this Search won't find everything.
But it might find what you want 
check the main index also

88 items found

  • Historic Lodging and Hotels Bartlett NH

    Share Lodgings in the upper village area - Page 2 Silver Springs Tavern and Cabins : The building pictured here in 1944 burned and was replaced with the existing building. This property once belonged to GK Howard, then Howard and Sadie Lowd who sold it to C.I. Pendelton. In the late 1940s it was owned by Henry Mead . Eventually Emil Hanson rented it and in 1971 Clinton Burke bought the business. Later Jerry and Dora English managed it. In 1976 the Schoen family took over and operated it as a popular campground until their retirement in about 2000. The building has been unused since then and the campground closed.. Village Area Lodging Page 1 Village Area Lodging Page 3 Upper Village Area Intervale Area Glen Area Historic Lodging Map This photo dated 1938 This was called The Forest Inn located in Bartlett Village on the corner of Forest Ave and Rte 302.. In 1890 Frank George sold the land and probably the existing building to Clementine Lawlis. She operated it as an Inn until her death in the mid 1950's, Clementine left the property to her only survivor, Hazel Amadon, who lived near Portland Maine. Hazel sold the property in 1955 to R.G. Hazelton but it is not known how he utilized the property but he resold it to Leland Walsh in 1958. Leland Walsh was a 1st cousin to Sonny and Robert Pettengill. He was the son of their Father's Sister Ester who lived in VT. In 1967 the property was sold to Edmund and Ruth Pettengill and it remains with their descendants now (2020). Frank George probably acquired the property between 1860 and 1885 as part of many transactions in which he purchased more than a thousand acres of land in the Bartlett area from Parker, Stillings, Rogers, Towle and Hall to name just a few. For some period of time in the 1930's Silver Springs was called Howard's Camp . These Photos are titled "Howard's Camp" and dated 1930 on the back. It is recognizable as the later named Henry Mead's Silver Springs Campground. Today (2019) you will find it as an un-named building about a half mile east of the Harts Location Town Line. The building shown here was destroyed by fire and re-built. The once famed Sawyer's Rock is just around the corner on the left. It has been mostly blasted away to widen the road. Historic Lodging Map Hotels Loding Page 1 Continue to page 2 Continue to page 3 Glendennings Cabins were owned and operated by Ray Glendenning in the 1930's. Each of the ten cabins was just large enough for a bed and a burea. They were located just east of the Bartlett Town Ball Field. There are just two of these buildings still standing, one of which was recently repaired and resided. T he Gateway Cottages, later The Target, then The Abenaki Motel. These have been connected to be one structure and still exist next door to the Bartlett Village Ball Park (Blackfly Field).These were operational from the 1930's to the 1990s. The main Inn building dates back to 1890 and was operated as The Gateway, by the Sweet family. The cottages were added in the 1930's. In 1961 the property was purchased by Doug Williams and Stuart & Anna Walker, all of Canadian background. In 1963 Mr. Williams became the sole owner. In 1971 he changed the name from Target to Abenaki. The three original cabins were joined with three new units being added, making a six unit motel. There were four cottages behind the main building. The main Inn burned sometime during the 2010's and the "motel" has been unused. The Pines is today's Bartlett Inn . This photo is from about 1915. The building dates from about 1885 and was originally the private residence of "Big Jim" Donahue who was also a familiar name in the lumbering operations at Livermore . As Livermore came to an end, by 1925 the Donahue's were catering to tourists and called their Inn The Pines. The Donahue's also operated a store in the Village (Later Mallett's). The Pines also had the only tennis courts in town. During the 1930's the Donahue's were doing so well they added more units, in the form of cottages. In the 1940's the property was purchased and operated by Claire and Paul Birnkammer who remained for thirty years when in 1970 they sold to Barbara Stone , followed by Don and Chere Meegan , followed by Mark Dindorf in 1985. Picture Below is The Gateway, 1940's. In 1961 it became The Target and in 1963 was renamed The Abenaki. Description at left. The Gateway Office Sign - not dated ​ It appears to be lit by a kerosene lantern.. Historic Lodging Map Hotels Loding Page 1 Continue to page 2 Continue to page 3 Sky Valley Motor Court: In 1945 Alan & Libby Eliason came to Bartlett from Chestertown, Maryland, where Alan operated a professional photographic studio. Alan and Libby intended the cottage business to be a summer only endeavor so he could keep himself busy while he escaped his allergies, then known as ‘hay fever.’ ​ In 1946, Alan and Libby purchased the property and established Sky Valley Motor Court on the former French Farm about one mile east of Bartlett Village. A brief history of the Sky Valley property. This property was a part of the 1793 farm of Obed Hall , one of Bartlett's first pioneers. A part of it was also known as The Timothy George Farm. ​ In 1898 Ida Hall (a descendant of Obed) sold a part of the property to Edgar Stevens, who at that time was the proprietor of the Cave Mountain House in the Village. In 1921 Edgar Stevens’ heirs (Don and Blanche Hobbs and James and Bertha Cook ) sold the property to Orin A. Cook . ​ Orin operated a farm and an inn known as Maple Dale Cottage. By the 1950's Maple Dale Cottage was operated by Andrew and Anna-Marie Arendt , who came to Bartlett from Germany shortly before the beginning of WW II. Andrew was a meticulous flower and vegetable gardener and the area that is now the parking lot of the Penguin Ski Club was once filled with flowers and shrubs of all varieties. The Arendts are both buried in the Catholic Cemetery just down the street, (see headstone picture below) and Maple Dale Cottage became the Penguin Ski Club in the mid 1960's. ​ Another 88 acre section of Obed Hall's Farm, later known as the Maybury lot , passed from a John T. Wentworth to Nathan French in 1855. That section remained in the French family until 1908 when it passed on to Lavinia Maybury by will. Lavinia sold the property to Orin Cook in 1918. ​ It's interesting that when the Eliasons were looking for property to buy, they almost purchased the abandoned property then known as the Stilphen Farm , today's Storybook Inn , but the superb mountain vistas from the French farm swayed the decision, even though Stilphen's was a better location. Alan said most of his business decisions were often made for the wrong reasons, but personal preferences usually ruled over business sense. Not a bad credo. ​ Sky Valley first consisted of nine cabins that were popular at the time. By 1955 ten modern motel units were added, along with the first swimming pool in the area. Since there were very few eating establishments in the immediate area at that time, Alan and Libby also built and operated "The Poolside Restaurant " on the property, along with a gift shop added about 1958. Many folks in the Village worked at Sky Valley at one time or another. Lillian Sanborn made all the pastries and desserts for the restaurant, and her daughters, Evelyn and Ellen , along with the daughters of farmer Harry Rogers , (Rogers’ Crossing) and Harry's niece Betty Jackson, were among the housekeepers. Lillian’s son Henry ran what may have been the first trash collection business in Bartlett. Alan’s son, David , remembers the big old truck loading up all the trash, with separate containers for anything suitable to feed the pigs Henry kept. Donna Ward worked at Sky Valley for at least ten years, first tending to Eliason's children and later on the front desk. The "summer only idea" did not last - by 1956. With full backing from their children, Alan and Libby moved the family from Chestertown permanently to Bartlett, although the business did not open for winter guests until the early 1970's. ​ To supplement his income, Alan became a real estate broker first working with Wimpy Thurston , who briefly owned a store in the Village at that time. Alan was later associated with Leland Realty in the development of Tyrol Ski Slopes , and later with Country Squire Realty in North Conway along with Ellsworth Russell, who was a prominent citizen of Eaton. ​ Alan continued to operate the business until 1968 when it was sold to Mr. John Chase . However, by 1971 Alan was once more the owner when Chase defaulted on the mortgage. About this time Alan's son, David, was in college and helped out in the business as time permitted. In 1975 Alan retired from Sky Valley and David agreed to take over the operation full time, with a one year contract. ​ Forty four years later Dave and his siblings sold the property to Little Angels Service Dogs, owned by Kyler and Darlene Drew of Intervale. Dave was one of the longest serving innkeepers in the Mt. Washington Valley! Most sensible hotel/motel operators have enough sense to "move along" after ten or fifteen years...or less. Dave is also your humble Bartlett Historical Society Web site editor. Alan returned to Maryland permanently in 2008, where he died at the same house where he was born in 1921. 1948 front sign on Route 302 These type of cottages were very popular in the 1950's and 1960's. As with all things, their popularity declined in the 1970's and many similar operations were no longer viable. Sky Valley kept up with the times with a series of renovations until the mid 2010's when many businesses could not compete with the influx of chain hotels and condominiums in the area. In 2019 the business was sold to Little Angels Service Dogs operated by Josh Drew with his parents Darlene and Kyler . If you grew up in Bartlett from the mid 1950's through the mid 1980's you probably learned to swim at the Sky Valley Pool with Red Cross Swimming Instructors. Sky Valley operated for about 70 years from the late 1940's until 2019. November 2019: The old restaurant building above (on the left) and all the little cabins were demolished to make way for a new campground being constructed by Dick Goff. (The cabin on the left remains as of April 2021). Coles Cabins and Coles Restaurant were operated by Henry and Sadie Cole beginning about 1935. It is said that Sadie had quite a temper and one needed to be alert for fry pans flying around. Lewis Mead purchased the cabins and restaurant in 1955 and the bigger house in the background is where Lewis and Sandra Mead live. Lewis died in 2008. You can see the gas pumps that, in 1935, were in the driveway of the main house. The pumps were later moved eastward to the front of the cabin office. The cabins and restaurant building later became A Better Life Cabins although they never used the restaurant building. Their office was in a smallish building in front of the cabins, which doubled as a convenience store. In the 1960's Winston Marcoux operated the store for a year or two. As of this writing (2020) the restaurant and cabins have been demolished to make way for a new campground being built by Dick Goff of West Side Road in Bartlett. Pictured below are the Cole's in 1924 on a berry picking expedition. The Dunrovin Inn was originally the private Residence of GK Howard and before he opened the Howard Hotel he had taken in travellers at this location. Eventually he sold the building to Elizabeth and John OConnell. They operated it as an Inn until 1945. The postcard below, with a postmark of 1948, states the owners as George and Hazel Bennett of Jackson. The building now serves as the Brettl-hupfers ski club. Click on the image for a large size, and click on the postcard back side to read the message dated August 1948. Photo postcard courtesy Michael Bannon. John Whyte's Villager Motel is located about a mile east of the Village. It was built in the 1960's. Mr Whyte operated it for a number of years before selling to Mr. & Mrs Zerveskes. They added about 15 more units on the right side of this picture. The Zerveskes lasted about 15 years before retiring to Florida in the 1990's. There have been a few other owners in the meantime and it is still operational today (2019). Editors note: My memory is a bit foggy on these details. Please send any corrections to me using the contact form. Thank you, Contact CRAWFORD NOTCH POSTCARD DATED 1913 on the back side. Probable location is about a half mile west of where Silver Springs Campground was located. We are looking east and Sawyers Rock is around the bend on the right side. This card scanned from the collection of Michael Bannon. Upper Village Area Intervale Area Glen Area Historic Lodging Map OMISSIONS - ERRORS - MISTAKES - JUST PLAIN LIES? PLEASE TELL US: Contact Historic Lodging Map Upper Village Hotels Lodging Page 1 Upper Village Lodging Page 2 Upper Village Lodging Page 3

  • Crawford Notch & Livermore history| bartlett nh

    Crawford Notch and livermore Share We are working on this page. T We know neither of these places are part of Bartlett but their proximity and points of interest are worth exploring. ​ The Livermore collection may be the most comprehensive material to be found all in one place. ​ The story of the Willey Slide of 1826 has been told many times in many publications but this is one of my favorite versions. ​ A hundred years of Railroad Section Houses and their occupants, 1880's to the 1990's ​ Hart's Location - The smallest town in New Hampshire and the first in the Nation to vote. Town Website. Crawford Notch Livermore The Willey Slide Section Houses Hart's Location Hart's Location Story in Our Summer 2020 Newsletter ArtistChester Harding , American, 1792-1866 Title Dr. Samuel A. Bemis Date1842 Mediumoil on canvas DimensionsUnframed: 36 1/4 × 28 1/4 inches (92.1 × 71.8 cm) Framed: 48 × 39 1/8 × 4 3/4 inches (121.9 × 99.4 × 12.1 cm) Credit LineGift of Dexter M. Ferry, Jr. Accession Number27.538 DepartmentAmerican Art before 1950 The Sitter, Dr. Samuel A. Bemis (Boston, Massachusetts and Hart's Location, New Hampshire, USA). Locations, New Hampshire, USA); 1927, Florence Morey (Bemis, New Hampshire, USA); 1927-present, gift to the Detroit Institute of Arts (Detroit, Michigan, USA) The 10th NH Turnpike through Crawford Notch in the White Mountains, incorporated by the NH Legislature in December 1803 , ran westward from the Bartlett / Hart’s Location town line for a distance of 20 miles. In today’s terminology, that would be from about Sawyer’s Rock to the intersection of the Cog Railway Base Station Road with Route 302. It cost a little over $35,000 to build and it was functioning by late 1806. The intent of the investors was to build a road ......snip.......The remainder of this excellent article can be found at the website of White Mountain History. This is the LINK.

  • Schools History | bartlett nh history | Junior Ski Program

    Schools In Bartlett. Page 2 Share Schools Page 1 Schools Page 2 Our School District didn't hire slouchers. Check the credentials of Mr Kaharl who taught in Bartlett in the 1890's. CLASS OF 1899 Bowdoin: Edgar Alonzo Kaharl, son of Edgar Morton and Annie Clark (Lawrence) Kaharl, was born 23 Dec., 1870, at Newton, Mass. He prepared for college at Phillips-Exeter Academy and entered Harvard in the fall of 1889, where he remained for two years. For the next six years he was engaged in teaching at Conway and Bartlett, N. H., and at Fryeburg Academy. He entered Bowdoin as a Junior and received the degree of A.B. in 1899. At Bowdoin he was a member of the Alpha Delta Phi Fraternity, received an English Composition prize and an honorary Commencement Appointment, and at graduation was elected to the Phi Beta Kappa society. He at once returned to the profession of teaching which was to be his life work, and took up the duties of principal of the high school at Hanover, N.H . Here he remained for three years, when he went to the Portland High School , as instructor in Latin. After another three years he accepted the principal ship of the Brunswick High School , where he continued till 1911, giving the strength of his best years to educating the youth of his college town. In 1911 he resigned from the Brunswick school and went to Germany, where he spent a year as exchange teacher in English at the Oberrealschule, in Wiesbaden. Returning to America he became principal of the Harrington normal training school in New Bedford, Mass ., and in 1914 of the Fifth Street school in the same city, where he was at the time of his death, which occurred, 25 Aug., 1916, at his home in New Bedford, of angina pectoris, after an attack of acute indigestion. Mr. Kaharl was a Mason. He married, 22 Jan., 1910, at New Bedford, Mass., Carolyn M., daughter of Samuel Adams and Martha (Shaler) Atwood, who survives him without children. Thank you to Mikell Chandler for providing the details surrounding this 1958 photo and for naming most of the individuals. "It was not Halloween, it was Christmas. Our pageant that year was at the Odd Fellows Hall because of work on the schools in preparation for the new school. This was the first and second grade, taught by Lucille Garland. I know the kids in hats were reindeer and elves, but I have no idea what the rest of us were (myself included). I know we did a skit and played Christmas songs with our rhythm instruments (rhythm sticks, traingles, bells, and Michael Washburn played the drum. I remember that because Mrs. Garland asked "Michael" to play the drum and I heard "Mikell" and was very excited. It was not me, however, as she told me that "Girls didn't play the drums." I was heartbroken. It was my first experience with sexism...from a woman I adored. In photo: (front row) Michael Washburn,Dougie Eliason, Frank Trecarten, Steven Bellerose, Dean Creps, Buster Burke, Billy Bergeron (second row) Marilyn Clemons, Maureen Marcoux, Linda Burke, Cynthia Lee Garland, Lorraine Judd??, Dianne Dudley, Cathy Ainsworth (third row)Patty Kennedy, Mikell Chandler, David Kennedy, Mary Jane Davis, David Eliason, Ralph Clemons, Tony Schultz . ​ This school group photo from 1909 was sent in by Rick Garon who got it from his Grandpa's (Adalbert and Olive Garon) scrap book. Olive's maiden name was Drown and a headstone bearing that name is located in the Hill Cemetery . Rick says his grandma Olive is in the photo somewhere. The Junior Ski Program: 1939 - present Schools Page 1 Schools Page 2 In the winter of 1936, about the time that Carroll Reed was planning for his ski school, local notables including Dr. Harold Shedd, Noel Wellman and Chuck Emerson formed the Eastern Slope Ski Club to promote the area as a skiing destination, and to ensure that all local youths would be exposed to the new and growing sport. In the winter of 1939 the club started their Junior Program that allowed all local children to obtain ski equipment and take ski lessons; that program continues to serve all elementary school students in the Bartlett - Conway - area today. The photo below is JANUARY 1958: Photo Location: Bartlett Elementary School - Bartlett Village - The program was held at The Cranmore Skimobile. Roger Marcoux recalls that his instructor at Cranmore was Peter Pinkham. Roger has now been an instructor for 20 years as of 2013, Eds note: That's called "Giving back what you got". Back row: Ray Kelley, Malcolm Tibbetts, Dave Eliason, Mikell Chandler, Johnny Head, Peggy Howard, Mary-Jane Davis, Roger Clemons, not sure of the last four. Next row down: Ed Luken, Wanda Abbott, John Nysted, Jay Nealley, ?, ?, Bobby Grant,not sure of the rest 3rd row down: Sumner Nysted, Ruth Russell, Jane Garland, Diane Dudley, Karen Haley,Rose Haley, Cindy Garland,?Maureen Marcoux? 4th row down: Frank Trecarten, Buster Burke, Evan Nysted, Ricky Tibbetts, Jerry Burke, ? , Ralph Clemons, Theresa Lemire 5th row down; David Ainsworth, ??, Joey Garland, Roger Marcoux, Doug Garland, Michael Grigel, Christine Cool, Doug Eliason 6th row down: Karen Grant, Connie Dudley, Jane Trecarten, Kathy Howard, Dwight Garland, Clifton Garland, Allen Eastman. Let us know who the others are if you know: Tell us here photo above courtesy of Alan Eliason Schools Page 1 Schools Page 2

  • Jericho | bartletthistory

    Upper Bartlett Glen Area Cooks Crossing Goodrich Falls Jericho Intervale Dundee West Side Road

  • Intervale | bartletthistory

    The Intervale Area Intervale is an un-incorporated area of the Town of Bartlett This 1952 photograph shows the northern end of what is now Rte 16A. Todays Rte 16 continues to the left, about where the little brook can be seen. The large house in the center was the Crystal Hills Lodge and Ski Dorm and later The House of Color operated by Les and Meg Brown. The little cottage complex (upper right) was known as Castner's Camps. ​ Todays Dunkin Donuts is located approximately in the upper center area. Photo credits: Alan Eliason, Top and Steve Morrill below. Our earliest knowledge of the smaller farm house near the upper center is that it was part of the Charles Farm. "The Chinese Shop" is picture at right. It is located in the vicinity of the Dundee Road on Rte 16A, know today as the 1755 House. Steve Morrill of Madison tells me that this was his Grandparents shop in 1924. His Grandmother, Gertrude, lived in China from 1913 to 1918 and his Uncle Stephen was born there. Stephen was a Captain in the OSS working alone behind enemy lines in Northern Italy during WW2. His mission was to blow up Brenner Pass to stop Nazi supply lines. Executed in 1945 The Chinese Shop in Intervale MORE INTERVALE AREA SCENES BOOK REFERENCE: The Brenner Assignment: The Untold Story of the Most Daring Spy Mission of World War II Kindle Edition Like a scene from Where Eagles Dare, a small team of American spies parachutes into Italy behind enemy lines. Their orders: link up with local partisans and sabotage the well-guarded Brenner Pass—the Nazis' crucial supply route through the Alps—thereby bringing the German war effort in Italy to a grinding halt. Wendy Brown Bridgewater, (Les Brown's daughter) who lived at the House of Color in the 1950-1960 era told me the house across the street from Crystal Hills Lodge (shown on aerial photo above) was occupied by May Young who had some affiliation with the Glen Baptist Church Choir. She was later affectionately known as "the cat lady" when she moved up the road a bit to a trailer with about 40 cats. When the Rte 16 by-pass was built I'm supposing the house was in the way and was eliminated. ​ ​ Below is Carl, Les, Meg and Wendy Brown perhaps 1956 or there-a-bouts'. They operated both the Lodge/Ski Dorm and later transitioned to The House of Color, a massive gift shop with thousands of items. They also featured a large display of native minerals and was a popular advice center for visiting "rock hounds" which was a popular past-time at the time. MORE INTERVALE AREA SCENES Upper Bartlett Glen Area Cooks Crossing Goodrich Falls Jericho Intervale Dundee West Side Road Crystal Hills Lodge and ski dorm; later the house of color MORE INTERVALE AREA SCENES Estimated date 1900: This Photo is near the Intervale Scenic Vista. White Horse and Cathedral Ledges. The large white building in the center was the Intervale House. The little white house towards the right side is Today's 1785 Inn - back when this photo was taken it was the Idlewild Inn. The building at the upper far left was the Clarendon Inn, which was destroyed by fire. The barns all belonged to the Cannell Family, both then and now although one was demolished to make way for the Vista Auto Shop which is there today (2020). The long barn at left was a bowling alley. The white building on the right was the Intervale Inn. The zoomed image below is part of the above picture to show the detail of the Clarendon Inn, The Intervale House and the Idlewild Inn. The picture below is the same area, but dated 1925. The Ernest and Jessie Hatch House - Thorn Hill Road Circa 1900 Photo and Story Courtesy of William Marvel and the Conway Daily Sun. In the late 1840s, John Hatch decided to give up his farm in Chocorua and move to a new one in Bartlett. He bought a homestead just below Benjamin Pitman’s place on the eastern slope of what was then known as Thorn Mountain, moving with his wife and two sons into a house that may have been built by the previous owner, Noah Sinclair. It would remain in the Hatch family for more than a century. Thorn Mountain Road was little more than a trail, which may have made the farm a bargain. Hatch and his sons, Ivory and Lorenzo, found Ben Pitman an accommodating neighbor, as neighbors often are in isolated communities, and he let them use part of his pasture until they cleared their own. Read the rest of this story at the original source. Conway Daily Sun MORE INTERVALE AREA SCENES

  • Railroad | bartlett nh history

    Bridges & Trestles Functionality and Architecture Meet More Railroad Pages - Menu Top Right... This double span bridge is located in Glen, NH. Wendell Kiesman photo - used with permission I'm a paragraph. Click here to add your own text and edit me. It's easy. Pratt Truss Bridge Since its introduction in 1844, this bridge design became part of hundreds of bridges created up to Second World War. It was designed by the Thomas Willis Pratt (1812 – 1875) and his father Caleb Pratt, a pair of American engineers, just several years after William Howe patented his famous Howe truss design. This bridge design immediately became widely used during the period when many bridges moved from wood components toward all-steel construction designs. Its most compelling feature was the ability was to span great distances using simple construction methods. It was regularly used to span anchor points that are up to 250 feet (76 meters) apart. It was most commonly used in railroad bridge construction, although it was also a preferred choice for creating other types of bridges all around the world until early 20th century. What is a trestle Bridge? With the increased use and development of railroads civil engineers had to deal with rough, unstable and often dangerous terrain and make sure that rails are adequately supported by trestle construction which was meant to be filled with solid material. When building railroad tracks across wide and deep valleys, trestles made of wooden timber were built to keep the track solid and safe high above the ground. Most trestles were meant to be temporary, allowing trains to transport materials necessary to create a solid fill beneath the tracks. ​ On the other hand, rather than temporary, trestles were used as permanent bridge support in sections of tracks where water flow or sudden flooding could cause solid fills to become unsafe. Despite the frail looks of trestle bridges, they remained a safe passage for freight trains around the still settling the United States while exploring and populating and developing western territories. In the United Kingdom, wooden trestles were used for a relatively short period of the main use of crossing deep valleys in mountainous areas and were soon replaced by stone, and concrete viaducts with only a few wooden trestles continued to be in use into the 20th century. Frankenstein Trestle Crawford Notch about 1880. Spindly trestle supports indicate built on initial opening of the track through Crawford Notch by the P and O 1875. . Frankenstein was strengthened for heavier trains during the summer of 1905 as Maine Central RR began a bridge upgrade program from Portland to St. Johnsbury. More Railroad Pages - Menu Top Right... We are working on this page

  • Sports history bartlett nh

    Share Links to skiing stories on our other pages Sports & skiing History in Bartlett Thad Thorne, 2010 est, Thad was the Gen Manager at Attitash for a couple of decades. Thad Obituary Long before Attitash, there were very popular ski runs on Bear Mountain. This 1941 photo looks north towards Mt Washington. Attitash and Bear Mountain Stanton Slope-Cobb Farm Rd Eastern Slope Signal Various Articles Intervale Ski Area Junior Ski Program ESSC Big Bear Ski Area Articles Old Intervale Ski Jump Ski Jump at Intervale Ski Area circa 1962 History of Bartlett Skiing (N.E. Ski Museum) Dave is working on this page. Ski Areas Promotional Map and Guide - Winter 1953-54 Courtesy Wendy Brown Bridgewater This is about 1957: Front l to r: Audrey Ludgate, Evelyn Sanborn, Donna Chappee, Rita Clemons, Carla Bailey Back l to r: Gail Stewart, Frieda Smith, Celia Lane, Sal Manna, Margaret Taylor, Caroline Johnson, Lois Henry. — with Salvatore Manna and Donna Chappee . More School Sports More School Sports Attitash and Bear Mountain Stanton Slope-Cobb Farm Rd Eastern Slope Signal Various Articles Intervale Ski Area Junior Ski Program ESSC Big Bear Ski Area Articles Old Intervale Ski Jump

  • Glen | bartletthistory

    Glen Area Upper Bartlett Glen Area Cooks Crossing Goodrich Falls Jericho Intervale Dundee West Side Road This picture was taken in the winter of 1952. If you live in Bartlett you probably drive through here everyday. Do you know where it is? Just to keep up the suspense, the answer is at the very bottom of this page. Everyone knows where The Red Parka Pub is located. Well, it wasn't always a pub. It started life as a General Store in the 1940's. Nancy Grant Bartlett shared this information: In 1952, the building that is now the Red Parka Pub was my parents' general store. In 1965, they built Grant's (on the hill), and Conway Supply (Bun Lucy) rented the "old store". A year later (I think - maybe it was two), my parents built the shopping center and Conway Supply moved there. At that time, my parents rented the building to Dottie and Rick Roderick, and they opened it as the Red Parka Pub. A couple of years later, the Rodericks moved back to Massachusetts. Dewey & Jean Mark and Al & Lois Nelson then leased it from my parents, and eventually Dewey and Jean purchased it. The rest, as they say, is history.... More trivia - the house where Jen Forman lived was the station agent's house, and my great-grandfather, Frank Burnell, (Frank's picture is on the next Page) was the station agent. After Papa (my great-grandfather) died, the house was sold. I don't remember who bought it originally, but it was sold again in the 60's and became Vienna Lodge. The Vienna Lodge sign is also in the Pub at the Parka. My house (since 1968) is just before that. Click Picture for a large size. Glen Train Station and Post Office. Mr Burnell is standing next to the porch. dated 1909

  • Train Stations in Bartlett | bartletthistory

    More Railroad Pages - Menu Top Right... Scotty Mallett is progressing on the task of sharing his extensive knowledge of the history of the railroads in Bartlett. Please check back periodically to gauge his progress. Be sure to "re-load" pages to be sure you are seeing the most recent updates. Train Stations Bartlett had three train station stops The Intervale Station is on Intervale Crossroads - opposite the scenic vista. ​ ​ The Glen-Jackson Station was located behind today's Red Parka Pub. It is now a ski club. ​ ​ The Bartlett Station was in the Village on Railroad Street behind today's school. It only remains as a memory. ​ We have devoted a separate page for each station. Click the blue button for more details. INTERVALE STATION GLEN JACKSON STATION BARTLETT VILLAGE STATION The Bartlett Village Station - 1909 More Railroad Pages - Menu Top Right... Mountain Division at Facebook There are many more pictures at the Facebook Page "MEC RR MT DIVISION".

  • Directors Reports | bartletthistory

    BHS Periodic Reports 2021 Annual Report 2021 Annual Report v5.pdf Click on the PDF logo - Report opens in a new window. 2020 Annual Report 2020 BHS Annual Report.pdf

  • Village Area Pg 4 | bartletthistory

    Share The Village Area of Bartlett Page 4 "Heading East out of the Village" Upper Bartlett Glen Area Cooks Crossing Goodrich Falls Jericho Intervale Dundee West Side Road Big Bear: The ski area that never was January 1963: The Bartlett Recreation Development Corporation gets SEC approval to sell 75000 shares at $4.00 each. The developers planned to be open for the 1964 season. At the time, the concept of selling vacation house lots adjacent to ski areas was a new idea. Pinkham Realty was named the selling agent for 45 lots on 32 acres in what would be known as Alpine Village . The lots sold for $1000 to $2000 each and 17 were sold immediately. To summarize the relationship between Big Bear and Attitash, in the early 1960s, two major ski area proposals surfaced for the Rogers Crossing area just east of downtown Bartlett. Big Bear was proposed for a peak known as Rogers Mountain, while a separate ski area was proposed for Little Attitash Mountain. The privately property based Big Bear reportedly faced issues acquiring funds, whilst Attitash reportedly faced issues in obtaining agreements to use National Forest land on its upper elevations. Earle Chandler led development of Big Bear , while Phil Robertson (formerly of Cranmore) managed Attitash. While trails for both areas were cut, Big Bear never saw the light of day. Some associated with the stalled Big Bear development reportedly moved over to Attitash. Work on the area continued into the winter of 1964-65, including the installation of new chairlift towers after Christmas. It would take another 25 years and different ownership for the Big Bear idea to become reality in the form of Bear Peak, constructed under the direction of Les Otten’s LBO Enterprises. 1963 conceptual drawing for Big Bear Ski Area, Currently is Bear Peak at Attitash. Village Area Page 1 Village Area Page 2 Village Area Page 3 Village Area Page 4 Village Area Page 5 This 1947 photo was taken from about where the North Colony Motel is today The red roofed building was the Ford house now owned by Gene Chandler. The cottages at Sky Valley can be seen to the right of the barn. The barn may have still been a part of the Stilling's families many properties. at this time. Rogers Crossing might be considered the entrance to The Upper Village area. Back in those days Harry Rogers (pictured below in 1946) use to graze milking cows in the fields from this point up to about where Sky Valley is today. Attitash opened in January 1965, calling itself "the red carpet ski area" for its customer service focused on limiting lift lines by limiting ticket sales. That idea was quietly dropped by the end of the decade. ​ Phil Robertson, perhaps recalling the success Cranmore had in developing an entirely new form of ski lift with its Skimobile , became an advocate for a cog monorail ski lift at Attitash. In early 1967, a full-size model was installed at the base, and the line of the track was eventually cut to the summit. ​ "Reality set in" when construction planning started, recalled Thad Thorne, and the uncertain prospects of obtaining financing and Forest Service permission for the expensive, unproven experiment caused its quiet abandonment. ​ ​ In those early days before the Mountain was taken over by huge Corporate businesses it was operated like a family business and all the employees were considered part of the family. It was a close knit group and it wasn't unusual to find the general manager grooming the slopes or selling tickets. Some ski instructors worked nights grooming. The major stockholders were skiing families and they considered it their ski area...which I suppose it was. ​ Growth at Attitash continued with the summer Alpine Slide and Craft Village in the mid-1970s, the installation of snowmaking after several snowless winters in the early 1980s, and the expansion to Bear Peak in the 1990s. Village Area Page 1 Village Area Page 2 Village Area Page 3 Village Area Page 4 Village Area Page 5 Thad Thorne was the General Manager replacing Phil Robertson upon his retirement. Lewis Mead was the long-time buildings and grounds manager and Everett Ward kept all the equipment running. Ruth Leslie, of Cranmore Eating House fame was the food and beverage manager. (sorry, no picture of her) This 1967 photo was sent to us by Ted Houghton. It shows the Attiash Mono Rail cars sitting on their track. This was about as far as this project got. Check out the Eastern Slope Signal of 1966 for details. Link is in the right column.... Last stop before we head towards the Glen area is the Sauna Health Spa. It was located about a quarter mile east of Attitash and was the refurbished barn at the Bellhurst Inn property. Apparently it wasn't ready for primetime and only operated for about a year. This building later served as home to the Scarecrow Restaurant for a couple of years before they moved to Intervale, where they operated for another 50 years, till about 2018. Village Area Page 1 Village Area Page 2 Village Area Page 3 Village Area Page 4 Village Area Page 5

  • Interesting Tales | bartletthistory

    Interesting Tales we assume to be true Share A Case of Inhospitable Hospitality? THE HEART of the WHITE MOUNTAINS Their Legend and Scenery By Samuel Adams Drake 1882 Pg 58-61 Three miles below the village of Bartlett we stopped before a farmhouse, with the gable-end toward the road, to inquire the distance to the next tavern, where we meant to pass the night. A gruff voice from the inside growled something by way of reply; but as its owner, whoever he might be, did not take the trouble to open his door, the answer was unintelligible. “The Churl!” muttered the colonel. “I have a great mind to teach him to open when a gentleman knocks.” “And I advise you not to try it,” said the man from the inside. The one thing a Kentuckian never shrinks from is a challenge. He only said, “Wait a minute,” while putting his broad shoulder against the door; but now George and I interfered. Neither of us had any desire to signalize our entry in the village by a brawl, and after some trouble we succeeded in pacifying our fire- eater with the promise to stop at this house on our way back. “I shall know it again,” said the colonel, looking back, and nibbling his long mustache with suppressed wrath; “something has been spilled on the threshold-- something like blood.” We laughed heartily. The blood, we concluded, was in the colonel’s eyes. Some time after nightfall we arrived in the village, having put thirteen miles of road behind us without fatigue. Our host received us with a blazing fire -- what fires they do have in the mountains, to be sure! -- a pitcher of cider, and the remark, “Don’t be afraid of it, gentlemen.” All three hastened to reassure him on this point. The colonel began with a loud smack, and George finished the jug with a deep sigh. “Don’t be afraid of it,” repeated the landlord, returning presently with a fresh pitcher. “There are five barrels more like it in the cellar.” “Landlord,” quoth George, “let one of your boys take a mattress, two blankets, and a pillow to the cellar. I intend to pass the night there.” “I only wish your well was full of it,” said the colonel, taking a second put at the jug, and making a second explosion with his lips. “Gentlemen,” said I, “we have surely entered a land of milk and honey. “You shall have as much of both as you desire,” said our host, very affably. “Supper is ready, gentlemen.” After supper a man came in for whom I felt, upon the instant, one of those secret antipathies which are natural to me. The man was an utter stranger. No matter: the repugnance seized me all the same. After a tour of the tap-room, and some words with our landlord in an undertone, the stranger went out with the look of a man who had asked for something and had been refused. “Where have I heard that man’s voice?” said the colonel, thoughtfully. Our landlord is one of the most genial to be found among the mountains. While sitting over the fire during the evening, the conversation turned upon the primitive simplicity of manners remarked among mountaineers in general; and our host illustrated it with this incident: “You noticed, perhaps, a man who left here a few moments ago?” he began. We replied affirmatively. It was my antipathy. “Well, that man killed a traveler a few years back.” We instinctively recoiled. The air seemed tainted with the murderer’s presence. “Yes; dead as a mutton, “continued the landlord, punching the logs reflectively, and filling the chimney with sparks. “The man came to his house one dark and stormy night, and asked to be admitted. The man of the house flatly refused. The stranger pleaded hard, but the fellow ordered him away with threats. Finding entreaties useless, the traveler began to grow angry, and attempted to push open the door, which was only fastened by a button, as the custom is. The man of the house said nothing, but took his gun from a corner, and when the intruder crossed the threshold he put three slugs through him. The wounded man expired on the threshold, covering it with his blood.” “Murdered him, and for that? Come, come, you are joking!” ejaculated George, with a half smile of incredulity. “Blowed him right through, just as I tell you,” reiterated the narrator, without heeding the doubt George’s question implied. “That sounds a little like Old Kentuck,” observed the colonel, coolly. “Yes; but listen to the sequel, gentlemen,” resumed the landlord. “The murderer took the dead body in his arms, finding, to his ‘horror, that it was an acquaintance with whom he had been drinking the day before; he took up the body, as I was saying, laid it out upon a table, and then went quietly to bed. In the morning he very honestly exhibited the corpse to all who passed his door, and told his story as I tell it to you. I had it from his own lips.” “That beats Kentucky,” asseverated the colonel. For my own part, I believed the landlord; “I was never there in my life; but I do know that, when the dead man was buried, the man who killed him went to the funeral like any curious or indifferent spectator. This was too much. George rose from his chair, and began to be interested in a placard on the wall. “And you say this happened near here?” he slowly inquired; “perhaps, now, you could show us the very house?” he finished, dryly. “Nothing easier. It’s only three miles back on the road you came. The blood-stain is plain, or was, on the threshold.” We exchanged glances. This was the house where we halted to inquire our way. The colonel’s eyes dilated, but he said nothing. “But was there no trial?” I asked. “Trial? Oh yes. After several days had run by, somebody thought of that; so one morning the slayer saddled his horse and rode over the county-seat to inquire about it. He was tried at the next session, and acquitted. The judge charged justifiable homicide; that a man’s house is his fort; the jury did not leave their benches. By-th-by, gentlemen, that is some of the man’s cider you are drinking.” I felt decided symptoms of revolt in my stomach; George made a grimace, and the colonel threw his unfinished glass in the fire. During the remainder of the evening he rallied us a good deal on the subject of New England hospitality, but said no more about going back to chastise the man of the red house. [The sequel to this strange but true story is in keeping with the rest of its horrible details. Perpetually haunted by the ghost of his victim, the murderer became a prey to remorse. Life became unsupportable. He felt that he was both shunned and abhorred. Gradually he fell into a decline, and within a few years from the time the deed was committed he died.] This particular item was posted on the wall of an early Lodging Establishment in Green River, a town in the Rocky Mountains. The reference material for this item is THROUGH AMERICA: OR NINE MONTHS IN THE UNITED STATES by Walter Gore Marshall Published in 1881. It is not technically related to the Town of Bartlett in any way, but anyone who has ever worked at a lodging establishment can appreciate the droll humor, which in fact, is not all that far from the truth even today. The station inn, the only hotel in the place, is called the Desert House. A more appropriate name could not have been chosen. The following notice I found framed and hung about the breakfast-room : THE DESERT HOUSE. NOTICE This hotel has been built and arranged for the special comfort and convenience of summer boarders. On arrival, each guest will be asked how he likes the situation; and if he says the , hotel ought to have been placed up upon the I knoll or further down towards the village, then the location of the house will be immediately changed. Corner front rooms, up only one flight, for every guest. , liaths, gas, water-closets, hot and cold water, laundry, telegraph, restaurant, fire alarm, barroom, billiard-table, daily papers, couptf, sewing machine, grand piano, a clergyman, and all other modern conveniences in every room. Meals every minute, if desired, and consequently no second table. English, French, and ticrman dictionaries furnished every guest, to make up such a bill-of-fare as he may desire, without regard to the bill-affair after- wards at the office. Waiters of any nationality and colour desired. Every waiter furnished with a libretto, button-hole bouquet, full-dress suits, ball-tablets, and his hair parted in the middle. Every guest will have the best seat in the dining-hall, and the best waiter in the house. Any guest not getting his breakfast red-hot, or experiencing a delay of sixteen seconds after giving his order for dinner, will please mention the fact at the office, and the cooks and waiters will be blown from the mouth of the cannon in front of the hotel at once. Children will be welcomed with delight, and are requested to bring hoop-sticks and hawkeys to bang the carved rosewood furniture especially provided for that purpose, and peg-tops to spin on the velvet carpets; they will be allowed to bang on the piano at all hours, yell in the halls, slide down the banisters, fall down stairs, carry away dessert enough for a small family in their pockets at dinner, and make themselves as disagreeable as the fondest mother can desire. Washing allowed in rooms, and ladies giving an order to " put me on a flat-iron " will be put on one at any hour of the day or night. A discreet waiter, who belongs to the Masons. Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias, and who was never known to even tell the lime of day. has been employed to carry milk punches and hot toddies to ladies' rooms in the evening. Every lady will be considered the belle of the house, and row-boys will answer the bell promptly. Should any row-boy fail to appear at a guest's door with a pitcher of ice-water, more towels, a gin-cocktail, and pen, ink, and paper, before the guest's hand has left the bell knob, he will be branded " Front" on his forehead, and be imprisoned for life. The office clerk has been carefully selected lo please everybody, and can lead in prayer, play draw-poker, match worsted at the village store, shake for the drinks at any hour, day or night, play billiards, is a good waltzer and can dance the German, can make a fourth at euchre, amuse children, repeat the Creche trial from memory, is a good judge of horses, as a railway and steamboat reference is far superior to Appleton's or anybody else's guide, will flirt with any young lady and not mind being cut dead when "pa comes down." Don't mind being damned any more than a Connecticut river. Can room forty people in the best room in the house when the hotel is full, attend to the annunciator, and answer questions in Hebrew, Greek, Choctaw, Irish, or any other polite language at the same moment, without turning a hair. Dogs allowed in any room in the house, including the wine room. Gentlemen can drink, smoke, swear, chew, gamble, tell shady stories, stare at the new arrivals, and indulge in any other innocent amusements common to watering-places, in any part of the hotel. The proprietor will always be happy to hear that some other hotel is the best house in the country. Special attention given to parties who can give information as to how these things are done in " Yewrup " The proprietor will take it as a personal affront if any guest on leaving should fail to dispute the bill, tell him he is a swindler, the house a barn, the table wretched, the wines vile, and that he, the guest, "was never so imposed upon in his life, will never stop there again, and means to warn his friends. G. W. KITCHEN, Proprietor You are at the wrong office: This is from about ten years ago at a local Bartlett motel: When I was on the front desk one night an elderly man came into the office at about eleven o clock at night in a total frenzy reporting that his toilet was overflowing and he could not make it stop. I asked him to remind me which unit he was staying at and he said "Unit 34". I replied, "We do not have a unit #34". Then he said that he was staying at The motel next door but he could find no one in their office. He asked if I could go over there to take care of the problem?" I could only politely reply that I had no knowledge of any of his plumbing nor the authority to go work on it and that I could be of no assistance. At this, the man grumbled off muttering what an inhospitable host I was. The Photo above is dated 1940 ​ On November 22, 1927, Carl Eliason of Sayner, Wisconsin was issued the first patent for a snowmobile. Eliason built the prototype in a garage behind the general store he ran. Using bicycle parts, ¼ of a radiator from a Ford Model T, and skis that were rope controlled, the first snowmobile was born. Over the next 15 years, the snowmobiles went into production with continuous refinement and development. 40 were built and sold with no three exactly alike. http://www.eliason-snowmobile.com/phase/phase1.htm NOTE: Carl Eliason is not any relation to Dave Eliason who edits this website. Accident, Jul 1880 A DRUNKEN DRIVER AND A TERRIBLE WAGON ACCIDENT ON MOUNT WASHINGTON. Mountain Wagon Upset and Its Occupants Thrown on to the Rocks---One Lady Killed and Five Wounded. GLEN COVE, N. H., July 11 1880 The first accident by which any passengers were ever injured on the carriage road from Glen house to the summit of Mount Washington occurred this afternoon about a mile below the Half-way House. One of the six-horse mountain wagons, containing a party of nine persons, the last load of the excursionists from Michigan to make the descent of the mountain, was tipped over. One lady was killed and five others were injured.Soon after starting from the summit the passengers discovered that the driver had been drinking while waiting for the party to descend. They left this wagon a short distance from the summit, and walked to the Halfway House, four miles, below, where one of the employees of the carriage road company assured them that there was no bad place below, and that he thought it would be safe for them to resume their seats with the driver who was with them.Soon after passing the Halfway House, in driving around a curve too rapidly, the carriage was tipped over, throwing the occupants into the woods and on the rocks. Mrs. Ira Chichester, of Allegan, Michigan, was instantly killed, and her husband, who was sitting at her side, was slightly bruised. Of the other occupants, Mrs. M. L. Tomsley, of Kalamazoo, Mich., had her left arm broken and received a slight cut on the head; Miss Jessie Barnard, of Kalamazoo, was slightly injured on the head; Miss Ella E. Meller and Mrs. C. Ferguson, of Romeo, Mich., and Miss Emma Lamb, of Howell, Mich., were slightly injured. Miss Emma Blackman, of Kalamazoo, escaped without any injuries. The wounded were brought at once to the Glen House, and received every possible care and attention, there being three physicians in attendance. Lindsey, the driver, was probably fatally injured. He had been on the road for ten years, and was considered one of the safest and most reliable drivers on the mountain. Mrs. Vanderhoot, of Chicago, also received slight internal injuries. The Philadelphia Inquirer, Philadelphia, PA 13 Jul 1880 ​ ​ Source, Sweetser's Guide 1886 It is impossible to estimate the number of summer-visitors who now enter the White-Mountain region. One railroad alone claims to have carried 160,000 in one season. It is said that over $3,000,000 are spent in the State every year by pleasure-travellers. Fogg's Stalutical Gazeteer says that the annual income from summer-tourists in 17 towns near the White Mountains is 636,000; in 16 towns near the Franconia Mountains it is $300,000; and in 14 towns in the lake-country it is $ 340,000, — making an aggregate of $ 1,276,000, exclusive of the receipts of several of the great mountain-hotels, the Maine and Vermont border-towns, and the railroads, which would probably swell the sum to above $ 2,500,000. SOURCE MATERIAL: Chronicles of the White Mountains Kilbourne - ​ THE GREAT FIRE ON MOUNT WASHINGTON — OTHER RECENT EVENTS OF INTEREST Aside from the establishment of the White Mountain National Forest, to be dealt with in the next chapter, the most notable event in recent White Mountain history is an occurrence which has already been several times mentioned incidentally, the great fire of the night of Thursday, June 18, 1908 , by which the active portion of the settlement on New England's highest point was in a few hours wiped out and the Summit thrown back to the primitive conditions of half a century before. This most disastrous conflagration not only was a serious setback to the business interests concerned, — a reparable injury, — but, by its removal of a number of ancient landmarks about which were clustered memories and associations of many sort, it occasioned a sentimental loss which cannot be recovered. For it was with genuine sorrow that the news of the fire came to thousands throughout this country and in distant lands, and particularly was the destruction of the hotel lamented by those who as permanent summer guests had enjoyed the hospitality and shelter of the Summit.House, and by those whose occupations were in connection with the enterprises conducted on the Summit. Read the Entire Article at Chronicles of the White Mountains By Frederick Wilkinson Kilbourne SOURCE MATERIAL The Intervale, New Hampshire By Winfield S. Nevins 1887 ​ There are various routes to Intervale. From Boston the most direct is over the Boston and Maine road to North Conway, thence over the Portland and Ogdensburg. The trains run through the Notch from Boston and no change of cars is required. The Maine offers two routes. By the Eastern division we go through Lynn, Salem, Newburyport, Portsmouth, Great Falls, etc., passing also the noted summer resorts of Swampscott, Beverly and the Hamptons. Trains usually leave at 9.30 A. M. and 1.30 p. M., though this may be varied slightly from year to year. The former is known as the " Flying Mountaineer " and reaches Intervale about 2.10. p. M. By the Western division passengers go through Lawrence, Haverhill, Exeter, and Dover, and join the Eastern division trains at Great Falls. The trip may be made over the Boston and Maine to Portland and thence by the Ogdensburg. A somewhat longer but not less interesting route is that over the Boston and Lowell to Fabyan's, thence down through the Notch by the Ogdensburg. The Portland and Ogdensburg railroad is one of the masterpieces of nineteenth century engineering. From Portland to Glen Station it passes through a beautiful rural section. Beyond Glen Station it. lies along a mountainous region, cutting into the flinty spurs, spanning chasms, deep and wide, and frequently crossing rushing rivers. One of the most enjoyable routes to the mountains is by the boat from Boston to Portland, thence over the Ogdensburg. The steamers of the night line run every night, leaving India wharf, Boston, at seven o'clock in summer, and at five the rest of the year. Usually, the boats of this line run day trips for a month or two of summer leaving at 8 A. M. The boats of this line are finely appointed. The steamers of the International line leave Commercial wharf Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday at 8.30 A. M. for Portland and St. John, in summer. They reach Portland at 4 p. M., in time to take the evening train for Intervale. A day trip from Boston to Portland on the boat on a pleasant day is one of unsurpassed attractiveness among all our local ocean travel. The Ogdensburg road connects at Portland with the Maine Central to Mt. Desert and St. John, and people leaving Intervale in the forenoon can be at Bar Harbor for supper. At Bangor, the Bangor and Piscataquis road branches off for Moosehead Lake, the great New England fishing ground. Here are a couple short stories about Bartlett people sent in by Brian Knight: George Lincoln Knight (my great-grandfather) of Bartlett worked for the railroad for over fifty years. He never missed even one day of work. Paul Warren Knight (my uncle) of Bartlett was a member of the Bartlett Baseball Team prior to World War II. He could pitch, mostly played 1st base, and could catch a fly ball behind his back when he played in the outfield. Uncle Paul now rests in the peaceful ether of eternity at the Arlington National Cemetery. He was part of a torpedo bomber crew during World War II and is New Hampshire's most decorated World War II veteran. Submitted by Brian A. Knight, June 2009 Pictured here are... left to right...Edward Boynton Knight...George Lincoln Knight...Baby is Brian Aston Knight...and Charles Edward Knight. Charles worked as signal repairman in the Bartlett train yard. Charles also worked as watchman at the Peg Mill. I also heard from a close source..that good old Charles peddled booze during prohibition. Photo courtesy of Robert Girouard who received it from Brian Knight. We were recently asked how COOK'S CROSSING came to be named. Norm Head just happened to know the answer. I grew up and still live just up the road from your house (assuming it’s the first shingle style cottage going down the West Side) and am quite familiar with it. The Cook family once owned all of the land that now surrounds your cottage as well as the acreage where The Seasons Condominiums are now. The last Cook family member I knew was Roland Cook who lived in an old farmhouse in the middle of what is now The Seasons Property. I remember his house was reached by a long driveway and was surrounded by pine trees. Mr. Cook worked at Mt. Cranmore and was killed one day on his way to work. The accident happened near the present location of Milford Flooring in Intervale. As you know, there presently is an overpass over the railroad tracks, but the overpass was not always there. Before my time, the road used to just go over the tracks without the benefit of an overpass and vehicles proceeding W or E on Route 302 would have to stop for train traffic. The tracks would thus “cross” the road. Since the Cook family owned most of the land around there and Yankees like to give locations local names, it became known as Cook’s Crossing. The name still shows on many maps and locals still know the reference. It retains its name but I suppose as time goes by, the name may fade away. Another example of a named crossing is where the tracks cross the road just west of Attitash. That is known as Rogers’ Crossing after Harry Rogers and the Rogers family who used to have a farmhouse just over the tracks on the right. Sadly, that house burned flat (and quickly) on a cold and very windy morning. That land as well as the adjoining land where the former town dump was located is now owned by Joe Berry. Hope this helps, glad to try to answer any other questions you might have. Hard to believe that I may be becoming one of those “old timers” that we used to refer to. Indian Chief 'Two Eagles' was asked by a white government official, 'You have observed the white man for 90 years. You've seen his wars and his technological advances. You've seen his progress, and the damage he's done.' The Chief nodded in agreement. The official continued, 'Considering all these events, in your opinion, where did the white man go wrong?' The Chief stared at the government official for over a minute and then calmly replied. 'When white man find land, Indians running it, no taxes, no debt, plenty buffalo, plenty beaver, clean water. Women did all the work, Medicine man free. Indian man spend all day hunting and fishing; all night having sex.' Then the chief leaned back and smiled. 'Only white man dumb enough to think he could improve system like that. From the town column in the April 4, 1895 issue of the North Conway Reporter: A little warmer at the present writing. E.A. and Daniel Dinsmore, who have been representing the Chicago Portait Co., returned home Saturday night. G.F. Garland and Frank Locke are working for Walter Pitman. Mr. and Mrs. Nute are staying with Mr. and Mrs. James Garland this spring. There was an unknown man slept in Charles Gray's barn, one night last week. Mrs. E.M. Dinsmore visited her sons at Thorn Hill, last week. Mr. and Mrs. Parker of Lower Bartlett, are stopping at F.E. Littlefield's. Mr. and Mrs. W.H.H. Pitman visited at Chatham, last week. Rumor says that I.W. Hodge of Bartlett, will soon move his family back to his old home. Mrs. Catherine Andrews Hodge, wife of James H. Hodge, was born in Chatham, and died at her home here, the 15th of February. Mrs. Hodge had a shock two weeks before her death from which she never rallied. She was a great suffer to the end. The funeral was held the 17th, Rev. Andrews of Intervale, officiating; also the Intervale Choir was in attendance. Several beautiful wreaths of flowers were furnished by relatives. Mrs. Hodge was a very quiet woman, never going around much. She will be much missed in the neighborhood. She leaves a husband and two children, Mrs. Fred E. Littlefield of this place, and John W. Hodge of Bartlett. We extend sympathy to the relatives Connecticut Yankee retold by S. E. Schlosser Now, here in the South, we all do not approve of your so-called Connecticut Yankee peddlers. So when one appeared in the yard of my tavern, I was not of a mind to give him room for the night. He was a scrawny fellow with a mop of white hair and a withered face. He did not seem like a crafty Yankee peddler. He looked more like a grandfather on his last legs. Surely this Connecticut Yankee had no harm in him! Curiosity being my downfall, as my wife would be the first to tell you, I was keen to see a real Yankee trick. So I told him that he might have lodgings for the night if he would play a Yankee trick before he left. Well, he promised me the trick, but said he was tired and went directly to bed. The next morning, everything went wrong. My yard boy never showed up. I was forced to care for the horses myself while my wife cooked breakfast. When I finally got inside, my wife was leaning over a table full of the peddler's wares. She was fingering a coverlet which matched the ones we had upstairs. The peddler named a ridiculously low price and my wife nodded eagerly. Just then one of our other customers called me to his table to pay his bill, so I did not see the peddler finalize the sale. It was only after the peddler had called for his buggy, paid for his room, and begun to drive away that I suddenly remembered his promise. "Peddler!" I called. "What about the Yankee trick your promised? I did not see any trick!" "You will," he said, whipping up his horse. Just then, my wife stuck her head out from one of the rooms upstairs. "Harry!" she cried. "That sneaky Yankee just sold me the coverlet from off his bed!" "Used with permission of S.E. Schlosser and AmericanFolklore.net. Copyright 200__. All rights reserved." More Tall Tales from this Source ​ ​ AND YOU THINK YOUR LIFE IS TOUGH ? From the book, "Lucy Crawford's History of the White Mountains": In December of 1783 Richard Garland was one of only five inhabitants of this location and there were but few inhabitants within 36 miles. Dover was the closest town for purchasing provisions. At one point Mr Garland had a small farm cultivated and one of his neighbors offered him a team of horses if he could find a plow. Mr Garland then went 7 miles and borrowed the nearest one. He carried it home on his back, plowed all day and into the night, then carried the plow back. During this same day he went 2 miles to buy a 50 pound bale of hay, which he also carried home on his back. When Bartlett was incorporated in 1790 Mr Garland was the town's first constable and collector of taxes. Mr Garland also helped Captain Rosebrook in his endeavors to found a highway through the notch by bringing the first load of supplies (rum) through the notch to prove it could be done. Business Directory 1875 THRIVING CLUB OF "MERRY WIDOWS" Un-dated. The town of Bartlett, N.H. has the distinction of having more widows in proportion to its size than any town in America yet heard from.The population of the town is less than 1000, about one-third of which are women. At least one-quarter of this number of women are widows, and the most interesting thing about the Bartlett widows is that they are all self-supporting. Widows do every conceivable kind of work in Bartlett. They manage farms, milk cows, team, raise strawberries, and in the berry season pick blueberries and blackberries on the mountains for sale in the large cities. They crate their own berries, do their own gardening, and work side by side with men in the sawmill of the town bunching shingles. They form the majority of the workers in the woodworkers mill, the largest of its kind in New England. They also do woman's own work, such as dressmaking, millinery, nursing and school teaching, while the Bartlett cooks are noted.The summer boarding houses there, which during the vacation are filled with city visitors, are run by widows, and the boarding houses for the sawmill men and the railroad men are managed by widows.It is interesting to observe that few of the Bartlett widows were widowed there, and it is rare indeed that a widow marries in Bartlett.A widow plays the church organ in the leading church of the village. A widow is the town school principal. All the choir singers are widows. There are widows on every street in Bartlett. Every other house on every street contains a widow.In age these theoretically lone women vary from the sunny side of 30 to the shady side of 60.Widows are leaders of society in Bartlett, and the majority of them can handle a six-footer like a man. Indeed, some compete with the men in shooting matches. Numerically so strong are the widows in Bartlett that they have recently formed a novel society, "The Merry Widows' Club." This boasts nearly 100 members. The president, Mrs. John Mersereau, is called "the Queen of the Bartlett Widows," perhaps 50, as spry and jolly as a girl, and famed through the country as its best cook. The secretary, Mrs. Lulu Wilson, is the youngest widow of the society, and a school teacher; the treasurer, Mrs. Susan Foster, is a nurse. At one time she managed a millinery store. She is a mother of a fine family of children, and has a cozy home.Mrs. Jane Stewart, chairman of the executive committee and vice president of the Widow's society, works in the woodworking mill, and owns a pretty little cottage in the center of Bartlett. She has an adopted child, a waif she took from an orphan asylum. Mrs. Isabel Muir, another member of the executive committee, boards railroad men, and Mrs. Jane Wasson, another member, is a successful nurse and housekeeper."Why shouldn't we be merry widow?" said Mrs. Mersereau, the society president. "We can take care of ourselves; we are healthy, and have all the work we need; we are a community where we have plenty of honest admirers. We have no reason to be sorrowful, and every reason to be merry." A few thoughts inspired by Carl Sagan: We present day humans tend to vastly over emphasize our importance both in terms of this planet and the universe as a whole. Man-kinds entire existence of about 2 million years is little more than a quick flash of light when put in a timeline of the first life form 10 billion years ago and the universe, which is estimated to be 13.8 billion years. The span of recorded history is a mere 5000 years. For many of us the events that happened in the past 500 years are relevant yet the stories from one generation to the next seem to be forgotten unless someone wrote them down. There have been, perhaps, 30,000 generations that came before us. If one can trace his own lineage back 5 or 6 generations he is doing well. Our time stamp in the big picture of things is truly trivial and history demonstrates that the earth will be fine for at least another billion years, with or without mankind playing a role. xxx Contributed by Clayton Smith, April 2011: There are places in the Bartlett area that without being shared will be forgotten and disappear. I have heard of two places in the experimental forest that my uncles, cousins, and other local old timers went to for hunting. Hearing stories of hikes to these places, and good times spent with fathers teaching their sons the honored traditions of self sufficiency, hunting, fishing, survival, and becoming a man. One was the Hermit's Shelter. The details of the story of the hermit are fuzzy. I've heard slightly different accounts. But, here's what I've heard: "There was a hermit who lived in the upper Bear Notch area sometime in the early nineteen hundreds up to possibly the World War Two era who lived off of the land. He was self sufficient, and by definition, lived like a hermit. He poached game as he needed food and perhaps hides to use and sell. The game wardens of the day (or whatever tile they had, maybe a special task of the CCCs?) searched for his cabin/home/camp, found it and burned it to get rid of him. He then being a stubborn man with Yankee ingenuity relocated his base to a shelter which could not be burned; a massive boulder with the potential of hospitality for one. This boulder had a crack which ran vertical through the ceiling, enough to put a chimney for a wood stove. The ending of what I know of the history of the hermit" Sounding somewhat as a treasure story one would tell their children before bedtime, mention of a buried keg of silver dollars has rung in my ears for many years. Who knows? Maybe you? The other place is Pert's camp: "Pert's camp was a hunting camp with a more solid history. Not there anymore due to being burned, some say that they could recognize the remains if they could get in the area again." Yes, there is more to these stories. I forget my bank account number, phone numbers, and even names of people I met days before, but I remember every detail of these stories as they were told. If you have any stories about these type of places, or perhaps info missing to my stories, for the heritage of Bartlett please share. Here is an interesting story we received by e-mail. It sounded like Mr. Morton would like us to share it with you: Hi to all in Bartlett , From Sanbornton I attended the Bartlett village school from 1947 to 1952. Lucille Garland, rest her soul, would let me sleep everyday after lunch. This went on until the Christmas Vacation of first grade when my mother managed to adjust my sleeping habits. I imagine there was more than a little embarrassment on the part of my father Raymond who was the high school principal. Bert, my father would give me 5cents each day at noon so I could go to your fathers store to buy The Boston Post. The paper cost 3 cents and each day I was allowed to keep the change. In later years my father called the two cents change transportation charges. But it didn't end there. After I had saved enough to do serious damage to the candy supply at the store it all came back to Franklin George. Oh what memories I have of Bartlett . I remember getting in trouble at Newton Howards store when I picked up an orange and put it in my pocket. No one saw it happen, but my mother found it in my coat and I was back to the store in a hurry with that orange. That was about the time of the big Brinks robbery in Boston and I was somehow headed for a big time career in crime in my mothers mind. A .few years later Newton died in the house that was behind the Bartlett Hotel. A Mr. Lane lived in the house and ran the hotel. His grandson is John Chandler, a cousin of Gene and nephew of Alice Davis. I was invited to spend the night there with John as he was up from Massachusetts to visit for a few days. When bedtime came I was shown to a room upstairs and was in bed when I made a remark about the huge four poster bed. It was then that I was told that I was in the bed used by Newton Howard. I only vaguely remember going down the stairs, but I was headed home in my night clothes.I could tell my memories for several pages, but I thought you might get a laugh about some contemporary Bartlett history. My main purpose in this Email is to correct some mis-information written by a Jeremy Saxe with regard to Livermore and the Sawyer River Railroad.According to the account in your website which is the same as the account on abandoned railroads.com, the village of Livermore was wiped off the face of the earth starting in 1935 and completed two years later. Now we know that is not true, because I remember going there as a kid with my Dad to fish in the river and looking into the house owned by the Saunders family. We went to an auction there I believe in 1952. Jimmie Clemons bought a lot of stuff including the interior of the Post Office .Maybe he bought the whole building. At the time of the auction there were two men who lived in Livermore . They did not speak to each other so the story went. The NH Legislature voted to allow the town to revert to a status whereby it no longer existed as a legal entity in 1952. I dont write to be a nit picker rather to set the record straight. Soon the people who remember Livermore will be gone and misinformation will become reality and history. Do you remember Fred Washburn? He lived up the road about halfway between Franklins store and the crossing. He worked for the railroad and was also a plumber around the village. I remember Wayland Cook, who was my neighbor, telling me when I was an adult that Fred brought the last locomotive out of Livermore . The year was about 1936 which fits the timeline of the Federal takeover Thanks for taking the time to hear me out. Time to get ready for that storm coming tonight. Ellsworth Morton PS: I inadvertently used the name of Newton Howard when I should have used G.K Howard as the man who owned the store and the Bartlett Hotel. It did not seem right to me at the time but overnight I figured out my mistake. I believe Newton was a son or nephew of G.K. Thank you Ellsworth Morton

  • Willey Slide | bartletthistory

    The 1826 Willey Slide Sad to say, but the Willey Slide, more than any other single event, played a large part in bringing fame, and tourists, to the White Mountain area, SOURCE MATERIAL: THE HEART OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS THEIR LEGEND AND SCENERY BY SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. HAMILTON GIBSON “Eyes loose: thoughts close” NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS. FRANKLIN SQUARE - 1882 ​ ​ Samuel Adams Drake's Trek Through Crawford Notch in the 1880's For two miles the gorge winds between these mountains to where it is apparently sealed up by a sheer mass of purple precipices lodged full in its throat. This is Mount Willard. The vast chasm glowed with the gorgeous colors of the foliage, even when a passing cloud obscured the sun. These general observations made, we cast our eyes down into the vale reposing at our feet. We had chosen for our point of view that to which Abel Crawford conducted Sir Charles Lyell in 1845. The scientist has made the avalanche bear witness to the glacier, precisely as one criminal is made to convict another under our laws. ​ Five hundred feet below us was a little clearing, containing a hamlet of two or three houses. From this hamlet to the storm-crushed crags glistening on the summit of Mount Willey the track of an old avalanche was still distinguishable, though the birches and alders rooted among the debris threatened to obliterate it at no distant day. ​ We descended by this still plain path to the houses at the foot of the mountain. One and the other are associated with the most tragic event connected with the history of the great Notch. We found two houses, a larger and smaller, fronting the road, neither of which merits a description; although evidence that it was visited by multitudes of curious pilgrims abounded on the walls of the unoccupied building. ​ Since quite early in the century, this house was kept as an inn; and for a long time it was the only stopping-place between Abel Crawford’s below and Captain Rosebrook’s above—a distance of thirteen miles. Its situation, at the entrance of the great Notch, was advantageous to the public and to the landlord, but attended with a danger which seems not to have been sufficiently regarded, if indeed it caused successive inmates particular concern. This fatal security had a lamentable sequel. ​ MOUNT WILLARD FROM WILLEY BROOK. In 1826 this house was occupied by Samuel Willey, his wife, five children, and two hired men. During the summer a drought of unusual severity dried the streams, and parched the thin soil of the neighboring mountains. On the evening of the 26th of June 1826, the family heard a heavy, rumbling noise, apparently proceeding from the mountain behind them. In terror and amazement they ran out of the house. They saw the mountain in motion. They saw an immense mass of earth and rock detach itself and move toward the valley, at first slowly, then with gathered and irresistible momentum. Rocks, trees, earth, were swooping down upon them from the heights in three destroying streams. The spectators stood rooted to the spot. Before they could recover their presence of mind the avalanche was upon them. One torrent crossed the road only ten rods from the house; another a little distance beyond; while the third and largest portion took a different direction. With great labor a way was made over the mass of rubbish for the road. The avalanche had shivered the largest trees, and borne rocks weighing many tons almost to the door of the lonely habitation. ​ This awful warning passed unheeded. On the 28th of August 1826 , at dusk, a storm burst upon the mountains, and raged with indescribable fury throughout the night. The rain fell in sheets. Innumerable torrents suddenly broke forth on all sides, deluging the narrow valley, and bearing with them forests that had covered the mountains for ages. The swollen and turbid Saco rose over its banks, flooding the Intervales, and spreading destruction in its course. ​ Two days afterward a traveler succeeded in forcing his way through the Notch. He found the Willey House standing uninjured in the midst of woeful desolation. A second avalanche, descended from Mount Willey during the storm, had buried the little vale beneath its ruins. The traveler, affrighted by the scene around him, pushed open the door. As he did so, a half-famished dog, sole inmate of the house, disputed his entrance with a mournful howl. He entered. The interior was silent and deserted. A candle burnt to the socket, the clothing of the inmates lying by their bedsides, testified to the haste with which this devoted family had fled. The death-like hush pervading the lonely cabin—these evidences of the horrible and untimely fate of the family—the appalling scene of wreck all around, froze the solitary intruder’s blood. In terror he, too, fled from the doomed dwelling. ​ On arriving at Bartlett , the traveler reported what he had seen. Assistance was dispatched to the scene of disaster. The rescuers came too late to render aid to the living, but they found, and buried on the spot, the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Willey, and the two hired men. The remaining children were never found. ​ It was easily conjectured that the terrified family, alive at last to the appalling danger that menaced them, and feeling the solid earth tremble in the throes of the mountain, sought safety in flight. They only rushed to their doom. The discovery of the bodies showed but too plainly the manner of their death. They had been instantly swallowed up by the avalanche, which, in the inexplicable order of things visible in great calamities, divided behind the house, leaving the frail structure unharmed, while its inmates were hurried into eternity. ​ For some time after the disaster a curse seemed to rest upon the old Notch House. No one would occupy it. Travelers shunned it. It remained untenanted, though open to all who might be driven to seek its inhospitable shelter, until the deep impression of horror which the fate of the Willey family inspired had, in a measure, effaced itself. ​ The effects of the cataclysm were everywhere. For twenty-one miles, almost its entire length, the turnpike was demolished. Twenty-one of the twenty-three bridges were swept away. In some places the meadows were buried to the depth of several feet beneath sand, earth, and rocks; in others, heaps of great trees, which the torrent had torn up by the roots, barricaded the route. The mountains presented a ghastly spectacle. One single night sufficed to obliterate the work of centuries, to strip their summits bare of verdure, and to leave them with shreds of forest and patches of shrubbery hanging to their stark and naked sides. Thus their whole aspect was altered to an extent hardly to be realized to-day, though remarked with mingled wonder and dread long after the period of the convulsion. From the house our eyes naturally wandered to the mountain, where quarry men were pecking at its side like yellow-hammers at a dead sycamore. All at once a tremendous explosion was heard, and a stream of loosened earth and bowlders came rattling down the mountain. So unexpected was the sound, so startling its multiplied echo, it seemed as if the mountain had uttered a roar of rage and pain, which was taken up and repeated by the other mountains until the uproar became deafening. When the reverberation died away in the distance, we again heard the metallic click of the miners’ hammers chipping away at the gaunt ribs of Mount Willey. ​ How does it happen that this catastrophe is still able to awaken the liveliest interest for the fate of the Willey family? Why is it that the oft-repeated tale seems ever new in the ears of sympathetic listeners? Our age is crowded with horrors, to which this seems trifling indeed. May we not attribute it to the influence which the actual scene exerts on the imagination? One must stand on the spot to comprehend ; must feel the mysterious terror to which all who come within the influence of the gorge submit. Here the annihilation of a family is but the legitimate expression of that feeling. It seems altogether natural to the place. The ravine might well be the sepulchre of a million human beings, instead of the grave of a single obscure family. FIRST HOUSE IN THE NOTCH. The Willey House is the oldest building erected in the Notch. This was built in the year 1793, by a Mr. Davis, to accommodate the unfortunate storm-bound traveler , who, from curiosity, or on business, might dare the dangers of this wild pass. Then a little grassy meadow stretched along the bank of the Saco; tall rock-maples, and a towering mountain barrier, rose in the background from this little home of the pilgrim. How like a cool shadow of a great rock was this retreat among the frowning crags ! But the thundering avalanche came, and, since August 28th, 1826, the spirit of desolation has brooded over that fated spot. How lonely there is the dirge of the high wind, as it sweeps down that solitary chasm; and the wail of the sunset breeze, with the loud requiem of the on-rushing hurricane, is most mournful, for human bones are there palled in an avalanche's ruins.' Source: Historical Relics of the White Mountains: Also , A Concise White Mountain Guide By John H. Spaulding 1862. Website Editor's note: The "Mr Davis" referred here may have been the father of Nathaniel Davis, who was the son in law of Abel and Hannah Crawford. Nathaniel Davis completed the Davis Path up Mt Crawford in 1845. The original Willey House as it appeared in 1866. In 1898 It was destroyed by fire. "The Ambitious Guest" is a short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne . First published in New-England Magazine in June of 1835 , it is better known for its publication in the second volume of Twice-Told Tales in 1835 . [edit ] Plot A man visits a family on a mountain side that is a famous stop for people who travel on the route. The family asks him to stay, then the mountain begins to tremble but the father reassure that the mountain won't go down, and he has a hideaway in the event that it does. The stranger gives them some advice and the mountain became to fall. They ran to the safe house but didn't make it. The snow never hit the house. Some people noticed that they were gone but nobody knew the stranger. The basis of the story is the Willey tragedy of Crawford Notch , New Hampshire . Sources: Incidents in White Mountain history - by Rev. Benjamin G. Willey https://www.ancestry.com › genealogy › records › levi-chubbuck_91882748 "The History of Carroll County", 1889, Georgia Drew Merrill brooklyncentre.com › trees › getperson Bartlett NH - In the Valley of the Saco - Aileen Carroll - 1990 Lucy Crawford's History of the White Mountains - circa 1860 REPRESENTATIVE CITIZENS OF The State of New Hampshire • BOSTON - NEW ENGLAND HISTORICAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 15 COURT SQUARE 1902

PO BOX 514

Bartlett, N.H. 03812