Backstage with the Best of Friends

Local Band Makes Its Final Appearance on July 11, 2010

l to r: Alan Towle, Sandy Towle, Sam Miller, Marylin Dwyer, David Towle, Kurt Dwyer and Skip Gray

By Sharon Lakey

The evening was lovely on Danville Green, a blessing after the recent high heat and humidity. Alan Towle and his young helpers arrived at 5:00 to set up for the 7:00 final concert of The Best of Friends, a country band that has been entertaining crowds for the past 26 years. He moved nimbly between an assortment of amps and speakers and wires that literally filled the bandstand.

The rest of the band members arrived around 6:00.  White shirts, embroidered with black eagles, were handed around on hangers. After changing into them, members hovered over Sandy Towle, who had multiple black scarves draped around her neck. Alan produced an old check-box wrapped with a Velcro strip that contained small gold, silver and turquoise clasps. When threaded through the clasps, the ties completed the neat country look. Hats and instruments were donned and tuned and after a final group portrait, the band was introduced by Susan Tallman of the Pope Memorial Library.

And the music began for one last concert: Alan Towle on rhythm and vocals; Sandy Towle on sound; Sam Miller sharing lead guitar and vocals; Marylin Dwyer on vocals and tambourine; David Towle on drums and vocals; Kurt Dwyer on bass; and Skip Gray sharing lead guitar and vocals. Their final program reflected the tastes and spotlight sharing that has been a hallmark of the group.

D              It’s Good to be Back Home Again (Marylin and Alan)

A              Auctioneer Song (Alan)

A              Stand by Your Man (Marylin)

E              Lovesick Blues (Sam)

A              Trashy Women (David)

A              Fugitive (Skip)

D-E          Good-hearted Woman (Alan)

D              Jambalaya (Skip)

G              Down That Lost Highway (Sam)

A              Mamma’s Hungry Eyes (Marylin)

A              455 Rocket (David)

D              If My Nose Was Running Money (Alan)

A              Down at the Twist &Shout (Alan and Marylin)

F              Whispering Hope (Marylin)

D              Ever-changing Woman (Skip and Sam)

A              Big Boss Man (David)

E              Chantilly Lace (Sam)

E               I Don’t Look Good Naked Anymore (Alan)

D              Mama Tried (Skip)

C              What’s Your Mama’s Name (Marylin)

C              On the Road Again (the band’s theme song)

It was an appreciative audience and over too soon--bittersweet, for many shall miss them.

All this started way back in ‘73 on a snow machine trail. On the way to Jimmy Roy’s cookout in South Danville, Kurt and Marylin Dwyer met up with Ron and Barb Hill and their friends Alan and Sandy Towle.  On the way back through Danville, Kurt and Marylin stopped at the Towle’s. “We just hit it off,” said Marylin. That budding friendship took on a public persona in the form of a band that, according to Alan, played 44 gigs a year in its heyday. Through the years the four core band members stayed together, soliciting other musicians to join where more voices and instrumentals were needed.

The idea of creating a band sprouted during hunting season. “Oh, deer huntin’ is big doin’s around here,” said Alan. A buddy and his sons would bring their guitars up every year and they would jam, reminiscent of the way Alan used  to play and sing in high school when he and his friend sang 50’s style music. “We did all the Everly brothers,” said Alan.

Soon, his new friend Marylin joined in the singing, and besides being a lot of fun, the sessions started to sound pretty good. They drafted Kurt into the mix on bass as things progressed. And, because every band needs a sound engineer, Sandy agreed to take on the job. As she puts it, “I was painting the back side of the barn while they were painting the front.” Their first live performance was Kurt’s parents 50th wedding celebration ; they have a copy of the check for their first paying job--$100--a wedding reception for the Belknap’s held at the Lincoln Inn in 1988. “The band really started cookin’ in 1990, when Sandy and I bought a one-ton truck to travel in,” said Alan.

To keep a band together for that long  is no small feat, almost unheard of. “Every band has to have a leader,” said Alan, “and for us it was Marylin and me. If someone didn’t like the way things were going or how we performed, we took the hit.” The two of them would meet together two or three times a week to plan performances and take care of the business side of the band.

In planning performances, the two would make an effort to share the spotlight. “If one of the guys liked a certain song, we would let them carry it,” said Alan. Marylin would type up the planned program, so, when the band showed up once a week to practice in the Towle’s basement studio, they knew which music was to be played and in what key. In this way, practice was productive as well as performances smoothed with no lag between songs.

The business side of Best of Friends included purchasing equipment with the band’s funds. Alan remembers the $2400 they spent on a drum set that had been played by Kris Kristofferson. “We bought it from a music store  in Burlington. Kristofferson’s equipment didn’t arrive and they had to rent it for a concert they were playing there.” The band owns all the performance equipment like amps, mics, sound mixing board, headsets and uniforms. “We’re toughest on dress,” said Alan. All uniforms are purchased, laundered, pressed and put on just before performances. After performance, off they come before loading them back in the truck with all the other equipment.

They each bought their own personal instruments, though. Alan loves his left-handed Peavey Milestone 12-string. “It was handcrafted for me at the research and development department at Peavey electronics. It’s one of a kind.” Kurt plays an unusual one-piece Peavey DataBass.

A common performance included a first set of an hour, a ten minute break, then three more sets of 50 minutes apiece. They would usually play from 9:00 to 1:00, load up and head for home. “Sometimes, we’d get home as late as 3:00 in the morning,” said Alan. Mind you, they did this with full time jobs on the side. Kurt remembers coming home at 3:00 a.m. one morning and getting an “on call” job call from EHV. “I was home about 15 minutes that night,” he said, shaking his head.

They most enjoyed playing for dances. “When the dance floor is full and everyone is sweatin’ and hootin’ and hollerin’--then we know we are doing our job,” said Alan.

“There was strange one, though,” reminded Kurt about the time they played and were paid for driving through miserable weather to play a dance in Jefferson, New Hampshire. There, they performed for a single family and a cat. “We found out later the town was boycotting that man for hiring some male strippers the week before,” said Alan.

Alan lit up remembering the his best gig ever, a wedding reception held at the Canaan Fairground.. “You know, everything was right that night. When I backed the truck up to the stage, it was the perfect height. Equipment off, easy. For the barbecue, the father of the bride had ordered real mesquite wood from out west...” Marylin and Sandy smiled and chimed  in, “But Alan mostly liked the barmaids dressed in fishnet stockings!” He didn’t deny it.

But their most favorite performance of the year was always the Danville Fair. “The biggest audience of the year,” said Alan. “And we like to play for people we know.”

“I’ve had a wonderful time,” said Marylin, speaking for the band as well as herself. “I’ve loved the places we’ve gone and the people we’ve met.


To link to a video, featuring photos from the evening's performance accompanied by Alan's original song, click here.


To link to a video, featuring photos from the band's past performances accompanied by Marylin's original song, click here. 


This article was first published in the August, 2010, issue of the North Star Monthly.

  

Twinning Celebration Between Two Danvilles a Successful Reconnection

Bus tour on July 3, 2010 to Danville, Quebec, fondly remembered

Danville Dignitaries: l to r Toby Balivet, Jane Kitchel,  Denise Briggs (hidden, but waving), Alice Hafner, Dorothy Larrabee, and Paul Chouinard, got a rousing cheer from the Vermonters, who enjoyed watching some of our own in the parade.  

By Sharon Lakey, Director of the Danville Historical Society

It was a somber morning as the tour bus to Danville, Quebec, loaded in the early morning of July 3, 2010. If one didn’t know already, it was whispered that Mary Prior, past President of the Danville Historical Society, had passed the evening before. She had been a part of the planning stages of the trip before Town Meeting, bringing out the archival photographs of the 1960 Twinning of the Towns event and talking it up excitedly. We rolled smoothly out of her beloved Danville right on time with passports, enhanced driver’s license or birth certificates tucked away, ready for the border crossing into Canada. What would we find in Danville, Quebec, our twin town that was now celebrating its 150th birthday?

With sunshine and green hills, more flat-looking than around here, Danville, QC, presented itself nicely to us as our bus rolled through the outskirts, then through the center of town. People sitting in an outdoor cafe over coffee must have wondered what a tour bus was doing in town. They looked at us quizzically. We were earlier that expected.

The driver, equipped with GPS, knew to take us to the fairgrounds. A large, white tent was set up there and small food booths circled a common area. The fairgrounds were adjacent to the English-speaking high school to which the driver parked us near the doors. There, a vigorous-looking older gentleman, nicely dressed, was standing to greet us. Paul Chouinard, new President of the Danville Historical Society was our tour guide, and he stepped off the bus to meet him. 

When the gentleman stepped onto the bus, he announced in French-accented English that he was Hertel Boisert, 84-years-old, that had made the trip to Danville, VT, in 1960. He was the one, who with his wife and two children, had driven the wagon and team of horses from Danville, VT, to Danville, QC, in honor of the original settlers who had taken that same trip in 1806. He told us he would be our guide until the Town Hall opened, located at a lovely lake and nature preserve near the high school. So began our day of fun in Danville, QC.

The lake, which is named Burbank Pond, is large. Mr. Boisvert explained that it was originally a mill pond that has been turned into a nature preserve. It didn’t take long for some of our tour participants to find some nature trails and take the opportunity to stretch their legs. Mr. Boisvert brought his book of memories with him and shared some of his Danville stories and photographs with us. He told us that his wife, who kept a daily journal of their adventures in 1960, had passed, but her journal was now being made into a book. A baby racoon, part of a rescue program, entertained us as well, by running after its handler.

Soon, other dignitaries arrived, one in a tuxedo and bowler, and the town offices were opened. We were ushered into the council chambers where a woman in a long gown smiled and handed out small glasses of apple champagne while another dignitary gave us lapel pins with the Town’s insignia. A guest book on the table was presented for all to sign. Two of our group had been at the previous 1960 celebration: Alice McDonald Hafner and Dianne Smith Langmaid (six-years-old at the time). Toby Balivet, as a boy, had also attended some events with his father, Hank, who was instrumental in the planning of the 1960 tour. The rest of us were first-time celebrants.

The man in the tuxedo was the mayor of Danville, QC. We were to see more than one tuxedo during the day. For the celebration, the town officials wore traditional garb, making them easy to spot. The mayor was French-speaking (francophone), so his speech of greeting was translated for us by an English-speaking person (anglophone). In this case, Mr. Boisvert served the role. (We were to find simple kindnesses throughout the day, where communication was a collaborative effort between interested parties.) It was here that an exchange of flags took place: Danville, QC, gave us one of their town flags and Paul presented a Vermont flag to them.

After the exchange, we were back on the bus with an anglophone historian, who gave us running commentary about the town as we drove to the center “green” to a farmer’s market. It was a small market, much different than ours. The green is different, too, as it is more like a business center than our green. The vendors were inside a large brick, cooperatively owned, cafe. Some in our group sat for coffee and French pastry, while others looked over pamphlets and other things that were offered there for sale. Paul met a man here, a local historian, who offered to take him to the cemetery to see the grave of Simeon Flint, a settler who arrived in 1806 from Vermont and was the first Governor of the new Danville, QC.

Back at the school, the tour members went their own ways to view an historical exhibit, check out an ancestry computer tool if they had Canadian roots, and peruse the food offerings in the fairground area. Lunch was on our own and most partook of the fair food offered. Several tried poutine, a French fry item covered with gravy. “Very filling,” was the most common response for those who partook.

At 1:30, the parade was to begin. We lined our chairs along the route and our own “dignitaries” were whisked away to ride on one of the floats. It was a sunny route and we thoroughly it--cheering loudly as our Vermont flag passed, and later, as our Vermont dignitaries rolled by: Toby Balivet, Town Attorney: Denise Briggs, Town Selectman; Jane Kitchel, Vermont State Senator; Alice Hafner, 1960 celebrant; Dorothy Larrabee, standing in for Kate Beattie, 1960 celebrant; and Paul Chouinard, President of the Danville Historical Society. Ken Linsley, President of the Danville Chamber of Commerce, took photos throughout the day.

At 4:30, the group gathered for the final event of the day in the big tent on the fairgrounds. Here the celebration was brought to an end, with exchanges between the two Danvilles and good wishes given all around. Alice and Dorothy were presented gifts, Paul presented a large photo of George Cahoon’s winter picture of Danville, VT, taken from behind the McDonald/Beattie farm, and Senator Jane Kitchel thanked the town of Danville, QC, for their kindness during the day and received a gift of the history of Quebec.

Back on the bus, Stephen McDougall, a journalist, thanked us profusely for attending. As the bus pulled out of the lot, Toby Balivet came to the front with an open sack. “I’m taking donations,” he said, “for the new tuxedos for our Selectmen.” We laughed, which was the intent, but couldn’t help but remember the Mayor fondly in his traditional garb. A wonderful dinner in Derby at the Cow Palace completed the day, and, as we drove back through the night to our own Danville, the sky was lighted in places with fireworks shooting into the sky over darkened hills.

To see Ken Linsley's photo album of the trip, click here.

This article was first published in the August issue of the North Star Monthly.

Remembering Janet Wakefield

The Queen of Danville

Compiled by Sharon Lakey


On June 16, 2009, I met Rita Calkins at the Park and Ride in St. Johnsbury to pick up a photograph of Marion Sevigny. "And now the Queen of Danville has died!" she exclaimed as she handed me the photo. 


"The Queen of Danville?" I asked, perplexed. 


"Janet Wakefield," she replied. It was the first time I had heard of Danville having a queen, but the title was explained to me later. when one called Janet and she wasn't home, the recording would announced, "You have reached the Queen of Danville..."


For nearly 25 years, Janet Wakefield held court at Steve Cobb's Danville Restaurant and Inn. It was an informal court, but a valued one where those gathered could discuss the affairs of the town, the state, and the world. The courtiers changed over the years, with members coming and going. It still meets, but, alas, the Queen is only there in spirit. In the following stories, some members of the court reflect on their fond experiences with the Queen.


Dot Larrabee...

“Who  is this every hair in place, gray haired  lady, dressed to a T, wearing dangling ear rings, flashy socks, riding around in a yellow Mustang convertible with pigs on the dash?” people would ask.

 

“Oh, that’s Janet Wakefield,” we would reply, “Who else?"  I didn’t get to know Janet until she retired in September 30, 1985, from working at the Department of Welfare.  With a chuckle, she would tell us about how at her retirement party Janie Kitchel said, “If you could get by the old b---- at the front desk, you were okay.” Anyways, after her retirement she had time to join a group that had coffee every morning at the Danville Restaurant.  We always knew when she had arrived.  She would walk in, slam the door, stand with one hand on her hip, and look around to see who was there.  After that she would proceed to the table and ask in a loud voice, “Who are those people over there?”  Before she left she usually found out their names, had a good conversation with them and knew a little or a lot of their life history.

Every town needs a  Janet Wakefield selling tickets for fundraisers, collecting money for The Covenant House, soliciting food for a luncheon after a funeral service, pouring punch at the luncheon, calling if someone was  ill to see if there is anything she or the church could do, volunteering at school to listen to children read, and giving out fluoride treatments. These are just a few things she did.  She has left a big void in our community.

It has been a year on June 16, 2009, since her passing.  We had our differences sometimes, but you always knew where she stood on any given subject.   I miss her a lot.


Terri Graves...

I met Janet Wakefield in March 1974 when I started employment with the state of Vermont. Janet was the Gatekeeper (boy was she!) for the Department of Social Welfare. I was a lowly temp, hired as an aide for the Department of Social and Rehabilitation Services. Noontime, my first day at work, I was immediately subjected to her grilling. “Who are you, where are you from, who’s your mother, who’s your father, are you married…” You get my drift. We became insult buddies. We could trade them readily and often--triumphant when one of us “got one over” on the other.

I only really got to know Janet after moving to Danville in 1999. Both of our life circumstances had changed considerably. She had retired but was always busy doing something for others, either organizations or individuals. Janet was easily one of the most civic minded individuals I’ve ever met. I, on the other hand, became very isolated. I was working part-time, caring for my elderly parents and, subsequently, mourning their loss. Many friends had gradually disappeared from my life, as I was unable to sustain a social life.

Janet basically extended a hand up. She kept in touch by calling and invited me to join the morning coffee group at The Danville Inn. “You need to get out,” she said. Through her kindness, I was able to begin my journey out of sadness, slowly developing new acquaintances and friendships along the way. Janet, whether she knew it or not, had become a very important mentor to me.

Alice Cruess...
Several years ago, my family and I discovered what was to become our favorite dining spot--Steve Cobb's Danville Inn. At our second Saturday morning breakfast there, realizing we were becoming regulars, Janet stopped by our table to introduce herself asking, "Who are you?" We told her we were from St. Johnsbury. She overlooked that fact, and we soon became fast friends. We knew we had arrived when Janet invited us to sit at the Danville Table.

Together, we traveled far and wide on shopping and dining trips, and wherever we went we always ran into someone Janet knew. She was fun-­loving and generous, sometimes honest to a fault, but she genuinely took an interest in and cared about others. Janet had strong sense of community, which played a large part in our decision to settle in Danville, a town we've come to love as much as we did Janet.

Hazel Greaves...
I never knew what Janet was going to say! Sometimes that made me a bit nervous, but it was always in fun. And her laugh! Didn't she have a wonderful laugh? We could always hear that in the church dining room and at Steve Cobb's restaurant. She usually moved around the restaurant to find someone new to talk with before settling down with the Danville table. And did you ever see Janet throw her leg way up on the buffet counter at Steve's? She was quite agile! I do miss her noise.

Jane Milne...
The memories I have of Janet are among my fondest. Her socks, earrings and lovely thick hair were always so interesting. I counted on her telephone calls before and after the Celtics’ games. Oh, how she could sputter if they lost! A visit with Janet in her home was truly a treasure. My last visit with her was about two weeks before her death, and we had a good laugh when she TOLD me to sit with her in the den. “Where?” I asked myself after looking around, so I tossed things from a chair to the floor. I miss my friend Janet.

Jim Bailey...
Janet was always ready to embrace strangers and connect with people.  It was a pleasure to see her at the head of the “round table” at the Danville Inn Restaurant holding court!  She was outspoken, called a spade a spade, and though we were poles apart politically, we had great fun jabbing each other with tongue in cheek on current affairs.  She was my favorite Democrat.

Mary Bailey...
Our first encounter with Janet was when our boys were about ages seven and three.  We took our golden retriever puppy with us to the post office.  We ran into her and she asked them what they named their puppy.  When they told her “Barney” she asked, “Couldn’t you think of a better name than that?” (Typical.)

Years ago we walked into the Danville Restaurant and there sat Janet, Dot Larrabee and Alice Hafner at her table.  We kiddingly asked them how long you had to live in Danville before you could sit at that table.  We shared her table every Saturday morning since. Her conversations always included her grandchildren-- their whereabouts, what they were doing, their accomplishments. She was very proud of them. I miss Janet and remember her with much love.

Steve Cobb...
I think Janet and I had a love-hate relationship. We had some rocky times, and somewhere along the way we became the best of friends. She came into the restaurant every day, and we talked on the days I was closed. We also made a trip to her favorite store in Littleton every other week.

Janet was a Noah's Ark collector, and I am a teapot collector. Janet's house was loaded with lots of things, but Noah certainly stood out more than anything else. If you come into the restaurant you will notice that all of my teapots are displayed with their spouts pointing to the left.

On a Saturday morning, shortly after Janet died, I was sitting at the organ in the restaurant visiting with the folks at the table nearby. Something made me look up to the top corner shelf of teapots, a shelf that is unreachable without a chair. The center teapot on that shelf had been turned around, so that the spout headed to the right. It was my Noah's Ark teapot.

To view a related photo album, click here 

This article was first published in the July, 2010 issue of the North Star Monthly

The Elm House Hotel

Partial history authored by George Cahoon, Jr.

The Elm House Hotel sat on the south side of the Common facing North. It was built in the late eighteen hundreds and was the largest building in town. It got its name from the large elm tree that grew beside the front walk, (east side) and close to the road. It was a huge tree by the time that I stayed there during my four years in high school. Unfortunately, the Dutch Elm disease took it along with several other elms that graced the "Green.”

My father's brother, Walter Cahoon, and his wife Viola bought the hotel in the 1920's and lived there until it was closed and sold to Howard Calkins in the late forties or early fifties. Calkins’ crew tore it down and used the lumber to build the two small houses on the east side of Hill Street and the one on the south side of Grand View Drive.

Walter and Vi's oldest daughter, Gladys Cahoon Peck, came in to help with lunches and dinners. Her two daughters and I had noon lunch there during school. I was mostly a permanent resident during school time, going home to the Walden farm for vacations and some weekends. My job was to keep the wood boxes filled.

I am not sure of the dimensions of the building, but I would guess it was close to 140 feet long and 40 feet wide. There was an ell at the east end for a horse and carriage barn and woodshed. The main building was three full stories high. The first floor held the office and registration desk immediately to the right of the front entrance. Going straight through the front hallway, one came to the door into the big kitchen with two big stoves used for large dinners. East from the kitchen through a short hallway was a big dining room furnished with large, round oak tables that would be worth much money today. Two walls had several large stuffed and mounted moose and elk heads. I remember being afraid of them when I was quite small.

Upstairs from the front hall were the guest rooms. I never counted the number but there were several on both sides of a long hallway. There were two common "necessaries" near the top of the stairs. The only bathtub and lavatory sink was in the ladies room. There was no shower in the mens room -- only a commode and urinal. There was also a small cement sink for water for mopping the floor. There was hot water from a large tank behind one of the kitchen stoves heated by what was called a "water front" located on one side of the fire box. The third floor was given over to a large dance hall or party room accessed by a rather steep and narrow stairway from the second floor. There was a large wood stove near the far end of the long hallway. Otherwise the guest rooms were unheated. There was also a rather spooky back stairs that accessed the loft over the carriage barn and down to the ground floor of the barn.

The third floor had been long unused by the time I stayed there during high school and there were only a few occasional people who stayed overnight. There were occasional noon meal guests and the bank directors came once a month for a noon meal. These people were accommodated in the family dining room directly behind the office and next to the kitchen.

There was a large cellar under the west end of the building with stone walls and a dirt floor. The cellar stairs went down from a short hallway between the kitchen and dining room. There was also a bulkhead to the outside under the kitchen. It stayed cool in the summer and only on an occasional very cold winter got below freezing. Beer for the tavern was stored there, and I often carried cases up for the tavern trade.

There was a separate outside door to the dining room/tavern and Walter had an entrance "coop" built over that door and a larger one over the front door. Rolla (Rol) Hebb was a more or less indigent elderly permanent resident at the Hotel after he separated from his wife. He was primarily a blacksmith and carpenter in earlier days and had a shop on Railroad Street. He was old and slow but he finally finished building the two entrances probably pretty much for his board and room. He was an excellent workman, despite his short­comings. He passed away some time after I finished school, but I have no recollection of when it happened.

My father raised potatoes for a cash crop in those days. After they were dug and bagged in the fall, a trucker was hired to take them down to the hotel for storage in the cellar. There could be as many as fifty bushels, weighing sixty pounds each on a load, and I had to carry them down the bulkhead and to a far corner of the cellar.


To view a photo album related to this article, click here.
This article was first published in the June issue of the North Star Monthly.

Lineage Library Given to Danville Historical Society

Helen Staley hands Paul Chouinard, President of th Danville Historical Society, one of the volumes from the library. 

By Sharon Lakey, Director

A rainy day in May was the perfect opportunity to light the fire at the Historical House in Danville where a meeting, luncheon and gift of a lineage library transpired. Helen Staley, chapter president of the National Society Daughters of Founders and Patriots of America, was pleased to present the gift to Danville Historical Society president, Paul Chouinard. Also present for the celebration was the National Society President, Donna Chilton Derrick, from San Diego.

Below is the speech given by Helen that explains more about the society. It is Helen’s belief that there are likely more residents in our area that would match the lineage requirements to become members of the group, and encourages people to look into their own lineages. At present, three members from Danville have documented their lineage and are included in the volumes: Thelma Hartshorn (Volume 41, a future printing); Luella Sanborn Kirker, volume 39; and Helen Ross Staley, volume 38.

Helen’s speech:

“The Northeast Kingdom Chapter of the National Society Daughters of Founders and Patriots of America is giving a set of their Lineage Books, volumes 26 through 40, to the Danville Historical Society.

“The NSDFPA is a hereditary society made up of women, unique because eligibility requires that in an unbroken line is an intermediate PATRIOT ancestor who gave military or civil service in establishing American independence between 1775 and 1784.

“This 112-year-old small society aids the military in times of war and promotes genealogical, historical and patriotic projects. Printed volumes of proven lineages of society members, published every 500 new members, are placed in libraries throughout the United States. Each lineage gives valuable known birth, marriage and death dates and the colonies or states in which these occur, along with the references from which they were extracted. This information is invaluable to genealogical researches.

“Also included is an Index of Lineage Books, Volumes 1 through 34, labeled: ‘Founders and Patriots of America Index.’ The project of DFPA National President, Donna Chilton Derrick, during her three-year administration is to collate and print DFPA Index to Lineage Book Volumes 35 through 40, a copy of which we will give to the Danville Historical Society.

“The Northeast Kingdom Chapter was organized in 2006 and chartered in 2007 with 14 members, including locally: Thelma Hartshorn, whose PATRIOT, Aaron Hartshorn was in Danville before the conclusion of the Revolutionary War; Luella Sanborn Kirker, whose patriot’s son, Jonathan Hobbs Sanborn was in Tampico, North Danville, about 1780-1790; and Helen Ross Staley’s patriot’s son, Jonathan Ross was in Waterford in 1792. Other chapter members’ Founders and Patriots were from the colonies or states of New Hampshire, Connecticut, Massachusetts Bay, New Haven and Maryland.”

I couldn’t help but wonder how this library might help those who have no chance of matching the lineage guidelines for this organization. Personally, my side of the family has no long roots in America, but recently my husband reopened his family tree folder, and there is one man who does. On his mother’s side, John Clay, known as the British Grenedier, captained a ship to Jamestown. At least, that was the information he had gleaned from family notes and the Internet. Thinking I might find that man in the library, I looked in the Index. There, I found an entry for him that sent me to Volume XXIV, 187.

The short entry in that volume reads: “John Claye, son of Sir John Clay of Wales, came from England in ship “Treasurer” in 1613. Resided in Charles City, Virginia in 1624, finally settled near Jamestown, Virginia. Married Ann, who came in the ‘Ann’ in 1623.”

Now, that was interesting!

 

To see the photo album associated with this article, click here.
This article was first published in the June, 2010, issue of the North Star Monthly.

Enter Your Name Here

Ancestry.Com takes Betty Bolevic for a ride

By Sharon Lakey

As a child, Betty Beattie listened raptly to her favorite song on the radio, “Far Away Places with Strange Sounding Names,” and dreamed of becoming a world traveler. “I just didn’t know how it could be done.” Sometimes dreams do come true, though.

Betty was the first child of Harold and Phyllis Beattie of Lyndonville, VT. When the couple divorced, Harold kept custody of their four children before marrying Catherine Beattie of Danville, to whom the couple would add ten more children. Those in Danville associate Harold and Kate with the McDonald farm, Kate’s family home, in Danville near Dole Hill where the couple moved in 1947. But Betty’s memories span both towns, including her first home on Red Village Road in Lyndonville.

 

She graduated from Danville High School, and then attended Lyndon Teachers College where she earned an elementary education degree.  That degree became her golden ticket to those faraway places. She joined forces with teachers who taught overseas in support of American children at military bases. These teachers entered with the pay of a lieutenant with the rights and privileges associated with an officer’s rank.

“The pay wasn’t that great,” said Betty, “but our living expenses were near to nothing, and we had weekends and vacations to travel and sightsee.”  Her first overseas duty was at St. John’s, Newfoundland. Her next was in Japan, then to England at Fairford (North of London) where she and her friends could bike to Stonehenge. “I have such wonderful memories from there, like attending Shakespeare’s plays at Stratford on Avon.” She spent her last year abroad in Bitburg, Germany, where she had an opportunity to take a bus tour into East Germany before the wall came down.

When she returned stateside, she was hired in Fairfield, Connecticut. It was in Fairfield that she met William Bolevic, her husband to be. They raised their family of five children in Ansonia, CT, with Betty was able to take time off to enjoy the job of mother after each child was born. All their children have stayed in New England, located in Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine. In 1999, she and Bill purchased a home near the farm in Danville in 2002.

 “The farm was always a draw for us,” she said, “and we often visited here during summer vacations.” It was during the summer of 1997 that Betty became hooked on another form of her “faraway places” dream. This time the dream was triggered by Aunt Elnora (Beattie) Morse, Harold’s sister.

 “She was quite a character,” said Betty. “Elnora was a short woman with a powerful personality,” she explained. “She was the town clerk of Jay, VT, and lived in Richford on a farm. When she retired and came to visit Kate and Harold, she would peruse the Danville Town Report, looking for errors, finding both clerical and mathematical ones, which she would announce aloud to all who were gathered there. One of the favorite family stories of Elnora is how she pronounced the family name-- “Bee-tee, not Be-at-tee. One time she answered the phone at the farm and when the party on the other end asked for Occie Be-at-tee she said, ‘There is no one here by that name,’ and hung up.”

This same Elnora, while seated around Kate’s table conversing with those gathered there that summer morning in 1997 said she would like to go to Canada to visit some cemeteries near Lennoxville, Quebec. The lure of travel called to Betty, who spoke up. “I’ll take you.”  Before going, though, Betty took her aunt to the Middlesex library where Elnora was introduced to microfiche. “She loved it,” said Betty. “Finding lots of family names was like discovering a mystery for us. She was so excited, and I got caught up in it, too.”

Armed with new information about her father’s mother and father, Tom Beattie and Betty took Elnora across the border. “We ended the day at St. James church cemetery in Leeds,” said Betty.  “It was dusk when we found them—two old stones, barely readable: Mary Livingston and Robert Beattie.” The two Irish immigrants, the object of Elnora’s search, lay before them.

 But Elnora’s reaction to the discovery astounded both brother and sister. “If I knew which vein in my body ran the blood that came from Ireland, I would cut it out!” she exclaimed, in an emotional outburst. Tom and Betty were taken aback. “It was such an odd exclamation coming from a woman whose normal behavior was that of an open-minded woman, never speaking in a prejudiced way,” said Betty.

On the way home, Elnora explained that her father was an Orangeman and hated the Irish. It was a deep-seated prejudice.  Elnora remembered bringing home a shamrock as a child and having her father order its removal from the house immediately. “Who knows what stories lay behind such strong emotions?” said Betty, who began who own research into the Orangemen and the Irish.

“I was intrigued by the family stories,” said Betty, “and Elnora was eager to tell them. There were lots of relatives still living in the area, and I began visiting them, asking them to tell me the stories. I encourage others to do the same with their family, because these family members have since passed. Do it now, before they are gone,” she said seriously.

Sensing Betty’s excitement, her husband Bill did a surprising thing. He came home with a gift for her, an Ancestry.com CD entitled Family Tree Maker . She was two years from retiring, so she tucked it away on a shelf, but when she retired in 1999, she rediscovered it. The CD opens with a simple window . “It’s amazing,” she said, dismissing the countless hours and corridors it has led her down with a gesture, “how quickly I was off and running.”

Of the many hours of research, she said, “It’s like you are a detective solving a mystery puzzle. Sometimes, you run up against a brick wall but months later you will find a clue and you’re off again. Many of the connections come from unexpected sources. Canadian family members, also working on Ancestry. Com, have helped her solve many of them.

“One of the serious roadblocks I’ve experienced,” said Betty, is in Ireland itself. “In the wars between the English and the Irish, the records were burned. I can get no further back than Mary Livingston and Robert Beattie, the same two who started my search.” One can’t help but think the inhabitants of the quiet graves in St. James cemetery must be pleased that they started an avalanche of paper that traces their subsequent family in America. Betty has been working at her family tree now for 11 years. “I’ve gotten just about all that I can,” she said.

The outcome of all those years of gathering is about to take flight. With instructions from a companion book,  Family Tree Maker, Betty is about to embark on making a book. Along with the facts about the family, she has gathered photos, stories and anecdotes that will add human interest to the book.  It’s a giant step forward from that little Ancestry. Com box on the computer screen in which Betty was first asked to place her name.

An invitation: if you are interested in getting started on your own family tree, Betty would be willing to lend a hand, encouraging you and steering you in possible directions when you run into a roadblock. Call the Danville Historical Society (802.684.2055) to set up an appointment with her.

To view the photo album associated with this article, click here.

This article first appeared in the June issue of The North Star Monthly.

Life Took a Sudden Turn...

Reg and Mabel Peck and their three children: (l to r) Winona, Nancy, and Ronald "Joe"

Two sisters remember their brother, Joe Peck

Ronald “Joe” Peck

January 15, 1940 – April 19, 2010

By Winona Peck Gadapee

Life took a sudden turn, and this is the way I am healing.

My brother, Joe Peck, and his wife Pat had just arrived home from Florida in time to help deliver a breech calf. The cow bolted, pinned him in a doorway, and broke a rib. We heard on Friday that he was hurt, so Saturday night we went to visit and take up some of my "green ambrosia.”

 We had a great visit, but it was easy to see that he was in great discomfort whenever he moved and was having difficulty breathing. He was concerned that he was aging, slowing down, and should think of giving up his beloved cattle

 A week later, April 19^th, he was doing chores and couldn't breathe. Mid-morning we got a call from my brother's daughter, Dawn, who explained they were rushing Joe to the hospital by ambulance, and he was in a very serious condition. My husband Arnie just had time to call my sister, Nancy, to let her know, when Dawn called us back that Joe had died. Blood clots in his lungs had moved, blocking oxygen to his heart.  I couldn’t believe it. In just those few moments he was gone!

Visiting hours, where some waited for over two hours outside, were eye-opening for me. I heard stories about how Joe was a "teacher" and a "healer of broken souls." I heard stories about how he helped some get started farming, showed them how to set up their books, how to build a portable saw and help design a barn. So many young men told me how he had pulled them out of the wrong crowd and straightened them out.

 I woke up the next day realizing I didn't even know this man. Do we ever really know a person and all the many facets of their lives?

At Arnie's suggestion, the funeral was held in the gym at Danville High School where for over 20 years Joe coached basketball, little league, Babe Ruth, high school boys baseball and a baseball town team.  There were over 300 people there.

Joe was cremated, and they used his last game ball from his last state tournament to store his ashes. This was set along with his state championship jacket and the Uno cards he played with granddaughter Cassie on the floor under the basketball hoop. These were buried at his cemetery site.

My sister Nancy said as soon as she arrived, "Joe will never have to be in a nursing home and he died still able to do what he loved.” He was 70 years old on Jan 15^th of this year. I cannot let myself feel badly. Joe did not have to make the decision to get rid of his precious cattle or change his way of life. He followed God's way of caring for his earth and maybe left it better than when he came into being. Thanks Joe. I love you so much.

By Nancy Peck Jones

He was my big brother, and we did so much together.

We used to climb up to the top of the silo and play with the baby pigeons.  It still surprises me that the mothers didn’t seem to mind that we held their babies.

 I remember picking wild strawberries together on the bank next to the brook up in the pasture. Together we picked a whole metal measuring cupful and brought them home to eat on cereal.

At that same spot in the brook, the water flowed between two flat rocks. It sort of resembled a sink, and we even called it “the sink.”  We used to put our hands in the water and make a basket with our fingers and a trout would swim into our fingers.  We would pull out our hands, holding the trout, just for a few seconds before putting him back in the water.  We would go back there on another day, do the same thing, with the same result.  This trout seemed to like being taken out of the water.  Eventually, I guess we and the trout lost interest in this.

Once when I was six and he eleven, he pumped me up on the swings on the playground at school.  I don’t know whatever possessed him, but when he got us up really high, he decided to stand on my shoulders.  It’s amazing that we both didn’t get hurt, because I just sort of crumbled under his weight, and we both came crashing down.

We raised rabbits together.  We started with two and a year later we had 99.  We both loved getting inside the rabbit hutch, watching the mothers with their new babies.  We thought we were going to make money by selling them, but we couldn’t even give them away.  We ended up letting them go up in the woods, not knowing that they wouldn’t survive in the wild.

We spent a lot of time down by the pond.  We both loved frogs and we loved looking for frog eggs.  It seems like we would spend hours just sitting on that big rock, watching the water. He built a raft, put an inner tube under it, and poled us around the pond.

To this day I have a phobia of fish hooks.  Joe took me fishing in our brook, quite a ways from our house.  When he cast out his line, the hook went right through my ear.  I think he removed the worm and then we took the long walk back to the house with me attached by hook to the end of his line.  I think Mom cut the hook, and then pulled it out with pliers.

Then there was the time we were sliding on the hill behind the house.  He had been taking me down the hill on his sled, with him steering.  I guess he got tired of going cautiously down the hill with a little kid and wanted to go faster with a bigger kid.  At the top of the hill he handed me the sled and I thought he said, “Here, you go ahead” and then he took off down the hill on a toboggan with someone bigger. I couldn’t believe he was letting me go by myself, but I did it anyway, not even knowing how to steer.  I slid right into a barbed wired fence at the bottom of the hill and got a big gash in the side of my face, almost taking out my eye.  He ran over to me and yelled, “I told you to stay put!”  Leaving a trail of blood, we headed back to the house, and then had to wait while Mom finished up her order with the door-to-door Grand Union man before she could take care of me.

I know now that Mom was really afraid of lightning.  When I was little, she used to wake us up during a thunderstorm, saying, “Come and watch the pretty lightning.”  We would all sit on the porch, bundled in blankets until the storm had passed.  I’m guessing now that he was probably old enough to realize the real reason we were doing this, but he never let on.

Sometimes when Joe was with the Hale boys he could be really mean!  We were all in the hay loft in the Hale barn, and they all went down the ladder first. Then they took the ladder away and told me I had to jump.  They left me up there for what felt like hours. I peed in my pants.  Finally he, or somebody else, came back and put the ladder up and helped me get down

He and I would scheme against Winona, because sometimes we resented her big sister bossiness, and she was way too sophisticated for our tastes.  One time he pretended to have shut the shop window on me, and my top half was hanging out the window and my bottom half was inside, and I was screaming like I was trapped.  Winona came running to “rescue” me, and when she got there we both just laughed at her. She was not amused and told us both off

One fall day we were all digging potatoes in the potato patch. At the end of the day, our parents had gone somewhere, and we were cold, dirty and tired.  Joe cooked up some small, just out of the ground potatoes and added butter, cream, salt and pepper.  It was the best meal I ever tasted and still is to this day!

Joe actually built a sugar house amongst the maple trees on what was the Calkins land.  Together we had a maple sugaring operation.  We would collect the sap on a stone boat that was pulled by our horse Babe.  I remember how deep the snow was back then, because it was at least up over Babe’s knees.  I might have been 10, and he was probably 15.  I remember falling asleep on the stack of cedar slabs that he had piled up inside the sugar house for the fire, and waking up all sticky from the sweet steam.

At the end of a hot summer day, Joe drove us up to the beach at Joe’s Pond.  We dove in, (there was some sort of dock back then), and when I came back up he asked, “Where are your glasses?”  I had forgotten to take them off, and now they were gone.  We searched and searched, but the water was all murky because of all the swimmers there, and we couldn’t find them.  He had to take me back home, and I was so scared because I couldn’t see, but mostly because I was going to be in big trouble.  Joe woke me up very early the next morning, and we went back up to the beach.  He found them!!  From the end of the dock, he looked down into the water and could see the outline of my glasses where the sediment had settled.  Not only did he retrieve my glasses, but he also kept my secret.  My mother never found out that I had been so careless.

Later in life, Joe had quit college and was farming.  He watched his cows coming down from the pasture and knew something was not right.  At the top of the hill above the pond one of his cows dropped.  She had tangled in some barbed wire and had severed one of her teats.  He tried really hard to save that cow, but eventually she died from the loss of blood.  I can vividly remember his desperation and his sadness, as much for the cow as for his financial loss.

I trailed after him for many years, and except for the “Hale incident,” I don’t remember him ever acting like he resented it.  I wish we could have gotten that back, but I’m glad for these special memories.

This article was first published in the June, 2010, issue of The North Star Monthly

To see the photo album associated with this article, click here