that her bag had been checked. Read on because it is all about YOUR SAFETY. Of course I am being sarcastic because I think it is really about another one of your lost rights which is cleverly packaged for us to believe it is for our safety. After all, most of us have no intelligence whatsoever.
                     “Transportation Security Administration-Notice of Baggage Inspection- To protect you and your fellow passengers, the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) is required by law* to inspect all checked baggage. As part of this process, some bags are opened and physically inspected. Your bag was among those selected for physical inspection.
                    During the inspection, your bag and its contents may have been searched for prohibited items. At the completion of the inspection, the contents were returned to your bag.
If the TSA security officer was unable to open your bag for inspection because it was locked, the officer may have been forced to break the locks on your bag. TSA sincerely regrets having to do this, however TSA is not liable for damage to your locks resulting from this necessary security precaution.
                    For packing tips and suggestions on how to secure your baggage during your next trip, please visit: www.tsa.gov . We appreciate your understanding and cooperation. If you have questions, comments, or concerns, please feel free to contact the TSA Contact Center: phone 866-289-9673 (toll free) or email TSA-ContactCenter@dhs.gov
                    Explanation of * above:      * Section 110(b) of the Aviation and Transportation Security Act of 2001, 49 U.S.C. 44901 (c)-(e)” Also on the back of the document was the Spanish version of the same message.
                    Now, I am wondering why a dog cannot perform the same task as the TSA for all these folks who are checking in and who are also retrieving their baggage? We are so obedient that we fall for such nonsense when we know this was all after the fact of 9/11. Everything life –altering that happens results in the loss of more of our rights. The people responsible for flying into the towers, certainly never believed they would topple both towers, is my own belief. Our anger should be directed at the lack of national security our own leaders did not bother to conform to and we are paying the price. Before you know it, we will have to leave our teeth in the conveyor belt to be x-rayed and we will be flying naked. We will be safe alright in our new police state. Thanks for tuning in today.

Building Communities and Making Connections

2008-10-05T07:27:57Z

                    Each country across the globe is populated with diversity. Communities began to change as communications evolved. The talking wires and the iron horse opened communication between cities and towns across America. Telephones and then radios eventually were used in households across the nation. The television was invented and the first computers changed the way people received their information. Growing up as a child in the 1960’s, I spent a great deal of time writing letters and waiting for the mailman every day to bring me some surprise in the mail. I waited for him every day during summer. A great deal of my time as a young teen was spent on my genealogy hobby and many letters were written. I also had 14 pen pals across the globe during my teen years. I am so amazed each day that I now have access to the internet and I can receive mail 20 times per day if I wish. The internet has changed the world forever and how we are able to retrieve information at our fingertips with the click of a mouse. The world has changed for all of us dramatically. I believe that the internet is the most significant revolutionary change that has changed the lives of all globally. It is comparable to the way flight, and the transcontinental railroad, electricity and radio and telephones changed life at the turn of the last century. Prior to the Industrial Revolution, people across the globe received information basically the same way, very slow. The newspaper had articles which covered some local, some state and national and a great deal of international news as well. Today, though we are on information overload sometimes, it is a very exciting time to be alive.
                     The personal computer in nearly every household has made it possible for people with disabilities to start their own business, to no longer be isolated within their own community. The elderly have access to the outside world, and need not be isolated in the cold winter months anymore. The personal computer has changed life.
                     I often think of the comparisons between the way we send correspondence years ago and today. For instance, I am in possession of photocopies of letters written in the 1860’s from a father in Ireland to his son, in Whitneyville, Maine. I am not sure most people realize the troubles our ancestors faced when the lived in the Old Country. These letters are quite revealing as the father in Ireland had nothing for assets but a small cow and the home he lived in with little. He was very sick. He asked his son to please send him some money. The son became quite prosperous and dutifully sent his father money. The father always thanked his son and told him he had walked for two days across the rugged terrain to Killarney to cash the bank draft. I am sure the condition of these roads has not changed in many years. As he was near his death, he wrote once more to ask for money to help pay for his wake and burial and he had arranged for a longtime friend to loan him the money in good faith. The friend paid for the wake and burial. Many families lost all their children to America. This father had five children and all were in America stretched from coast to coast. Today nearly 150 years later I was able to send transcriptions of those letters to a library near the hometown by internet. How amazing.
                    I have read a few letters from a relative who was a soldier in World War 2 who wrote to his family often and ended each letter with, “Do not worry about me. If you should need anything, please contact the Red Cross” He told of the horrific things he had seen and was unsettled how things were going on with his family at home. He often wrote that he worried about home when he received no mail.
                     My own husband served in both Navy and Army. Our first year of marriage, I saw him 38 days. This was 1985. There was no internet then but we did have telephone. He would call me often when he was stateside, however when he was deployed, I often worried for his safety. He wasn't the best correspondent but I made sure I wrote and numbered each letter on the envelope for him to read in order. I wrote every single evening as it helped me to pass time when he was away. When he went to Kuwait after the war to clean up ordinance, I was also worried. The news would be on 24/7 and I could not watch it. It was too much information and often misleading. Now with the internet, communication for military families is superior. You can see your loved ones on camera and talk with them. They can be with you anytime almost. Yet, it causes great stress because the television, internet, and newspapers are full of 24/7 information. This technology could possibly bring more anxiety at times. My point is that with the intervention of technology, we are no better off than we were before technology in some ways because that element of uncertainty is still there.
                    My brother told me a story of a man who bought a time saving device but had to work two jobs to pay for it. Of course it was a story but things have come full circle when that is happening. My son told me, “Hey Mom, what if you go to work and you have to work longer to pay for your way back home?” I thought that was an interesting statement, due to the costs of fuel now. It is a complex world we all share.
Regarding communications and the internet, I recently submitted ideas to Google for their 10th anniversary, the main reason I have been absent for awhile. I am sure Google was overloaded with thousands of ideas and I wanted to be one of those who contributed. Anyhow, it is good to be back to writing. I have a list of stories to post.

Patrolman Michael Connolly's Untold Story

2008-12-01T22:45:08Z

This is Part 2 of " The Unsolved Murder of Patrolman Michael Connolly, Portland Maine

Written by Suzan Norton© 2008

After writing the story of Patrolman Michael T. Connolly, I received some correspondence regarding the story. One letter suggested that Officer Connolly was clearly fighting a losing battle that he could not possibly win. “The battle clearly favored corruption.” The reader also stated that it was clear there were many cover-ups with many parties involved. “Patrolman Connolly died a hero upholding true Law and Justice. Fire from shame, he died with real honor and integrity. ” Pondering those words, I also believe that as widespread as the thirst for alcohol was and still is, that he may have been against all odds. Who would dare rat out their neighbor because everyone liked a drink? Those were the times. When the potential to make good money is involved, sometimes the line between “good” and “evil” is not so clear. There were some prominent families who afforded their children college educations with the profits made from bootlegging. In the first story, there is mention of one officer receiving a bribe of five hundred dollars to allow the bootleggers to deliver their goods unbothered. In 1930, that was a large sum of money. So, there is more to Patrolman Connolly’s story that would seem to validate a cover-up.
                Michael T. Connolly, born 1881 in Ireland, was the son of Lawrence and Margaret Coyne Connolly. His siblings were Mary, John, Edward [came to Portland], Patrick, and James [came to Portland]. He was born in the Spiddal area which is in West Galway, sometimes referred to as Connemara Region. The maps of County Galway have an East and West Division. Within these small towns, lie town lands, which are usually only found on survey maps, which are very detailed. His family lived within the town lands of Furbough and Knocknagreny. Furbough [Furbach Garbh] translates to Rough Land. Knocknagreny [Cnoc na Greine], which has four spelling variations, translates to Hill of the Sun. These town lands are in the Parish of Rahoon. Michael Connolly married Mary Madden, who originally came from Kilkerrin, in a smaller area named Kylefalia in Connemara. One house Connolly lived in was on the main road to Spiddal. In 1991, when Connolly’s family visited their grandfather’s homeland, the house was boarded up, uninhabited. On this visit, Connolly’s relatives still wanted to know if Michael Connolly’s murder had been solved. Today, there is still a strong connection between Spiddal and Portland, as so many relocated, many familiar with neighbors who had moved to the same area. Patrolman Michael Connolly died at the age of 49.
                I believe life is full of connections, some ironic, some amazing. The following story was told to me by Connolly’s granddaughter, Kathleen. Sometime back in the seventies, she paid for her son to have piano lessons. A man named Jerry Cohen came to her house for the lessons. He taught jazz piano. One day after a lesson, Kathleen and Jerry were having light conversation. He asked Kathleen her maiden name. When she replied ‘Connolly’, she said his face suddenly turned ghost white. Then he asked her if she was perhaps related to the Portland Policeman who was murdered in 1930. She replied that, yes indeed, her grandfather was Michael Connolly. The piano teacher told the story of when he was a young boy, of eleven years, that he had found Connolly’s body that morning at Fish Point. He became hysterical and ran home to inform his mother. She took him immediately to the police department to inform them. They heard nothing more. Kathleen said Jerry Cohen’s impression was that the police were not interested in his find that morning. When the newspapers ran the story about the suicide theory, once again, Jerry Cohen’s mother went to the police with the story about Connolly’s hands being cuffed behind his back. The suicide theory had to be false. The Cohen’s never heard anymore about the incident.
                Connolly’s granddaughter, Mary Lou, told the story of the police notifying an Uncle Martin Madden, who was also at Peaks Island, regarding Connolly’s death. They asked him not to say anything to his sister at the time. Perhaps it was presented in this manner to ‘protect’ Mrs. Connolly until she reached the mainland with her children. However, a cab driver delivered the news to Mrs. Connolly concerning her husband’s murder.
Connolly’s children eventually grew up and some relocated to other parts of the country. His children must have been haunted by never knowing what happened to their father, and seeing their mother struggle to make ends meet. It was perhaps the single most important part of their existence, yet the pain was so great, they never spoke about it with each other. It was evident when speaking with his grandchildren that their grandfather meant a great deal to them. The family has integrity and the grandchildren with whom I have been in contact are very close.
                Throughout the years, Connolly’s son, John, employed at the prison, was told that he might find the identity of his father’s murderer. Someone offered the information to him. However, he felt it was too late and he refused any knowledge of the killer thinking he had a family to think about. So the story is ongoing.
                Connolly’s granddaughter, Kathleen, told of another story of a woman with whom she worked. The woman told her one day of a vivid dream she had about a grandfather of Kathleen’s. She said “Your grandfather said ‘Tell My Story’”. Kathleen had no recollection of telling her grandfather’s story to the woman, so she was struck by the woman’s dream. Since, I first heard Connolly’s story, I have not let it out of my head. I felt an urgency to write since that day. Ironically, my husband was in the US Navy when I met him, as the Destroyer he was stationed on was named the USS Conolly DD979. Connections… they are within all of us. Maybe we need to listen more to those.
                The Portland Police Department named a boat for Michael T. Connolly. It was in service in the 1980’s. There was a large ceremony when it was commissioned. The boat took on water and ended up in a frantic attempt banking on East End Beach. This story was relayed by Connolly’s granddaughter. Again, it is ironic that the boat’s demise was at East End Beach, the same area the Patrolman’s body had been found many years ago.
                My intention for putting pen to paper regarding Patrolman Michael T. Connolly was to put the story ‘out there’. In no way was the story intended to reflect upon the present Portland Police Department. It is a story of long ago that needed to be told. I am forever grateful to his family for allowing me the privilege of telling their grandfather’s story. Not only was he a man to honor, but his family is to be commended for all they endured. In the end, I don’t think his community forgot him at all.

The story was written with permission by Kathleen Alfiero and her sisters, Diane Connolly and Mary Lou Connolly.
Stories were taken from Interviews and Correspondence between the three sisters.
Thank you to Scott, the reader who responded in a personal e-mail to me.
places.galwaylibrary.ie/asp/fullresult – Website of Irish Place Names

Please read "The Unsolved Murder of Patrolman Michael Connolly, Portland Maine" also posted under 'Stories of Long Ago' on this blog.

The Unsolved Murder of Patrolman Michael Connolly Portland Me.

2008-11-13T00:16:58Z

The Unsolved Murder of Patrolman Michael Connolly, Portland, Maine
Written by Suzan Roberts Norton©2008

Photocopies from Portland Newspapers-Photos by John Marshall

This story was first told to me a couple of years ago. Since then, I have desperately wanted to write something about the unsolved murder which took place on August 15th, 1930. Patrolman Michael T. Connolly left behind a wife and five children, all of whom never received any closure regarding his death. I think he would have been proud to know that so many in his family chose careers that were meaningful and focused on helping others. The story was told by his grandchildren to an audience at the Maine Irish Heritage Center, formerly St. Dominic’s Church. As a member of the audience, I could feel the family’s pain as they revealed what happened to their grandfather, though it was many years ago. Their story was supported by months of newspaper archive photocopies, the written word exposing some rumor, some speculation including a substandard investigation. It is possible that inexperience may have been a factor in the investigation also. At the front of the room was a large portrait of him in uniform.
                     To understand that period of time in Portland, one must know that the waterfront especially was a hotbed of activity for the bootleg trade. The harbor was busy with illegal shipments, sometimes easier for some to turn their eye, in the event they could get a pay-off for doing so. Maine had been a dry State for nearly 50 years, so bootlegging was a prosperous business for men and women. The role of the bootlegger in a neighborhood aside from selling their alcohol could have been to make loans to people as well as cash their checks. Patrolman William Skerritt, my relative, used to cash his check at the bootlegger. This was revealed through stories his son told about his father who had died when the boy was only eight (1935). I was also told by Skerritt’s family that William Skerritt actually guarded a house on the Western Prom where the high profile men Sacco & Vanzetti were supposedly hiding out. Both men were wanted men. I was told by the Skerritt family that they were lead to believe these men were being protected by the Portland Police. These were two Italian immigrants who were accused of terrorist acts against our government, including murder in a few cities in Massachusetts. They were later executed sometimes in the 1920’s at a time when anti-immigrant hysteria was rampant. There is a great deal of information on the web about them. Later I read that Skerritt would be a pallbearer for Patrolman Connolly. I am sure the men selected to be pallbearers were close friends to Connolly. The Great Depression left many with loss of trust for the banking industry.
                     The patrolmen in those days walked a beat. They were visible in their communities and there were curfews. Telecommunications were very different, as a patrolman would walk an area and report at the call boxes placed throughout the city. He would call in every so often so others knew where he was located. In the event an officer needed back-up, he would rush to the call box and request help at the scene. The patrolman had a long key which fit into the call box. One side of the box had a keyhole in which the key was inserted a short distance and the patrolman picked up the phone to call the switchboard. The other side of the call box had a keyhole which was for the same key; only it was inserted most of the way into the keyhole. This would make a loud alarm buzzing noise that was an emergency call for help. This may have been connected to a flashing light. I am not sure the telephone was in every home at that time as that may have been considered a luxury to some. The old patrolmen, many of them bearing Irish names are buried at Calvary Cemetery in South Portland; their graves marked with police flags. Walking the cemetery with my mother, she recalled many of the patrolmen’s names from her youth. She recalled hearing about the unsolved murder of Connolly when she was a child in the 40’s.
                     The front page of the newspaper on August 15th was filled with news that Patrolmen Connolly was found dead at the foot of Fort Allen Park on the Eastern Promenade along a beach called Fish Point. He was found face down with his hands cuffed behind his back, partially buried in the sand due to shifting tide. High tide was at 3:17 AM and Michael Connolly’s watch had stopped at 4:08 AM. The newspaper account stated that John Lee of 23 Mountfort Street had found the body around 8:15 AM as he searched for driftwood along the shore. Lee called Patrolman Francis Reardon, who covered Connolly’s beat during the daytime. The papers later told how two prominent bootleggers fled the scene of the murder after the body was discovered by John Lee. They departed hastily when they saw Patrolman Francis Reardon approach the body. Curiously enough, their names were never mentioned. Patrolman Reardon called Chief Herman Haskell and a detail of 20 patrolmen. Four medical examiners were called next. At 11:26 AM, one medical examiner named Dr. Goodhue responded to the scene. It seemed a very long time from the time the body was found until a medical examiner arrived. He confirmed that Patrolman Connolly had been handcuffed and thrown into the water alive but that he had died from drowning.
                     Next, County Attorney Ralph Ingalls ordered Police Chief Haskell to check on all sailors who had shore duty that evening to ask if they had witnessed anything unusual. This would entail checking 3 cruiser ships which were in port at the time, the closest one being the USS Memphis. It was anchored 300 feet from where Patrolman Connolly’s body was found. At this time, more medical examiners were called and they all believed he had been slain as he had 2 gashes to the head. There was a major concern during the whole investigation regarding the missing hat of Patrolman Connolly. It was mentioned over and over and the harbor was even dredged, divers searched and people walked the shore looking for the hat.
                     Patrolman Dennis Flynn was on duty at the switch at headquarters and reported that Patrolman Connolly had pulled a duty call at 6:09 AM. Connolly had really made his last duty call at 3:10 AM. Patrolman Flynn admitted he’d written that he received the hourly call from Connolly at 6:09 AM to “protect” Connolly. It was later mentioned that Connolly had worked a double shift and Flynn believed Connolly may have been overcome with drowsiness. Patrolman Flynn was later suspended for failure to report Connolly hadn’t pulled his customary duty on time.
                     Connolly was found with the key to his call box tied around his neck and with his hand extended towards his back pocket perhaps an attempt to reach for his flashlight and gun. His handcuffs had been placed upside down on his hands indicating that maybe his hands were in the air when he was cuffed. When his body was turned over, the gun was found but not fired. It had been found in his left hand pocket, not the holster. The family said the theory was that his own gun may have been used against him. It was unusual that it was found in the left hand pocket considering Patrolman Connolly was right handed. His face was purple indicating he struggled in the water. At noon, the body was taken by the police ambulance to Maine General Hospital. Found with his hands cuffed, many believed it was an act of a gang of bootleggers. At the time, many sailors were helping with the search for the patrolman’s hat. Connolly’s hat seemed to be of great importance during the investigation as it is mentioned several times. Perhaps it was because it was so personal, or that it was an extension of the deceased. One sailor said he heard nothing unusual spoken about what had happened on shore earlier that evening. A few drunken men had been interviewed and 16 sailors were questioned.
                     It was said that a cargo of Rum landed at Fish Point in the wee hours of Friday morning. It was an ideal evening, foggy and high tide at 3:17 AM. It was believed that Connolly may have been tipped off by rival bootleggers about the arrival of a shipment of illegal liquor. The newspaper stated the boatloads upon boatloads of rum shipments entered the harbor between 2:00-4:00 AM. Perhaps he had caught them and was marching them to the call box to call for back-up patrol. The police believed he would have fought against being shackled though his body showed no signs of struggle. Questions lingered. Could he have been marched at gunpoint or was he drugged? Regardless, Connolly was known as a good sober family man, and described as home loving with an excellent record. He was also fearless, unafraid to go up against a few troublemakers.
                      The newspapers mention a mystery automobile with lights out and the motor stilled with no occupant. Later accounts [Sept 3rd] mention that it was a prominent bootlegger’s car and it was occupied by five men. There had been a group affiliated with a Boston ring of bootleggers who had been kicked out of Detroit and operated along the Maine Coast. The car was near Connolly’s beat close to Fort Allen Park around 2:00 AM. Meanwhile Councilman Ralph Brooks “took the law into his own hands” because the murder probe had been delayed for 3 hours. He ordered the police inspector Harold Maguire to turn over the body. County Attorney Walter Tapley gave authorization to Brooks to interfere to delay the investigation no further. Then police called off the search for the gun. Perhaps the original gun found on his body was not his own. It was unclear.
                     U.S. District Attorney Frederick Dyer felt he had an angle on the murder. He would speak to no newspapermen and would only confer with the District Attorney. He also stated he may speak about his theory with Police Chief Haskell. Meanwhile, Mrs. Connolly spoke of having a premonition when her husband was transferred to the Waterfront Beat two weeks ago. She worried for her husband. “He was nearly killed several years ago on the Gorham Corner Beat and the beat he was killed on is as bad a Gorham’s Corner.”
                     Since the death of Patrolman Connolly, a relief fund for the Connolly family had been started in which citizens and businessmen in Portland contributed with the progress reported in the newspaper daily. Within six days it had reached $1486 dollars. The City of Portland also offered a $1000 dollar reward for the arrest and conviction of people or person responsible for the death of Patrolman Connolly. There was also a benefit dance at the Gem Ballroom on Peaks Island where the Connolly’s had a summer home. Stories continued to unfold over the following weeks filling newspapers with details.
                     Bootlegging was the hot topic, with no mention of any local bootleggers by name. The newspaper didn’t spare any other names of those who spoke about the death or had information. The bootleggers were kindly referred to as local prominent bootleggers. It seemed there was a great deal of cover-up on many sides of this story, with the newspapers taking part in that role as well. There was a price-cutting war between the bootleggers. It did not affect the retail price but it did cut into the price formerly paid by dealers for huge shipments from the same source. It created dissention amongst the bootleggers. It split the rum dealers into two factions. There was an increase in the guards, who were usually out of State gangsters, employed to guard liquor which was at risk for being hijacked. [Taken from August 28th Portland newspaper]
                     One person wanted by police for questioning was a bootlegger, though not a local one. His name was Johnny Panica who was a former middleweight champion boxer also known as Johnny Wilson. He had been questioned three or four years ago regarding the slaying of a racketeer named Frankie Marlowe in NYC. Supposedly he had a run-in with the Patrolman who covered Connolly’s beat on an alternate evening. On August 22nd the newspaper reported that Johnny Wilson had been eliminated from the case as the last time he had been to Maine was in 1929 regarding slot machines.
                     Also of interest, there had been two Portland Policemen in Connolly’s vicinity that evening, off duty. County Attorney Ingalls did not respond to that allegation. Another story surfaced about a cab driver named Samuel Valinsky. Mr.Valinsky told of a customer he picked up around 4:55 AM the morning of the slaying at Union Station on St John Street. The person had his head bandaged and told the cab driver that he burned his eye lighting a cigarette and was on his way to see a doctor in Yarmouth. After reading the facts from the newspaper, supposed the man meant a doctor in Yarmouth, Massachusetts? He got out of the cab en route to get into a car with Bay State plates [Massachusetts]. This story appeared in the paper on August 25th. Yarmouth, Maine at the time had two doctors and both were questioned. Neither had treated a man of that description.
                     The focus changed to the railroad along the waterfront in the August 27th edition of the newspaper. Within 100 feet of Connolly’s body was a condemned box car. County Attorney Ingalls mentioned that rigor mortis had not set in with the patrolman’s body at 1130AM suggesting that maybe he had been held prisoner for a few hours.( A practicing mortician told me that rigor mortis is not a good indication of time of death. It can be a reoccurring condition) At the time there were four tracks in that area. Track four nearest Fish Point had 28 cars on it, Track three had 9 cars. Track two had 28 cars and Track one had 31 cars. Railroad detectives completely denied any liquor landing near the Railroad tracks. It is possible that could have been a cover-up as well. Patrolman Connolly was in that area because he sensed trouble that morning. The Sept 4th edition of the newspaper, Patrolman Leo Roach spoke about Connolly having the courage of a lion. He said the nearest Connolly would have come to a call box in that area would have been the one at the corner of Fore Street and Waterville Street if he needed help. He believed Connolly’s inexperience on that beat lead to his trouble that night.
                     Another story surfaced from William Fyfe whose occupation was a garage attendant. He told how he had spoken with Connolly just before 6:00 AM as he was filling his car when Patrolman Connolly passed him. County Attorney Ralph Ingalls said he did not believe that Fyfe saw Connolly at all.
                     The police department requested Patrolman Connolly’s notebook be returned on Saturday afternoon. Frank Farrell, author of a story in the Portland newspaper office, wrote that the notebook had been tampered with as there was some erasure on the date of Connolly’s death. However on the previous day of August 14th was noted the registration plate, auto and name of the best known bootleggers, still intact undisturbed in his daily report book.
                    It was also suggested that the night before the murder, a gang was threatened by a Patrolman who looked very much by Connolly, and maybe sought revenge. Through all of the stories, rumors, speculation and investigation, Mrs. Connolly in all her grief, had to keep fighting as the stories came to print regarding the death of her husband. She had to endure much and she continued to fight back to defend what she felt were outright lies. On August 29th, Mrs. Connolly told the newspaper that she was enraged at Captain Stephen Cady’s theory that her husband may have committed suicide. She said if it took every penny she had, that she would hire a private detective to find her husband’s killer.
                     Captain Cady claimed a conversation took place between the two men two days before Connolly’s death. Connolly told Cady he knew that Cady did not like him. Cady then said that Connolly mentioned something about if you were going to be leaving the world, “Our kind of people doesn’t want to leave any enemies”. They supposedly shook hands as Connolly cried and muttered something about his soul. Mrs. Connolly said that her husband would never have confided in Captain Cady as he disliked the man. She said, “Mike would never do away with himself. He thought too much of me and the children”.
                     She said the family had been down to Peaks Island when her husband took the boat for Portland on Wednesday. He was anxious to get some painting done before they came back to Portland at their home at 141 ½ Spring Street. He had gone to the neighborhood market and talked with the clerk as he purchased some groceries and supplies so his family would be all set when they came home.
A photo appeared in the Sept 4th paper of Mrs. Mary Connolly at her home surrounded by her five children: Edward [5], John [11], Catherine [7], James [3], and Margaret [9]. The oldest son John said, “I will take care of my mother”. He was going to be helping in the search for his father’s hat. Mrs. Connolly told that her husband may have had troubles with men on the Promenade that she never knew about. He wouldn’t have told her because he wouldn’t have wanted her to worry if he had been threatened. Mrs. Connolly stated that she did not have a cent, only paychecks that her husband had left. She told that she had not paid the undertaker yet and the taxes amounting to $201.24 due on the house were also unpaid. Four of her children were expected to start school the following month. Her husband paid all the bills and would give her the rest of his pay. He had let a life insurance policy for 500 dollars lapse and she was unaware of that. The City of Portland considered paying the widow for 300 weeks at $18 dollars per week. Mrs. Connolly filed a petition with the State Industrial Accident Commission. It would be up to the City to oppose or agree with payment of half of the Patrolman’s salary under the Workmen’s Compensation Act. The Connolly Family Relief Fund continued to grow and by the beginning of September it had reached over the 3000 dollar mark. The fund for any information leading to arrest had also grown to 1800 dollars.
As the days passed resentment grew amongst City Officials, Investigators and the Police Department. The community was shocked by the death of Patrolman Connolly resulting in an outpouring of generosity for one of their own. A shakedown was about to take place. There are a few more stories that made the papers that need to be written about first.
                    Another woman who lived on the corner of Commercial Street and India Street was awakened at 2:00 AM as she heard someone yell, “Can you hear me?” and then the box slammed. Patrolman Dennis Flynn who was on the switch said he received no calls. Another newspaper article stated that Samuel Bernstein, owner of the Liverpool Tavern, at the above mentioned address said he heard two men talking loudly beneath the window above the tavern at 3:00 AM. He was awakened by his wife ,Madeline ,who heard a man, maybe Connolly, shouting into a police call box, “Can you hear me?” then the box closed and the voices died out. These two accounts may have been the same person.
                    Patrolmen Ridge and Connolly had a conversation in the doorway of the Liverpool Tavern near 3:25 AM, which was 15 minutes before last duty call. This may have been what the Bernstein’s heard. Ridge said it appeared Connolly had something on his mind and felt he wanted to be alone. Fred Flaherty, the undertaker, told as he embalmed Connolly’s body, that he noticed a shiner on his eye. Patrolman Ridge said when he had spoken with Connolly at that time, there was no shiner.
                    There were many problems with the investigation which had ugly implications according to the press. County Attorney Ingalls was very frustrated with the Medical Examiner Holt’s ruling on the death as a drowning, rather than a homicide. He asked if there had been any tissue samples from Connolly’s brain or had his wrists been checked for signs of struggle with abrasions. There was a delay in information. Councilman Ralph Brooks urged an outside post mortem examiner to check Connolly’s body. He wanted Dr. McGrath from Boston to perform the work. Medical Examiner Holt still refused to call the case a homicide. This was frustrating to many officials.County Attorney Ingalls had earlier withheld Holt’s report as he felt it was too meager. The report stated that the internal organs looked ok, stomach contents had nothing and his brain appeared normal. The wrists showed nothing unusual. On August 23rd the newspaper stated the implications were indeed very ugly surrounding the case. County Attorney Ralph Ingalls had waited too long to call Dr. George Burgess McGrath of Boston to examine the body, an expert in his field. He should have been called first. The whole mention of the suicide theory was an ugly chapter. Patrolman Connolly could not swim. Portland was full of liquor and none of it made on the premise. There was also trouble at a rooming house in that vicinity which had not been mentioned in the paper.
                    In the August 29th edition of the newspaper, there was a column entitled UTTERLY UNCONVINCING and it outlined the questions many had regarding the investigation which made no sense. The first question was about Capt. Cady’s claim about a conversation between the two men. Why would Connolly talk with him? The second question was: How could Connolly conceal his despondence from the intuitive perceptions of his wife? The third question was: Why would he choose a place so difficult to access to commit suicide and that would be patrolled by railroad detectives? The fourth question was: If he did commit suicide, why did he choose a beach to which he could wade back instead of deep water into which a jump by a non swimmer would be irrevocably final? The fifth question was: If he did commit suicide, why was his cap not found near the scene? The sixth question was: If he did commit suicide then why were his handcuffs on upside down? Question number seven suggested that if Connolly was dying, he would have struggled, so why were there no abrasions on his wrists? The last concern was about fingerprints on the handcuffs. There is no doubt that these accusatory questions lead to the shakedown that was about to occur in the Portland Police Department.
                    On August 30th, Councilman Ralph Brooks, also held position of Chairman of City Council, was ready to ring his hands of the whole affair. He would shake the Portland Police Department from top to bottom and rebuild it with an organization of young men who are “not contaminated” to ferret out the murderer. He attacked the police department when he told of a patrolman on an adjoining beat who took a $500 dollar bribe offer by bootleggers if he would allow them to operate unbothered. “Police Chief Haskell will have to go. All the tops will go”, Brooks threatened. They would be replaced with younger men. He would wait until Chairman of Committee of Public Safety, Arthur Jordan, who had been ill for a few months, was well enough to return for the next Council Meeting. Brooks stated, “We will clean out the Police Department within six months.”
                    Brooks continued to rant about the problems he had witnessed with the Police Department. He said he had given several leads and tips to Chief Herman Haskell only to hear nothing in return or follow-up or any report if the tips were investigated or not. Brooks informed Haskell of the attempted bribe and Haskell never acknowledged that piece of information. Brooks said that the City of Portland was paying its patrolmen $5.00 per day to protect the city, yet walking the city for the past two years, Brooks had found Patrolmen asleep on duty, and recalled one Patrolman was drunk while on duty. Another time, there wasn’t an Officer anywhere to be found in a walk from the Eastern Prom to the Western Prom at 5:00 AM. As far as Brooks was concerned, Sheriff Lloyd Johnson, nicknamed “Half Pint Grabber” because once in awhile the Sheriff department would seize half a pint- that’s all -, yet there was no shortage of liquor in the city. Brooks most certainly had a lot of guts and backbone, and was not afraid to speak his mind. He envisioned that Colonel Edward Farnsworth, a retired Army Colonel, and also on the State Highway Commission would make a trustworthy Chief for the Police Department, once the shakedown took place.
                    On September 3rd, Brooks charged against a lax police department. Fourteen points of laxity were pointed out to Chief Herman Haskell by City Manager Barlow. Councilman Brooks wanted Chief Haskell and the heads of the department to resign. Haskell said he would not resign. All patrolmen over 65 would be forced to retire. Haskell had notified some but had not asked McDonough yet. The Chief would then make provisional officers, those who had already served six months, permanent positions.
                    The Civil Service Commission held hearings regarding four patrolmen before the forced retirement took place. Patrolman Flynn was found guilty of falsely reporting “pulls”, a first time offense for him. He was discharged. Reinstatement could be possible but only under rules of Commission. Attorney Sullivan thought it was too severe.
                    Patrolman Michael McDonough was put on trial by the Civil Service Commission as he forgot to lock a cell door and prisoner David Dyer, convicted auto thief, escaped. Patrolman Place was also put on trial by the Civil Service Commission because he had accepted bribe money.In the end, those Patrolmen forced to retire were Hugh McDonough, Fred Emery, John Keating and Charles Cousins.
                    One Portland Newspaper dated August 18th, 1930 showed a large split photo taken by John Marshall, showing the funeral procession in front of St. Dominic’s Church. It is a compelling photo showing a large crowd, including children. Patrolman Connolly’s casket was carried by pallbearers, from the Portland Police Department. They were listed as Patrolman William Skerritt, Patrolman James Ridge, Patrolman Festus Kearns, Patrolman Michael McDonough, Patrolman Timothy Glynn, and Patrolman John Malloy. They can be seen in the photo.
                     I found this story compelling and I was appalled as the story unfolded. Patrolman Michael T. Connolly’s story needed to be told again for two reasons. It is an unsolved murder and someone knew what happened that night. After seventy eight years, it is possible that there someone still knows what happened to Connolly. Secondly, his family needs closure and healing. They need to honor his memory and have it not be clouded by the method in which he died. Many of the family members never spoke of it again. The newspaper stories stopped after six weeks, and perhaps the investigation also ceased. His story faded away over time and he was forgotten by the community he patrolled. His family never forgot him but it was not the topic of conversation as it caused a great deal of pain. His memory was clouded by his death. It is time to tell his story.
                    In Calvary Cemetery in South Portland sits the stone of Patrolman Michael T. Connolly. The stone is located in the older section of the cemetery where many Irish families are located, amidst the common names of Foley and Flaherty. His stone is a large Celtic Cross intricately designed with Celtic knots, done by a stonecutter years ago. His modest surname is carved across the bottom, C-O-N-N-O-L-L-Y in a Celtic style font.There are no other names on the stone. Officer Connolly’s grave is marked with a blue and white police memorial flag.

Badge 197 was a badge that would have been worn on a coat and badge 25 shows Portland's 'Resurgam' symbol and would have been worn on the police cap. Patrolman Skerritt was #91. Patrolman Michael Connolly may have worn # 26.

                                There will be a Part 2 of Patrolman Michael T. Connolly's Story shortly.
                                                [ Entitled- Patrolman Michael Connolly's Untold Story]



                     Story printed with family’s permission through Kathleen Alfiero, granddaughter.
                    Thank You to Mrs. Skerritt for recollections of conversations with her husband.
   Thank you to Sergeant Michael Sanphy, retired Westbrook PD for photos of antique badges & info on old call boxes.
All information taken from Portland, Maine newspaper archives from August 15th, 1930 through September 4th, 1930

Vacation Reality

2008-08-27T07:20:25Z

Vacation is over and it is back to reality. Who said? I can tell you a few things I did my last week of vacation. I heard from Bob Lewis, fellow Redbanker, as he was visiting from Virginia. He told me he had several visits from old neighbors and friends from the neighborhood and he left me an album to scan. I did so and the pictures will be posted on Ruth’s site when she gets a chance.
                 I spent a great deal of time volunteering at Westbrook Historical. One day I helped my father clean his shop which was a large feat. He passed those traits on to me. We both have difficulty with organization. I spent about 3 hours sorting and sweeping and organizing his huge inventory of hardware. We enjoyed each other’s company as it was more about that than cleaning the shop.
                 One day I picked up a friend’s nephew [teen] that had come to the USA from living in Japan on a military base all his life. He had seen some of my boy’s skateboard videos on You Tube so he wanted to meet him. I arranged to pick him up and they spent some time together. He slept over and I took him back the next day. My other son was away at Pine Tree Camp where kids with disabilities attend. We saw the amazing tree house which was built to accommodate wheelchairs.
                 I worked most of the week on the story about the Patrolman from 1930 who was murdered in Portland. It will be posted as soon as the family has all had a chance to read it with their corrections etc. I think it will be a good read. I am also waiting on a few pictures to post with it.
                 The SP Historical evening chat on August 21st, was interesting. It covered the Long creek area and there were some great photos of farms in and around that area. There were a few older residents who shared their recollections as well. The Redbank Plane Crash into Westbrook Street Trailer Park on July 11th, 1944 was also a topic of discussion. It was poignant to hear some stories from those who witnessed the event, some having different opinions of what actually happened. It will be made available of DVD as soon as it is edited. There were several we know that were witnesses and could not make it for one reason or another.
                 Aside from everything else, I am trying to make sure both sons are ready for school. My son, JT, has done all the work himself. He wants to be a chef and I hope he is determined. He seems so. He has a lot going on for him. My other son, Mike, will be taking one class but it is a lot of work arranging transportation and accommodations for him. I can’t complain as my friend arranged for her sons to attend and both are in wheelchairs and got their degrees. She is remarkable and so are they. We will start out slow. It will be good for Mike to get out of the house and meet some new young people. He called his friend Jake who is in the nursing home. Mike waited until he got back from camp probably to tell him a few stories. Jake was happy to hear from Mike and said he should be going home sometime soon.
                It is inspirational to think of what you have instead of what you don’t have. It can work either way. Jake used to be able-bodied and is now in a wheelchair since he was young from a car accident. He HAS to think of what he has and not about what he does not have or he would probably have a tough time living that way. We have a choice. We should be thinking about what we have instead of what we do not have. We do not have to rely on others to change our clothing or help us bathe. We could be called the lucky ones. Life is good most of the time. When we get older we must learn to accept the changes along the way instead of fighting everything. One friend of mine stopped dyeing her hair. She said it is ok to show her gray. What harm can it do? Accept yourselves and others will accept you. If you are slower, maybe it is really that others are faster. It does not matter how you got to where you are going, but rather that you got there. It might take me 10 hours to do a task when another it may take 1 hour. The important thing to remember is, was it worthwhile and meaningful? If the answer is yes, then you did well.

Redbank Cigarette Line-1945

2008-11-27T07:19:39Z

Headline reads "Standing in Line at Redbank Store Is Popular Sunday Morning Chore"

Cigarette Line- Part of a crowd of 500 people who stood in line before Berry's Red & White Store In Redbank Sunday Morning where the week's supply of cigarettes was sold in about two hours starting at 9 AM.

According to the article which was incomplete, dated February 26, 1945, Berry's would sell two packs per customer and people came from all over beginning the line at 8 AM. "There are no strings attached but you must give up that Sunday Morning extra hour of sleep in favor of an excursion to Redbank." I found the surprise article at Westbrook Historical Society in their St. Hyacinth's Scrapbook Collection.

YouTube-Enjoy the Latest Redbank Videos

2008-08-19T06:24:00Z

To see the latest three videos I posted, click onto www.youtube.com/fiddlinsuz Enjoy! There are more to come.

LIfe's Connections

2008-08-06T23:35:41Z

Times sure have changed since the invention of the personal computer. It took some time to get used to never using a pen, and crossing out and rewriting, but I finally embraced typing onto the computer. I used to write letter after letter and wait for the mailman to come every day to deliver replies to my letters. I wrote to relatives whom I had never met seeking genealogical information. All those replies are in a shoebox, invaluable now because all of those people are gone now. I have made many connections since those letters over the years and found ways to connect people across the world to information I received 25 or 30 years ago in the form of a handwritten letter. Imagine one English woman’s surprise when she had written that her great grandfather had a brother who came to America and nobody knew what happened to him. Since we had common ancestors, I went through my letters because the names were familiar. I found a letter written by a woman whose grandfather was that brother who had left for America. He had settled in Staten Island NY. My letter from the Staten Island connection was written almost 30 years ago. The English woman had sent me an email with all her information. So I sent her copies of what I had. The only reason I ever received a letter from the Staten Island woman was that she had been vacationing in Boothbay, Maine when she read a copy of the Portland Sunday Telegram and found my query about the name Skerritt. Amazing connections we all make in our lives.

Connections include our childhood years, our teen years, and work friends, friends of circumstance, military friends and so on. We all have connections. I have many friends from grammar school whom I still contact. It could be once a year but we still seem very close. I know where most people went from my old neighborhood. I guess it is because I genuinely care about the people with whom I have had a common experience. Last night, I called my friend Cathy using the best invention ever, the telephone. I heard the ice cream truck in the background and we joked about the same old songs that truck plays to attract all the kids. “Do your ears hang low?” and “The Entertainer”. Can anyone name any other tunes? I am sure it would be comical to hear the ice cream truck play “Tequila” as it winds up and down the streets of your neighborhood. I would bet there would be more than kids chasing that truck; most likely a few adults as well. Anyway when we talk, we laugh more than talk. It is good for the soul.

Speaking about the old neighborhood, an old neighbor passed away a few days ago, Mr. Harry McKenna. I grew up next door to the family as a young kid. The McKenna family had 4 sons who I thought were pretty wild. My parents went to the service which was nice as they saw 2 of the sons. One son named David lives away and I have not seen him since I was a kid. I always had fond memories of them. I was just a kid but I still think about them from time to time. They were part of my childhood. It is funny to think of all those crushes I had when I was young, though not too many knew about it as I was shy. Come to find out, I liked a boy and he liked me but neither of us ever knew it. It is probably a good thing because now we have the memory. Growing up…so awkward and goofy.

Friends of circumstance are interesting as those connections help you to grow as a person. I became very involved in the disabled community because I am a parent. When I was a new parent, I was typical, reading everything about parenting as I watched my child progress. I was fascinated and adored this new addition to our life. I guess I was clueless in many ways also. At age fourI learned my son had a serious illness and I couldn’t function for some time. I never knew I could have such an interesting life and meet so many interesting people. I have aspired to more than I ever thought possible. Most of it is because I am a parent. As a parent, you strive to do right by your child and give them the tools to be independent and to be decent human beings. It is the most important job you will ever have, even more important than the one you get paid for each week. I would say that I am not afraid to help others because of what we have been through as a family. Some of my friends have lost their children and I have been to their funerals. They are the most giving people I know. They still help others when they have had significant loss. I need to stay connected to them because they have helped us on our journey with Mike. Though I wish my son could not have the struggles he has, he is most interesting because of all he has experienced. Tonight, I came home and he told me that one of his friends would not be going to camp this summer. They met several summers ago at camp as Jake was in a car accident and was paralyzed around the age of seven. Mike told me he had called Jake’s house where he lived with his dad as his mom had passed away. The father told Mike that Jake was in a nursing home since March. The reason was that he had pressure sores. Mike called his room but there was no answer. Mike was bothered by it and so was I. I am up several times each night turning him, so this won’t happen. Life is good when you can meet people like Jake.

I would say there is one common thread and that is that no matter who my friends are, we laugh often. I relayed a story this evening to a friend whose son passed away two years ago of MD. Imagine going to the in Foxboro and there is suddenly a need for a handicapped bathroom. I was determined to find one that afforded my son some dignity. It was located where the VIP section is where the band members hang out. Once I found it, I had to remove a 5 foot tall plant away from the toilet while my son maneuvered his wheelchair beside the toilet. The toilet is lower than the chair and this immediately presents a challenge. I mustered up all the strength I never thought I had and picked him up to lower him onto the seat. He was frightened that I would hurt him. The funny part was when he asked how I was going to do this and that. I replied, “Let me think” It was a 45 minute ordeal but is turned out ok, though I felt as if I had ran the Boston Marathon. The call to my friend was full of laughter over that incident, which most likely only she would understand. For the rest of you, this may have been too much information. However after all, this was a story about connections.

Redbank Remembered 1968-1972

2008-11-27T07:20:19Z

This has been a long time coming. With the help of my son, Mike, I was able to download some excellent footage of Redbank Kids. I think many are going to be amazed at how many kids they see in this latest video clip. As you scan the crowd, you will see many families represented like McNeil, Davis, Reynolds, Lovejoy, Laurence,Roberts, Dorr, Watts, Desmarais, Murphy, Towle,Houston,Swan, Ross,Dunbar,Morin, Kitchin,Bartell,Jaynes,Henningsen, Bartell,Fowler,Jaynes... and the list goes on and on. I would like to see if anyone has any names they can identify. Thank you to my parents who took so many videos of us growing up in Redbank. You should be able to connect with the link below or just look for Redbank Maine or fiddlinsuz under Youtube.com to find the latest. Enjoy and feel free to comment.

http://www.youtube.com/v/BVoTIvOpdvY">

www.southportland.org and scroll down to South Portland Historical Society on the left hand side. August 21st will be a live chat about the Redbank Plane Crash of 1944 as one of the topics. Hopefully some who recalled the event will attend. Everyone is invited who has an interest. On September 18th there will be another chat about Redbank Village. Please spread the word as it would be nice to have many old time families talk about living there and raising their families there. I plan to be at both events.
Recently, one former Redbanker told me that she tired of seeing so many Redbank stories on the Mainetoday.com page. I grew weary of writing just my own memories, but I continued for the love of the comments. People seemed to connect through the comments and that meant a lot to me. Anyhow, I realize that she was probably one of the few that felt that way. There was a certain faction of kids who grew up there that did not want to be associated with the neighborhood. I guess maybe they felt Redbank defined who they were, so maybe I can understand that. However, I am from the neighborhood, but it is not all of who I am. I had many good memories and never felt ashamed to live there. Fortunately, I never looked upon anyone else as less than me, because after all, it is only geography. If you are still hung up about growing up in Redbank, I suggest counseling. So please, let’s spread the word about South Portland Historical Society’s evening programs.

Westbrook, Maine Census 1850

2008-07-27T09:24:34Z

                Comparing antique photos and studying the census records can reveal many mysteries. The original census records are easy to read who the Head of the Household was as all names are listed underneath. The Westbrook Historical Society is in possession of the original handwritten 1850 census book. It is fascinating to see the names which now are listed on the tombstones of Westbrook and far away. I revisited the census as I had a request to search for some Babb families. Babb was perhaps the single most common surname in Westbrook. There were 27 Babb families in the 1850 census. The Society is fortunate to have Donna Conley as an involved President and before that an involved volunteer. She indexed the census so that it is easier to read and to search alphabetically and also by natural order. Searching alphabetically, one can compare the common dates with columns and pages to figure out each family group.
                 My maiden name is Roberts. The first Roberts listed was Abba Roberts, age 16 on July 19th, 1850, page 19, column 1. There is also a Benjamin Roberts, age 81, Ellen B. [Babb] Roberts, age 32, Joshua D. Roberts, age 35, and Martha E. , age 7. They all have the same date of July 19th and the same page 19 and same column 1. I can safely assume they all lived in one household. I know that Benjamin is the father of Joshua D. Roberts. Joshua was married to Ellen Babb (his 1st wife). He had a daughter Martha who was listed as age 7. I now know that he had a daughter Abba, listed as age 19. I have not solved the mystery of Abba Roberts Webb, wife of Capt. Joseph Webb who is buried at Saccarappa Cemetery, listed as dying at the age of 19 in 1834. I can only speculate that this Abba in the 1850 census was named for the one at Saccarappa Cemetery.
                 As far as comparing photographs to reveal clues, I have a nice example. I have a studio picture of Martha that is the same scene for 2 other people. It has the same backdrop and same table and chair that 3 different people sat in for a photograph. I know Martha and now I am certain the other 2 photos are her 2 cousins, Frank and Isa M. They lived on Saco Street also. She speaks of them often in her diary.
                 The census and also cemetery transcriptions are very important as they are sometimes the only proof a person ever existed at all. Westbrook records are scattered. Fortunately, we have some of Rev. Caleb Bradley’s records of marriages. There may be some births noted in there as well. There is a great deal of vital records missing from early and mid 1800’s. Interestingly enough, it was not uncommon to bury people on the family farm. I have found references to the remains of the dead being exhumed for reburial at the new burial ground Saccarappa Cemetery. There was a cemetery of Hatches and Johnsons up near the old Hatch Libby house. In fact, maybe 20 years ago, a gravestone was found with the name Abigail Hatch. This had been found under the corner of a Roberts’ homestead. It was given to the occupants of the Libby house and can still be seen between the trees facing the road. There is nobody buried there, as it is an historical artifact. I believe the stone had been discarded when the remains were put up at Saccarappa and new stones marked the plot. The bodies were all exhumed and new stones put up at Saccarappa cemetery. The source for this information was Leonard Chapman’s Grandpa’s Scrapbook which is full of fascinating genealogies of early families to the area.
                  Anyhow from studying the census, I have learned there were 5 Roberts families in Westbrook in 1850, a much smaller number than the Babbs. I would like to share an interesting story about a find in the census. The Historical Society had an acquisition of an old atlas dated 1840’s. Throughout the atlas were many hand colored ink drawings, with the careful hand of a young artist. The atlas was a valued book as books were rare in the mid 1800’s, especially the academic books. It was held together with fine thread stitched along the spine of the atlas. There were blank pages between the maps which were filled with delightful drawings from a young boy’s imagination. He drew clipper ships with sailors all in the water, and the ship under distress. He must have liked ships because he drew a few throughout the atlas. This young boy was named George Andrews. He was 15 in 1850. The atlas was dated 1847. He had a fine hand as he drew pictures of a colt, circus performers and pictures of people in the costume of the day. He drew his interpretation of an American Indian, most likely an image from his imagination. It was also filled with his lessons as he penciled his history of the United States at that time which was rather small. It was a thrill to see such an artifact. Imagine my surprise when I found him listed as a sailor in Brooklyn , NY in 1880.

Remembering Mr. Murphy

2008-11-27T07:20:55Z

                Those of you,who remember the Murphy’s that lived on the corner of Wainwright Circle East and Colin Kelley for so many years, will be saddened to hear of the passing of Dick Murphy last night. He came from a large family of eight siblings who all grew up in Redbank living in close quarters as many of us did. However I think it must have been challenging with eight kids. He lived there when the plane crashed. He was married to Patricia (Doodie) Murphy and recently celebrated their 50th anniversary. Their children; Mark, Alicia, Darrin and Laurie and extended families all went to Jamaica a short while ago. The Murphy’s were very involved in the community where they lived. They were active role models for their grandchildren, Michael and Justin and were involved in all their school activities as well. My own son ,JT, spent a great deal of time at the Murphy’s home. Family was the most important to each of the Murphy’s as they nurtured and gave their support always.
                 My Aunt remembers Dick Murphy when they were both young students at the new school at Redbank. I believe he was the same age as her, born in 1935. She said the talent shows at the Community Center were a big draw. Dick Murphy can best be remembered for his beautiful singing voice.
                 I did not have the pleasure of knowing the Murphy’s when I was younger, though I did recognize who they were in the Community. It was not until I moved in after I had been married a short while that I became reacquainted with them again. We had many laughs on the front porch sitting on Doodie’s swing with a pull down bamboo shade, having drinks that Dick had mixed for us. He used to make a nice Bloody Mary with Clamato and celery. He and I both worked for the phone company. He was a veteran technician who climbed poles and worked in the bucket trucks for many years before I started there. He weathered working outdoors during the Ice Storm, working long hours. He was the kind of person you could talk to and he would listen. You cannot teach someone skills like he had with people. He was well respected amongst his coworkers. He was genuine, trustworthy and a wonderful man. He loved his wife and it showed , the best gift any father can give his children. He had integrity and class. I am sitting here tonight thinking of his family’s loss. I am also thinking of the loss of a friend. He had my deepest respect. He and Doodie raised a top notch family. The family was always first. Thank you, Mr. Dick Murphy for all you gave to the community and to your family and friends. You will be sadly missed.