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I suppose everyone has a desire to investigate, to explore into the past, and to relive some of our history and past traditions. This mill and its restoration has provided us an excellent opportunity to test our ability to do what the old folks did. They were able, with their crude tools, to build this mill and to actually make it grind corn in excellent fashion, even to the extent of doing a thriving business. It is interesting to reflect that they did not have the modern power tools available today, nor did they really have the time we have today, but these folks really built for permanence.

Eric Sloane aptly puts it by saying,

"What a shame that with all our timesavers and with our abundance of wealth, we do not have the time today and apparently cannot afford to build the way they did or to use the excellent material they did."

Why is it impossible for our builders and architects to construct a house with a bow roof, for instance, a little more overhang on the rake, a box return with gutters, a decent-sized chimney, and many of those small things that lend charm to a house and give it character and dignity? Why are we satisfied with chicken houses, or is it that we have not made the progress we thought we had?

All these things we thought about as we went about the business of restoration.

The peace and quiet of the mill pond every Saturday morning was shattered by the rumblings of two water pumps. These pumps had to suck out the water from the pit in the flume to enable us to even see what we were trying to do. Three or maybe four, very muddy characters, attired in the necessary garments to withstand the cold, were always in the depths of the mill, working in the mud, sand, gravel and debris, and at times it seemed as though we were merely moving these from one place to another, rather than disposing of them.

We finally managed to extricate the old turbine. The simple mechanism and design of this ancient piece of machinery to me is always marvelous. We had hoped to renovate the old turbine and put it back in its place, but age and rust made this impossible, and the turbine now rests on the shore of the pond for all to see.

In the process of moving all the mud and sand, we uncovered the remains of the original flume or sluiceway leading from the mill pond to the wheel pit. We found the flume to be about five and a half feet wide and originally about ten feet high and, roughly, thirty feet long. The sides were planked against 8 x 8 hard pine timbers which were in turn cut or tenoned into 8 x 8 mortised supports, twelve on each side of the flume, about two feet apart, and each dowelled or pinned with one and a half inch hard pine trunnells .

We were now down about twelve feet in the dike of the flume, and we had to hand shovel and excavate all around each stub of these timbers, knocking back the dowels and prying out each stub. These uprights had been broken off when the flume was filled in. Every one of the stubs and the pins was bright and new as the day it was put in. Packed around each section of each stub was about six inches of semi-hard blue clay.

Apparently wood or any substance long immersed in water will last forever and undoubtedly the clay we found packed around each helped to preserve this wood. We threw the stubs upon the top of the dike, and they were not in the air and light two or three days before they turned gray, discolored and aged looking.

George Woodbury, in his book, "John Goffe's Mill", says:

"Wood can be almost indefinitely preserved if it is kept either consistently dry or consistently wet all the time. Let it get wet and dry out a few times and it quickly decomposes. In Egypt where it never rains, wooden objects are found well preserved after countless centuries of burial. In Switzerland, the piles driven into the Lac Neuchatel by the aboriginal lake dwellers are still sound after two thousand years."

We could not obtain any proper hard pine 8 x 8, but we did find some creosote 6 x 8 hard pine timber creosoted, about twenty feet long. Friend George very carefully made the tenons, and we were able to replace them in the old position from whence they came. This may sound easy, but just try it!

After a few hours of this work, the writer became exhausted. Hot baths and horse liniment helped somewhat, but I think I can still feel the effects. The chances are, our tenacious forefathers had no trouble whatsoever in this work.

We were able to re-use about fifty per cent of the old pine pins, or trunnells, recovered from the joints. The new ones we made by hand. I would suggest to anyone contemplating such a venture as this that he would be wise to anticipate endless frustration, hard work, and snide and caustic comments from onlookers and discouraging prospects of completion.

The embankment would cave in every few minutes, notwithstanding our amateurish shoring attempts, but we managed to keep ahead of the cave-ins by shoring up quickly before the whole dam caved in on top of us.

Of course, the pumps had to be working constantly while we were employed in this operation. One of these pumps was loaned to us by S. R. Nickerson of Hyannis, and the other was given us by Colonel Ralph Thacher of the Cape Cod Shipbuilding Corporation, some of the few persons who were sympathetic with our cause.

Although this pump from Colonel Thacher was probably around fifty years old, it proved to be a most reliable and excellent piece of apparatus, consisting of a large, horizontal, single cylinder, "make and break" engine, driving a heavy, eighteen-inch rubber diaphragm pump. It certainly puts to shame some of the modern pump equipment of today, chugging along hour after hour like a patient old horse without much noise and clatter.

We all became very fond of this sturdy antique which, to my mind, combines functional beauty with gratifying simplicity and reliability. Cooling was a simple matter of a pail of water in the cylinder jacket tank; lubrication was by a few grease cups and an outside glass oil container about the size of a large tea cup; and the starting was easy and positive, all by hand.

All the visitors seemed to be drawn to this piece of equipment when it was operating, and we signified our tribute by mounting a small flag on the pump every Saturday morning.

I should not forget to relate how Harvey Studley, a young, local contractor, sent up three men and all the shingles necessary to entirely re-do the roof of the mill itself. Harvey also gave us a goodly supply of 10 x 10 hard pine timbers which we put to good use in the sills and otherwise.

About six months before this project got underway, Harvey, who is generally a quiet, peaceful soul, delivered an impassioned speech at our annual Town Meeting, decrying the lack of interest by the townspeople in the preservation of some of our own landmarks.

The building itself had to be raised by Bob Hayden and his crew, and a new foundation completely made on the old. When this was done, new sills put in and the building lowered, things looked a little better, for at least the building sat upright.

Harvey gave concrete help, but although a good many people expressed their admiration of the job we were doing and the task which we had undertaken, we didn't get too much actual help. It is always more fun to watch work being done.

We did, however, among other people, receive help from a photogenic barrister, Harold Hayes, who spent an afternoon in his boots with a shovel helping us to disturb the mud of the centuries. One kind gentleman, whom I do not know, was watching us one day as we were trying to pry off some of the rusted bolts and nuts from the old turbine. He showed up the next afternoon with a large, much-needed, Stilson wrench which he donated to the cause.

Ben Baxter, one of the living heirs of the "Baxter boys", and a descendant of some of the best sea captains the Cape has ever produced, gave much of his time and effort and loaned us considerable equipment. Ben is an expert mariner, engaged in ferrying cargo back and forth to Nantucket, virtually bring "oil to the lamps of China". I don't think anyone knows Nantucket Sound better than Ben Baxter. Between his trips to the island, Ben found time to be with us every Saturday. He is a stout fellow.

My friend, John Doherty, who is engaged in the building of homes and selling of real estate, has delivered to us many loads of loam, fill, and sand.

Charles Cunningham, a local contractor and builder of large buildings, was most generous in offering the use of his stock pile, where a treasure was found of different sizes and shapes of all kinds of lumber and materials. He told us to take anything we could use, and the offer was music to our ears.

I do hope Mr. Cunningham didn't feel too chagrined when he saw how much we were taking, but nevertheless he grinned and said to go ahead and take whatever we wanted.

The Hinckley Lumber Company of Hyannis graciously offered, and we quickly accepted, lumber and supplies from their mill and warehouse.

Our busy surveyor of highways, Chris Marsh, loaned to us from time to time a machine called a back hoe, which does marvelous things, and some men to help with the hard digging.

One generous soul, Tom Powers, has given us several beautiful trees which we are planting and hope will live to beautify the structure and the landscaping. Tom is a director and officer of several banks, owns most of the real estate on Cape Cod, and is a teller of tall tales in any dialect you wish.

The two signs, and especially the final sign, which grace the mill property were made by a sign painter and artist extraordinary, one H. O. Thurston, of Centerville, a friend of long-standing.

There were many times when it seemed to me we would never finish this job; that it really was perhaps too much for us to have ever started, what with our limited knowledge and seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Somehow we all kept going, hoping that we would finally have the mill completed as we envisioned from the beginning. It reminded me of the chap who had the tiger by the tail and didn't dare let go.

This land on which we live, called Cape Cod, is visited by hundreds of tourists in the summer and dwelt upon by the year-round residents, most of whom are totally unaware of the richness of the tradition and of the way of life which is found here. This way of life is quite different than any one finds in any other part of our country. We do live close to the sea, and we have many little villages nestled around quiet, patient roads. We have innumerable ponds and lakes, and the vast seas on either side of us. Express highways bring crowds to the Cape, but there are many villages and communities not encroached upon as yet to a great degree by speed and hasty living.

Being close to Plymouth, the birthplace of liberty, and the second landing place of the Pilgrims, we, of course, are bound to history by close ties.

I think and I hope many people are becoming more and more aware of the gradual loss and decay of our historical landmarks, and my thought is to preserve the rich but dwindling heritage of our traditional land, not by or through the Federal Government or by the State Government, but by all the people in local communities through our own Town Government.

There are a few restoration projects now under way and some have been completed in the past few years. I can think quickly of the West Parish Meeting House in West Barnstable, which can be seen from the Mid-Cape Highway; the old Hoxie House in Sandwich; the Sandwich Water Mill, now being restored by the Town of Sandwich, which, by the way, has a most excellent setting at Shawme Pond, in which are reflected the tall, white buildings surrounding it; the Brewster Mill at Stony Brook, having been restored about three years ago by the Town of Brewster, where one can purchase corn meal every Saturday afternoon at twenty cents per pound.

I recently purchased some of the corn meal from the Brewster Stony Brook Mill, where it is slowly ground between old millstones, and if you have never tasted corn meal muffins made from this flour, you are in for a real treat. Ground in this manner, the corn apparently keeps the goodness and the natural nutrients of the grain. It is not processed and bleached to a point where it tastes like a blotter. It actually tastes like corn. We have also tried some of the wheat flour, and the bread made from it is something to be experienced.

Other restoration projects that come to mind are two or three windmills in Chatham and Eastham which have been restored or reproduced, and a few herring runs, but there are many other places and sites that are gradually going unless we all make some effort to preserve them.

We cannot, of course, entirely recapture the way of life in the 1800's, nor probably would we want to, but it would seem that we could preserve and keep that which was good and those methods which were efficient, employed so long ago. I don't think anyone wants to give up our electric lights for the old oil lamps, nor indoor bathrooms for the outside "privy" , but there are many things which we can learn from the old people that certainly would make our mode of living and our existence a bit more pleasant, tranquil and serene.

Although it may cost a bit more to "post and beam" a house, a bit more for a bow roof, or box returns, or dental work on the trim, I do believe that many people would really prefer this type of construction once they have seen it, and I do know that most people could afford it. I will also go farther out on a limb and say that this type of construction is actually cheaper in the long run, and the long run means the lifetime of a house.

Plymouth is now embarking on a very ambitious program of rebuilding the old "Plimouth Plantation".

I do not think that we on the Cape can do another Williamsburg, nor do I think that we should try to restore everything we find, but each town could do a little bit each year toward setting aside some of its historical treasures.

We have all kinds of beaches, public landing places, swimming pools, both public and private, for the two-week visitor in the summer, all kinds of dance halls and bowling alleys for their entertainment; but what a great wealth of information, interest, and education could be aroused through the restoration of some of the old buildings and landmarks.

The Yarmouth Historical Society, like many other similar groups, has been doing an excellent job. The Captain Bangs Hallett house has been authentically repaired, restored, and reconstructed by and through the Historical Society. Captain Bangs Hallett was one of the deep-water sailors who commanded some of the well-known clipper ships, the giants of the sea. This house is open to the public every afternoon in the summer and reflects the way of living at that time of the more well-to-do sea captains.

My idea is not to restore the Baxter Mill just as another museum which would be filled with all kinds of ancient bric-a-brac, furniture, glassware and curios for people to look at and pass by. My thought is that we should restore and reconstruct this mill, holding to exact authenticity, so that the final result would be exactly the same mill with its fundamental mechanisms and its simple dignity, and turn out the same products.

Snow and bitter weather came early to Cape Cod in December, 1960. We have always bragged about the mild winters enjoyed on the Cape, but we certainly had a real old fashioned one this year. Every Saturday it seemed that the very nastiest weather prevailed, but on Monday it was beautiful.

It was really hard work in this flume and in the wheel pit at ten and twelve above zero, notwithstanding our heavy winter clothing, but nevertheless about ten o'clock a welcome coffee break was taken. Time after time ice would form and congeal around our boots while we were working, and a penetrating, deadly chill arose from the wheel pit. I don't know how many hours were spent in breaking up the ice before we could even start to work. Fortunately, no one seemed the worse for wear.

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