by Barbara Rimkunas

This “Historically Speaking” column was published in the Exeter News-Letter on Friday, February 12.2016.

Buried on the last pages of the Exeter News-Letter in late January of 1834, was the following notice: “At the request of a number of Gentlemen of this town, notice is hereby given that a meeting will be held at the Court-House, on Thursday evening…for the purpose of organizing a Lyceum in this town.” It was buried so deeply that the editor felt impelled to add another notice to draw attention to the first notice, “We ask the attention of our readers in Exeter, to a notice in another column, on the subject of forming a Lyceum in this village.” What’s the big deal? And what was a ‘lyceum,’ anyway?

A few weeks ago, I encountered, a young child and his adult walking towards me on the sidewalk. As we drew nearer, the little boy – unprompted – pulled the loops of his face mask up over his ears, covering his nose and mouth completely. Then he waved happily, and we kept walking. This is everyday life during the 2020 pandemic. I couldn’t get my own kids to even wear mittens, but somehow this little guy knows that he needs to wear his face mask. It’s a temporary measure (we hope), but it makes one wonder about hygiene and public health and how things have changed over the years.

In late October of 1920, the Exeter News-Letter noted: “Visitors in Exeter are two former residents, Mrs. J.P. Emerson and her daughter, Mrs. J.H. Gay, of San Diego, California.” To better identify these married ladies, the notice continued, “As Miss Jennette P. Talbot, the latter graduated in 1893 from Robinson Seminary, in which she retains keen interest.” The mother and daughter, who most Exeter residents knew as Jeannette and Jennette Talbot, were visiting during a crucial year for women. In just a few weeks, the nation’s women would be casting their ballots for the first time in a presidential election.

George Dearborn was never described as an ordinary man. Accounts of him, written later in his life, describe him as eccentric. He was born in 1815, along with his twin brother, into a large family. His father, Freese Dearborn, was from Hampton, but had deep roots in Exeter. The family’s emigrant ancestor, Godfrey Dearborn, had arrived with the Reverend John Wheelwright in 1638. Freese moved his family from Hampton to Exeter around 1802, and long served as the town jailor. It must have caused some excitement when twin boys were born. Freese Dearborn celebrated the birth by naming his sons George Washington Dearborn and John Adams Dearborn.

As we approach Halloween, let's take a look at an intricate set of mourning jewelry from our collections. These drop earrings and brooch, dating to 1844, are made from braided human hair, and were created in memory of Mary Anne Martin Lovering.

If ever there was a chaotic election, it was 1860. The United States was walking the plank towards disunion, although they didn’t realize it at the time, and the political parties, well, let’s just say they weren’t what they used to be.

Exeter’s men found themselves conflicted when facing the election. There were still a lot of Democrats in town, but Abraham Lincoln had made an impressive speech at the town hall in early March promoting free soil. He’d won over a lot of voters. But then again, the Douglas’s Democrats were offering popular sovereignty to the new territories – allowing the population out there to decide whether to be a free or slave state seemed pretty darn fair. And, of course, maybe all this talk about slavery, abolition, nullification, and possible secession were just distractions from real honest American government. Hrumph. Hrumph. Who could make sense of all this?

The Dickey-Lincoln School dam project, first proposed in 1965, seemed like the answer to Maine’s energy needs. Funded by the U.S. government, it would have produced 1.45 million kilowatts of energy annually when at full capacity. The trade-off (because there’s always a trade-off) was the destruction of 88,000 acres of Maine forest, and the removal of several small logging communities. The plan was deauthorized after twenty years of haggling when a small plant, the Furbish lousewort – long thought to be extinct – was discovered to be thriving on the proposed site.

In May of 1896, Sarah Clark, the ever-diligent treasurer of the Union Five Cents Savings Bank, puzzled over a small town account. It had grown, over the previous decades, from $500.00 to $583.38. What was the money for, she inquired of selectman B. Judson Perkins. Perkins, and the other Exeter town selectmen, had no idea and hadn’t been aware the money existed. The Exeter News-Letter later reported, “it was finally explained by ex-Town Clerk (William) Belknap, who recalled the fact that many years ago the town had received from one Kate Holland a bequest, of which the income should benefit deserving colored residents.” The money was withdrawn and reinvested (most likely at Clark’s recommendation) into a municipal bond. The accrued income was split evenly between two Exeter women; Annie Scott, a widow, and Rebecca Walker, recently divorced with a blind daughter in need of care. The trust fund was dubbed the “Kate Holland Fund” in honor of its benefactor. The trust fund still exists and is occasionally awarded.

The first week of August in 1917 brought with it a five-day heat wave. “Saturday and Sunday were delightful,” reported the Exeter News-Letter, then began a period of extreme heat, the 2 pm temperature at Boston on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday having been 98. These figures doubtless approximately correct for Exeter, are official and taken in absolute shade and away from the reflected heat of streets and buildings.” Twenty year old Betty Tufts was home, working on her Victory garden on Pine Street. She noted the heat in her diary, “HOT! 92 degrees late afternoon on front piazza.” Through the hot days, a long line of mules slowly made their way to Exeter. The Borax 20-Mule Team was on an advertising junket across the northeast.

In 1974, an athletic shoe company called Blue Ribbon Sports began to seriously pursue a location in Exeter. The old Wise Shoe Shop, on Front Street, had been vacant for nearly two years after losing business to foreign imports. Blue Ribbon, itself an importer of Japanese shoes, seemed interested in creating its own product – some of which would be produced in the United States. That firm would rebrand itself as Nike and the plant on Front Street would become its first stateside factory.