Hartland Buildings, Bridges, and Other Structures

Hartland has a wealth of historical buildings and other structures. The links below go to other pages on the Hartland Historical Society site or to other sites featuring Hartland buildings.

The Connecticut River Heritage Trails Trail No. 6 includes Hartland and surrounding areas. This page highlights several Hartland structures.

The National Register Properties & Districts site lists several structures in Hartland. These are listed at the Connecticut River Joint Commissions site.

Joseph Call, the “Paul Bunyan of the East”

Joseph Call also known as “The Modern Hercules”, “The Lewis Giant”, “Big Joe”, “Stout Joe” and “The Paul Bunyan of the East”.

Joe Call was one of the fabulous strong men and wrestlers around whom a whole saga of myths and legends have grown. He has often been referred to as the Paul Bunyan of the East, but, unlike Paul who was created by the advertising department of a lumber company, Joe was an actual person and a highly respected citizen of Lewis, Essex, NY. Essex County mythology is enriched by many a story about the strength of Joe Call.

There have been many articles and a book written about our ancestor Joseph Call. Joe Call was born on the old Cushing farm two miles north of Woodstock, Vermont on March 31, 1781. His fathers name was James Call and was called “The Prince of Wanderers” because he apparently moved seven or eight times before settling in Woodstock. At the age of fifty, the father married for the third time and this wife was 15 year-old Anne Powers. Joe was the second son of this marriage and one of seventeen Call children from all marriages.

Joe was reportedly 6′ 3″ tall, thick set and stronger than he looked. Some conservative estimates credit him with the strength of 3 men. He was also described as “above medium height, large without being excessively fat, compactly built, as spry as a cat and of jovial disposition.(Hall) One other description says “Joe was characterized as being tall, straight and broad shouldered, principally bone and muscle, a gentle man at all times, there being none of the bravado about him and a man who used but little liquor in his career.”

Within his family, Joe was the largest and strongest of his generation, but his uncle Nathan was also ‘immense and powerfully built.’ Joe’s older brother Jesse, known as Tip, was also said to be very strong. There is even a story about a powerful Call sister who would wrestle with challengers when Joe was away.(Hall)

We don’t know much about Joe Call as a youth other than that he was a ‘leader and champion’ of the local youth. One story from his school days says that Joe, being guilty of some infraction of rules or misconduct, was called to the front of the class to be punished. Joe strode to the teacher, ‘took hold and tossed him out the window, to the delight of his companions.’ (Hall)

As he grew older, his sense of humor was apparent as he displayed his physical superiority. ‘At one get together he hefted a barrel of cider to his mouth and, after slacking his own thirst, gravely offered to pass it around the rest of the company.’ (De Sormo) As a youth Joe matched his strength against anybody who claimed any strength of their own. Joe’s fame as a wrestler spread locally. Joe traveled abroad and won a wrestling match in Scotland spreading his fame overseas.

Joe worked variously as a logger/lumberer, teamster, farmer, sawmill operator, and mill wright. He served in the militia, ran a store and served as a postmaster, town assessor, auditor, and Justice of the Peace. While working as a teamster, ‘whenever he happened to bog down in a mud hole, he crawled under the wagon, made himself into a human jack and lifted it to dry land.’ (Hall) One noted event occurred while Joe was a teamster. At a tavern Joe overheard one of the crowd bragging how he had thrown Joe Call. (Joe’s reputation was already wide spread.) Joe had not seen this man before and was somewhat startled by the declaration. Joe responded that he too had wrassled Joe Call and knew all his holds and tricks, and challenged the man to a round or two. One version of the story has Joe lifting the stranger off the floor, holding him at arm’s length and saying “now wrassle!” When the victim asked “Who the devil are you?” Joe answered “The man you threw, Joe Call at your service.” (De Sormo)

One story has a ‘champion wrestler’ from overseas who came to American specifically to wrestle Call seeking Joe out on his Lewis farm, where Joe was in the field plowing. Not recognizing Joe, the stranger asked directions to Joe Call’s house. Guessing the purpose of this visit, Joe lifted his plow in one hand and silently pointed to the nearest farm house. The stranger then left without challenging Call. (De Sormo) Like all able bodied men of the time, Joe served in the militia for the war of 1812. Two notable events occurred during this time. The first event has Joe and another soldier, Abraham Chase, ‘celebrating’ a minor victory together in a tavern. After a few drinks Chase challenged Call to a match saying “I feel good enough to throw you.” and proceeded to do just that without very much effort. The story states that Joe had either been soldiering or celebrating too hard! In any case, Chase claimed from then on to be the only man to ever throw Joe Call, and in fact has that statement engraved on his tombstone in Memorial Cemetery, Willsboro, NY. (De Sormo)

Another wrestling match occurred while Joe Call was still in the militia. For some reason, “Joe went to the British camp on an errand where the British had their own champion, a mean brute who had never met his equal in a match. Several of the English officers, on learning that the celebrated American wrestler was in their midst, realized that the situation was a natural for a match, but Joe refused to fight. Finally, the English Bully made some slurring remark about the Yankees, which enraged Joe. At the first onset Joe was brought to his knees. Joe had often said he never could discover any difference in the strength of men, but that now he felt he must exert all his power. Seizing hold of his antagonist he bowed himself with all his strength and gradually squeezed the boaster to his breast. The Englishman gave one shriek,….and when Joe released him from his grasp, the bully fell…dead at his feet! As Joe later said, “It was either his life of mine!”- a fight to the death.” (De Sormo)

Joe Call continued to be popular at barn raisings where he could haul large foundation stones and timbers single handedly. Joe and his boys were involved in logging and sawmill operation on the Saranac River, near Loon Lake, however, in the summer of 1835, Joe developed a carbuncle on his neck and returned home to Westport. A doctor was sent for on August 23rd but he became progressively worse and died on the morning of September 20th, 1835. He is buried in the Westport Cemetery, Essex County, New York.

Bibliography:
Joe Call, The Lewis Giant: by Maitland De Sormo, 1981 New York Folklore Quarterly, Spring 1953
Eleanor Hall Besboro, A History of Westport
Newspaper clippings (unidentified)

Reprinted from the Hartland Historical Society Newsletter

Dr. Joseph Adam Gallup

Reprinted from the Summer 2008 Hartland Historical Society Newsletter

Dr. Joseph Allen Gallup (1759-1849)

The Gallup family is one of the most remarkable to be found anywhere. Hartland was most fortunate to have many of its members settle here. One branch settled in the Weed District and we have a Gallup cemetery in that area and, at one time, there was a Gallup School. Another branch settled on what is now Rte. 5, where the Whites Dairy Supply is now located. The cemetery on the west side of Rte 5 is also a Gallup Cemetery, sometimes referred to as the Dunbar or Wyman Cemetery. Dr. Gallup was raised in a house that stood on the White land. Quoting from May Roger’s work done in 1963 we learn the following.

Joseph Gallup, born in Stonington, Conn., March 20, 1759, was about six years old when his father brought his family to Hartland. The means of his early education is not known but it included a command of good English, some Latin and Greek and the ability to read French. In 1787, when he was 18, he began his study of medicine under a “preceptor”, the method of instruction in this profession prevailing at that time. This supplemented by the required number of lectures qualified him to begin practice when he reached his 21st birthday Mar. 30, 1790, the earliest age when such practice could be legal. This practice began in Hartland and the neighboring towns of Bethel and Woodstock. In 1791 he bought property in Bethel and was established there in 1793. In May of 1792, by an appointment dated and signed by his uncle, Col. George Dennison, he became surgeon of the militia. In Sept. of that year, he married Abigail Willard of the Hartland’s Willard families, and their first child was born there in May 1793. For better location and a wider field of activity, he moved to Woodstock in 1800. He received the degree of Bachelor of Medicine in 1798, the first to receive an earned medical degree from Dartmouth as distinguished from the honorary degree which he had received earlier. He received the degree of Doctor of Medicine in 1814. Middlebury College conferred the degree of Master of Arts in 1823.
In these years, medical societies were beginning to be formed and a charter was granted to the Vermont Medical Society of Castleton, Vt. In Oct, 1813 Dr. Gallup was elected it’s president for ten successful terms until he refused in 1829. He was already a teacher and lecturer of high repute and a writer on medical subjects, being deemed the most prominent man in the profession in New England.
Progressively welcoming all advances in medical practice, he was first in the use of the new vaccination for small pox, a great scourge in those days. Upon the discovery in 1796, by Edward Jenner, an Englishman, of the much greater effectiveness of cow pox in the inoculations for this dread disease, it was tried, tested and established by Dec 16, 1804. Already, Dr. Gallup had advertized in the Vermont Journal of Windsor, issue of Jan. 11, 1803, that he was prepared to vaccinate with cow pox. A book written by Dr. Gallup on the subject was current in 1798.
Dr. Gallup’s election to the presidency of the Vermont Medical Society of Castleton occurred on Dec. 10, 1820. He held all the official positions by Jan. 1821, continued teaching there for 3 years but resigned in Jan. 1824. Dr. Gallup had long had dreams of a school of medicine and these were brought to fruition by the founding of the Medical College in Woodstock which he achieved in 1826, and of which he was the sole owner and supporter during its difficult early years, at times at considerable financial loss. The first session of the Clinical School of Medicine (the name adopted) was from March to late May of 1827. Midway in this session Dr. Gallup bought of Abraham Stearns about 3/4 of an acre of land in the western part of the village of Woodstock. He paid $325 for this plot of land and here he erected a building, still at his own expense, for the purpose of holding lectures in 1828. This fine brick building of 7 rooms and basement story was the home of this medical school until1839, when the larger building was erected on College Hill. The original building was remodeled for residential purposes (still a home in 1969).
A difference of opinion arose between Dr. Gallup and two ambitious young medics, Drs Palmer and Parker. These men wanted to do outside teaching for the larger income. Dr. Gallup did not favor peripatetic professors as he felt it lessened allegiance to his College and also interfered with his cherished plan for continuous instruction throughout the calendar year. Bitterness mounted. The arrogant effrontery and caustic criticism of Dr. Gallup by these men who had been professors on his teaching staff and received of his beneficence evoked his decision to resign. This so stirred the people of Woodstock that a meeting was called. A large gathering on the stormy evening of Jan. 6 1834, unanimously passed resolutions commending Dr. Gallup and saying that it was generally known and admitted that the Clinical School of Medicine of this place was projected and carried into successful operation by the exertions of Dr. Joseph Gallup, – “Resolved, that it is the wish of this meeting that Dr. Gallup would continue his efforts and use such means as he may think proper to continue the school and in so doing we will give him our support and influence.” Dr. Palmer was not deterred by this. He usurped all prerogatives. Dr. Gallup resigned and severed all connection to the institution. Save for a few years in Boston, he continued to live in Woodstock, dying there on Oct. 12, 1849, concluding nearly 50 years of respected and highly esteemed citizenship. He and his wife are buried in the Wyman Cemetery in North Hartland.

Dr. Gallup and the Vampire

Reprinted from the Summer 2008 Hartland Historical Society Newsletter From Joseph Citro’s Book “Green Mountain Ghosts, Ghouls & Unsolved Mysteries” we get this story. True? Or not? You decide.

… About 100 years later, the most famous- or at least the most long-lived and publicized- case of Vermont vampirism came to the public’s attention. It was reported in the Boston Transcript during the first week of October 1890. A more complete accounting of the remarkable events appeared as a one page story in Woodstock’s own newspaper, the Vermont Standard. Imagine seeing this headline while sipping your morning coffee: “Vampirism in Woodstock.”

The article recalled events that supposedly occurred in the 1830’s when a local man named Corwin died of consumption.

His body was buried in the Cushing Cemetery. A while later, his brother – presumably also named Corwin – began wasting away. Of course the living Corwin may have been showing symptoms of his dead brother’s disease. Or, as was the common wisdom, there might have been a more grisly alternative. Perhaps the dead Corwin had come back as a vampire, his spirit rising from the grave every night to feed on the blood of his living brother.

To find out for sure, the town fathers ordered the body disinterred. A horrifying discovery convinced them they were dealing with the supernatural. Dr. Joseph Gallup, the town’s leading physician and head of Vermont Medical College, observed that “the vampire’s heart contained its victim’s blood”

(though how he was able to determine that remains a mystery).

There was only one way to stop the spread of evil: concerned parties would assemble on Woodstock’s boat shaped green and perform an exorcism.

Predictably, most of the town’s population turned out for the event. Dr. Gallup and Woodstock’s other physicians built a fire in the middle of the green, heated up an iron pot and cooked the undecayed heart until it was reduced to ashes.

Then they buried the pot and ashes in a hole fifteen feet deep, covered it with a 7 ton slab of granite before refilling the hole, sprinkled everything with bull’s blood for purification.

Finally they forced the dying Corwin to swallow a ghastly medicine made of bull’s blood mixed with some of his brother’s ashes. They believed that this concoction would break the vampire’s curse and stop the victim’s body from wasting away.

Unfortunately, we never learn if Brother Corwin survived the disease, let alone the cure, but the town fathers were convinced they had rid Woodstock of vampirism forever

Harold Goddard Rugg (1883-1957)

From Harold Goddard Rugg to Mrs Janet Blackford: (She was Janet Harding, grand daughter of Dr. John and grew up in Four Corners in the brick house now owned by Peter Gordon):

Where the town hall was given Mrs. Lamb fitted out a room for a historical room and I was asked to have charge of it. We have so far collected quite a number of things for the room, old furniture, china, portraits, etc.

and so we, the Hartland Historical Society, began.

Harold Goddard Rugg (1883-1957)

Harold was the son of David Fletcher and Julia Goddard Hager Rugg. His father was a Hartland Doctor who died when Harold was quite young. He graduated from Black River Academy in 1902 and Dartmouth in 1906.

 


Birthplace of Harold Goddard Rugg. Now home of Ron and Hylene DeVoyd.

 

For a closer look at this remarkable man, take a look at the Valley News of Feb. 21, 1957:

In Memoriam:Harold G. Rugg
The entire Upper Valley mourns the death of Mr. Rugg. Mr. Rugg held a unique place in the affections of many people in the area, for he was an “accessible professor”. Although he spent a lifetime of professional service at Dartmouth and although his reputation as an astute collector of rare books spread to the far corners of the globe, his interest in local projects and problems never flagged.

A native of Hartland and a keen student of Vermont history, Mr Rugg became an elder statesman of things historical and botanical. Many a garden club or struggling historical society turned to him for help and guidance. With calmness and gentleness he adjudicated many a historical dispute, and the phrase “Let’s ask Harold Rugg” heard often hereabouts testified to his neighbors trust in Mr Rugg’s judgment and their respect for his scholarship.

Lest we strike too parochial a note, it should be said that Harold Rugg’s interests were wide -ranging. He could enjoy gardening in Hanover where he became an expert on ferns and even discovered a new variety that bears his name. Simultaneously he could say” I have an insatiable desire for remote and lonely and queer places”. He knew from personal experience more diverse parts of the globe than is ordinarily given a dozen men to know. He knew Europe and the Near East. He climbed the Grand Tetons of Wyoming: but he also climbed the Pyrenees. He skated far up the Connecticut and was one of the first men to climb Mt. Washington on snowshoes: but he also knew the tiny nation of Andorra, the Gaspe, Mexico, and once in the company of hardy souls, he set sail from Spitzbergen, 360 miles north of Norway, to see how much farther north he could go before ice floes halted his progress.

He often had lunch with an undergraduate, but he also dined with Lord Dartmouth in England and took tea with Sir Winfred Grenfell in Labrador. He could become intrigued with the amateur history of some north country hill town or he could lose himself in a catalog of rare books. It was he who arranged Robert Frost’s first lecture at Dartmouth when the poet was struggling for recognition. Out of this grew his remarkable collection of Frostiana, now a part of the Baker Library. He also collected rare Bennington ware and books and manuscripts concerning Vermont that number into the thousands.

Perhaps more than anything else he treasured the honorary degree bestowed upon him by his alma mater, Dartmouth, in recognition of his many years of service to the college. Harold Rugg was a remarkable man. His ivory tower was the world. There is an oil painting by Paul Sample – Dartmouth 1920 hanging in the Baker Library.

Mr. Rugg was also the first President of the Hartland Historical Society in 1916 and a member, Vice – President, and Curator of the Vermont Historical Society. In 1955 Mr. Rugg was a speaker at a Hartland Historical Society meeting. Rugg spoke of his childhood and youth in Hartland before he left in 1896.

He remembered a tinsmith in the rear of the old hotel; the nearby harness shop of Jake Emerson, later used as the post office; of the “Pound” on the Quechee Road where stray animals were put; of events of the two churches in the village. He remembered looking across the road from his home and seeing white robed persons, accompanied by the minister, going to Lull Brook for a baptism by immersion.

Rugg said he attended a boarding school in South Woodstock conducted by Joseph Dunbar, a Hartland mathematician and author of textbooks.

During the log drives on the Connecticut River, he used to accompany his father, Dr. David F. Rugg, who was often called to attend to an injured river man.”

Reprinted from the Hartland Historical Society Newsletter, June 2005

Daniel Willard – Time Magazine Cover Story


“Uncle Dan” Willard was born on a farm near North Hartland, Vt. during the first year of the Civil War. The first locomotive he saw ran by the farm on the old Central Vermont. Aged 16, he taught school for a spell. Aged 17, hi was sent to Massachusetts Agricultural College. Bad eyesight compelled him to give up his studies, get a job in a track gang. Three years later he was an engineer on the Connecticut & Passumpsic River, now a part of the Boston & Maine. Then he went West.

When next seen he was “hogging” (driving a locomotive), on the Lake Shore & Michigan with a pair of red mittens on his hands and a book or two under the cab seat. There is good reason for “Uncle Dan” to sympathize with the 500,000 men laid off railroads in the last two years. The business depression of 1883 took him out of his cab, put him to work as a conductor on the Soo. From conductor he started up the long grind of a railroad operating man’s career: trainmaster, assistant superintendent, superintendent.

When a railroad official gets a chance for a better position on another line, not infrequently he takes a subordinate or so along with him. When Frederick Douglass Underwood left the Soo to become general manager of the B & O. he took Superintendent Willard along as his assistant. That was in 1899. Two years later Mr. Underwood became president of the Erie, asked Mr. Willard to accompany him. “Uncle Dan” went along as general manager In 1910 he returned East to become president of the road he had left nine years before.

In 1910 the B.& O. was a great, rusty T-shaped giant. The top of the T ran from Philadelphia to Washington. The stem split, one line reaching out in Chicago, the other ending just over the Mississippi River at St. Louis. Corporate headquarters were at the top of the stem in Baltimore.

When he took charge, one of the first things President Willard did was cancel all advertising. “We’ll start again when we have something to advertise,” he said. Having spent nearly half a billion on his railroad in the past 20 years, “Uncle Dan” now has something to advertise. He has authorized copy written this way: “70,000 of us invite you to travel on the B. & 0.”

A tangible improvement of the Willard administration was the acquisition of than any other man for the Eastern four-system unification plan. (sic) Under him Chicago & Alton was taken over as a western B. & O. link. Last week B. & O. began operating the Buffalo, Rochester & Pittsburgh as a division of its system.

The atmosphere of “we’re-all-B. & O.-men-together” is one President Willard likes to get into his bulletins. Sample: “No matter how hard we try, we cannot make the B..& O. the greatest, straightest or richest railroad, but we can, if we try hard enough, create for it the reputation of being the best railroad in the world from the point of service.” A prime Willard maxim: “Be a good neighbor.” Farmer boys and girls up and down his line get settings of eggs. Officials are sent to make friends with local shippers. And in 1927 “Uncle Dan” put on a 23-day pageant (”The Fair of the Iron Horse”) outside Baltimore to show what his road had accomplished in its century of existence.

It is generally agreed throughout the system that no one works harder on the B. & O. than President Willard. He gets up early, works late. Once he told Jim, porter of his office car, No. 99, to wake him at 5 a.m. As the dawn was breaking, the blackamoor felt a tug at his covers, looked up into “Uncle Dan’s” smiling face. “Wake up, Jim,” said President Willard. “It’s 5 o’clock.”

There is a good deal of confusion as to who has ridden on No. 99. The fact is that no one except President Willard and his officers ride on it. If they are important enough, celebrities traveling over the B. & O. are given the Maryland.

Just as no one rides on No. 99, few get inside “Uncle Dan’s” white stucco house, which hides behind trees in Baltimore’s smart Roland Park. There he lives with his wife and his two orphaned grandchildren, whose parents died in the influenza epidemic of 1918. He plays his violin occasionally, is a wretched golfer. Like many a railroad man, he goes to the office on Sundays. Like many railroad children, his grandsons like to go along, too. He owns the farm where he was born, farms it. He belongs to the Unitarian Church, drinks a little, smokes a little.

When he was on the Wartime Council of National Defense he saw a good deal of Walter Sherman Gifford. After the War, Mr. Gifford saw that Mr. Willard was made a director of American Telephone & Telegraph Co. Mr. Willard saw that Mr. Gifford was made a fellow trustee of Johns Hopkins University.

The typical railroad president is not always the typical railroad man. Often they come by their positions through the legal department. This month “Uncle Dan” completes the 71st year of his life, the 22nd of his presidency. This week he will be a principal figure in discussions involving the welfare of more than half the trackage on earth. He has health, the respect of his associates, a comfortable share of the world’s goods. More important to 1,250,000 rail employees who are also involved, is the fact that he is not just a railroad president. He is a railroad man.

The Body Under The Bridge

Who was the mysterious man found fatally injured under the railroad bridge in North Hartland? In September, 1902, a man believed to be between 50 and 60 years old was found beneath the bridge. The doctor called to the scene believed that he may have lain there for up to 48 hours. He died a few hours after being found.

While it was possible that he was crossing the trestle and was hit by a train, knocking him off the tracks, it was unlikely that the engineer didn’t see him before hitting him. It was speculated that he might have been injured elsewhere and brought to the site by boat from somewhere on the Connecticut River.

The physical description has many clues, which would be helpful in today’s standards of communication – dark complexion, hair and moustache, a missing large toe on the left foot and a tattoo on the back of the left hand, between the thumb and first finger, of a star enclosed in a circle. In 1902 it would have been difficult to spread the information of this untimely death to enough places to get an identification and it is quite possible that his family never knew what became of him.

He had a few papers in one of his pockets which led authorities to believe that he was covering the area for a book, “Leaders” or a similar title. A small notebook was water soaked and almost illegible but the name Joe Kelley or Riley and Essex, Mass., was on one of the leaves.

In the Hartland Town Report one finds that the town paid $20 for a casket for the stranger, $9. to W. A. Brady, for medical attendance, $2 to N. Spafford for digging his grave, $2 to W. H. McGee for taking care of the man, $5 to Dr. E. A. Barrows for medical attendance and Rev. F. Daniels, $2 for funeral services. Cash in the victim’s pockets was $2.51.

It is easy to imagine the frustration of family and friends of this stranger when he didn’t arrive home from his trip as well as the frustration of future genealogists who may try to trace this family.

Members of the Hartland Historical Society have been using internet resources to attempt to put the word out in the Essex, Massachusetts, area about this unknown man who died in North Hartland over 100 years ago. It would be nice to have a final chapter to this mystery.

Reprinted from the Hartland Historical Society Newsletter

(See also the article entitled ‘North Hartland Mystery’)

Daniel Willard

Portrait of Daniel Willard

Just 100 years ago, Jan. 28, 1861, there was born in North Hartland perhaps Hartland’s most famous son, Daniel Willard. He was a product of pioneer stock as his ancestors were here at the very birth of Hartland. The Hoyt house, the Phelps house, and the Potwin house were all Willard homes. Daniel Willard, the son of another Daniel grew up on the farm now owned by William Smith.

He went to the church now standing here and taught Sunday School. He went to school in a building on the green and at fifteen taught in a one room school. He met Mrs. Samuel Taylor, who was to influence his whole life. She taught him to love books and he was ever after an ardent lover of good books.

He attended a term and a half at Windsor High School. He wanted terribly to attend Dartmouth, but couldn’t afford it. He did attend the Mass State Agriculture College in Amherst for a time but had to give it up, because of poor eyesight.

Running through the family farm were the tracks of the Vermont Central railroad, and young Dan’s imagination was fired by the idea of piloting one of those shining, wood-burning engines, especially the old Governor Smith which he never ceased to love.

Montreal of the Connecticut & Passumpsic Railroad, 1872 (University of Connecticut) So at eighteen, Daniel Willard got his first job on the railroad on a section gang for 90 cents a day for 10 hours on the Vermont Central. He soon went to the Connecticut and Passumpsic where he was a fireman. He weighed only 125 lbs. but he managed to feed the old engine the 10 to 12 cords of wood she consumed in a long day. At eighteen, he was an engineer on the line, respected by the men he worked with for his burning ambition and keen mind. He always had a good book in his pocket.

Soon after this he was lured to the level track and higher pay of a western road, the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railway.

This proved temporary and he went to the Minneapolis and Sault St. Marie which was being built. Here he became trainmaster, and in fourteen years was superintendent.

From here he went to the Baltimore and Ohio, then to the Erie, then operating VP of the Burlington and Quincy then back to the B&O as president, a job he kept from then on.

He had grown up with the railroads and knew every problem. He threw himself wholeheartedly into the job of building tracks and bridges, straightening lines, bucking the constant politics, both among the railroads themselves and government.

He understood the problems of the workers and fought for their interests. Against the desires of many another President he helped to get the 8 hour day. He remembered only too well the times he had fallen asleep and bumped a train in front of him when he had been forced to operate a train beyond the limit of human endurance.

Besides President of the B&O, he became Chairman of the Advisory Commission of the Council of National Defense in WW I. It was made up of distinguished men such as Bernard Baruch and others well known, and the War Industries Board.

He fought off a serious strike and organized the RR Presidents to try to fight off government ownerships which worked for a while. President Wilson did not take over while Willard continued his war job.

At the end of the War, the B&O had to be built up again from near bankruptcy and later fought through the great depression. He was no longer a young man, but took on such jobs as member of the Board of Trustees of John Hopkins University and this self educated man finally became president of the board.

In 1937, the B&O held the Fair of the Iron Horse, a great entertainment and show of railroading past and present. That kept Willard from accepting an invitation to speak at the Hartland celebration of the Sesquicentennial of Vermont but he had not forgotten Hartland. In his last years, he visited the Smiths at his old home, and asked to see the old steep back stairs he had remembered from early boyhood.

He died in 1942, and rests in Hartland soil.

He left his library to the three Hartland libraries and the quality of those books reflect the great intelligence and keen mind of this son of Hartland.

Found in the Hartland Historical Society archives – author unknown, but I suspect it was a speech. C.Y.M.

Reprinted from The Hartland Historical Society Newsletter, Spring 2003.

Related Links:

Benjamin Livermore, Inventor

Hartland News, Vermont Journal, Windsor, Vermont June 3, 1905

“The following was taken from the Woodstock Standard:”

Benjamin Livermore

A little pamphlet of sixteen pages; issued by Benjamin Livermore of Hartland and printed at the Vermont Chronicle office, Windsor in 1857, in possession of Henry Harding shows Mr. Livermore to have been a pioneer in the invention of the typewriter.

It’s object was to introduce “Livermore’s Permutation Typograph” or “Pocket Printing Machine” which had just been invented. “It contains a cut of the little machine, which in size is about four inches long,
two and a quarter inches wide and one inch thick. It has six keys placed in one end. Within are the moveable parts, operated by the keys, and the type, ink and paper.

A strip of paper twenty feet long may be put in and printed over without further attention. The twenty six letters of the alphabet, punctuation marks and the numerals are all formed by the operation of the six keys. The pamphlet contains many testimonials from distinguished people. President Lord of Dartmouth College, Alonzo Jackson, M.A. Norwich University; Honorable Edmund Burke, late commissioner of patents; William Lloyd Garrison and many others.

Among many press notices is the following from the Spirit of the Age, Woodstock: “We have examined the little printing apparatus invented by Mr. Livermore of Hartland, and certainly it is one of the new things under the sun, that Solomon never dreamed of. It is a very ingenious article, and no doubt would under a thousand circumstances be useful as well as convenient…

Mrs. A. A. Sturtevant of this village remembers distinctly seeing Mr. Livermore exhibit this writing machine at the Woodstock Fair, and it was so small that he worked it with the fingers of the hand with which he held it. The letters were script.

From Howland Atwood: “Ernest and Analdo English told me that their uncle, Benjamin Livermore once lived on the Max Crosby place (Mrs. Lyle Horton’s) (farm on right when traveling west on Rt. 12, just before entering Hartland Four Corners. Where the Morgan horses are . C.Y.M.) in the original Judge Elihu Luce house.

Byron P. Ruggles built the present house in the 1880’s. Afterwards he took down the old Luce house which had stood in back of his new house. Benjamin Livermore died April 4, 1871 AE 52 yrs. Almira E., wife of B.L. Livermore, died Aug 22, 1846 AE 24. They are buried in the cemetery on the Plain. They had no children.

From Livermore family papers by Eunice Lyman, “The machine was worked by six keys placed at one end of the box and pressed down after the manner of piano keys. He would print with it in the dark. He usually carried it in his pocket and could print it there, placing his hand in such a position that his fingers rested on the keys. After taking down the conversation of those he met, he placed it under his pillow at night to catch any stray thoughts, as he termed it. He took out letters of patent in England and America in 1863. It never was in public use as he died before it was introduced to the public.”

The Livermore’s were very early settlers in Hartland. William who was born in 1752 in Leicester, Mass. died in 1806 in Hartland. All except his first child were born in Hartland, starting with Phebe in 1775. Benjamin’s father, Joseph was born in 1789. He settled on a farm on what is now Rt 5 No. of Hartland village. There Benjamin was born in 1818.

The typograph (which, by the way , can be seen in a case not far from the door by which one enters the main hall of the Patent Office in Washington) was not his only invention. He was part of a family of very busy inventors. His sister, Emily married into the English family.
They all lived very close to each other and in some cases shared inventions.

Benjamin was also responsible for inventing the machine by which cement pipes could be formed. Not surprising, cement water pipes didn’t do as well in Vermont as they did in Rome. I would have expected him to figure that out ahead of time. We have some sections of these cement pipes here at the Historical Society.

Other inventions that Benjamin can take credit for are a boot crimp in 1849 and an instrument for lasting boots in 1852. He had many outstanding ancestors. Maybe that’s why there are seven towns in the U.S. named Livermore.

Reprinted from the Hartland Historical Society Newsletter

The Vermont Historical Society has a collection called the
English-Livermore collection consisting of the miscellaneous papers of Eli English (1789-1852), of Norwich, Vermont, Eli’s son, Nathan Frederick English (1822-1902), and Eli’s son-in-law, Benjamin Livermore (1829-1871), both of Hartland, Vermont. (BHH)

North Hartland Mystery

EVERYONE LOVES A GOOD MYSTERY STORY AND THIS ONE TAKES PLACE IN NORTH HARTLAND …

BUT IS THIS A MURDER MYSTERY? IS THIS AN ACCIDENT? OR IS THIS A MYSTERY AT ALL?

From the WINDSOR JOURNAL 1902

“North Hartland

An unknown man, fatally injured, was found, Thursday morning of last week, under the railroad bridge across the river near the station at this place. One knee was broken; the left side of his face was crushed, and there were wounds on his body. He died a few hours after he was found beneath the bridge. The deceased was about five feet eight and a half inches high; dark hair, complexion and moustache; age somewhere between 50 and 60 years. A memorandum book on his person had the name of Joe Kelley or Riley written in it, but the writing was almost illegible from water, and an address, Essex, Mass., was on one of the leaves. A few papers also were found in one of his pockets, which lead to the belief that he was canvassing for a book, “Leaders” or some such title. On the back of his left hand, between the thumb and first finger, a star enclosed in a circle is tatooed. The great toe on the left foot is wanting. It is thought the man must have sustained his injuries many hours if not at least a day or two before he was found. How he lived so long is the surprise of all. The cause of his injuries is but conjectures, as no one has been found to explain how he came, where found. Many believe there was foul play, as it does not seem possible that any one could have been knocked from the bridge by a train without the knowledge of the engineer or fireman. Nor is it probable that a man could have lain for hours, where the unfortunate on was found, without having been seen by someone to render assistance. “

Brief research shown that the Town of Hartland paid for a doctor and an undertaker. No proof has been found, yet, that the man was ever identified. There is no record of him being buried in Hartland so does that mean someone claimed the body? Did he have a family waiting somewhere for him to come home? Did they assume that he’d run away? Was he beaten somewhere else and brought to this site, easily accessible from the Connecticut River by boat?

If the man was identified then did someone know a reason for foul play and was the crime solved? Was he walking along the tracks between Windsor and White River Junction and got caught on the trestle when a train came along? Perhaps there is no mystery at all and the information is out there waiting for someone to research this and tell us the next chapter of the story.

Contact the Hartland Historical Society if you have any information on this so-called mystery.

(See also the article entitled ‘The Body Under the Bridge’)