A View of the Town: Episode 17 -- The Great Turkey Round-up of 1920

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in the small coastal town of misty Cove along the coast Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and another of his stories of the the sleepy seaport town.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by a pumpkin.  It's neither a pump nor a kin. But it has tough outer skin and a soft inside.  Just like that one cousin who was never a bride with skin like tanned leather. Pumpkins.

Roasted turkey, oysters on the half shell, baked squash, mashed potatoes, mincemeat pie, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce, baked carrots, parsnip fitters, cheese, fruits...  This was Mrs. Hornbrook's Thanksgiving meal.  I hadn't eaten so well in a long time.  It was my first Thanksgiving in Misty Cove and everyone wanted me to spend the day with their families. Especially the ones with single daughters.  I personally wanted to spend the day in quiet solitude reading that stack of books that I had ordered from New York, but no such luck.

Although I remember the mean well, I also remember how I had spent three weeks before Thanksgiving. Attending to injuries sustained from, what we now call, "The Great Turkey Round-up of 1920."  Not to be confused with "The Great Turkey Debacle of 1921" which involved Richie Williams, or "The Mighty Thanksgiving Feather Storm of 1931."  The 1920 escapade involved a wagon from Portland loaded with over twenty turkeys, a stubborn and impatient horse named Cyril ridden by the young and attractive Ms. Latham visiting from Boston, and a wagon driven by Earnest Simpson, Misty Cove's know-it-all.

Twenty miles south of Misty Cove, a man by the name Big Jim Worth owned and operated a poultry farm with chickens and turkeys. He had been raising and suppling the area with poultry for the past thirty years.  And in early November he would offer Thanksgiving turkeys.  Ebenezer Forthright, a local meat merchant, would send his two sons, Barney and Harvey to Worth's farm to purchase twenty turkeys to sell in his shop.  It would be a family affair with all the Forthrights involved.  You could pick out your turkey, have it cleaned and dressed, and delivered.  Many took him up on this offer.

So, one early November day, Harvey and Barney, the two bachelor sons of Forthright set off for their turkey purchases.   All went well.  Big Jim even threw in two extra turkeys for free since Forthright was a in-good-standing customer.  And so the boys began their journey home.  It wasn't until they were two blocks away from their father's shop.  Now Mr. Forthright had a plot with a barn where he would pin up the turkeys in order to feed and take care of them.  It was not far from the shop, within walking distance.

On this particular day, Misty Cove was lucky to witness the arrival of the young and attractive Ms. Annabelle Latham, actress, singer, and cousin of Mrs. Mathilda Upthank.  Ms. Latham had arrived from New York City where she has just finished her role in a play named "Love is the Only Word."  A two-bit comedy that she took too seriously with it closing only after three weeks.  At least that is what the New York Times reported. (I have a subscription.)  Ms. Latham was greeted at the train station by Mr. Upthank with his horse Cyril and carriage.  With word that a famous actress visiting, a word that undoubtedly started Mrs. Upthank bragging, two young Misty Cove ladies with acting aspirations waited for her arrival on the three o'clock train.   Now to make this story a little shorter, let's just say that Ms. Latham, on a dare, was going to show off her horsemanship.  And Cyril was the horse on which she would do that.

Now to make this scenario complete, I have to bring in Earnest Simpson, the man about town who knew more that you do about just about anything. Even I got a lecture on "doctoring" and how to do it better.  But on this day, Simpson had been lecturing a couple of young men on the art of sailing, even though it wasn't sailing weather, from the seat of his wagon.  He had blustered on for some time.  Right in front the gate that led to the Forthright turkey barn.

As the Forthright brothers made there way towards the gate, little did they know that Ms. Latham who on a dare attempted to show off her horsemanship has accidently slapped the stubborn and impatient Cyril one too many times.  And Cyril became annoyed with his show-off of a rider and decided that she was no longer welcome and bolted.  Right towards the Forthright barn.

Now what happened next is still unclear but remains a topic of conversations at the local cafe.  But what we do know is that the horse hitched to the Forthright brothers' wagon was spooked by the fact that Cyril came racing by and skidded to a stop.  Ms. Latham, who was admired by the bachelor Forthrights for just a brief moment, was thrown up over Cyril's head, feet first, and landed straddling Simpson's shoulders.  Simpson in turn bent over so far and fast that Mr. Latham accidently kicked the two young men in the heads since they didn't have time to run after being trapped by Simpson and his so-called sailing advice. The Forthright's horse reared up causing the wagon to bounce up.  Barney and Harvey fell backward crashing into the crates of the turkeys.  The turkeys, who had been contently enjoying the wagon ride, became startled as their crates crashed to the ground.  They took flight in all directions with feathers flying.

Everyone knows that turkeys can't fly, but they flew.  I saw that part with my own eyes.  What I saw when I ran up to see what the commotion was was this.  Barney and Harvey Forthright laying among now busted empty crates.  The two young men who had the luck of being kicked were leaning against the wooden fence, rubbing their chins and heads and trying to stand.  Ms. Latham sprawled in a water trough along the other side of the fence after being thrown from Simpson's shoulders.  Simpson himself had been knocked silly by at least three flying turkey and was disoriented, arms flailing.  I watched as he knocked himself out when he ran right into a telephone pole.

After Forthright announced that the turkey you caught would be turkey you could buy and believe me the word spread quickly, many of the town residents ran amok attempting to catch the turkeys.  All the turkeys were of various size and this in turn led to a few fist-fights and arguments with the most famous fist-fight between Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. White.  Needless to say, I spent much of my time at the hoosegow and making house calls.

To be honest, I can't recall one Thanksgiving in Misty Cove that wasn't peaceful....  I'm not so sure that I am thankful for that.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by a pumpkin. Their round and orange and make delish pies.  Just like that one cousin who is also round and orange and makes delish pies. Pumpkins.

CSM

A View of the Town: Episode 16 -- Mrs. Abigail Symons Simmons

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by lettuce.  Crisp and green.  Flat, roman, or curly. It’s best with a mix of mustard and honey. Lettuce.

I want to tell you the time that I attended Mrs. Abigail Symons Simmons, the meanest woman in Misty Coves history.  Now Old Mrs. Simmons was on her death bed.  Just waiting for Death to knock on her door.  Probably to hand her off to whoever takes them down below.  Trust me, not one person in town will argue with me.

In order to understand her hatred of people, we would have to delve into her past.  And we just don’t know it.   She had moved to Misty Cove after her husband had died, because it was in his will.  He had to live in the house of his choice in order to receive money from his estate..  Apparently, he killed himself, possible to get away from his wife, but rumor has it he had embezzled money and law was about to catch up with him.  So, Old Mrs. Simmons had lived in Misty Cove for about ten years before I arrived, so about 1910.

Her main order of business was to complain about the orphanage home being too close to her house, the volunteer fire brigade “disgusting taste in uniform colors,” the smell from the wharf, the new color of the hotel, the old color of the hotel, the saw mill made too much dust, the grocery never had what she wanted, the baker's bread was too soft, sometimes too hard.… in fact there was nothing that she didn’t complain about.  Even when she first came to my office.

“How do I know that you are a qualified doctor?” she said. 

“Here are my degrees.  I trained under some great qualified doctors.”

“Those could be fake.  Maybe you bought them.”

I didn’t know what to say.  She sat across from me, frowning, holds folded on her lap, leaning forward a bit, and pursing her lips.  “I have a pain that I need to you determine its source.”

“And where it is?”

She pointed to her foot.  “I fear that it might be cancer.”  She slipped her shoe off and plopped her foot on my knee.

With just one glance, I could see that it was a callus.  A classic case.  She did not like that answer.

“I knew you were a quack.  Not a real doctor.  Any well-educated doctor would know that was cancer.”

Needless to say, Mrs. Abigail Symons Simmons did not return to my office and seven weeks later died at the age of 84.  From a slow painful death of cancer…. In her mouth.  Had she let me say “Open your mouth and say Ahhhh” I probably would have noted the sore.  But she probably wouldn’t have believed me.  

I’ll save some of my “fonder” memories of Mrs. Simmons for later, especially the one about being told to keep her window shades pulled all the way down.  My one of my other favorites being that of Mrs. Astor, one of our seamstresses in town.  Mrs. Astor once said "I just love to embroider her monogram.  It suits her so well."

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by lettuce.  Boston or head or bibb. Toss it with onions, tomatoes, and put it in the fridge.  Lettuce.

A View of the Town: Episode 14 -- Widow Head

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Old Crown Whiskey.  It goes down smooth, but what can you lose, as their motto says, "If doesn't kill you, you can rely on this booze."  Old Crown Whiskey

Last time, I told you about the Leonora Leticia, a merchant ship that disappeared during a mighty storm on October 12, 1885.  Well, let me tell you about the time that the Widow Head saw that ship sail into port on the same night it sank… only twenty-eight years later. 

Well, let me tell you about the Widow Head and her night at the dock a few Octobers ago.  The night that the Leonora Leticia sailed in, which as you may recall and sunk many years before. 

Widow Head’s husband, Mr. Clear Head, was the town’s prominent and successful insurance salesman for many years.  But he died in a very tragic way.  According to the local gossip, Mr. Head had traveled to Boston, visited a local house of ill-repute, and suffered a heart attack.  Even more it was rumored that he had in the arms of a madam named Sweet Honey.  But that’s another story.

Now, with the help of the insurance money from her husband’s demise, Widow Head lived the life of luxury.  A new house, best rose garden in town, finest furniture.  All the latest styles of fashion.  And since his death, she has been known to take a nip or two… or three… or even a dozen or more.  It was reported that Amos Blackburn, owner of a local tavern, had sold more bottles of old crow to her and kept her well stocked.

To move along, one night, Widow Head must have had one too many as they say and was seen staggering on the dock where the merchant ships moor.  It was about midnight on the 12th of October. Several men who were quietly talking in a small dive near the dock witnessed the whole scene from there.

The excitement broke out when Widow Head let out a blasting scream that woke everyone within a five-block radius.  She ran uncontrollably, still screaming, into the small dive near the dock.  She proceeded to topple tables, chairs, and busted any bottle she could get her hands on. She had to be subdued by a couple of the brawny sailors.  But after wild struggle she broke loose, ran out, and leapt off the dock into the icy waters.

Once retrieved, she was brought to my predecessor. She smelled of whiskey and a bottle of gin was found in a secret pocket in her petticoat.  As he tried to help her, she raved endlessly about seeing the Leonora Leticia, sailing into port with Captain Deck at the wheel.  She said it glowed and misty.  And swore that Captain Deck had yelled out to her.  “I’m comin’ home to you my dear Minerva.  I’m comin’ home.”  The boys never decided whether it was the whiskey or the ghost of a ship, but the story lives on.  And the one piece of important information that you need to know is that Widow Head’s name was Minerva.  Now's there's a mystery.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Old Crown Whiskey.  Take a few sips if you've got the gripe. Take a few for the flu. It will warm you all the way through.  Old Crown Whiskey.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher spins another tale about Mystic Cove, a small port in Maine, and its residents.

CSM

A View of the Town: Episode 13 -- The Leonora Leticia

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Larry. Hairy Larry isn't scary but he also picks the bestest berries.  Larry lived in Misty Cove, Maine, but now he's totally insane. Larry.

I should tell you the story of the Leonora Leticia, a merchant ship that sailed between Misty Cove and several ports down south like Charleston and Savannah and even out to Bermuda and Jamaica.  The ship was commanded by a old salt named Captain Enormous Deck.  A hulk of a man with a beard so red that it look like an upside down flame on his face. Some of the boys in town claimed his beard had a family of crabs living in it.  He had been at sea for more than anyone knew.  Some claimed he was older that the hills while others said the dirt.

Now one moonless night, cloudy and dark, a horrid torrent blew in just as Captain Deck sailed towards Misty Cove, passing Pointless Point and up towards Widow's Pier.  But the ship never made it into port.  The lighthouse was dark.  The winds blew so hard that it blown out one of its panes of glass.  The wind was a force to strong for our lighthouse keeper, Nathan Stanhope, and his mate, Perky Parky Patchwork. They struggled to relight it.  Fearlessly fighting the gale. But it was too late. The Leonora Leticia had broken up on the rocks, not far out, but enough that between the tide and the wind, they took her further out, only to drag her to the bottom.

One life-hungry sailor managed to survive.  A young man named Barnabus Clark.   He told of what happened aboard the ship.  The ship was sinking from the water it was taking on.  Captain Deck had tied himself to the wheel, trying to steer the ship.  Clark was swept overboard.  The ship had staggered out toward open water when Clark was swept overboard.  The last he remembers of the ship was hearing a large crack and hearing the mast breaking.  He could see the  Leonora Leticia sinking.  No other survivors or wreckage appeared.  That was in October 12, 1885, near midnight. And here it is forty years later, every October 12, near midnight, and the Leonora Leticia has been seen sailing into port and then disappearing on that fateful night.

I'll have to tell you the rest of the tale.  About just how poor old Barnabus Clark left this world. 

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher spins another tale about Mystic Cove, a small port in Maine, and it residents.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Larry.  He once said that blueberries are best, but that was before someone shot his wooden chest just to get his best vest that he wore to pick the bestest blueberries.  Larry.

CSM

A View of the Town, Episode 9: Rosco and Swanky Jane

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the love story of Rosco and Swanky Jane.

This episode is brought to you by... Water. It runs but never wears shoes. It pools but never wears swim trunks. Water. It's wet.

And now on with the love story of Rosco and Swanky Jane...

As you may recall from previous episodes, I mentioned Louisville Sam, a spinner of tall tales who, by the way, lived in a two-room house just a little ways north of the docks.  You could often see him sitting outside, drinking a strong brew of coffee black as night, and watching the fishing boats go out and come in with their catch of the day.  Louisville Sam found odd jobs to do around town to pay the rent.  And to anyone who would listen, he'd tell of many of his adventures which took him around the world.

Now one story I remember involved a sly gentleman named Rosco, a self-proclaimed gambler from Atlanta, and his gal Swanky Jane with the amaryllis tattoo who sang and entertained on the Jennie Beth, a riverboat that traveled down the Ohio from Cincinnati to Louisville.

As I recall the story, back around 1892, one evening while the river boat was docked, Louisville Sam and Rosco were playing a game of blackjack with a fellow from New York City. I'm not sure how this trio came about, but this New York City poker player was a true dandy. Dressed like one with his silk shirt and fancy red ascot. Smelled like one with his scent of bay rum. And he also had his shifty eye on Swanky Jane. And everyone knew her heart belonged to Rosco.  And anyone who tried to tango with her knew better.

After Rosco had just triumphed at a hand of blackjack, Swanky Jane came over to visit after performing and savoring the applause.  This unsuspecting (and uncaring) city slicker complimented her tattoo, asked what kind it was, and proceeded to woo her while rolling his smoldering cigar between his teeth.  However, Swanky Jane didn't want anything to do with him. And Rosco wasn't too pleased with his level of advances either and let his jealous streak get the most of him.

Next thing they all knew, Rosco had punched that fellow from New York City, sending him flying across the floor. The city fellow didn't just lie there, he proceeded to take aim at Rosco, right into Rosco's fist that is.  Only this time that New York Yankee fell into a table of four hands.  From there, a full blow bar room brawl of two blossomed to full swing.  That New York dandy got right back up, not knowing when to walk away.

Most in the room were familiar with Rosco's fighting style.  Little did that New York gent know, but Rosco had studied a fighting technique know as judo, as a young man living in San Francisco, from a judo master. Rosco took several steps back, stood perfectly erect, gently bowed, and flew foot first square in that gent's chest.  The fellow flew backwards and slid against the wall.

Swanky Jane never moved from where she perched on a nearby table.  The cigar that fellow had been smoking rolled right to her foot.  She picked it up, started to smoke it, and laughed.  She winked her eye at Rosco who simply grinned. He knew that night she'd be paying him a visit.  What a pair.

I've many other storied about that pair and from Louisville Sam, but I'll save some for later.  That Louisville Sam was a walking book of wonderment and mystery.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about the night that Amaryllis Stemm payed Misty Cove a visit that they would never forget.

This episode was brought to you by... Water. It rolls in.  It rolls out.  But it never rolls up and never rolls down.  Water.  It just goes with the flow.

CSM

A View of the Town, Episode 8: Otis Major in the Witch's Woods

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the continuation of his story about Otis Major.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by air.  It's here. It's there.  It's everywhere.  It's even in your hair.  Air.

And now on with A View of the Town...

Now last time, I told you about Louisville Sam, a spinner of tall tales.  Before that I told you about the Witch's Woods north of town.  I also told you about how Otis Major, a young lad of eight, took on a double-dare bet on Halloween from Hubert Stinct to venture off into the Witch's Woods.  Well, let me combine them into one of the stranger stories I have.

Otis wondered off into the woods at dusk.  Before long, a band of blue lights began to spin out of the underbrush and followed him.  According to the boys who dared him, these blue lights knocked him down into the brush.  Otis didn't respond to their yells. Just as the boys began to get nervous, Louisville Sam came strolling up from town. He had seen the lad head off alone and knew that trouble would be brewing.  He knew that tale of Amaryllis Stemm, the stranger the whole town believed to be a witch and had also disappeared in the woods.

Louisville Sam asked what they had been up to.  They nervously talked about Otis disappearing and the blue lights knocking him down.  Without a care, Louisville Sam strolled in the direction where Otis disappeared.  It was at this point that the boys said the oddest thing happened.   Louisville Sam simply vanished right in front of their eyes.  One boy said he was like a ghost fading away.  When that happened, the boys ran in every direction, skedaddling out of there.

The whole town searched the woods, only in daylight mind you, and never found a trace of Otis or Louisville Sam. Men kept watch on the woods day and night.  The police brought in hunting dogs who followed Otis' scent right to the place where the boys said he fell down.  But nothing was ever found.  Makes me think of that old Hoosier poet James Whitcomb Riley's poem about the goblins getting you if you don't watch out.

Now, all was not lost, because Otis showed up three days later as if he were in a trance. Walking down a side street.  His clothes all muddy and leaves in his hair.  Mrs. Jarvis, the local seamstress, saw him and immediately called his mother and the police. Otis Major muttered a fantastic story about meeting a young woman who matched Stemm's description and how Louisville Sam had introduced them.  Otis said that they took him to a room in house where they kept him.  They asked him to chant several words in Latin. After several days of this, they finally looked at him and said "Time for you to go home.  You're not the one."

The boys said he was making it up and he had hid from them.  Reverend Lord said that the devils had taken him.  Luther Stamp of the Mystic Cove Gazette said Otis had visited Heaven.  And Otis didn't care he was just glad to be back home.  Whatever it was, nobody to this very day knows.  But we do know this, a fence went up around the woods and was posted.  Nobody to this day has every entered it.

Otis Major later became a writer and moved to some place in Washington State.  His mother told me where, but I don't remember exactly.  But none the less, he's out there.  Writing away with a vivid imagination.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about Rosco, a gambler, and his girlfriend, Swanky Jane.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by air.  Drifting.  Floating.  Swirling.  All around you.  It's always there.  Air.

CSM

A View of the Town, Episode 7: Thanksgiving 1921

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the Thanksgiving of 1921.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by dust.  You clean. You sweep. You make a fuss, but it's never going to leave you.  Dust.

And now on with A View of the Town.

Back in 1921, Thanksgiving was coming and the whole town was rounding up their turkeys and all the fixings to go with it.  You know mashed potatoes, green beans, stuffing, dressings, gravy. You name it and someone in town had it.

Now most people got their turkeys from a farmer named Durham Q. Byrd who about two miles south of town.  Yes, you read that right.  Durham Q. Byrd.  And to look at him, you knew it.  His waddle was droopy and red from scraping with a straight razor.  His eyes slightly bulged.  And his stomach jutted out making him look like a stuffed turkey himself.  Every year, he would have enough turkeys for the whole county and then some.  This particular Thanksgiving almost went turkey-less, due to a loose wooden peg about a half-inch long.

Richie Williams worked for Mr. Byrd for the month of November.  His job was simple.  Keep the turkeys safe and watch for foxes.  Richie was now seventeen years old, but not that bright.  He lacked in good old fashioned common sense.  Some say his ma had dropped him on his head when he was a baby. Others say his pa had given too much brandy when Richie was teething. Doesn't really matter which.  All we know is that night, poor Richie Williams would almost ruin Thanksgiving.

Six days before Thanksgiving and folks would be arriving to place their orders.  Often they could pick out their tom and Richie would tag it with Byrd taking the notes, carefully assigning a number to match bird with future owner.  On the day before folks would drop by to pick up their main course for their thankful meal, Richie got his first, and I might add, only bright idea.  His plan was simple: sharpen the ax (which he did), have a hot lunch down at Pearl's Diner (which he did), and then organize the turkeys in numerical order, making it easier the next morning to find (which he attempted).

Have you ever tried to arrange a rafter of turkeys?  Richie tried, but what he didn't realize was that turkeys don't care about the numbers.  Or the order of the numbers.  Nor did they take to kindly to Richie try to organize them in numerical order.  Richie found himself turkey pecked.  All over.  If you've never had a hundred turkeys surround you with all the same intention, well lucky you as Richie would say as he recalled the tale in the barber shop the next day.

"They came at me from ever direction," said Richie.  "There was this one ornery cuss. I called him Old Tom, you know like a tom should be called.  But by my recollections he didn't like that name.  He charged at me the moment I got half way to the center of the lot.  You see they was all in this large fenced in yard on the Byrd farm."  Richie tiptoed, like he was making his way through them.

"At first, I thought old Tom as going to just push back towards the gate and out.  But he got a few others riled up and they started pecking at my legs.  Before I knew what it was all about, they was all over me.  I thought turkeys couldn't fly, but they did.  Right at me."  Richie flailed his arms like he was battling them right then.

"So ran back to the gate as best I could, fighting off them turkeys.  I finally made it out, slamming that gate right on Old Tom and his buddies. And got out there.  Just as I got a few steps away, I heard something.  When I looked back, Old Tom had pushed that pin out and he and his boys, all one hundred, came flocking after me."

As you can imagine, the boys in the barber shop that day knew what really had happened.  Richie hadn't pushed the pin in.  Mr. Byrd confirmed that.  He had seen the whole thing from his kitchen window.  Richie simply opened the gate and ran, leaving the gate wide open.  As Byrd described it, it looked like a dark feather cloud just flying away.  He was so dumbfounded he didn't know what to do.

We do know this, he got most of the turkeys back and his business dropped a little next Thanksgiving, especially when the hunters found out that some of those turkeys had nested in the woods west of town.  Many were thankful that hunting season.  All thanks to Richie Williams.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about  Otis Major in the Witch's Woods.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by dust.   It's true that we come from dust and we return to dust.  So are they coming or going under that bed?  Dust.

CSM

A View of the Town, Episode 6: Louisville Sam

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher as he recollects about Louisville Sam.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by pins.  They stick and prick you, but they're still you're friends when they hold up that hem.  Pins.

And now on with A View of the Town...

I know I told you the last time you all read that I would tell you about Otis Major and his trip into the Witch's Woods north of town, but if you've noticed I sometimes stray away on some other story first. In this case, Louisville Sam plays a part in Otis Major's visit in the Witch's Woods. So, I have to fill you in on him.

Tall, slender, and fit the name, Louisville Sam told us of his travels in his younger days on the riverboats along the Ohio River. Being an Ohioan myself, I knew some of the river ports he spoke of between Wheeling and over to where it flowed into the Mississippi. His stories were so fascinating we never quite knew what to believe, but could only sit back and revel in the tales he would spin.

I remember the first time I met Louisville Sam at the barber shop. The boys all sat back while I simply asked Louisville Sam "You been here all your life?"  I soon learned that the true history of Louisville Sam would always remain a mystery even down to the basics like when or where he was born.  If you asked, he would answer "Two days short of a million and between two rivers rolling south like piss into a stream."  So, with snipping of barber clippers in my ear, I heard the longest answer to my simple question.

Louisville Sam fiddled with the silver buttons on his worn denim vest. He kicked the leg of his chair with his right boot as if he was trying to shake a memory loose from his big toe and get it to travel up to his brain, then he said --  "I've been here long enough to remember the original cabin that founded this town. I was a little younger then. But I remember meeting old Jedediah Cork East. That must of been about 50 years ago or more. I honestly don't remember. I helped him hew those logs for that cabin."  He stopped for just a moment and then proceeded to tell me about the time he caught a glimpse of the whale that Moby Dick had been based on.

The others in the barber shop just grinned as I sat there  wondering why this guy hadn't been locked up in an asylum somewhere and I probably had the facial expression to go along with that thought. But, Louisville Sam never blinked an eye as he spun out his tall tale about meeting the long dead founder of Misty Cove.  I did know that I had learned my lesson.  At least until that day the Otis Major walked into the Witch's Woods at the edge of town. If I hadn't been there to see it, I would never have believed it.  And on top of it, I'll have to tell you about the time he met the Queen of England herself.  Now that's another story.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about Otis Major in the Witch's Woods.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by pins.  Both sharp and pointy, but never witty.  Pins.

CSM

A View of the Town: Episode 5: The Tale of the Witch's Woods

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine.  Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and The Tale of the Witch's Woods.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by... Trees.  The taller they are, the harder they fall. So be careful and watch for their falling. Trees.

And now on with A View of the Town, Episode 5...

I've been promising to tell you about the Witch's Woods just north of Misty Cove.  If you follow East street all the way north, it eventually tees and you will run right into the edge of the woods. If you turn left, you will head out of town to Wasterman's farm.  And turning right will take you the Atlantic and the docks.  Of course, you also have the option of traveling into the woods on the dirt road.  Not many choose that option, but I can tell you at Halloween, you'll always spot a cluster of kids standing there.  "I dare you" one will say. "I double-dare you" is often the reply.  This banter will go back and forth among the crowd, until one young lad will take the dare to venture off into the woods.

Now we're not really sure what the truth is to the Witch's Woods other than back in 1882, a woman by the name of Amaryllis Stemm wondered into the woods and never came back out.  The legend goes that Stem had come in on a steamboat from somewhere down the coast.  Some say Salem, others say Savannah, but regardless, the locals believed her to be a witch.  She checked into Easterly's Hotel for one night where she created a ruckus of chanting and "voodoo" as Mr. Easterly had refereed to it.  It was said that the townsfolk had seen blue balls of light coming from her second-floor room.  Some imagined them to balls of blue fire.  Others said they looked like thick bubbles floating out the window.  Regardless, she spooked the whole town with her hocus pocus.

The next morning, under the suspicious eyes of the everyone, Amaryllis Stemm packed up, walked right down the center of town and into the woods.  She was never seen nor heard from again.  At least not in the flesh.  I have tried to winnow out the rumors from the facts.  One of those facts being that over the course of several years, blue balls of light could be seen floating around in those woods. Many believe that Stemm is still in there, practicing and waiting for the moment to... well... cause trouble.  I guess.  No one ever really said what she might do.  But they do fear that she might make off with one of their children.

I can related this story, part fact, part rumor.  A few years ago, one local youngster, Otis Major, took up Hubert Stinct and his gang's double-dare and ventured off into the woods on Halloween. It was dusk so they could see him and he could easily wonder back.  As the boys watched poor Otis traipse along, a band of blue lights spun up out of the underbrush and started to follow him.  Now the boys say that Otis fell down and never came back up again.  His mother tells a different story.  Otis showed up three days later as if he were in a trance.  He told her about meeting a young woman who matched Stemm's description.  When she asked where he had been, he simply muttered the most fantastic story and never spoke again... which by the way isn't true.  Otis Major later became a writer and moved to some place in Washington State.  His mother told me, but I don't remember exactly.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us the story that Otis Major related about his time in the Witch's Woods.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by... Trees.  They'll leaf every fall, but return every spring.  Trees.

CSM

A View of the Town, Episode 4: July 15th, 1920

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine.  Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and July 15th, 1920.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by...  Winter.  It's after the fall, but before the spring.   Winter.  It's somewhere in between.

And now on with A View of the Town, Episode 4...

As you might recall from the last time, I told you that I would tell you about the story about the Witch's Wood, but I've decided I've first got to another story off my chest.  I told you about how Slumberman's Sawmill almost burnt down. Ignited by a forgotten firework which no one ever admitted to lighting.  And of course, who would. So, it remained a mystery, until now.  For you see, I know who lite that firework and how.  It was a few days later, July 15th, when it came clear to me what I had missed. A pair of hooligans running for their lives down the back hill behind the mill.

As the new doctor in town, I had the privilege of meeting Mr. Amos Flathorn, local carpenter.  He was small framed, but stocky, and I'd guess about 50.  One the morning, a few days after the incident, Mr. Flathorn came into the office, limping in pain.  When I asked what the problem was, he dropped his pants and pointed to a hefty two-inch splinter in the left part of his rump. After extracting the festering sliver of pine, I jokingly asked "And how did you get such an injury?"  From that moment on, I felt like a priest hearing confession.

Mr. Flathorn lowered his head in shame.  "It was really the wife's fault. I told her to hold it 'til we got home."  He had caught my attention and asked him to continue.  I was puzzled by what he meant 'hold it.'  Mr. Flathorn began to tell me more. "She gets urges, you see... If you know what I mean." He grinned and winked.  I remained silent, trying to not burst out laughing. Now I got what he meant by 'hold it.'

"So, we was on our way up to the mill to pick up some oak boards when she grabs me and drags me into the shed.  I'm saying 'no, not now', but she hiking up her skirt and saying 'oh yes, right now. I can't hold it 'til we get home.'" He paused and shook his head. "When the misses takes a notion, there's not stopping her.  She's a powerful woman."

Now being a good listener and a polite person, I wasn't sure I wanted to hear any details and had prepared myself to stop him, but I think he got the hint and got to the point.  The splinter point.  "You see, I laid on the bench while she... well... You know.  She's a large woman and strong headed.  After it was said and done, she light up a cigar, but accidentally dropped it and it rolled away under the bench.  Next thing I knew, sparks were a flyin'.  When I jumped up, that's when I got the splinter."

It wasn't until a few days later that I met Mrs. Flathorn.  She was definitely a large woman, towered over Mr. Flathorn, and obviously wore the pants in that household.  This wasn't exactly the kind of story I had expected.  A couple setting of a firework while... well... you get the hint.  Oh, I forgot to mention...  Mr. Flathorn told me he was 65 and Mrs. Flathorn a very young 67; although they don't look it.  With that, you can see why I found this story incredible.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about the Witch's Woods and how it came to be known as the scariest place not in town.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by... Winter. It's cold. It's bold. It's a winter.  It will come back at the same time next year.

CSM

A View of the Town, Episode 3: The Christmas Pageant

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine.  Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and The Christmas Pageant of 1928.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by...  "Snow.  White, bright, wet, and slick. It can mount up fast. It melt down slow.  Snow.  It's just water waiting to happen."

And now on with A View of the Town, Episode 3...

Now the folks of Misty Cove take the holidays seriously here.  Starting with Halloween all the ways to New Year's Day.  One celebration after another.  But one of my favorite memories was The Annual Christmas Pageant put on by the school.  And the performance in 1928 proved to be the most memorable.

Mrs. Amy-Jane Hawkins, the local school teacher, who often left town for a month and another teacher had to fill in.  In any other town, this might be grounds for firing, but here, not in a long shot. Amy-Jane always made up for with the best pageants ever.  The first one I ever attended was actually the 11th one produced. The eleventh would be prove to be the most memorable all because of one not-properly-tied rope.

It was held on the Friday evening of the week before Christmas.  Snow had come.  We only had a few inches. Lucky we were that Christmas.  I had been invited, among a few other select, over to Mayor Archie and Caroline Switcher's for dinner before the pageant.  Now the school housed all eight grades.  High schoolers traveled ten miles down to the school in a neighboring town.  So, the cast for 1928 had thirteen young actors and actresses.

The pageant began well -- a jolly chorus of several favorites, then onto a brief recitation of "A Visit from Saint Nick," a few more songs, then onto the finale of the Story of the Christmas.  The scene started out beautifully.  The oldest students, Agnes Williams and Lester Holt, played Joseph and Mary.   The next oldest played the three Wise Men.  The younger ones filled in as farm animals.  And last, the skinny Raymond Victors had the honor of playing the angel of the Lord, mainly because he was the only one who fit into the harness they used to lower him from Heaven.

The stage had been simply set with a make-shift manger, some bales of straw, and a painted cardboard star. Lester came on stage pulling Agnes on Benny, the smallest donkey Mr. Rankins owns on his farm.  All was going well until they reached the center stage.  Now at this time, the narrator had brought us to the Angel of the Lord to come down from Heaven and say unto thee... But what really happened was this.

Poor skinny Lester was all harnessed and ready to be lowered by Franklin Henry, the appointed stage manager.  Old Henry had a good gripe on the rope.  Forgetting about an empty pale, Old Henry kicked the bucket, lost his gripe on the rope, just as Lester stepped off the small platform just above the manager.  In his angel costume, six-foot wing span and all, Lester swung a little and landed on the back of Benny who in turn bucked up his back legs send the make-manager to fly into pieces.

Now Agnes had been holding the baby Jesus, played by Ida Bell's rag doll, but when the manager flew so did the baby Jesus.  Straight up in the air, out over the audience, and right into the fireplace on the outside wall.  Poof!  That poor baby Jesus went up in smoke in front of poor Ida Bell who screamed and passed out at the doll's demise.

Back on stage, costumed animals scrambled in all directions.  Pieces of manager flew in every direction.  Hay bales tumbled, busting apart.  A cloud made up of straw, chaff, and dust erupted like a volcano spreading all over the stage, forming a dense cloud.

Now we as the audience just watched as the from the thick cloud emerged bucking Benny with an angel with spread wings.  Benny leaped off the stage into the middle aisle and ran to the back doors, kicked one open and ran out into the street.  Poor Lester held on for dear life.  Now trailing behind that donkey was the rope still attached to the harness.  And at the end of that rope, also holding tight was Old Henry.  Covered in straw from being drug through it on the stage, Old Henry looked like a Halloween scarecrow being dragged behind.  He was smart enough to let go before that donkey took to the streets.

Some people saw what happened that night was a Christmas miracle,  For you see, Benny ran down Main Street right towards Leroy Snude, who was notorious for being the town drunk, to give it to you bluntly.  However, Leroy had staggered out into the center of Main Street, completely buck naked. Not a great sight since he could have been mistaken for a bear.

Leroy saw Benny racing toward him and when Benny got within a few feet, Lester sat straight up. His angels wings flew out and rustled in the breeze.  He didn't realize that foil-covered cardboard star was stuck to the back of his head.  So just imagine what drunken naked Leroy saw.   A angel, flapping wings, and a shining star behind him.

From that day, Leroy went on to divinity school and came back to take up the Gospel at the town church.  As for the audience, we had the best time even though it wasn't true to the story.  It was still the best Christmas Pageant ever.  The Christmas Pageant of 1928.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about the Witch's Woods and how it came to be known as the scariest place not in town.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by...  "Snow.  White, bright, wet, and slick. It can mount up fast. It melt down slow.  Snow.  Snowmen are waiting to be built."   

A View of the Town, Episode 2: July 4th, 1920

In our first episode, we met Dr. Willis Fletcher, a new arrival in Misty Cove, Maine.   Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and The Sawmill Incident.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by...  "Ink.  Black, Blue, Red, or Green.  Ink is always seen.  Ink.  It does a writer good."

And now on with A View of the Town, Episode 2.  So, sit back and let's hear from Dr. Fletcher himself tell the tale of The Sawmill Incident.

July 14th, 1920.  That was the day I arrived in Misty Cove. Well, here it was two weeks later, I've settled in.  I've been welcomed.  And my patient roster is growing. Such a nice, pleasant little coastal town with such an interesting and sordid underground of life you would never have guessed.  I don't think I'll ever forget my first trip over to Slumberman's Sawmill.

Now in order to understand this story, first, I've got to take you on a side trip.  On March 15, 1820, Maine became the 23rd state, under the Missouri Compromise, admitted to the United States.  If you've never experienced a Maine winter, they can be colder than a witch's teat.  So, the March celebrations of Maine's centennial was left for warmer weather.  Come July 4th, Misty Cove set out to whoop it up.  This whooping-up included the largest fireworks display ever seen in the city. However, one firework made its way to a storage shed behind Slumberman's Sawmill.

Lewis Hardy, the man in charge of the fireworks display, had decided to outfox the previous years fireworks thief. The past few years, the largest firework for the display had been absconded by a teenager who I'll tell you more about sometime later.  Well, Hardy had stashed the firework in a shed to the east side of the sawmill.  And was promptly forgotten.  Hardy could be a little absent-minded.

On that warm Monday afternoon, here I stood at the Slumberman's where Luke Jankins, our local handyman and employee of the sawmill, had brought my new sign and had my freshly cut two-by-four.  Now growing up on a farm in Ohio had taught me a few things about being a handyman myself.  Not only can I use a scalpel, but I can also use a hammer.  So, Jankins and I stood out front and debated of who would hang the sign and fix the back step.  Now, just I was about to add my points of the debate, we heard the loudest whistle fizzing from the shed.  And what happened next is hard to describe, but here goes.

The shed had a small square four-pane skylight in it so you could see when you went in.   Well, the skylight's glass busted out as that forgotten lone firework burst its way through.  I can only assume that since its path had been cut short was why about twenty-feet up it did its job.  Boom!  That firework went off only twenty feet off the ground.  Sparks flew in every direction.  Jankins and I hit the ground waking a cloud of dust soon mixed with embers and dying stars of fire.  I had covered my head, but poor old Jankins found his hair aflame.  I was lucky and only a few burn holes showed up on the back of my jacket.  Jankins jumped up and ran for the nearest horse trough.  Several nearby windows shattered. The whole town seemed to stand still after the sound of the blast.

Slumberman's Sawmill on the other hand came to life. In fact, ablaze.  Being a sawmill, there were piles of sawdust, wood shavings, and stacked lumber.   The men had already grabbed buckets and began to put out whatever they could.    And just when all seemed lost... Well, let me put it this way.  Nobody had noticed the clouds that had moved in.   And wouldn't you know it, we had a downpour. Curls of smoke began to rise everywhere.  And we had a little help from Mother Nature herself.  And from that day forth, Lewis Hardy was asked to keep the fireworks in one place.  They decided the second empty bank vault was the place.

What could have been a major disaster for Misty Cove actually turned out to be the biggest mystery the town have ever known.   Just how did the fuse on that firework get lite.  Well, let me tell you.  I know.  It involved a splinter, a bench, and a sigh of relief.

You've been reading A View of the Town with Dr. Willis Fletcher.  One doctor's view of a small town.  Join us next time for a whole new episode where Dr. Fletcher tells the tale of the Christmas Pageant.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by...  "Ink.  Green, Red, Blue, or Black. Ink forms to words.  Ink.  A writer's best friend."

A View of the Town, Episode 1: My Arrival

Welcome to my new installment story, A View of the Town, where you meet Dr. Willis Fletcher, a new arrival in a small coastal town in Maine.  Who knows where he will take us?  What tales he will tell us?  (I don't even know and I'm the author.)  This first installment, entitled My Arrival, brings the town to light.

This first episode is brought to you by... "Paper.  You've felt it.  You've written on it. Paper...  A clean sheet will do wonders for you."

And now on with A View of the Town.  So, sit back and let's hear from Dr. Fletcher himself...

I remember arriving as if it were just yesterday.  I stepped off the early afternoon train onto the weathered platform.  My rear-end was sore from sitting for so many hours.  It's a long trip from Xenia, Ohio.  But, now I was a new arrival in a new town that I would eventually call my home. Maybe. Even at age twenty-seven, I still got butterflies in my stomach. New place. New people. I got nervous. Medical school was behind me.  The War to end all wars was over.  And on my calendar, I had marked July 14th, 1920, as the start of my professional life.

To the end of the platform, around the corner to my right, and there it was. Misty Cove, Maine. Your typical coastal town on the Atlantic shore. I could smell that salty and fishy air I had read about. Seagulls circling. Small clapboard houses all neat and white.  Population 329 1/2.  Really 330, but I'll tell you about the "half" later.

My new office was directly across from Whitman's Grocery and Dry Goods on East Street.  East Street ran north and south; so not to confuse you, it was named after Jedediah Cork East, the founding father of Misty Cove.  In fact, my office stood where the first cabin was built in 1854, by Old East himself on land owned by his Grandfather Cork. The Corks had purchased and settled the land about 15 miles to the south, but it was Old East who had platted out Misty Cove. The cabin now gone, but not forgotten as noted by the wood plaque that stood in my new office's window.

When you stand facing east in the center of the street in the center of town, you see out to the Atlantic Ocean.  If you turn south, you'll see the road curve west due to a steep wooded hill.  Many Misty Cove citizens thought of the hill as the town picnic area during any major summer celebrations giving them full view of any fireworks.  Many like to tell of the time, Jesse Cork rode his sled down the hill so fast in the winter of '04 that's what caused him to became that automobile racer.  Or at least that's what his mother blamed it on.  Looking west, you'll see such sites as Slumberman's Sawmill and the Fluke's Fishery.  And north, you'll see the road disappear into Birdwhistle woods.  Or as it is known by to the youngsters "The Witch's Forest."

Anyways.  The Misty Cove Post Office conveniently stood to the west of my office. The post office building had just been built last year in '19.  Mr. Hank Hawkins was the post master. Mr. Hawkins was the most organized man in town, despite the fact of holding the prize for being the most oddest. "Hawk-eyed" was what students had nicknamed him.   He was know for being able to spot a truant student a mile away.  Even worse, he could spot a candy snatcher by simple putting his nose in the air and taking a deep sniff.

My more logical explanation was that his wife was the school teacher, Mrs. Amy-Jane Hawkins. Rumor had it that she had married Hawk-eyed for one reason.  He had a hundred acres of virgin pine ten miles outside of town.  Each year, she'd try to pull one over on her husband and try to sell some to the loggers. And each year, he'd get wise and intervened.  He always won and she'd leave town for a month before coming back.  Her absence put a damper on student lessons and Ms. Ferule would jaunt over from the nearby town and fill in.

But I really want to tell you about the time that Slumberman's Sawmill nearly caught fire and burnt to the ground.  You see it all started when I stopped by to get a two-by-four to fix a porch step out back of my office and I also had to pick up my new sign with my name on it to hang in the window -- Dr. Willis C.B. Fletcher.

Well, folks, that's the end of the first episode.  Stay tuned for the next installment of "A View of the Town" and just exactly how Slumberman's Sawmill almost burnt down.

And now a word from our sponsor...  "Feel it.  Love it.  Use it.  Paper...  It's always lined up, just for you.  Clean, crisp white paper."

CSM