Epilogue
When I was a boy
the North Main Street in the Spring was either a rushing torrent or a muddy
slough. The melting snow all the way from Long Springs sought its hurried way
to the town pond or rather the swamp that then extended as far north as Capt.
George White’s lot (Jagger Lane). I have gone from our back gate in a row-boat
all the way to the pond and could of course gone on to the beach. My playmate,
Lewis Hildreth, as we were sailing shingle boats from a footbridge, fell off
and was swept away. I “hollered” with all my lungs and Mr. Charles Seldon
(Halsey) ran down and pulled him out. (We were about five years old.)
When the water
had gone the frost came out and with the churching of darn wagon wheels the
clay became a veritable “slough of despond” through which the horses wallowed,
the wheels cutting ever deeper. The sod was cut from tree line to tree line
through some put out rails to save the sod and keep the traffic in the roadbed.
Once, coming
home from Camp’s Pond with a load of pine wood as we passed “Uncle Sam” Bishop’s
he called out, “Pick a good rut, Charlie, you’ll be in it till you get home.”
There was quite
a hill coming up toward our place, from what is now Powell Avenue (as the
contour of the lawns on the east side of Main St. will reveal) and it was hard
pulling for the horses. Main St. is none too straight following an old cow path
likely which eased these (small) hills by circumventing them (circumnavigate
would be a better word under the two conditions I have mentioned). When the mud
had gone and Mr. Dan Phillips had guided the road scraper through the village
with two teams tandem pulling the machine, with the oncoming of summer dust
took the place of mud and only after the “Yorkers” came was any attempt made to
sprinkle the streets.
The first
watering carts were low box affairs made locally by George Culver or Andy
Jagger that with a trap bottom backed into the town pond (Lake Agawam) and when
they were full the horses drew them out and the bottom closed. When they
reached the proper place on the street the driver opened the gate and the water
ran out through some perforations in a pipe, leaving a trail about six feet wide.
A limited area was patrolled, Main St. from the beach to Seely’s Store (no
Catina’s) and First Neck Lane—not much more. Later came the windmills installed
by the Southampton Village Improvement Association and big Studebaker cars that
carried a thousand gallons (I estimate) were circulated over a wider area. One
of the big windmills was located back of our barn with an immense tank that
furnished a bountiful supply not only for the [railroad] watering cars, but
piped into our barn and cow-yard, watered our stock. Before that time it was my
daily duty after school to man the old log pump that stood by the back door and
pump water that ran through wooden troughs to the barn-yard. Ultimately, the
water also piped into our house.
These and other
windmills disappeared gradually after the Water Works were built. The pumping
station was (and is) north end of the Village. At first it was a pneumatic
system, there was no standpipe as at present. In case of fire, the air pump was
started and pressure pushed up. Everyone was very proud of the quality of the
water—“it never saw the air till it reached your faucet.” Some of the city
people had it bottled and sent to their New York homes. One enthusiast took a
supply on a shipboard to Europe with him! The trenches were all labouringly dug
by hand. Often they caved in before the mains could be laid. With a succession
of rains, a stretch on Windmill Lane caved in six times before the pipes
finally were in. The man (Johnson) who took that assignment at so much a foot
said that “he was gipped, by Jimminy.”
In the haunts of
my boyhood on the Millstone Brook Road is a spring. It was in a setting of
great oaks on a knoll sloping down to the bay, the deep shadows made a setting
for ferns, a place of rare beauty. As I came along one day I found an artist
painting the scene.
Some months
later, coming to the same spot I found men taking samples of the water for
chemical analysis and biological tests. A great house was rising across the
road and the engineers were looking for an uncontaminated abundant water
supply.
The next summer
on a hot August afternoon I came along and there was a scout troop, weary with
the hike and hot and thirsty. They were drinking greedily from the spring of
the abundant bubbling water.
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