Hello and welcome to the sixth edition of MAINE VIEWS. This site is a pictoral document of people, places and events that you would see here in Maine.
This edition lets us look at small towns. It is hosted with the permission of its author, Joe H.
One of the most
precious assets of Maine is the close-knit, small town community life. People in Maine have
always maintained an independence, but have always been there to help others in need.
The December 8, 1997 issue of TIME magazine ran an interesting article on small town America and why people from large cities were moving to rural areas to get away from the big city life. TIME interviewed six couples about their new ways of living and what they do now with their lives. They also gave a sampler list of ten different places across the United States to live in. Although they ran an excellent article, I think they missed some of the finer places for Americans to live in. So without further adeau', let's go to three of my favorite small towns here in Maine. Let's take a trip up the coast to Bucksport, Orland, and Castine.
On a beautiful crisp December day in 1997 I hopped into the grey ghost (my New Yorker) and fired up the engine. As it chugged and made all the noises that real Maine cars make,I glanced at my Maine atlas to plot my course. After a lengthy thought (all of thirty seconds), I decided to go as far as Bath and take Route One up the coast. I knew that the ride up would normally take about a couple of hours from Portland, but in my car I had to add at least another hour.
I arrived in Bucksport at around the time that I estimated and was greeted with their town sign. Now Bucksport is what I would consider a typical small town in Maine. Cars were going by at a slow pace and people were looking out of their windows at me as they knew I was not from the area. Most people in the small towns in Maine know each other over the years by going to school together, or are related by marriages in some way or another. On Main street the small shops do business beside the larger shops in town. But the main money maker in Bucksport is the local mill that produces paper for the world. I wasn't sure if this mill was part of Georgia-Pacific, Boise Cascade, or of S.D.Warren, but I knew it was the heart and backbone of the community of Bucksport.
Bucksport is located on the banks of the Penobscot River and was founded by Colonel John Buck who passed away in 1795. An industry man, John Buck was a founding community leader in development in the area and built the first saw mill, grist mill, and the first boat in Bucksport. Sixty years after the man passed away a granite monument was erected at his grave site. On his monument there is a curious design that has appeared in the granite stone itself. A local legend has it that after erecting this stone the figure of a human leg appeared within the stone itself. The story goes that Colonel Buck condemned a woman for witchcraft and sentenced her to death by burning at the stake. As the flames leaped around the woman, she cried out to those present "Curses be upon thee, and my sign be upon your tombstone." As the flames burned her, a piece of her leg falls away from the fire and her deformed son, who was shunned by the community, grabs it and runs off to the wilderness with it. Sixty years later, on his stone there appears the form of a leg. The truth though is that no one was ever condemed as a witch here in Maine and that the marking in the stone is a flaw of nature. But even though, it's still an odd flaw... As I left Bucksport I knew that my next stop would be in the neighboring town of Orland.
Just a short drive up Route One, and a turn off onto Route 175 South lies the small community of Orland. This small tranquil town has the charm of simpleness still held over from years gone by. A church, local store, and a post office make up the town's character. As you ride into Castine you notice the land dotted with rural farms and rolling hills that get planted in the early spring and are the playground all year long to horses and goats.
Cruising along the winding road, I came to a screeching halt at one of the corners. I jumped out of the grey ghost and grabbed my camera. There out in the middle of nowhere was a sight that I never would have thought I would have seen up here in downeast Maine. Across the road from me was a windmill. This was an odd sight to behold and I wondered who owned it and if it was a working one. Either way I sure didn't expect something like this out here. Another sight that I didn't expect to see was something that I haven't seen in years. A little further up the road was the old fashion wishing well. When I was a child you could see these just about anywhere but now they are getting more rare as time goes on. I nearly got out to throw a coin in and make a wish for the New Year, but the sun was on it's way down and I still had to get to Castine, my final destination for the day.
Thick with American history, Castine lies close to the mouth of the Penobscot river, and the Atlantic Ocean. As I came to the outlaying area of the town a sign was posted to shore up this fact. Here during the British occupation of the area, the English army had tried to turn Castine into an Island by digging a canal across the neck to protect it from attack. Coming up over the hill I was greeted by a carved stone showing which way Castine was.
Driving down the road in Castine is like going back in time itself. I pulled into the town square and parked the car. There I watched a group of giggling school children cross the road with their teacher going to the local library which was located in front of their school. Looking around I saw the Castine Historical Society's building and thought I would go in to get a brush up on true American history, but the building was closed. Next to the Society's building was a magnificent church. The white tower in contrast to the blue sky brought back memories of other small towns I have gone through here in Maine. Also another common item in the towns of Maine is the monument to those who have served in the armed services. We should never forget those who went before us in the name of freedom. So where do I go to get the information that I want? Of course, right across the street to the town hall. The ladies at the town hall were very nice, giving me maps and information to all the historical sites in the area. Let me tell you, folks, there are 50 places on that map in a very small area that you could take a walking tour of. If you come up to Castine get the map and take the tour, you won't be sorry that you did!
It was getting late in the day and I asked the girls if they had a fast food resturant here. They looked at me like I had three heads and said "no, but you can go down Main Street to the variety store and have some lunch." Back across the road and getting into the grey ghost I headed for Main Street.
Main Street in Castine was very quiet and also very quaint. When I stepped out of the grey ghost,the only sound filling the air was three men hammering on a new addition to a buliding. People walking on the other side of the street would catch my eye and then wave to me as if they had known me. The homes on Main street were well maintained and showed an era that is long gone by. I also came across a plaque in front of the Pentagoet Inn and remembered about the Maine Maritime Academy where some of the finest merchant marinesailors and officers in the world are schooled. But first, some "lunch." Walking down the hill, I encountered others that greeted me and pointed out where the Variety store is located.
When I walked into the Variety store, I didn't expect to see what lay before me. I had thought these were long extinct, but there it was at the end of two aisles ... an old-fashioned lunch counter with the round stools that I used to twirl on in my younger days!! At it were a couple of locals and they turned to see who was coming in and I was greeted by one of the store owners. Standing there talking, I glanced over to a picture of a older man by the name of Earl Bakeman. His eyes seemed to dance with mischief and good natured fun so I asked who Earl Bakeman was. I was told that he was a local who did wood carvings in the area, but had passed away last year. When I asked if any of his work was around, they told me to go to the top of Main street and take a left and look for a building called the Manor. So much for lunch, I was off again! On the way up I took a couple of side roads to view some of the other homes in the area. Rounding the top of Main street I stopped in at the Maine Maritime Academy.
The Maine Maritime Academy was founded in 1941 and is a place to learn everything from seamanship to engineering.The school is known around the world for putting out some of the finest sea worthy people . Many of the graduates from this school are in constant demand for the talents they have learned here. As I walked around the school I noticed that most of the students were away for Christmas vacation, but I did happen upon two that were walking from different buildings and asked if they mind that I took a photo of them. This is a school that applies its teaching to its trade as sometime during the year the cadets have to crew the training vessel, State of Maine, on a cruise to a different port. But seafaring has not always been enjoyable travel from port to port because when I rounded the corner of a building this plaque and monument attest to the dangers sometimes accompanying this vocation.
Sure enough, Paul showed up and we both went inside. Stepping through the doorway was like stepping through a portal back in time. The first thing that caught my senses was the warmth that the building gave. It was the stairway that leads upstairs, the main room off to the right with all the antiques, the beautiful view from the window over-looking the bay. Paul took me to the fireplace in the main room and showed me some of the numerous collections of Earl Bakeman's works. The first one on the mantle was of a shag and black ducks.
"Earl and I were good friends," Paul told me. "He used to make his own decoys when he would go duck hunting in the fall. I saw that he had a talent and encouraged him to expand and make other wood carvings. I own about all the carvings that he did." I could see as Paul showed me around that Earl was a busy man. In every room that we entered Earl's work was present. In the bar more works by Earl decorated the rustic atmosphere. Such things as eagle with albino salmon and others such as cats, sea urchins, ducks, loons, and the list goes on. "Remember," as Paul said to me, "that Earl hand carved all of these. No lathes were used at all."
We left the main building and went next door to the game room. Here Paul showed me more works by Earl Bakeman. "This is one of my favorites. It's called owl in flight and is the first one of Earl's that showed motion. Over here is the very first duck carving that Earl ever did," Paul told me. I asked Paul if he had ever thought of selling any of these fine carvings and I was told that he would never sell them at all. "Too many good memories," is all he said. Wandering into The Manor's office there were even more beautiful carvings of Blue Herons on the desk.
"Did you know that Earl once was invited to the Govenor's house for a show with other local artists because of his talent? We loaded up the truck and took his works to Augusta. Now the funny part was that his works were allowed in but his hat was censored at the door," Paul expressed to me. Why was that? I asked. What was on his hat to make them not have it in the house? Paul laughed and said, "I'll tell you what was on it. It said 'Fishing is like sex, it's all in how you hold your rod.'" We both had a good laugh on that one.
At the end of the tour of The Manor and Earl Bakeman's works, I thanked Paul and started to head back to the car, but Paul invited me down to another one of his inns for a look at some real American history. I accepted his offer and followed him down to the Holiday House. At this inn I met his wife and Paul started to tell me about some of the history of Castine. In the Holiday House he has a collection of antiques and some which he shared with me were a real Revolutionary cannon ball that was fired from one of the American ships when the British held Castine. "We found this one over by Dice headlight. "he said, "and this is a jar that dates back to that period also." He also showed me a Phoenecian amphora jar that was brought up from the harbor about 30 years ago that he owns.
As Paul and I stood there talking about Captain Saltenstall and Paul Revere sailing into
the harbor of Castine to bomb the British strongholds, the sun was setting in the West. "Come
with me and I'll show you one of Nature's most beautiful sights." We walked next door to a
neighbors dock and took a step out. As the sun set on Castine, the
islands were taking on the deep blues of night and the water was as calm as glass. A certain
quiet desended at that time of day. We headed back up after and I got into the grey ghost to
head home. Chugging through Castine I was happy that Time had forgotten about Castine. May it
always remain the same, one of my favorite small towns in Maine.
Thanks for stopping by. If you have been following my series you know that the Maine Views site changes every month. All the pictures I have online were photographed by me and are yours to take. If you would like to have an 8x10 of any photos, please drop me a line and I'll have it made up and sent to you. If you would like to say hello to an "ole Mainah" or would like to be added to my mailing list, drop me a line. - Joe H.
