https://omekaclassic4.nhlibraries.org/files/original/01db59c192e5ed0a12cd0543ba655c5d.pdf 4f7c59f11bef36fa2d90347f58510513 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour Subject The topic of the resource Troubadour Description An account of the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour was a publication of the State of New Hampshire's State Planning and Development Commission in Concord, NH from 1931-1950s. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The State of New Hampshire Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The State of New Hampshire Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1930s-1950s Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource NHSL Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource State of New Hampshire Troubadour PDF files of the Troubadour OCR OCR of the Troubadour The New Hampshire Troubadour NOVEMBER 1944 Mt. Lafayette from Mountain View House, Whitefield " There's not a leaf that falls upon the ground But holds some joy of silence or of sound. Some sprite begotten of a summer dream." — Laman Blanchard COMES TO YOU EVERY MONTH SINGING THE PRAISES OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, A STATE WHOSE BEAUTY AND OPPORTUNITIES SHOULD TEMPT YOU TO COME AND SHARE THOSE GOOD THINGS THAT MAKE LIFE HERE SO DELIGHTFUL. IT IS SENT TO YOU BY THE STATE PLANNING AND DEVELOPMENT COMMISSION AT CONCORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE. DONALD TUTTLE, EDITOR volume xivNovember, 1944number 8 THANKSGIVING1944 by Kenneth Andler Someone has said that not all the darkness in the world can put out the light of one small candle. That's about the way it is with Thanksgiving in this year of 1944. There's a lot of darkness. A woman in my law office the other day sat across the desk from me and with tears in her eyes told me, in a voice held under control only by will power, of the plans she had made for her oldest son, of the sacrifices she had made for her family, of the sort of boys she had raised, and how word had recently come that the oldest boy had been killed in action in the South Pacific. The letter from General MacArthur, the medal for heroism, she had put in a drawer and only within the last few days had she begun to cherish them. Her other boys were now going overseas. "I don't expect to see them ever again," she said. "You get an insight into these things. It never occurred to me I'd lose Buddy. I don't know how he New Hampshire Troubadour3 A. THORNTON OKAY Market Square and Pleasant Street, Portsmouth. Left to right: Portsmouth Savings Bank. First National Bank. New Hampshire National Bunk and Portsmouth Trust and Guarantee Company. Piscataqua Savings Bank. died, they won't tell me. But he's gone. It*s just as though you were sitting in a brightly lighted room and someone snapped out the lights." It's a sombre background for Thanksgiving this year. But the custom itself was kindled in the darkest times and the light from it has never been extinguished. More than half the Pilgrims had died in that first grim winter on these shores when the few survivors gave thanks for their initial harvest. The first President to issue a Thanksgiving Day Proclamation was George Washington. After that the custom was observed unofficially and on varying dates in different localities. In 1863 4The November 1944 , Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the last Thursday of November as Thanksgiving Day and this was uniformly observed by all succeeding Presidents until these last few years, when this custom got shoved around a bit. The official origin of the day — Abraham Lincoln's proclamation — was brought about only after persistent efforts by Sarah J. Hale, one of the most remarkable women of modern times. .As editor of Godey's Lady's Book, she campaigned for seventeen years to nationalize the holiday. This proclamation of Lincoln's (actually written by Secretary Seward) came in the midst of the Civil War, darker days than these, and it found much to be thankful for. It stated also, "No human counsel hath devised, nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God. who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered us in mercy." The famine winter of Plymouth, the bloody days of the Civil War •— here is no background of moonlight and roses. And how about Mrs. Hale? Was she one who'd always been in clover? Hardly. Born and reared in Newport, New Hampshire, the wife of a lawyer in that town, she had been married only nine years when her husband died. She already had four children at that time and two weeks later gave birth to a fifth. She was left poor, which didn't bother her for herself but she was deeply distressed to think that her children would never receive an education. She resolved to give them one. For six years she tried to support her family by sewing, by running a millinery business, but without success. Then this woman, largely self-educated, tried writing, and at the age of forty in 1828, when woman's place was in the home, got a job starting the Ladies' Magazine, the first woman's magazine in America. For more than forty years she was editor of Godey's Lady's Book, she helped organize Vassar College, she was the first to suggest publicplaygrounds,shebeganthefightforadvancementof r« REGINALD R. STEBBINS Keene High School women's wages, raised the money that finished Bunker Hill Monument, wrote the best known children's poem in the English language, "Mary Had a Little Lamb," — and was responsible for Thanksgiving being a national holiday. So, on the whole, it seems that Thanksgiving has much to do with the victorious overcoming of hardships and with thankfulness for whatever we have. The day itself has a special atmosphere, It's distinctively American. The tantalizing aroma from the kitchen of baking turkey, of pies and spices, the excited cries of the children, the November hills touched with the first snow, the chill of approaching winter outdoors and the warmth of the house within, the harvest gathered and under cover, and through it all, despite the darkness of war, or the loneliness and longing for those now absent, a certain warmth about the heart, a thankfulness even if unspoken, which makes this truly Thanksgiving. The November 1944 HEMONTHOFFLAMINGLEAVES by Mrs. Rollo B. Potter October has pushed September back into the sea of memories and from the lofty elms clusters of yellow leaves are falling telegrams from the high places to tell us that Summer is gone. I am writing from the little town of Acworth bringing to you boys and girls in service, as well as to the many summer people who have had to return to their city homes, just little reminders of the beauty of October that might be anywhere in New Hampshire and not in Acworth alone. To the many who, during the summer, climbed the hill back of Our Elms, with your tin berry pails catching the glint of the August sun, and where one almost forgets to pick the clusters of frosty, sapphire-like berries when they see the splendor of the view from this high point — Old Ascutney and the Green Mountains in the west, Monadnock at the south, and the Sunapee and Lempster lesser mountains at the east. You would, on these October days, find the view more extended and more beautiful than ever. The Great Artist's hand guiding the brush of Jack Frost has completed a canvas, reminding one of a huge oriental rug of marvelous colors, covering the landscape. The blending of the flaming soft maples, the golden yellow of the graceful white birches with the dark green of the evergreens, and in the foreground the mass of crimson blueberry bushes, the flaming torches of the sumac, and one may even catch a touch of the orange bittersweet berries just popped open by the frost, their beauty against the old gray stone wall is beyond description. Should you chance to be at the top of the hill at sunset you will see the steeple of our grand old church, all pinky white as the setting sun hits it. This church is 123 years old, the highest church in all New Berlin, fourth largest city in the state. Home of the Brown Company, famous as leaders in the pulp and paper industry. Home also of the Nansen Ski Club, the c America. Top: The city from Cate's Hill, with Presidential Range of Vt hite Mountain Bottom: Alain street, showing corner of Berlin City National Bank at left. Brown Berlin Ski Jump. The steel ski tower is the highest in the world. ^7 >v. 3P i SSSflS5* *T - a4 'i»i jtjii HAROLD ORNE TheUncle Sam House at Mason in the Monadnock Region where the gentleman who symbolizps the United States once lived (See page 14) Hampshire, and its architectural beauty as it stands with only the sky for its background, is worth traveling far to see, especially in the setting of an October day with the green common in front and the brilliant foliage and blue of autumnal sky framing it. On the woodsy back roads one sees the reflection of the foliage and the white birches at "Chatt's Pond," the screaming bluejays and crows, the red squirrels and chipmunks chattering as they busy themselves storing their supply of butternuts for the winter. In one old cellar hole not far from the village these busy and thrifty little fellows had filled boxes, rusty old pails, and cans with nuts. 10 The November 1944 At a brook by the roadside I saw as many as fifty trout, or more, from four to ten inches long, huddled together in a shallow pond. Perhaps they too were holding a conference, even as Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin, making their plans for the days ahead when you boys are coming back to wander along the banks of these brooks once more. Possibly the trout were planning how best to elude the fascinating lures these boys will be casting into the pools — wet or dry flies, so realistic no trout feels quite safe when a Royal Coach, a Gray Hackle, or a Mickey Finn floats temptingly within an inch of his nose. Yes, all this beauty of New Hampshire will be unchanged when you return, which we sincerely hope will be before the falling leaves of another autumn turn cart-wheels on the lawn. THEFIRSTREADER by Harry Hansen IN NEW YORK WORLD-TELEGRAM Robert Frost once wrote a poem about the need of being versed in country things I felt that need in Franconia. He wrote, too, about the leaning birches of New England that bend over like a girl drying her hair. They are still standing there, white reeds against the darker green of the pines, waiting for the boy who shall swing from their topmost branches. This was Robert Frost's land, and is Ernest Poole's, and there I went to take my eyes from the pages of books and let them rest on the hills. Over-reading is like over-eating it harms the body and chokes the mind. For an antidote I sought vistas of white-painted houses that stand far apart, spacious yards that lead right up to the forests, New Hampshire Troubadour11 tall pines that send the smell of balsam right down to the valleys. Who cares to open a book on Cannon Mountain, where the eye roams over 50 miles of tumbling heights? There were books in Farmer Keen's house — George Eliot, Mary Johnston, Dumas, E. W. Hornung, and Dragon Seed and Presidential Agent. I inspected their spines but was not tempted. In my unregenerate days in Megalopolis I had read them all. I was here to tramp through Franconia Notch, climb the rude forest trails of the foaming Pemigewasset and at the end of the day look forward to the superlative cooking of Farmer Keen's wife. Just once I had a narrow escape from being surrounded by books again. My daughter stopped before a yellow-brick building, wholly out of tune with the white wooden houses of Franconia, and suggested that I visit the public library. But it was noon and the librarian had locked up and gone to lunch. We went on to the frugal grocer's, who had on sale picture postcards still showing the Profile House, which burned down in the 1920's. We went to a church sale, too, where linens, cake and preserves were sold to raise money for the astonishing purpose of sending two boys to camp. From Franconia we journeyed to the Weirs, where I encountered an interesting relic — an aged member of the G.A.R., with broad-brimmed hat and blue coat, being led to a meeting of the American Legion. Even if he enlisted in the final months of the Civil War he must have been around 95. I had not seen veterans for years, but in my boyhood saw them parade, nearly every one a postmaster and indubitably a Republican. So I did not read a book on my vacation trip, but stored up a dozen suggestions. Robert Frost's lines about the State that had one specimen of everything will mean more to me henceforth Thoreau's distress at the ravages of industry will be better understood. When I read Hawthorne's tale of the great stone face again. DOUGLAS ARMSDEN Looking across Lake Winnipesaukee from the Libby Museum near Wolfeboro I shall think of the profile as Hawthorne saw it a century ago. Cornelius Weygandt and Ellen Bowles will tell me things I can comprehend better now. And then I will feast my eyes on the pictures of New England doorways and Marblehead that Samuel Chamberlain made for two incomparable books before he went to the wars. Even when I read about democracy in books that have nothing to do with the White Mountains, I shall esteem it the more because I have breathed its air in Franconia. Front Cover: A hunter and his dog temporarily lose interest in everything except the view across Loon Pond to the autumn-clad Gilmanton Hills. Kodachrome by F. R. Wentworth. Back Cover: A New Hampshire farm home near Canaan. Photo by Harold Orne. In reference to the Uncle Sam House at Mason shown on page 10, the following paragraph is quoted from the New England Historical Register, Vol. 8, p. 277: "Samuel Wilson died at Troy, N. Y, July 31,1844, aged 88 years. It was from him that the United States derived the name of Uncle Sam. It was in this way. He was a contractor for supplying the army in the war of 1812 with a large amount of beef and pork. He had long been familiarly known by the name of Uncle Sam, so-called to distinguish him from his brother Edward, who was, by everybody, called Uncle Ned. The brand upon his barrels for the army was, of course, U. S. The transition from the United States to Uncle Sam was so easy, that it was at once made, and the name of the packer of the United States provisions was immediately transferred to the gov- ernment, and became familiar, not only throughout the army but the whole country." Laconia, Oct. 31 —For years it has been the custom of wiseacres the country over to answer innocent queries concerning the whereabouts of a fire when an alarm is sounded with the stock answer to the effect that "the steel bridge is burning." Well, fire actually did break out at the steel bridge over the Winni-pesaukee river this week, and firemen from the Central station were called out on a still alarm. Painters working on the bridge had accidentally ignited with a blowtorch some shavings used to insulate a conduit under the bridge. Hunting game, anyone will tell you, is sometimes like looking for a four-leafed clover. It may be found right in your own backyard. At any rate, Philip Morse, who has had spine-chilling adventures hunting big game in the wilds of Africa in pre-war days, with his well-known dad, Ira H. Morse of Warren, journeyed to Canada recently to hunt moose. No luck came his 14 The November 1944 way.Hedidn't even asmuch as cast his optics on such an animal. Bound for his Massachusetts home after hisunsuccessfultrekinthe Canadian woods, Phil stopped for a brief visit at his father's abode and was there just long enough to learn that only a few hours before his arrival, a huge moose was seen in a nearby field. — Leo E. Cloutier in "Sports Shavings Column" of Manchester Union "In 1803, Jonathan Buxton was appointedbellringer.Hisduties consisted in ringing the bell on Sundays for divine service and in tolling it at funerals. His compensation was ten dollars a year. The town also voted unanimously to pay a bounty of twelve and one-half cents for all crows killed in town. The dead crows came in so fast that after a year's experience, under the suspicion that some of the birds presented for bounty were not killed in town, the vote was rescinded and the town saved from threatened bankruptcy." — "History of Milford," by George A. Ramsdell ■ REMEMBERTHESE Remember these when days are melancholy And war puts lines of grief on every face When persons push, and skies seem far away Or buildings cramp the stretch of width and space: Cool misty morns in hidden valleys deep: Shifting of dusty blue to darker night Bright silver streams cascading among trees Short sepia streaks of hurried birds in flight Flashes of lightning through the tops of pines Loose tent doors flapping wildly in the gale Pure peaks of mountains stretching high through clouds White flowers that smile along the muddy trail. — Tomi Little Poem for fall The stock is in from pasture, the barn is full of hay, the youngest flock of pullets has just begun to lay, the crops have all been gathered to heap the cellar bins there’ll only be the chores to do when wintertime begins. But I’m not looking forward to all the season brings: the table on Thanksgiving, the Christmas caroling These days that meant reunion Will come again this year Too brimming full of longing for those who are not here. But we will set the table as we have done before, and hang the wreaths of Christmas on every waiting door Hoping that the time will bring us the end of war and then the lads, whose safe returning will make us gay again. by Frederick W. Branch Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available State of New Hampshire Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context troubadour111944 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource State of New Hampshire Title A name given to the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour November 1944 Description An account of the resource <em>Enjoy the November 1944 issue of The New Hampshire Troubadour! </em> [gview file="http://www.nhlibraries.org/history2/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Troubadour-November-1944-FINAL.pdf"] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1944 Type The nature or genre of the resource Magazine Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 16-page booklet Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant New Hampshire Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource COPYRIGHT UNDETERMINED: This Rights Statement should be used for Items for which the copyright status is unknown and for which the organization that has made the Item available has undertaken an (unsuccessful) effort to determine the copyright status of the underlying Work. Typically, this Rights Statement is used when the organization is missing key facts essential to making an accurate copyright status determination. URI: http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/UND/1.0/ Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource New Hampshire State Library, 20 Park Stree, Concord, NH 03301https://nh.gov/nhsl Language A language of the resource eng Subject The topic of the resource Berlin Franconia Keene Keene High School Mason Portsmouth Sarah J. Hale Uncle Sam House Whitefield