The most photogenic in town, “Indian Ledge Farm” on xx Bigelow Road is frequently the subject of artistic representation.  Photographers and painters revel in all of its seasons: summer’s emerald field and grazing farm animals; fall, when the farm is wrapped in the scarlet, orange and golden cloaks of maples; winter with the red barn bright against the glistening trees and blanketing snow; and spring, with one of its gentlest signs, newborn lambs.  In all of its seasons, the roll of the hills, the sprawl of the old oaks, the meadow cedars, the rubble of stonewalls, the buildings and the animals come together to create a picture perfect postcard of a New England farm.

The property would have been even more picturesque prior to the mid-1900’s, when Route 6 replaced the highway which once traversed the village in order to accommodate the trucks that found it difficult to ascend and descend what is now Old Route 6. The new highway, however, cut through three farms, the Fuller farm, the Merrell farm, and the Jewett farm, and accommodations were made in order for the cows to cross over from their barns to their pastures.

George Fuller, who grew up on the farm, was at least as descriptive as any contributor to Hampton Remembers in terms of farm life:

“Basic farming has been confined to dairying here, not beef cattle. It has to be fodder, corn and hay and so forth, for dairy cattle, with the prime end-product being milk. What they did a lot then was – you fed ‘em hay and grain, right? You didn’t buy the grain from the West. You grew your corn, you husked the corn. Jirah Hyde down in Bigelow Pond had his grist mill, his saw mill and his cider mill there and you took your corn and you had it all ground into grist and then you’d buy a little bran and you’d mix your own grain. The stalks which were left after you’d husked it out, if you were industrious, you would chop that up and feed that as a form of roughage. Of course you couldn’t make silage if you were going to get ear corn because you have to let it harden on the stalks. The only way you get silage today is to cut it green and it ferments – if you let it go dry you have no silage effect. We have an old corn-husker powered, and there was powered husking but a lot of people would husk it in the field and leave it there. It’s a beautiful social think to talk about a husking bee, and that was before my time, but when you stand out there it gets to be business! You used to get grist ground about once a week, all year around. When you chop corn it’ll go bad quickly so you go down to the grist mill almost every week.”

The property has remained in the Fuller family since 1848, when the 167 acre parcel, on both sides of Bigelow Road, belonged to James Holt. Land and buildings were bequeathed to George Holt in 1865. George Fuller writes of his great-grandfather: “The Grange, y’know, started right where I’m sittin’, only on the sofa that’s upstairs. It was started by my great-grandfather George Holt in this room and the sofa that they set on is upstairs. It was organized here in 1885 and named Little River Grange after the river goin’ by in back here. Great-grandfather was first master and I guess Grandmother was an officer, and Nanny. But it started right in this room – they didn’t have any hall for a while, of course they took turns going around.”

In 1916, the property passed from George Holt’s wife, Abby, to Nellie Cleveland and Helen Spaulding, who married Ray Fuller. He inherited the property in 1946, and their son, George, inherited in 1960. Women play prominently in this family’s transfer of property; the matriarchal line is strong and endures today. The property is currently co-owned by George and Sim Fuller’s three daughters, Eunice, Gail, and Debbie.

The name Fuller is at least as famous as the farm itself:  Fullers were one of Hampton’s earliest pioneers, and among the first members of the meetinghouse; there was a renowned inn named Fuller and a longtime librarian; there’s a Fuller Brook and a Fuller Falls. None of these, however, are related to the Fullers of this farm, though they can lay claim to the famous “Singing Fullers”.

“The quartet, let’s see, how did that start? They wanted to start a men’s group … it would be as a social function so they decided, ‘What are we goin’ to have for entertainment?’ So they wondered if they could get a quartet. Who was the first one? It would have been Don Hoffman, myself, Oliver, Rad. I think they almost gave us the choice, do you want to work in the kitchen or do you fellas want to try and have a quartet? That was enough …The Grange had a statewide contest for singing groups so the Grange wanted to know if we would represent Little River Grange. You had a contest at the local level and Pomona level and so forth into Hartford. We won hands down at Little River – we didn’t have any competition! At the Pomona level there was mixed quartets – we won hands down there too and from there we went to Hartford and won there. But they wouldn’t pay our way to national so we never went…The Fullers were known as the singing Fullers and lived on North Bigelow…My grandmother was organist at church and also taught organ. I’ve heard say she taught at Boston Conservatory now and then – I guess maybe she did before she was married. And of course my grandfather toured through the South playing banjo and singin’. It was minstrels and the like he put on all over the place and he had a singing school up here in Hampton, too. He was in charge of the choir in the church and I heard tell church couldn’t start because there’d be gram and grampa and nine kids and they were just about the choir and the organist and everything else…l’ve been up in the church and up in the steeple and even in back of the old organ today are dad’s initials and my uncles’ and my grandfather’s carved in there…We used to have hymn sings down there every Sunday night…we used to sing here every night, just the family, every night. We went in the front room there after supper and we sang. You couldn’t go to bed till you’d had some singing. My mother played the piano and she sang soprano and my father bass and then my brother and I swapped tenor and alto after we learned. First you’d sing tenor and then some day they’d move you around – ‘Now you’re going to sing alto’ and he’d tap his foot bang, bang, bang, ‘You got that beat Georgie?…Our girls all play the piano and they love to sing – they’ve got a good ear for harmony.”