Last year a friend of mine told me about the story of Shiloh in Durham, Maine, took me past the last remaining building from a strange period of Maine’s history more than a century ago and gave me the book Fair Clear and Terrible: The Story of Shiloh, Maine.
Ever since that time, I’ve been trying to tell the story here on my blog, but kept getting writer’s block when I thought about how to cover the scope of a real life story that reads far more like fiction. It starts with the conversion of a charismatic minister in 1880, and ends 40 years later when the members were finally told by their leader to go out and work. In between those years are blind faith, perceived miracles, starvation, disease, a manslaughter trial, a doomed voyage on the schooner Coronet, hardship and absolute control over his flock.
When we approached the bottom of the hill leading up to Shiloh I seriously felt an Alfred Hitchcock moment of chill when looking up at the Chapel. Even though it is a beautiful building built with the best of intentions at the time, there is an eerie feeling in its aspect. My photos show the only portion left standing of the campus, but there are some wonderful old photos of the full complex from more than 100 years ago.
When reading the book, I was also surprised to realize that even after the Scattering, many remained a part of the movement, and were buried in the Shiloh Cemetary decades later.
A summary of the story can be read here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Sandford. To really get the inside story though I recommend reading the book written by a descendant of the Shiloh family. Your best bet may be to get it at your local library, or you may find a well priced used copy through Amazon. A new copy will cost you quite a bit more. The book is Fair, Clear and Terrible by Shirley Nelson.
Although I’ve lived in Brunswick, Maine for almost 4 years now, it was just a few months ago that I finally stopped at that little pedestrian suspension bridge over the Androscoggin River. The bridge was built when the tenement housing in Brunswick (for workers of the Cabot Manufacturing textile mill – mostly immigrants from Quebec) became overcrowded. Additional housing being built in Topsham Heights required a way to cross the River when walking to work.
The walking commute would have probably been the beginning and end of a 14 hour day in a noisy dust filled mill, 6 days a week. Something to think about while I sip my coffee and wait for my computer to warm up.
Since I’m snowed in for the weekend, I’m finally starting the New Year with a long overdue blog post. This past week I visited the Victoria Mansion in Portland, decorated beautifully for the Holiday Season. My original intention was to share this visit with you through photographs, but unfortunately I found that they do not allow interior photos to be taken. When I asked a couple of volunteers why photography was not allowed, I was told:
