Ed Butcher Remembers
Ed leaned his chair back until he was propped against the front of the building at a comfortable angle. It had been almost five years since he last sat on Aunt Ella’s front porch. The view was just as he remembered it. Norridgewock Lake sparkled in the late afternoon sun. A loon surfaced and disappeared again. The low hills in the distance had that dark green glow that only unbroken forest possesses. It was good to be back.
Edwin “Ed” Butcher was born in Canada in 1872. He grew up in Beaverton, Ontario, in the countryside north of Toronto on the eastern shore of Lake Simcoe. As a young man he married Nellie White and they had a daughter, Clara. For some unknown reason Nellie abandoned Ed and Clara and moved to Buffalo, NY. Ed went to work as a molder in a steel mill in Hamilton, Ontario. His parents raised Clara. Around 1900 Ed also moved to Buffalo to try to reunite with Nellie. Apparently, they did not reconcile, but they never divorced.
Ed loved the outdoors. Sometime before 1916 he started to make frequent trips to Beaver River, perhaps lured by railroad advertisements that promised an unspoiled wilderness. He must have liked the place because he began to work there as a seasonal handyman and guide. The first report of him in Beaver River was in the fall of 1916 when he was hired as a teamster by Kip Burlingame and two friends to haul their gear to a hunting camp. By 1920 Ed had moved to Beaver River full-time. At that time, he was working as a handyman for Lou Beach at the Norridgewock II and boarding at Lou’s camp. In 1924 Ed went to work at Darrow’s Sportsman’s Lodge. He worked for Aunt Ella for the next ten years [see my post of 06/29/21 on Darrow’s].
Ed with Bea and Bernice at Whitaker's
Ed left Beaver River in 1934 because the Whitaker family, regular guests at Darrow’s Lodge, offered him a job as a handyman and gardener at their home in Unadilla, NY. By that time Ed was over 60 and glad to accept lighter work. He suspected that Aunt Ella was keeping him on more out of personal loyalty than need. The tourist business had been pretty slow for the last few years, so Ed decided to relocate to a town with slightly warmer weather.
In the summer of 1938 Ed’s two granddaughters, Bernice and Beatrice Elrick, his daughter Clara’s grown children, paid him a visit. They crossed Lake Ontario from Canada on a boat, then traveled by train to Unadilla. They spent a few days visiting with Ed at the Whitaker’s home.
 |
| Don and his boat |
The highlight of their visit, however, was a trip to Beaver River. They traveled by automobile to Stillwater where Ed’s old friend, the venerable guide Don Eighmy [pronounced “Amy”], met them with his motorboat and ferried them up the reservoir to the dock at Grassy Point. They rode in his horse and buggy the last mile and a half to Darrow’s. After they got settled in their rooms, Bernice and Beatrice headed out for a walk while Don drove his rig back to his camp.
 |
| Darrow's Footbridge |
He waved to the young women as they hurried up the path to join him on the porch. Aunt Ella, hearing female voices, came out with three big glasses of her famous homemade root beer. She announced that supper would be served in half an hour and returned to the kitchen.
“What a wonderful place this is, Grandpa,” said Bernice. “It’s so quiet and beautiful. Did you live here at Darrow’s the whole time?”
“Not the whole time. When I came to Beaver River for the summer of 1916, I stayed here, but I wasn’t sure that I could afford it if I ever moved out here permanently. The next summer Lou Beach offered me work at his hotel and he let me stay in a spare room in his camp as part of my pay. That allowed me to save some money, so I bought a small piece of land and built my own cabin.”
“Where was your cabin, Grandpa?”
“Well, if you walk down to the shore, just over there, you could throw a stone down my chimney.” Ed pointed to a calm stretch of water just northeast of Darrow’s Island.
“See, when the State built the reservoir, the higher water totally flooded my lot. They offered me money for the land, but I refused to sell. It cost five years of my savings to build that camp. The state wouldn’t give me a penny for the buildings. They just forced me off. Sure, they paid for the land, a bit more than what I had paid, but my savings were mostly in the buildings. The whole thing still makes me angry.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? I didn’t have the money to move my buildings like some did. Lucky for me, Aunt Ella came to my rescue. You see, her husband Burt died in 1924, so Ella needed help running this place. I’d done some work for her over the years. Ella hired me and gave me a place to live. She also needed building materials. That bridge down there has some pieces of my old camp in it. The better pieces, doors, windows, boards and such, they were used to expand this building. Ella paid me for the materials we used. I burned everything we didn’t need.”
The floating bridge creaked. It was Don Eighmy come to join them for supper. Ed called out, “Hey, old buddy, come sit for a bit. Ella’s just getting our supper.”
 |
| Ed and Don at Beaver River |
Bea pulled her Brownie camera out of her bag. She got the two friends to pose for her in front of the porch. Before long, Aunt Ella called them in. The big table in the dining room was set for five. Aunt Ella’s usual place was at the end of the table closest to the kitchen. There was a big platter of fried trout with mashed potatoes, boiled turnips and string beans from the garden. After they were pleasantly full, Aunt Ella brought out a freshly baked wild blueberry pie. Ed loved Ella’s cooking. He somehow found room for a second piece of pie.
Everybody carried their dishes back to the kitchen, then they all gathered in the front parlor. Ella served some strong, boiled coffee and a plate of ginger snaps. Bea, ever the polite one, asked Don how he happened to come to Beaver River.
“I came out here way back in 1902. There weren’t many folks here at the time, but sports were getting off the train every day looking for guides. I knew Burt Darrow and his brother Percy from down home. We three decided it might be fun to come up here to work as guides. We didn’t know much about guiding, but we knew more than those city men. There was plenty of work for all of us so we built our first cabin and stayed. It was hard sometimes but it sure paid better than farming. Been here ever since.”
Ella smiled at this and added, “I would never have ended up here if it were not for Don. He often guided for my brother George who brought me up here with his family about 1911. Don introduced me to Burt. It was love at first sight. We were married the next summer.”
Aunt Ella Darrow
These fond memories set Ed, Don and Ella down the road of recollection. It was a long road full of people and events that Bea and Bernice knew nothing about. They tried to look interested, but were actually trying to think of a way to change the subject.
“Beaver River is so far from everywhere,” Bea finally managed to say during a break in the conversation. “Don’t you ever wish there were more to do?”
“We have plenty to do,” Ella replied with a sly smile. “If we need something, there’s always the train. Besides, we live here because we love the quiet of the woods and water.”
“That’s right,” Ed nodded. “I love every corner of this place, always have. Sort of wish I still lived here. It’s calm, quiet and a good place to sit and think.”
“Yep, that’s right. It’s always nice and quiet around here,” Ella remarked, “that is except for during 1923 and ‘24 when all those hundreds of lumberjacks showed up to cut the trees and brush off the places the reservoir was going to flood. They came here from all over the north woods, even Canada. For a little while it was plenty interesting around here.”
“You can say that, again,” Ed added. “Who could forget that crazy guy everybody called Tennessee. I never knew his real name.” Turning his attention to his granddaughters, he continued, “See, that guy was a heavy drinker and when he got drunk, he turned mean. One day, October 1923 I think it was, he picked a fight in the Norridgewock. When Walter Thompson threw him out, he stumbled back to his room and got his .45 revolver. He came back and started wildly firing at the hotel. One shot barely missed William Brown who was stacking wood outside Maude Lang’s boarding house. The next shot just missed hitting Maud. He shot at everything in sight, but luckily no one got hurt. The troopers hauled him away after he ran out of ammo. Never heard what happened to him.”
Don nodded, “His real name was John Trimble. A friend of mine told me he was a World War vet. He was never quite right in the head after the war. I heard he spent some time in jail then headed back down south. Never showed up here again, that’s for sure.”
Bernice was interested now. “You say he got drunk, but wasn’t prohibition on then?”
Ed, Don and Ella all laughed at once. “Sure,” Ed explained, “it was prohibition everywhere else, but not here. Later that October, after Tennessee had shot up the place, the feds came to town and arrested Harry Smith and Charley Ellerby for selling illegal alcohol. They both ran what we called “lunchrooms,” but they were really just saloons. They paid fines, I think, and came right back and resumed business. Charley brewed his own beer out at Big Moose. The hard stuff was smuggled in on the train. That didn’t stop until the troopers started to search the luggage of passengers as they were getting off the train.”
“That’s right,” Ella added. “I did my best to keep the worst drunks out of here, but it was near impossible, what with all those wild lumberjacks everywhere. If they wanted to drink, they would drink. Harry and Charley weren’t the only ones selling booze, you know.”
“Gosh, it sounds quite horrible,” Bernice interjected. “How did you stand it?”
“It wasn’t like that most of the time,” Ed continued. “The lumberjacks only came to town on their days off. There was a bit of commotion then, with dozens of loggers everywhere looking for something to do. There was the occasional fist fight, too, nothing all that serious.”
“That’s right,” Don agreed. “It was mostly just guys blowing off steam. They had their fun and we just watched from the sidelines. Besides, they brought more business to town than we had ever seen before. I worked every day either guiding those fellas or helping Ella.”
“That’s true, it was really the best of times for us,” said Ella. “This place was completely full for almost two years straight, even with the new addition. Never was so busy before or since. My oven was hot day and night, what with cooking for boarders and baking bread, pies and cookies for the logging camps.”
“Was there any more trouble with the lumberjacks, Granddad?” Bea asked.
“Not too much. The troopers spread the word that if the guys selling booze didn’t keep a lid on things there would be more raids. Two troopers even stayed at the Norridgewock and made a point of walking around in uniform to see things didn’t get out of hand.”
“Yea, things generally calmed down quite a bit,” Don agreed, “but then there was that big fracas out at a lumber camp in May of 1924. Remember, some logger was reported to have been stabbed to death. When the troopers arrived at the camp to investigate, the loggers started a free-for-all fight that lasted from noon to midnight before order was restored. I heard that dozens of loggers were either stabbed or hit on the head with bottles. They never did arrest anybody.”
“I almost forgot about that,” Ed noted. “It happened while I was guiding some fellows fishing on Salmon Lake up the Red Horse Chain. It was near the end of the work clearing the reservoir basin. Many of the loggers had left already, but a few crews were still clearing and burning brush. Some were planting trees around the new shoreline. By that August they were all gone and the place started to get quiet again.”
It was late. Both young women tried but failed to suppress yawns. Don took the hint and said goodnight after arranging to meet them the next morning to take them back to their auto at Stillwater. Bernice went into the kitchen with Aunt Ella to help wash the dishes. Bea and Ed stepped outside for a minute. It was a cool night, no moon, sky pitch black. Bea had never seen so many stars.
Aunt Ella fixed a hearty pancake breakfast for them early the next morning. They left their packed their bags on the porch and walked into town. Ed wanted to visit a bit with some of his old friends and introduce them to his granddaughters.
First, they went to the train depot where they talked with Bill Partridge, the station agent, and his wife Ethel. While they were there Etta Kempton came in to pick up the mailbag from the morning train. Everyone knew and liked Etta. She had been the Postmaster for the place since 1917. Next, they walked over to the Norridgewock Hotel. Clint Thompson showed the young women through the whole place. Then they went across the road to the store in the Annex where Gladys Thompson sold them some sweets. Gladys talked with Bea about photography, since it was her hobby too. Finally, they paid a call on Mabel Conkey who insisted they sit down for some tea. Ed had hoped to see his old friend Dave Conkey, the local Forest Ranger, but Dave had gone over to check on things at the Stillwater fire tower [see my post of 03/26/22 on the Conkeys].
It was time to go. They went back to Darrow’s, said their goodbyes to Aunt Ella, climbed into Don’s buggy and headed home. Ed Butcher never returned to Beaver River Station. He died at his daughter Clara’s home in Toronto on July 29, 1946 and is buried in the Stone Church Cemetery in his home town of Beaverton, Ontario.
 |
| Ed in his garden |
Sources:
The sepia photos in this post were taken in 1938 by Beatrice Elrick, used courtesy of Pat Hartman and Ed Butcher’s great-grandchildren.
Information on the life of Edwin Butcher is primarily from Pat Hartman, “A Butcher in Beaver River: Edwin Butcher in the Adirondacks,” self-published, 2017. Ms. Hartman’s husband is a direct descendent of Edwin Butcher.
The photos of Darrow’s footbridge and of Aunt Ella Darrow are from Pat Thompson, Beaver River: Oasis in the Wilderness, Beaver River Press, 2000.
Information on illegal activities in Beaver River in 1923 – 1924 is from Peg Masters, “Wild, Wild Beaver River” in Wicked Herkimer County, pp. 86 – 90, Caryl Hopson and Susan R. Perkins, Editors, History Press, 2021.
Other sources consulted:
W. B. Donnelly, A Short History of Beaver River, Beaver River Property Owners Association, 1979.
William R. Marleau, Big Moose Station: A Story From 1893 to 1983, Marleau Family Press, 1986.
Comments
Post a Comment