Forgotten Times

So, Ted left this world in July of 2002 after suffering a series of strokes accompanied by congestive heart failures and cardiac arrest. In his last years, he had suffered multiple heart problems; a pacemaker had been installed in 2000 and open-heart surgery the next year. On the day of his death, his body was flown to the Alcor Life Extension Foundation in Scottsdale, Arizona to be placed into cryogenic suspension. This procedure would place the body in suspended animation with liquid nitrogen in hopes that, at a later date, future scientific advances would and could restore the dead to life. He, then healed by new science, could rejoin his family and continue on. His “afterlife” problems had just begun.

The Cleveland Indians had won the American League pennant that year in 1954 with the Boston Red Sox finishing 4th. Williams had completed his 13th year with Boston playing left field. He shared that outfield with 2 well-remembered players: Jimmy Piersall in center and Jackie Jensen in right field. Despite Boston finishing 4th, Williams, age 35, had another good year with a batting average of .345 hitting 29 home runs. So, at the end of the regular playing season in late September, Williams, famous for his fishing prowess, chose northern Maine for his fishing spot (as he had many times) and this time would spend three days on the Fish River chain. It’s likely he was accompanied by Maine’s own, Bud Leavitt. Leavitt was for many years sports editor and outdoor writer for the Bangor Daily News. He and Williams met each other in 1941---the year Williams hit .406--- and became lifelong fishing buddies with expeditions to the lakes of Maine and Canada fishing for salmon.

The experts say that being in two different places at the same is impossible and, indeed, it seems that way, unless, of course, one climbs out of the box, if you will, of conventional thought. But consider this: take a body, saw in half and place each half in two different containers. Well, now, at first look, it appears that we’ve accomplished our mission---one being in two different places at the same time. Hold on there and let’s re-examine. Yes, two parts in two different places, but the parts are now irreversibly dead, wouldn’t you agree? Let’s consider that the two parts aren’t exactly dead, but perhaps retrievable at a later date. I mean like frozen solid down to almost -400 degrees F. where all life stops, frozen in time and, in theory, at least, thawable and placed back into operation as a real life, breathing person with a beating heart. Consider the afterlife of Ted Williams, the very, very famous Major League Baseball player. Seems awfully off the wall to connect Ted and all that talk about being preserved at minus 400 F., doesn’t it? But it connects, so keep reading. His “afterlife” is---and I mean “is”, not “was”--- as turbulent as his life was both in his playing years and his private life. Turbulent, indeed. But, wait, read on. This piece isn’t just about Ted Williams. It’s also about that special day in September of 1954 when Ted came face to face with 12-year-old Dickie Graves. Likely Ted never recalled that moment later; reckon Ted had a million other far more special moments to recall during his 83 years on Earth. You can bet that 12-year old I just mentioned never forgot.

Last week we discovered that the Braden Theatre could be, in fact, the only theater in the U.S. of A. named after a horse. The horse passed on in 1929; it would be 21 years later that someone would suggest that a new theater being erected in Presque Isle could be and eventually would be named after that locally-famous racer, John R. Braden. Okay, that aside, let’s go back almost 58 years and take a glimpse at the grand opening of the Braden and a little history of the theater in the years which followed.



On a rainy day in April of 1950, the Braden Theatre formally opened its doors with the showing of “Nancy Goes to Rio”, an MGM production about two actresses (mother and daughter) both after the same part in a movie. The movie was described in “Halliwell’s Film Guide” as a “mild shipboard musical”. It starred Jane Powell, Ann Sothern, Carmen Miranda, Barry Sullivan and Hans Conried, all actors and actresses with whom I grew up in the local movie halls. There are many of you out there (must have been born in 1942 or thereabouts) who recall them well. A queue of more than 200 moviegoers stood---despite the rain---for nearly an hour waiting for the doors to open. The Star-Herald reported that Mary Griffiths, mother of Dr. Ben Griffiths, was first to purchase a ticket.

The new theater seated more than 900 patrons and, on this day, every seat was filled for the 2 o’clock showing. Those were the days before television and movies were a great way to spend a rainy afternoon, besides, the vast majority of the movies in 1950 were suitable for kids. Didn’t need ratings in those days; parents could depend on the movie companies to police its own industry for unacceptable content. That isn’t true anymore and ratings have been required to advise parents for many years now. Members of the consortium who built and operated the new movie hall included Mark Turner, Frank Hussey, George Barnes (all of Presque Isle) and Charlie Brooks of Ashland.

Back in April of last year, I published my second local history book titled “Forgotten Times: A Walk Through History”, a compendium of short histories complete with old and new photos of 60 or so businesses, schools and churches, many, if not most, are no longer with us. One of those, the Braden Theatre, at that time of publication, had been closed for a number of years. Little did I know that shortly after the release of my book in April of 2007 that the theatre would be purchased, renovated and new life blown into a much-needed movie hall here in our bustling and hustling little berg of Presque Isle. It would also serve as a new spark which would help ignite new life into the so-called Downtown Revitalization Project being promoted by Main St. merchants .Finally, after many, many months--- through the summer of ’07 and much of the winter of ’08--- the tearing down and building up came to an end. On the first day of March, the theatre doors opened and the magic of movies rolled into Presque Isle once again. Despite the lousy weather, the Braden filled with excited moviegoers, deprived of that cinematic fascination since Hoyts Aroostook Cinema close a few years ago.

Last week I promised a little Braden Theatre history. I began to scurry around looking for that history in amongst the tons of historical stuff I’ve gathered through the years. Then, it occurred to me that I had already condensed---in fine form, if I must say---the Braden history in “Forgotten Times: A Walk Through History”. So, let me simply lift, if you will, my own history from my own book and reprint it here. After all, I don’t need permission, right? Here it is, a little Braden history all the way from the early 1920s to March 1, 2008………

Last night my 5-year old grandson, Alex, and I attended the so-called soft opening of the new Braden Theatre. I don’t doubt that the term “soft opening” has been around for a long time, but I have just recently encountered that term. Understand now that any new business has its “bugs” and those bugs will eventually show their ugly pusses as the business rolls along. The new, old theatre, if you will, originally built in 1950, has been under reconstruction since early last summer. I have followed that reconstruction by visiting the site every several days and taking successive photos. The long and expensive venture came to a head last night when the new owners opened the newly reconstructed movie hall with that soft opening I mentioned about 40 words ago.

Here’s my street impression of that term: It would be rather embarrassing for the new owners to fill the theatre with full-fare paying viewers and have something go awry with the new equipment (bugs). Now, since these movie projectors are fairly complicated devices, one would like to see these devises run through at least once to see if they’re working properly. This is the function of a soft opening….invite a few relatives, neighbors and friends and have a test run on them. If something goes awry during the show, no one gets bent out of shape because he or she or they paid the price of admission and now the show’s interrupted with a breakdown. If there is a malfunction with the new equipment, then the owners are surrounded with a friendly audience. Besides, the price of admission is about as good as it gets…free. You can’t beat that with a stick! And to add pleasure to pleasure, the new owners were giving away all the popcorn and soda anyone could carry to his or her seat. Talk about getting one’s money’s worth….this was the quintessential bargain.

Capt. Cook returned to Presque Isle, the place of his youth, in 1865. At the young age of 28 he had already made his fortune, had traveled to South America and Europe to avoid detection and finally had made the decision to settle down in our village, perhaps to lead a less hectic life and raise a family. It's not known exactly how much of the million dollar booty, which was the results of his efforts to recover sunken gold (see last week's article), was in his obsession when he returned, but, in researching his 13 years in the village after his return, it's presumed to have been far more than adequate. Remember, the booty had been divided among his crew and, no doubt, more than a little was spent while "hiding out" in foreign lands.

So in 1864 Capt. Cook returned first to Portland, then in March of 1865, exactly the time of the end of the Civil War (coincidence?), returned to Presque Isle and soon after took a wife, Hattie, daughter of Nathan Perry. With a soul full of energy, youth and a pocket full of hard-earned money, Cook entered into business and built and operated a grist mill and a saw mill down by the river. There's no evidence that there was a bridge to connect east and west Presque Isle (divided by the river) at that time, so the mills were presumed to be on the east side. There were other sawmills already established, but the village was growing with people and it was obvious to Cook that there was, indeed,
room for others.

Last week we left our hero, the so-called Capt. Cook, headed towards the shores of western Mexico from San Francisco in a attempt to retrieve a possible million dollars plus worth of gold bullion and coins from the remains of a sunken steamer, Golden Gate. Recall that Cook had been taught to deep-sea dive and considered himself quite good. But diving for gold proved to be a new challenge which Cook welcomed. Hired divers just a short time ago failed to find even traces of the sunken treasure. Cooked drooled at the opportunity.

Equipped with his diving suit and primitive light, Cook made several dives and at first found only strewn fragments of the steamer: half burned timbers, bolts, nails and scrap iron. A crew of pearl divers had also discovered the wreckage. They would wait around like hyenas hoping the diver (Cook) with the "modern" equipment would reveal the treasure and seize bits and parts, but the treasure would prove to be heavy and too much for the pearl divers.

Presque Isle’s Captain Cook establishes seafaring reputation

All homes have a history to be sure, but few have a written history that is accessible to anyone who might be interested. In my quest for little-known Presque Isle history, I discovered a fascinating story about a house built in this village by a swashbuckling, treasure hunter whose family had been rooted in Presque Isle in the early years of Presque Isle's history. The story begins during the decade of the Civil War (1860's) and ends with the death of the subject of this historical piece. Few, if any, know the story and if I hadn't read it with my own eyes, would have had a difficult time believing the events that would lead up to and, in some small way, carve out a little piece of our local history. The story will take us from Presque Isle to California to Peru to Europe and finally back to Presque Isle where the subject of this story will settle down where his family did before him. He operated several businesses and erected a fine house all with the proceeds of his treasure-hunting efforts. What makes the story extra interesting is that the house is still viewable and still a fine, venerable dwelling even 140+ years after our hero, a certain Capt. Cook, built the house in the 1870's. It sits proudly on a corner lot on a street close to Main St. and even closer to my home and the library. It's somewhat natural for me to have been interested in this history, because the property has been part of my "backyard" scenery forever.

My intention is to unravel in a two-part series the story of our amazing Capt. Cook and the house he built. The identity of the property won't be revealed until the second part although the photo, which accompanies this first installment, is a very early photo of the dwelling and serves as a clue. The house has been owned through the years by a handful of outstanding families of the community and, to be sure, each family has added its flavor to the property that has contributed to its architectural evolution.

The saga of Maine's only lynching appears to end in the cool month of September in 1873 when Cullen's skull was scurried away by a Prof. Bateman from Bates College. But, thanks to Voscar and his suspicions, we find that perhaps Bateman was a phony of some degree.....no record of Bateman was found to exist at Bates.....and his real purpose, other than his claim that he needed the skull for more research into the strange science of phrenology, will now never be known. Now, sometimes a story can end twice (seems a bit impossible, doesn't it?) and what you're about to read is the "second" conclusion of this story; it occurs 10 years after the lynching and certainly adds a great deal to the meaning "Bloody Half-Acre". So, readers, let's fast forward to a few years following and again visit Chapman Plantation where the murders of Hayden and Hubbard took place in April of 1873.

Recall that John Swanback along with Minot Bird escaped the axe of Jim Cullen at Swanback's camp seven miles out of Mapleton. In June of the next year, 1874, Swanback married a widow, a Mrs. Charlotte (nee Davenport) Akeley of Fort Fairfield. In the meantime he returned to his property in Chapman and constructed a new camp-home about 500 feet from the site of the old where Cullen had axed the 2 sheriffs. Soon after, Swanback brought his new wife and her two children to live in their new home. A few years later a John Hanson from New Brunswick purchased property next to Swanback. He, too, had married a girl in the Davenport family, in fact, she was the sister of Swanback's new wife. We might suppose that for at least a short time the two families lived happily and harmoniously next to each other, being family and all that. But, later, Hanson made the decision to take up the raising of animals and took it upon himself to build a fence around a piece of pasture which would contain the animals. The fence indeed contained the animals, but it also prevented Swanback from easily accessing the road to Mapleton, especially when he had a load of shingles to deliver. This caused a great deal of friction between the two families and frequently the two men entered into nasty confrontations. The arguments weren't over disputed boundary, but right-of-way. Countless times Swanback had to dismantle a small portion of Hanson's fence in order to be on his way with a load of shingles headed for Mapleton. Finally, one day Swanback reached wit's end and called his stepsons out to remove the fence. Hanson came out snorting, rifle in hand, to interfere. Not seeing Swanback, Hanson yelled out for him to come out and to "fetch his gun with him." Both men met at the fence and argued heatedly. They had confronted one another many times; the boys thought little of this one despite the call to arms. As they yelled at each other, Hanson leaned over, picked up a piece of fence and replaced it. Swanback simply kicked it down again. After several times Hanson warned Swanback that one more time might come to something a little more than words. Well, one more time Swanback kicked a rail and the two men squared off and fired their rifles at each other. Both bullets hit their intended targets. The bullet from Hanson's rifle entered Swanback's arm between the wrist and the elbow. The bullet from Swanback's rifle found Hanson's heart; he dropped and died moments later. Swanback was indicted for murder and appeared in Houlton court. He was found guilty of manslaughter rather than murder; sufficient evidence was presented to show he acted in self-defense, therefore securing a lighter sentence. He was subsequently sentenced to three years in state prison, but pardoned 2 1/2 years later because of sickness.

Now, wouldn't you think that the crude and unceremonious burial of Jim Cullen's evil bones would end the very short epic account of Maine's only known lynching, huh? Well, readers, it ain't so, because there's more, in fact, there's yet another chapter or two which even a seasoned writer like Mr. S. King of Bangor would have difficulty conjuring up to complete this gruesome tale. Just months after the bones of Cullen had been committed to roll around hell all day and forever, someone had to come by and want those bones and, in fact, would go to great lengths to procure them. It was in September of that same year, 1873, when 2 men, one with a shovel, the other with a pickaxe, sought the dark of night to exhume Cullen from an unsacred grave. Here's the story:

A certain Professor Bateman from Bates College, an institution of higher learning in Lewiston, Me. founded in 1855 by Maine abolitionists, was scheduled to lecture to P.I. villagers on the subject of phrenology, a sort of an arcane and mysterious science which held that by studying the conformations (bumps) of one's skull, the character and mental capacity of that person could be determined. Whether or not Bateman intentionally used his lecture as a front to inquire about an unclaimed body (Cullen's) or he had discovered the facts while he was in town, isn't known, but, either way, Bateman was bound and determined to acquire Cullen's skull to add to his own collection. The professor was boarding at the hotel (then the Reed Hotel, present site of the Northeastland). So persistent was he inquiring about Cullen's body that someone told him that he'd better seek a lawyer here in town because digging up or molesting a grave site is highly illegal, despite the one (Cullen) buried. Bateman finally approached a young law student by the name of Smith. Smith simply advised him that it was illegal to do so and to leave the matter.

The next day as Cullen "lay in state" in Barker's store, the locals were allowed to drop in and view the body of the evilest man ever to cast a shadow. It was said that several women stuck hat pins into Cullen as they passed by his lifeless body stretched out on boards laid across 2 barrels. No such act would ever have occurred to any one of them, but their hearts were filled with hatred for the worst act of violence about which they had ever heard. Along towards noon the county coroner, a Mr. Daniel Foster of Fort Fairfield, arrived at Barker's store. The coroner's purpose was to organize a group of locals in order to conduct an inquest. Foster appointed a jury of 6 members: James Phair, then living on Second St. (the house was later the home of Edna Smith right across the street from the telephone office on the corner of Second and Hall Sts....the house still stands, but has been modified several times since); Nathan Perry, who built the house on the SE corner State and Third (the house still stands); Francis Soule; B.B. Glidden, who owned property on the corner of Third and Church Sts.; Fred Barker, who built the house which was the rectory of the Episcopal Church (the old Thompson homestead) and H.B. Forbes, who owned a business next to Granville Hayden's store almost directly across from the Reed Hotel (present site of the Northeastland Hotel). That jury found the following:

"That the said James Cullen came to his death on the night of April 30th, 1873 by being hung [sic] by a rope around his neck, to a tree, in the Plantation of Mapleton, in said county of Aroostook, and that the person or persons who were engaged in or participated in said hanging, are to your jurors unknown." This was the conclusion of Coroner Foster after hearing testimony from Constable Hughes, Dr. Parker and a few others. The body was identified beyond any shadow of doubt. The coroner then ordered the body be buried that very evening. An inquest as to the murders of Hayden and Hubbard would follow in a day or two.

No one believed Cullen deserved a formal burial. The decision was to simply dig a hole in the village dump a short ways out on the Mapleton Road. Although the ground was still frozen, in that particular spot the earth would be warmed by the constant burning of waste through the winter months. Most believe the site was right off the north-south runway just off the old Mapleton Road; the new Mapleton Road was built sometime in the early '40's to accommodate new runways for the military which took over the airfield in 1940.

It’s not known today who was in charge of the angry mob congregating in Presque Isle the day of the murders: every precaution was taken not to reveal each other because the very act which was about to take place could send lots of townspeople to jail, that is, if they were successful with their chosen mission.

It has been said through the years that the ruly (as opposed to unruly) mob ( a contradiction in terms, I know, but to organize in such a short time and with so many locals and never to have revealed themselves, has an element of “ruliness” to it) was comprised of every kind of citizen from the poorest to the most successful, from the unemployed to pillars of society. Never in the local history of our humble village did so many have a one-minded course of action and react so quickly. The angry crowd, once in the presence of the killer, intended to act as judge and jury, not willing to leave the fate of Cullen in the hands of authorities for fear that he (Cullen) would escape his rightful sentence….death.

As soon as Swanback and Bird reached Mapleton that morning of the murders and told the bloody story, the word spread quickly and groups of men begin to gather. A local constable, Ben Hughes, was informed of the tragedy and made the decision to form a small posse and hunt down Cullen. He deputized a small handful of hardy men and directed them to ride to Presque Isle and onwards to the Spragueville Road. The idea was that perhaps Cullen could escape by taking his shortcut route back to Canada; the posse would then grab him somewhere along the Spragueville Road. As the small group of deputized men on horseback passed through Presque Isle, the men told the story and quickly the word spread throughout the village. As the Hughes' posse organized in Mapleton, Sheriff James Phair of Presque Isle also began to gather his own men; they would ride to Mapleton and aid in the capture of Cullen, after all, this was by far the worst tragedy the village had ever heard and nothing could stop their efforts to bring the murderer to justice. Among the group of locals who would ride with Sheriff Phair to Mapleton were Dr. Parker, newspaper man; Cyrus Hayden, brother of Granville; Fred Barker, store owner, and a few others. It was hoped that the capture would be fairly peaceful, but nothing was certain in that regard knowing, of course, Cullen's rough and tough nature.

Cyrus Hayden was the brother of Granville and still lived on the home farm just a few miles out on the Easton Road, but it's not certain where his brother, Granville, maintained his home. Upon hearing that his brother had been killed, Cyrus obtained a box in which caskets arrived and placed it on a wagon....it would be used to bring back the body of his slain brother. Dr. Parker was a physician who also owned a local newspaper, "The North Star". He lived on the corner of Church and Second Sts. (site of the Christie house) just a few houses down from Phair's home across Second from Hall St... Fred Barker was a local store keeper whose store was just around the corner of State and Main towards the bridge on the south side.

On Tuesday the 29th Hayden and Hubbard met at Dudley's store in Mapleton. Around noontime the pair sat down, had a small lunch and discussed their plan of arrest. Now, according to all I've read, two slightly different versions describe what happens at this time. One version tells that Hayden and Hubbard, with a warrant to arrest Cullen, set out to follow large footprints (assumed to be Cullen's) which appeared to lead in the direction of a certain John Swanback who owned a small piece of property about 7 miles out of town toward Chapman Plantation. Swanback was a German immigrant, had come to the U.S. several years before and supported himself by making cedar shingles, a trade he had learned in the old country. At times he took on help. Cullen often found work there; Hayden felt it was a fairly safe assumption that Cullen was holed up at Swanback's camp.

The other version was that after having lunch Hayden and Hubbard set out to make a call at the home of a Mrs.Twist, the woman with whom Cullen was living. That home had been newly purchased by Hubbard from Sam Williamson, but Cullen refused to vacate the premises. The home was about a mile out of town just across the Castle Hill line. They knocked at the door and were greeted by Mrs. Twist. She informed them that Jim had gone to Florenceville to visit family. However, Hubbard looked around and discovered large footprints which appeared to lead in the direction of Swanback's property. The sheriffs discussed the long trek by foot over the crusted snow, but allowed it had to be done.....their sworn duty. Despite the correct version, they set out for Swanback in the mid afternoon.