In recent weeks, there has been much speculation regarding the new addition at Fletcher Memorial Library. Much of this occurred on the “Next Door Hampton” site (similar to Facebook), that reaches over three hundred households in Hampton and the greater vicinity. An initial posting contained misinformation which led to additional postings containing unsubstantiated claims and unconfirmed reports.

When queried on the subject by The Gazette, Library Board Chair Anne Christie stated the facts for the record: “First, no donor ‘offered to pay in full for the new addition’. A donor generously offered the library roughly half of the cost . No strings were attached pertaining to the contractor. The library did receive a quote on the project after Robert Mott of Heritage Building and Design was given a verbal go-ahead, from a contractor the donor had done a lot of work with. The quote was considerably less than Heritage’s quote. Heritage Building and Design did not have a signed contract for the addition, and Mr. Mott was not invited to the reception to answer questions on the addition, as the Next Door reporter wrote. He was there at the invitation of the board chair to enjoy some good food and hear some good music. With our patron’s donation and the reduced cost of the project, the board eliminated the need for town or taxpayer funds. It also eliminated the necessity for significant library funding of the project, which preserves the resources for other needs as they arise. When the details of the situation were clear, we immediately contacted Mr. Mott and told him of our circumstances. He was very understanding. Heritage Building and Design does have an excellent reputation and we hope we will have the opportunity to work with Mr. Mott in the future. The board’s decision to choose another contractor was made in the best interests of the library and the taxpayers of this town. The rest of the donations to the capital campaign will roughly cover the remaining cost of the project. The library board greatly appreciates the generosity of those who contributed. Lastly, the donor is not anonymous. Details of the donation are still in progress, and when they have been finalized, the donor’s name will be made public.”

For further information or clarification regarding the addition project, Anne Christie may be contacted through the Library.

Mary Oliver

One of the unusual attributes of the barn at 175 Main Street is that it’s original to the property. Most of the barns we’ve featured in this series were built after the houses, probably replacing earlier structures. But the Johnson’s barn is one of the oldest of the property’s buildings.  A board marked “Burnham Brothers 1869” was discovered in the barn during its renovation.  Another unique distinction is that the barn is still attached to the house, with a shed connecting it to what was once the kitchen in the oldest section of the house.  Like many old homes, this one was built in stages. The newer section visible in the Italianate façade is also evidenced in the interior, with the tall rooms of the Victorian era in the front of the house, and low ceilings in the back.

Like surprisingly several other owners of barns, Scott Johnson was raised in the house he and Kaye reside in, having moved here in 1958 at the age of eight.  Scott, his brother Todd and sister Susan were among the fifty to sixty kids living within what he calls the “Magic Mile” of the village. Scott describes an idyllic era, with kids and bikes a constant presence on Main Street and horses in every barn. During his interview for “Random Recollections”, Scott explained, “There were a lot of moms around. There was no Amber Alert. The village was one big day care center a mile long.” The Johnson’s fortunate proximity across the street from the school afforded them additional recreational time and activities. Kids would congregate on the playground before school, after school, and during the noon recess, when Scott would, “run across the street, inhale lunch and shoot back” to play until one o’clock. The Johnson’s home was a welcoming one. Everyone who visited signed it with a marker kept for that purpose, Scott relayed. It was a happy place.

The Johnson’s barn housed farm animals – chickens, a couple of sheep and a goat named “Cleopatra”. There was also a horse named “Billy”. At that time, all the girls on Main Street owned horses, and Susan Johnson wanted one, too.  Her father purchased a 20-year-old horse for $100 with the owner’s promise that Billy wouldn’t last another ten years. But Billy was 37 when he went to the “happy prairie in the sky”, long after the kids graduated, and though Mr. Johnson’s dreaded prediction – that he would get stuck taking care of the horse — was eventually realized, the two, Mr. Johnson and Billy, got to be good friends.  Years later, Scott and Kaye’s daughter Mary wanted a cow, and settled on chickens instead.

The horse stable was on the lower level of the barn, and bales of hay were on the second floor. It was here that Scott and his friends camped nights, making labyrinths and forts out of the hay.  He remembers a night of hurricane-like gales when a maple tree fell on the barn while they were sleeping in it. Fortunately, no one was hurt.  Reportedly, Mr. Viens once saw an angelic spirit in the barn, rising from the floor to the cupola. It was a safe haven.  Scott and Kaye’s daughters also hosted pajama parties in the barn. It was a perfect place for it – connected to the house, yet separate. They could make as much noise as they wanted and no one would mind. But first, the barn needed many repairs.

When Scott’s parents purchased the property, there were so many holes in the barn’s roof that “you couldn’t stay dry standing in any spot during a good October rain.” They put on a new roof, which Scott and Kaye would later replace, along with other repairs which were the result of moisture from above and from below rotting the hay and consequently the floor. Bob Inman, the well-known local carpenter who Scott calls “a building chiropractor” was enlisted to rescue the barn from deterioration. He lifted the entire building onto jacks and, little by little, slowly raised it to rebuild the foundation first. Bob basically rebuilt the post and beam structure in its entirety, using all salvageable timber and replacing the floor on the first, second and third levels. The original windows were also salvaged for the renovation, as was another of the barn’s exceptional features – the cupola. A new feature was the sixteen paned window viewed over the barn doors, which were also reinstalled to suspend and slide from the ceiling instead of the floor.

Both Bob Inman’s craftsmanship and the Johnson’s commitment to authentic restoration are also evinced in the wrap-around porch added over a decade ago.  There were no photographs of the original porch, but one afternoon when Bob was working on its construction and Craig McNally was painting a portion of it, a big Buick drove in the driveway and one of the MacMillans – the family of seven girls who once lived there — stopped to admire the porch. She always went past the old house whenever she visited from Maine and was pleased to see the porch replaced. Apparently, Mrs. Macmillan didn’t like the way the porch shielded the house from sunlight, rendering it dark inside, and removed the roof, leaving the floor of the structure exposed without its protection.

Former Town Clerk William Burnham also lived in the house once and reportedly used the little building on the property as the Town Clerk’s Office. William Burnham was also notable for donating the land across the street from his home for the construction of the Little River Grange.

The property has hosted other community functions as well.  Two community plays – Chekhov’s “A Marriage Proposal” in 2006 and “The Boor” in 2007 – have been performed in the barn on Memorial Day, and square dancing has also taken place on the lawn during the holiday. And the porch, festooned with patriotic buntings, is always filled with friends who join the family to view the parade.

It might no longer be part of the Utopian village of the 50’s, but the Johnson’s is still a “happy place”.

Jimmy Charron

May 29, 1955 – March 21, 2019

The firehouse was draped in black, the Stars and Stripes and the flag bearing the firefighters’ emblem at half-mast, as department members, and members of our community, mourned the loss of Jimmy Charron, our neighbor for over a half of a century.

The oldest of James and Lorraine Charron’s five children, Jimmy moved to the farmhouse on Canterbury Road with his family in 1964. His eye was always on the home which he would eventually own. Jimmy often recalled walking by as a boy, admiring it and dreaming that he would live there some day, and in 1989 he sold his white Cadillac with the plush red interior for $34,000 to purchase it. Anyone who knew Jimmy can appreciate that sacrifice. Jimmy loved cars. His first was a 1968 turquoise Chevrolet Impala which he owned for 36 years. He fixed vehicles for a living, and enjoyed the company of the people who owned them.

A Vietnam War era veteran, Jimmy served in the Air Force from 1975 to 1981 when he was honorably discharged with an illness that would necessitate dialysis for the rest of his life. The diagnosis, however, didn’t prevent him from returning to volunteerism. A member of the Fire Department prior to his graduation from Parish Hill, he re-enlisted, and though his health precluded him from serving as an active fireman, he assumed the position of Treasurer, a role he filled for 33 years and one for which he was recognized when named the Gazette’s Citizen of the Year in 2000. The State of Connecticut also issued a Governor’s Proclamation to Jimmy for “three decades of dedicated service to the Hampton Fire Company, the residents of Hampton, and the State of Connecticut” when he retired as Treasurer in 2013 and from the Department he served for 40 years.

Jimmy loved Hampton. He loved its people, and he loved, at least as wholeheartedly as any of us, his home.  These last five years, his sister Lisa’s assistance enabled him to live there. And when he made the decision to stop dialysis, the treatments he received three times a week for forty years, Lisa and their brother Joel, who came from his farm in New York, stayed there with him so he could enjoy his family, his favorite foods, and his many friends in the home he loved so well. His last days saw a steady stream of visitors. The entire fire department, members past and present, many current and former neighbors, the proprietors of Boyds’ Restaurant, who gave Jimmy his first and “best job” at the age of 15, attested to the endurance of his relationships. He spoke with us of the past, of growing up in Hampton, of all the things he’d loved, his cars, his dogs — Taffy, Brandy and Cinnamon, all the people his path crossed, those he knew well and those he knew briefly, with only the kindest of words for all of them. And he spoke of how lucky he’d been.

Jimmy had no enemies and he had no complaints.  One of the bravest individuals any of us has ever met, we marveled at his courage. He carried the burden of his health with so much dignity and so much gratitude, for the joy he found in living every day never diminished. All who had the privilege of knowing him were blessed with his example.

Our condolences to Jimmy’s sister Lisa, his brothers John and Jody of Hampton, and Joel and Marianne, and their sons Joel Jr,. also of Hampton, and daughter Jessie Rose, and Jamie, and son Jaylen. Donations in Jimmy’s honor may be made to the Hampton Fire Company.

Arnold Lewis Pawlikowski

November 6, 1936 – January 29, 2019

Winter in New England is never without losses, and this last one was no different. Among them, Arnie Pawlikowski, who passed away in the 82^nd year of his life. Though the surname isn’t as omnipresent as it once was in Hampton, those of us who have lived here for a while remember the family well – Arnie and his brothers, Raymond and Leon, his father and mother, Leon and Sylvia, and, of course, his uncle Barney. The members of the Pawlikowski family have lived among us for over a century, and have contributed to our community in countless ways, most notably in Arnie’s case, with the Fire Department.

Predeceased by his son, David, and his two brothers, Arnie is survived by his wife of 59 years, Eileen, and his daughters, Deborah Pawlikowski and Diane Smith-Sanders, and two grandsons — our condolences to all. In a recent interview, Eileen shared memories of their time together:

Back in the day when the heavy black dial-up phone on a table in the hall rang in many homes, Arnie and Eileen were married. It was 1959. After his service in the U. S. Air Force, Arnie worked with his father, Leon, at A&L Builders, Inc.  Eileen was a dental assistant. At his dad’s constant urging, the new Mr. and Mrs. Pawlikowski moved to Hampton and the town gained two wonderful assets.

Arnie had been part of the Hampton Fire House start-up effort since the age of sixteen, and so it was only natural that he maintained his connection and dedication to this important community institution throughout his entire life. Arnie’s primary obligation as a Police Officer for Troop D from 1963 until his retirement in 1984 meant that he could no longer be a first responder, but was always available for back-up.

Eilleen remembers that the Ladies Fire Department Auxilliary was becoming a thing of the past. And, there was a set of new challenges to contend with. Police officers worked three alternate shifts on a weekly rotation providing many challenges on the domestic front. She had to sign a letter acknowledging the scheduling arrangement and learned how to “roll with the punches” in the process.

Not an easy thing, I would guess for a lady from Norwich who never learned to drive! She had lived in Norwich when it was a thriving city, and walked everywhere. She says she just didn’t want to learn to drive. She has always had a lot of friends and support and got it all done. She tells the tale with vigor and certainty.

As our interview drew to a close she said firmly and with a twinkle in her eye, “It’s been grand!”

Linda Gorman

Harriet Kemp

August 21, 1932 – March 4, 2019

I have known many people in my 68 years, but there are those few who leave an indelible mark on your life. Harriet was one of those.
When I was younger, I was impressed with people of money and success as I thought that was what was important. In the past years, I have begun to recognize that real success is not found in money alone or professional accomplishments but is really found in people who sacrificed their own needs to love and serve others. This is especially true when their life was marked with monumental hurt and rejection and many obstacles that would have prevented many others from even functioning in life.

My friend determinedly worked and raised a family in spite of more heartache than I can imagine. She loved her family with an ardor that is rare. It didn’t matter what struggles and failings they might experience, she was their unflinching support and defense. There was nothing that was a higher priority than her family.

This was a woman of incredible inner strength that was forged by the fire of necessity and respect for God. She knew who she was and also knew who she wasn’t and made peace with it a long time ago. She was able to take limited resources and make more from them than those with far greater opportunity. I have witnessed a few of the seismic moments in her life and watched that inner strength take her through. I remember clearly when her boyfriend died in front of me at work and I had to call her daughter Ruth to tell her. I smile when I hear women joke about “pulling up your big girl pants”.  I don’t think Harriet ever knew a time that she was able to not “have her big girl pants” on; her life required it. I think we all knew this year when her youngest son died suddenly that it might be the final blow, and it was. It was the final heartbreak of a lifetime of them. Harriet died of a broken heart. I think that God knew it was enough and took her home.

One of the things I so appreciate is that she instilled in her daughter and granddaughter much of the strength, wisdom, and determination that she possessed as a woman. They will carry on her legacy valiantly, I have no doubt. I find it very interesting that the people who make the greatest mark on others have no idea what they have accomplished. Harriet, my dear friend, rest in peace.

John Osborne

Harriet Kemp was born and raised in Hampton and remained in the area her entire life. Her family is as big as her heart, and we extend condolences to them all, particularly to our neighbors, her daughter and son-in-law Ruth and Dave Halbach, her grand-daughter Helen Merasco, and her great-grandsons, Taylor and Thomas Merasco.

Fred Pogmore passed away on October 27, 2018 in the 89th year of his life. Born on October 21, 1929, Fred was a 29 year veteran, serving with the U. S. Naval Reserve as a Seabee and achieving the rank of Chief Petty Officer. A graduate of UCONN’s School of Agriculture, he was a State Conservation Officer from 1956 to 1985, retiring as the Chief of Law Enforcement for the Department of Fisheries and Game. He was very active in the Little River Grange and contributed a thorough history of the institution for the Gazette. Fred is survived by his wife of 68 years, Barbara, his son Frederick Pogmore and daughter Georgiann Kucia and husband Stanley, his brother, two sisters, four grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. Our condolences to all. Donations in Fred’s honor may be made to the UCONN College of Agriculture.

Michael Bisson passed away on November 7, 2018 in the 60th year of his life. Born on November 4, 1958, he was employed for 38 years with GKN Aerospace. A loving husband and father, and a familiar face in Hampton for many years, Michael liked to help people. He also enjoyed wood turning and riding his motorcycle. Predeceased by two siblings, Diane Roberts and Gilles Bisson, he is survived by his wife of 31 years, Louise Bisson, their two sons David Bisson and Adam Bisson, his brothers Maurice Bisson of Hampton, and Raymond Bisson, and his first grandchild, Rhett Bisson. Our condolences to all. Donations in Mr. Bisson’s memory may be made to the charity of one’s choice.

Jennifer Wallace passed away on January 18, 2019 in the 77th year of her life. Born in the County of Middlesex in the United Kingdom on July 22, 1941, she worked as a registered nurse for many years at Hartford Hospital before retiring. Here in Hampton, she served as Deputy Registrar of Voters for the Democratic Party, and enjoyed gardening, bird watching, reading, nature walks, and Masterpiece Theatre. Jennifer was very charitable and gave to many organizations. She was the beloved mother of Jeffrey Wallace and his wife, Luciana, and Eric Wallace and his wife, Kaitlyn, the devoted grandmother of Tristan and Tessa, sister of Linda Gabriel and Steve James, and aunt to nieces Karina Hawkes and Fiona Gabriel. Our condolences to her family. Contributions to the National Ataxia Foundation will be appreciated.

Robert “Bubba” Cote passed away on February 2, 2019 in the 72nd year of his life. Born on October 1, 1946, he was a U. S. Army Veteran who proudly served in Korea and in Vietnam. Upon his return to civilian life, he was a bouncer at the legendary Shaboo Inn, and an equipment operator for many years as a member of the International Union of Operating Engineers Local 478. A skilled craftsman, avid reader, and masterful cook, Bubba was a “Renaissance Man” who embarked on various adventures (and mis-adventures) which included a wild, cross country excursion. Predeceased by his son, Jesse, he leaves a brother, Phillip Cote and his wife Susan, a niece and nephews, and two cats. Our condolences to all. Donations in his memory can be made to Connecticut Cat Connection.

Laurian Chandler passed away on February 26, 2019 after a brave battle against cancer. Born on November 5, 1946, the daughter of Mildred and Laurier Henri of Hampton, Laurian lived here most of her life. Retiring as a dental assistant after 27 years, she was an active volunteer of the Benevolent Protective Order of Elks 1311. Here in Hampton she had been a member of the Hampton Community Players. Our condolences to her family, husband William Chandler of Hampton, her son Dean Sypher and his wife Kim, her daughter Kelley Sypher and Shannon Rogers, her brother Wayne Henri and his wife Lela of Hampton, her brother Dennis Henri and his wife Sandi, and her nephew Allen Henri and his wife Stacy. Donations in Laurian’s memory may be made to Hospice Care at Hartford Health at Home.

Miguel Reyes passed away on March 18, 2019 in the 68th year of his life after a long and courageous battle with cancer. Born on June 6, 1950 in Comerio, Puerto Rico, Miguel moved to Connecticut when he was a teenager, graduating from Platt High School in 1969. He bravely served his country during the Vietnam War, and retired from Northeast Utilities after over 37 years of service. A man who “knew the true meaning of unconditional love, friendship and loyalty,” Miguel will be missed by friends and family, his wife, Patricia Reyes, two brothers, Carmelo Reyes and Ariel Reyes, four sisters Maria Reyes, Luz Reyes, Olga Grieser, and Ana Rivera, as well as many nieces and nephews. Our condolences to all. Donations in Miguel’s name may be made to Hospice-Hartford Healthcare at Home.

William Tormey, Jr. passed away at his home on March 24, 2019 in the 87th year of his life. Born on September 26, 1931, in Willimantic, Mr. Tormey and his family lived in Hampton for many, many years. He was also familiar to many people in Hampton and environs as the butcher who worked in Stop & Shop. Mr. Tormey was predeceased by his son, Billy. Our condolences to his wife, Marilyn, and his daughter, Laurie.

Michael “Mike” Higgins passed away on April 10, 2019 in the 74th year of his life after a battle with cancer. His career in International Procurement with Pratt and Whitney allowed him to travel to amazing places and develop many friendships. Here in Hampton, this expertise initiated and helped to establish an important ordinance for the Board of Finance, of which he was an elected member. Mike also served as a Selectman and coached Little League here for several years. His retirement afforded him more time to read, for his model train hobby, and with his family. Our condolences to his wife of 55 years, Sam, his son Todd, his daughter Ciaran and husband Chip, and his granddaughter, Madalin. Donations in Mike’s memory may be made to the American Lung Association.

A prospective entrepreneur has been negotiating with a non-resident, commercial property owner with the eventual goal of establishing a Taco Bell franchise along the Route 6 corridor. Apparently, discussions have been taking place between the land owner and the individual interested in opening the popular, fast food restaurant for quite some time. Though Town officials were reluctant to deny or confirm this development, it has been ascertained that under the current zoning regulations, the Town would have no choice but to allow a Taco Bell to operate on the proposed site. Reportedly, the potential franchisee has cleared all financial and legal hurdles, including feasibility studies which have predicted the plausible success of the fast-food giant, situated precisely ten miles between thriving locations in Willimantic and Danielson.

Residents recently interviewed at the Hampton General Store regarding the prospect of a Taco Bell in town candidly shared their views. While some people were appalled that this sort of commercial enterprise should “mar our town”, and “destroy our rural character”, other residents were looking forward to the tax relief a Taco Bell would likely provide.  “What’s the point in having a business zone if we’re not interested in using it?” one customer opined.

Rumors that individuals interested in opening a Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise are also eyeing property along the business zone could not be confirmed,  though the success of one such establishment would probably forecast a second, or third.

An architect’s rendering of the proposed Taco Bell franchise can be found on page 3.

The Editorial Board decided to end our year-long commemoration of the Gazette’s 40^th anniversary by celebrating a very important component of our town newspaper — one which isn’t as ubiquitous as other topics and, perhaps, ought to be. Humor!

What a wonderful gift is laughter, and how fortunate we are in those who have shared theirs with us through the years. This month we’re revisiting some of our wittiest moments, and people, those townsfolk we lovingly refer to as “characters”. Columnists have contributed humorous entries, a number of organizations have good-naturedly responded with some measure of ridiculousness, and a few of our affable public officials have allowed us to poke at them, as well.  Scattered throughout this issue are examples of, if you will, “fake news”; we trust residents are discerning enough to know the difference. We hope you have enjoyed this year’s journey through the history of our newspaper’s coverage of our town, and that you learned a lot. We know we have.  And we hope you enjoy reading this issue as much as we’ve enjoyed creating it.

Our solicitation of headlines met with an enthusiastic response and provided several possibilities for the front page listed here:

Recreation Commission to Review Nude Sunbathing Ordinance at Ball Field

“It’s the proximity to third base that bothers me,” Selectman Grindle opined.

Public Works Finds 40-Foot Python in Storm Drain!

Photographer Pete Vertefeuille Recovering after Spring Warbler Attack

“He was feisty–I didn’t stand a chance!”

Gazette Chairman Arriola Publishes Tell-All Memoir: “My Secret Life as a Rodeo Clown”

Selectmen Vote to Bring Back Tar, Feathers

“Public stocks fill up too quickly.”

Agriculture Commission, Desperate for Quorum, Elects Sheep Vice-Chair

Nudist Colony Rises like the Phoenix to Re-Establish Itself on Fringes of Goodwin Forest

Road Crew concentrates their efforts on trimming the area’s trees

‘Dollar General’ Eyes ‘Hampton General’, Citing Minimal Cost to Convert Signage

Selectman Cahill Drains General Fund Declaring “Eminent Domain” for Town Purchase of His Property

Claims town needs to “adopt” his “particular view.”

Impressed with our Walls, POTUS Considers Future “Trump Tower Hampton”

A review of the last 40 years of the Gazette reveals that while there’s never a scarcity of controversial topics or opinions, we’re woefully lacking in laughs. So much so that when someone attempts to write something humorous, some people take the material seriously, becoming at times quite perturbed. Despite disclaimers, we anticipate phone calls questioning a few items in this very issue. The void isn’t our fault. Quite the contrary. The jovial folks on the editorial board not only welcome humor – we relish it. Thus, in an effort to encourage our town’s comedians, this month we salute the brave few who have bared their humbler moments and risked the ire of misinterpretation with the hope of helping us to lighten up a little.

Ed Adelman was the first serial, if you will, humorist. From 1992 to 1994 he penned a column called “Nobody Asked Me But…”, explaining his impetus from the first – “One thing I’m usually pretty good at is laughing at myself.” Turns out “others are good at it, too.” He opined on common place things, such as suspenders – “Why shouldn’t your shoulders help out your waist and legs by holding up your pants? Isn’t that what being a body is all about?”, and posed common questions, like – “Why was this house built without closets?” Many of his columns were seasonal.  He praised a particularly tough winter for keeping the tall tales “secured for future generations”, as in “boy did we have winter when I was a kid,” yet he kept a “personal misery index” to record the number of times, for example, he “questioned why are we here when we know about places like Florida, Arizona and California?” One of his favorite holidays was Groundhog Day. “Regardless of what we get someone will complain,” he wrote. “In February, however, you’ll take your complaint to the groundhog department. Tell it to the chief over there, the one with the big buck teeth.”  In the summer he wrote of camping, “when we forego the everyday challenges and purposely make things a little tougher for ourselves.  Kind of like going through your day with your shoelaces tied together,” and developed a top 20 list of activities he didn’t accomplish, among them: learning to play the piano, getting a goat, and insulating the crawl space, explaining, with the assessment:  “Whew, what an exhausting summer I almost had!”

Angela Fichter is our most recent serial humorist. Her articles on gardening include “Flower Police” in which she refused to “divulge my secrets for getting the greatest amount of flower loot other than to say it helps to act like a detective and get to know the parking areas and the rules of the plant sale and how strictly they are enforced”, and “Plant Abuse”, of which she accused deer and gypsy moths when she isn’t looking, and when she is, as in during a garden tour, her cat, who “goes up to a plant near me and flings her entire body…onto the flower.” Though Angela has opined on the town dump, particularly the men who “watch the dumping of each other’s trash and snatch and take home something they ‘might need’ someday.  In other words, they trade trash”, many of her articles involve faraway places that lack the comforts of home. The “Intrepid Traveler” has taken us to Ireland where she was afraid to dial 911 when lost because she “didn’t know what would happen,” having “seen police on various Dublin street corners with machine guns.” In Paris, she described ascending a steep staircase which resembled a fire escape with no rails and no risers to shower on slippery floor tiles with “nothing to hang onto.”  Her recommendations for a trip to China: “expect living accommodations to come in one size, tiny.” And who could forget her account of failing to catch the “red eye” when she slept through the announcement of her departing flight?  We’ll never quite erase the image of her running on the tarmac flagging the taxiing plane with the gatekeeper chasing her.

Gordon Hansen also wrote of his trips around the country and abroad. Like when he was in Mexico and realized that the tremors he was experiencing were not the cause of Montezuma’s Revenge and thought – “Oh thank God, I’m not sick – it’s an earthquake!” Gordon shared some of the signs he observed on his travels: “GAS STATION: SELF-SERVICE — NO EXTRA CHARGE”; and the unfortunate — EAT HERE AND GET GAS. There was the butcher shop that advertised  WE HAVE BRAINS ONLY ON THURSDAY, and the furniture store that announced – 40 YEAR WITHOUT A SALE, which probably explains the GOING OUT OF BUSINESS sign shortly afterwards. He also recalled advertisements for GENUINE PLASTIC and REAL PLASTIC SNOW.

Janet Robertson’s “Journal” chronicling their family’s trip around the world relayed many humorous stories. Of navigating locks in Wales and the destruction of their boat, so unusual an occurrence for the Welsh that the word “sank” had to be spelled to be believed. Of Taiwan where they lost their son “in the wilds of who knows where” when they arrived, and departed in a typhoon.  Of a Korean restaurant which served 18 courses; and those of us who knew Mr. Robertson could hear him proclaim, “My God it was interesting!”

Tom Gaines penned several political editorials, injecting a little levity at times, like in “Power and the Justice of the Peace”. Elected to the position in the same cycle as the President, he compared the two offices, correcting common misconceptions. “While the president is saddled with annoying checks and balances”, the Justice of the Peace “has practically unlimited power,” he wrote, and since they set their own fees, he “hired an ad agency to work out specials, premiums, two-for-ones, and so on”. Refuting that their duties are easy, he pointed out “the responsibilities in fact are so great Hampton has nine Justices of the Peace”, as opposed to only one president.

Animals have provided plenty of material for our humorists. Virginia Welch’s contributions to EarthCare included “Mousecapades”, the “cautionary tale of discovering MICE! wintering in birdhouses, and the never-to-be-forgotten experience when one bails out and heads for cover in the long, dark tunnel of your pants leg.” And the tale of the wounded goose the Welches nurtured until he “left with the call of migrating geese”, but only as far as downtown Danbury where a reporter, a photographer, and a group of people gathered as they cornered, pinned, caged him, and “drove off leaving people wondering what they had seen.” There was Vandal, the appropriately named German Shepherd, the “Great Dane who rode upright in the car like a chauffeured dowager” and the part-time dog, “a confirmed runaway”, who cost so much to reclaim “from the dog catcher, she could have stayed at a good motel.”

Cindy’s Bezanson’s chickens frequently amuse us. There’s Brownie, whose mothering instinct caused her to “sit on sticks, rocks, straw, a blade of grass.” And Jack, who disproved the adage that a rooster crows at daybreak: “Our boy crows in the morning. He crows at lunchtime, dinner time and just before bed. He crows at two in the morning. He sings to the mail truck, the lawn mower, and answers our neighbor’s donkeys when he hears them call out ‘heehaw’.” Her affection for chickens is infectious, and probably is the reason a co-worker who would proudly announce after the slaughter of his own, “Chicken burritos tonight…Chicken Cordon Blue on Saturday!” decided “that the ladies would now permanently reside in the newly remodeled coop instead of in the freezer. And that the ladies were going to be named.”

During Random Recollections, we heard stories from different generations. Peggy Fox recalled the time she and her friend Lucille were “selling stamps for crippled children” and an encounter with Mr. Putnam using his door-less outhouse caused them to announce to the next customer, “We’re selling cramps for stippled children.”  Morris Burr recalled the time a group of couples, including the minister and his wife, went to dinner at a place that turned out to be a strip club. He remembered the sermon the next morning, too. Allan Freeman recalled the end of his career at the Post Office when he mistook Charlie Fox’s directive “take this trash” with the wrong pile and set the mail on fire. Jo Freeman remembered that while waiting for their desserts to bake at 4-H class, the boys smoked cigarettes in back of Our Lady of Lourdes and ate raw onions to disguise their breath. Both Allan and Jo remember their “experiences” with the nudist colony, where Jo was the designated “look out” for Neal Moon and Jeff Osborne who knew where there was a knot hole in the fence, and Allan recalled sneaking up in Bob Miller’s Plymouth coup which backed into a stonewall when the proprietor “opened the door and let the dogs out”.

Last, but certainly not least, our Auntie Mac, who monthly answers queries as to living at large, and in Hampton in particular. This month she advises us on acceptable behavior at the library, other months elucidating other town institutions.  Advocating for participation at Town meetings, she noted the ordinance “mandating attendance at all public events involving a book, a speech, or a bowl of spaghetti” and  promised, “in terms of intrigue, dialogue, plot twists and theatrics…Hampton’s Annual Town Meeting is not to be missed!” She encouraged participation in the Memorial Day Parade where she comes “dressed in diaphanous lavender chiffon performing a Dance to Spring right behind the Monster Truck contingent” and clarified transfer station etiquette, explaining that the town dump “knows all and sees all, and it is there that our best – and our worst – selves are placed on display for all the world to see. Candidacies are made there. Rumors begin there. It is the font of all town knowledge.” She has offered advice on dealing with neighborhood noise, parties, nude sun bathing, garden gnomes, and barnyard odor, while she herself remains “absolutely baffled…to hear people who have moved ‘to the country’ complain that there is just too much actual country near them, and wonder what they can do to shut it out, or better yet, to whom they can issue cease and desist orders.”

It’s been an arduous journey, reviewing 40 years of coverage of the things that are important to us, and we close with humor, in the hopes that those who laugh last, laugh longest.

One April first, Ray Baker and Herb Copland, they had soldered a quarter to a spike and then drove it in the sidewalk that used to be right out in front of the house. They were working up on the roof and keeping track of the people that was coming along, and by and by Ella came along. And she spotted that quarter. Of course she stooped down to pick it up and she couldn’t get it. But she worked on it, with her shoe, until she got it loose. And then they hollered “April Fool!”  She says, “I got the quarter – I don’t know who the fool was”.

From this account in Hampton Remembers, we can infer that April Fools has been celebrated here for at least a hundred years, and from the chapter “Interesting People We Knew”, that our town has never known a shortage of “characters.” Harold Stone’s is not the only tale of Ella Sharpe.

One day Ella went to the post office and somebody told her I had a little girl. She didn’t believe it and she said she didn’t. And the first thing I know – I was in bed in a downstairs room – and I didn’t know anybody was around – and in she stalked. She stood there and looked at me. She said, “Where did you get that baby?” I said, “Where do babies come from anyway?” “They told me at the post office you had a baby girl and I told them I knew better. I’ve seen you out everywhere – you were out to church last Sunday!” And I said, “Well everybody don’t have to be big as a barrel.” Well as she went home she told everybody across the street in Hampton it was true, I did have a baby.

Gertrude Pearl

There are many others memorialized in Hampton Remembers.

Auntie Josie Smith was very superstitious in a funny way…she knew how to have a garden but she knew that you could only plant certain things at certain times of the moon. And it was quite a care to her to do it right, you know, and she told when I was there – I’m sure I hear her tell it – that it wasn’t the right time of the moon, and it was going to be too late if she waited and she didn’t know what to do. So she put on an old coat that had a hole in the pocket and put the seeds in the pocket and went out and jumped around on the ground. And that’s the way she planted her seeds at the wrong time of the moon!  

Helen Mathews

Uncle Gene Darrow’s tin cart was a brick red, pulled by a pair of horses…he opened up his cart from the side and he had bread tins and pails and he had – why he had everything in that cart!

Harold Stone

Eugene Augustus Darrow was the “last of the tin peddlers” and was also renowned for following the adage – “revenge is a dish best served cold”. Retribution was always just and never cruel. “You don’t want to do nawthing right aways. Even if it takes ten years, get even,” Peggy Fox relays his advice in his dialect, telling of the time he gave a large gift to someone who, unwrapping it in her house, discovered it was filled with hundreds of crickets.

Harold Stone contributed quite a bit to Hampton Remembers. Tales of his classmate who called out, “I was put together wrong. Here it says you smell with your nose and run with your feet, but my nose runs and my feet smell.” The woman who tied herself to the railroad track for “publicity”, knowing that the freight train would see her “cause she wore her red outin’ flannel petticoat.” Harold himself was a character. Ever practical, he cut through the ice to bathe in Bigelow Pond all winter because  it “wasn’t as bad as taking sponge baths in a cold room”, and he brought his bride Hazel all the way home from New Jersey in the side car of his motorcycle.

Andrew Rindge, who farmed at Trail Wood, was remembered by Edwin Way Teale in A Naturalist Buys an Old Farm: “…his poems, usually dealing with local happening and the foibles and misdeeds of his neighbors, were tacked to the bulletin board in front of the store.” Margaret Marcus was more specific in Hampton Remembers:

When anything happened he’d put it into a poem and put it on the town bulletin board at the store. One time he wrote about a certain lady who was very nice to all the gentlemen. Then she decided she’d settle for just one, and all the others weren’t welcome so all those others caught her lover and tarred and feathered him. Well when this poem came out, there were the names of all the men who patronized this lady, you see, and they didn’t want to be there at all – it was all very hush-hush, of course – and to have it come out and tell who they were – ‘cause most of them were married men – a scandal in Hampton!

Teale also wrote of other legendary residents such as “Thunderstorm Bill”, notorious for spitting when he talked, and the elderly countryman who thought he was losing his hearing until the doctor informed him of “the dirtiest ears he’d ever seen in his life!” Eccentrics were fewer in Teale’s time, though he mentioned the woman having trouble remembering who responded to his suggestion that she carry her name and address, “If I can’t remember who I am or where I live, I will just go to a police station and tell them I am a lost Russian princess. Then my picture will be in the paper. Someone will recognize it and come and get me.”

A few of our characters have achieved some measure of fame, most notably Stanley Gula, who appeared in On the Road with Charles Kurault. A Polish immigrant, he cut witch hazel and delivered it to Dickinson’s in his Model A, which he lived with in his garage, instead of in the house he built and never inhabited.  He grew strawberries, but wouldn’t let small children or adults with large feet in his patch, and the “magic” eggs he wrapped in handkerchiefs to distribute to children would allegedly hatch “little Stanley Gulas”.

In “One Proud Yankee Who Kept Her Sox On”, the Willimantic Chronicle memorialized our “crusty, yet loving” librarian and “dispenser of literary taste”, Eunice Fuller, who for 75 years dispensed books and opinions. With “an askance look or a click of her tongue”, she would disapprove of a selection, and if she disliked someone on a magazine cover, she would “give them a mustache with her date stamp.”  She never kept a card catalogue yet knew where everything was and let patrons borrow a book until someone else requested it.

Barney Pawlikowski was so famous in Hampton that in 1981 the town celebrated “Barney Day”. Residents gathered to pay their respects to Barney on the occasion of his retirement from, well, everything. A “Jack-of-all-Trades”, there wasn’t anything Barney couldn’t do, or any time of day or night he couldn’t do it. Furnace breaks in the middle of the night? Pipes burst at the crack of dawn? No problem. Barney always responded immediately.  As his daughter, June, confirmed, “He thrived on emergencies.”

Last summer, seventeen residents remembered Paulie Tumel on the front page of the August issue, with his words of wisdoms, such as “Don’t go into a hole that you can’t back out of,” and “Paulisms”, like “I got two permits. One for me to mind my own business and another one for you to mind yours!” Affectionately referred to as Dr. Dirt, the Entertainer, the Teacher, the Bulldozer Whispererer, the Flirt, the Good Neighbor, the Welcome Wagon, and L’Artiste, Paul was remembered for hunting, excavating, and crushing hornets’ nests with his bare hands.  And he was remembered for his stories, like the one Rich Schenk shared of an FBI Agent soliciting Paulie’s help with neighbors suspected of Communist activity: “He handed him a pitchfork and said, you’ll need this. When the agent asked why, he said – to clean my barn. The Agent said, I’m not doing your work, and Paulie said, then don’t ask me to do yours.”

Remembrances such as these, for a lot of reasons, make us smile, yet Paulie’s were somewhat bittersweet; when we said “good-bye” to Paulie Tumel, we were saying good-bye to an era, and to the last of its legendary characters.