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LEGISLATIVE
LUMINARIES
LEGISLATIVE
LUMINARIES
BY
HARRY C. SHAW
1910
The Vermont Printing Company
Brattle&oroi
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PUBLIC UBSAITi
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TILDEN FCL
The following Sketches appeared m
The Brattleboro Reformer
during the session of the
Vermont Legislature
in IQIO-II
R
1919
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CONTENTS
11 PLAIN JIM KENNEDY - - James E. Kennedy
19 A REAL ROMEO - - Romeo A. Norton
27 AN ESSEX COUNTY REGULAR Harry B. Amey
35 HIS FATHER'S SON - Russell S. Page
43 A MAN WITH A HABIT Allen M. Fletcher
51 A TALL TIMBER PRODUCT Willard J. Boyce
59 EDWARD THE QUIET Edward H. Edgerton
67 ENERGY PERSONIFIED - Howard E. Shaw
75 A SINCERE ADDISONIAN - - John W. Pitridge
83 A SOMETIME SPEAKER - Charles A. Plumley
91 A YANKEE ARISTOCRAT - Henry T. Cutts
99 A GILT-EDGED ONE Franklin G. Butterfield
107 A MIGHTY HUNTER - Marvin J. Howard
115 ANOTHER UNOSTENTATIOUS
SENATOR Lewis M. Seaver
123 IVES Morton A. Ives
129 A DEMOCRATIC DEMOCRAT - Nial Bemis
"O, wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursel's as ithers see us;
It wad f rae mony a blunder free us.
And foolish notion." — Burnt.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
'He came 1o Vermont from New
York State in l8Q2. '
PLAIN JIM KENNEDY
WILLISTON, once the home of
bovine tuberculosis and likewise
the abiding place of Albert L.
Bingham, the dispenser of physic, is loyal
to the boys who make good. When a Wil-
liston man gets the high sign in the legis-
lature and his speech receives mention in
the Richford Journal's special legislative
letter the member doesn't faint or ask for
a drink. That section of Chittenden
county is radically different from the rest
of the county. One never hears about
Williston men making spread eagles on
the floor of the house. They do a bit of
quiet work in committee and if the re-
porters hear about it it is through some
third person. The purebred Willistonite
is shy. The only thing that will arouse
one of these pink-blooded citizens is an
inquiry whether bovine tuberculosis has
been stamped out. You will find an
12 Plain Jim Kennedy
answer coming and even that youthful
looking slip of a democrat, James E.
Kennedy, will rise up to his full height
and look you through and through, and
through again.
Get acquainted with Mr. Kennedy.
Don't call him Mr. unless you meet him
in the rotunda ladies' week. He is just
plain Jim, the plainest kind of a Jim you
ever met. You can borrow money in mod-
erate quantities from James and also draw
upon him for advice and assistance but
you can't hand him any moth-eaten dope
about the republican halos which have
been worn out in the line of duty. Not a
bit of it, Jim isn't a democrat afflicted
with jimburkeitis to the point that there
isn't a serum which will afford him re-
lief. He is one of the greatest readers in
the state of Vermont. He reads the entire
list of the Essex syndicate and more. He
can tell you what is being done for the
good of mankind in Bennington and Es-
sex counties. He is the best listener in
either branch of the assembly this session.
Plain Jim Kennedy 13
But you have got to tell a story with a
point to it and also tell it in a way that
will be of human interest else James won't
wreathe his physiognomy with a grin.
A good story may be used to illustrate
a point if you are endeavoring to convert
Kennedy. Don't attempt to hand him any
worn-out Joe Miller for he will spot it
and do it quick. James was once employed
by the Central Vermont railroad. That
was before the C. V. paid such princely
salaries. From 1892 to 1900 he was the
man in charge of the station at Williston.
Many streaks of bad luck date from 1900
but not for James E. Kennedy. Jimmie
has been coming along fast since he
landed in Williston in 1892 to work for
the C. V. railroad. He was postmaster
and selectman before he ambled across
the line into the white light in 1908. James
is not a member of F. E. Burgess's politi-
cal cabinet. He is, however, good with
L. M. Hays. If it hadn't been for Hays in
1908 James might not have won a seat in
the upper branch as easily as he did. That
14 Plain Jim Kennedy
was the year that Williston stood best with
three men in the assembly. Jim was one
of them and he has "come back.71
There is about the same amount of
meat on Jim Kennedy as there is on the
back of George Stratton's neck. It is a
pleasure to talk with Kennedy about a
matter in which he is interested. He will
tell you 100 of the strong points of the
proposition and consume about four
minutes of your time. If the proposition
doesn't appeal to him he will keep mum
and let you do the talking. He can look
you right in the eye and act as though he
was vitally interested in what you are say-
ing and at the same time he will be won-
dering if you are about ready to ring off.
Jimmy is a cannie one. He can fool the
best of them. He is one of the bunch this
year that "Brun" Stickney can't fool; nor
can Charlie Witters hand Jim any gauzy
vocalizations about what the railroads are
doing for humanity — especially between
Cambridge Junction and Essex Junction.
Kennedy will listen to the railroad's
Plain Jim Kennedy 15
side of the story and as he is an old rail-
roader he will know how much of the
story is real and just where the soft pedal
should be applied. Kennedy needn't be
distrusted even though he once earned his
sustenance by working for the Central
Vermont. Jim Kennedy would make a
member of the public service commission
that would add strength to that organiza-
tion. If Governor Mead is looking for
an opportunity to name a worker on the
commission this year Jimmie Kennedy is
the man to take measurement of. James
is a democrat and it's a democrat that will
get the high sign this year as Eli Porter
is expected to walk the plank. And if Eli
doesn't receive a reappointment Jim Ken-
nedy is as good a man as can be found in
Vermont for the job.
Kennedy is 40 years old but he doesn't
look it. His clothes are of the quiet sort.
He came to Vermont from York state in
1892. He doesn't possess a parchment
done in Latin but he is in possession of
sufficient knowledge of everyday matters
16 Plain Jim Kennedy
to make him in the legislature just what
he is in his home town — a valuable asset.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
riLDEW FOUNDATIONS
Whether he wants to be side judge
or a member of the upper house,
he saith not.''
r ~^O
Tih
A REAL ROMEO
take the crumbs that fall from
the political table and grin good
naturedly is a harder stunt than it
might seem to the uninitiated. In Chit-
tenden county the best pieces from the
pork barrel invariably go to Burlington,
and the Queen City also insists on having
the top layer from the cream pot. As Bur-
lington gets practically everything that it
wants such parts of the county as St.
George and Huntington must be content
with what's left. While the ordinary
Chittenden county aspirant would con-
sider the job of high bailiff mighty small
potatoes, not so with the stalwart son of
Huntington who for nearly 15 summers
and as many winters has performed the
arduous duties of that office.
Back in the days when the old chieftain,
Senator Proctor, was the man with his
hand on the helm, this Huntington patriot
20 A Real Romeo
offered his services to his county and for
many years bore the distinction of having
his name on the Proctor mailing list. This
list was used in sending out onion and
marigold seeds from Washington, and its
names included the strong men of those
days. Olin Merrill, Gov. E. C. Smith,
Frank Partridge and Romeo A. Norton
were on it. Olin, Ed, and Frank did not
receive a package of turnip seeds along
with their annual letter from Senator
Proctor. That is where Romeo Ambitious
Norton was one to the best on the rest of
the bunch. Romeo did not attempt to
crowd or to jostle the rest of the mob. See
where he has landed after 14 years of
hard labor. Merrill, Smith and Partridge
have been counted into the discard and
Romeo, the bright star of the sidehill sec-
tion of Chittenden county, is just coming
above the horizon.
To say that Romeo had partaken only
of crumbs would hardly be fair to this
son of Huntington. Romeo was born in
A Real Romeo 21
Huntington. If you want to know the rea-
son ask him. It's no secret. For 16 years
he wore the big nickle-plated badge of a
deputy sheriff of Chittenden county and
there are many men with a recollection of
Romeo's administration. Even through
all those strenuous years as a deputy in
the squirrel belt Romeo would not permit
the county's welfare to be put ahead of
the welfare of his town. He has found
time every Sunday for a good many years
to attend the First Baptist church. He
used to be the superintendent of the Sun-
day school in that church before the cares
of politics hung so heavily upon him.
Romeo is not an old man by any means.
But he doesn't stand on the corner (at
Huntington Centre) and shout out that
he is 53 years old. Romeo keeps his coun-
sel as to his age and he keeps his counsel
as to his ambitions in a political way.
Years ago when R. A. Norton was lay-
ing the foundation for his career as a
public servant he formed the habit of re-
fusing to use the hammer on any one. Be-
22 A Reed Romeo
fore the wise ones knew what had hap-
pened Romie had secured possession of
the gavel and his name appeared in the
annual town report as moderator. The
climb was not without stumbling stones.
He has been a selectman, lister and a few
other things. For 20 years Romie has had
a hankering to sit in the halls of the law-
makers, and in September he started out
to see what he could do toward breaking
into the light. It took Romeo several
hours to mold sentiment in the way that
it had to be shaped if he was to be the
man to represent Huntington in the gen-
eral assembly. While some of the other
fellows went out and indulged in talking
it over Romeo converted a few more of
his townsmen. Five attempts with the
ballots were required before Romeo Am-
bitious Norton had reached the top of his
dream ladder.
Some day when Romeo has forgotten
the pains and penalties of being a maker
of laws he will make another stab for
glory. Whether he wants to be side judge
A Real Romeo 23
or a member of the upper house he saith
not. Romeo is not one of those canny
gazabes who endeavor to harmonize their
gaze and the landscape into a picture of
wisdom. He knows lots of things and
there are a number of hundred million
things he does not know and he knows
that he doesn't know them. Romeo A.
Norton is one of the most interesting men
that you would run across in a tour from
Canaan to Pownal. He reads considera-
ble and has had his picture in the papers
before. He is not afflicted with stage
fright. If it should become necessary to
arrest the high sheriff of Chittenden
county this afternoon a message to Romeo
in his seat at the capitol would start him
toward the land of the Southwicks,
Burkes, Van Pattens, Dorns, Delaneys,
and Woodburys. With his badge of high
bailiff pinned upon his left breast he
would take the sheriff into custody. That
is Romeo's job. He is also representative
from Huntington. He has a telephone,
and the rural free delivery keeps him in
24 A Real Romeo
touch with the outside world. While he
looks as though he was of the same politi-
cal faith as Jim Kennedy, Romeo A. is a
thoroughbred republican. He votes the
ticket straight and the welfare of the
party will always have a place in his mind
whether he holds the office of road com-
missioner in Huntington or is made a
colonel on Governor Fletcher's staff in
1912.
~
THE M'W
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TfLDLN FOUNDATIONS
(t
He plans the day' s work while
dressing for breakfast.''
AN ESSEX COUNTY
REGULAR
FROM the land where the screech-
owl causes no tremor to travel along
the spines of the natives and where it
is quite the correct thing to wear a skunk-
skinlining to yourwaistcoat there occasion-
ally comes a twinkler. Once in two years
Essex county looks over the inventory,
selects something in the line of illumina-
tion and furnishes him with the credentials
that permit him to sit in the halls of the
wise men at Montpelier. When it became
known that Porter H. Dale of Island
Pond intended to visit Montpelier in the
guise of a member of the north end of the
general assembly there were a lot of mis-
guided individuals in Vermont who im-
mediately began to wail that Essex county
had reached the end of the rope and that
with P. Dale the tribe of wise guys be-
came extinct.
28 An Essex County Regular
There isn't any doubt about the brand
of wisdom that P. Dale is inoculated
with. However, this story deals with an-
other brand — the Harry B. Amey brand.
Essex county has contributed all kinds of
wisdom from the Gallup brand produced
in Victory to the M. D. Scott type from
Beecher Falls. The Amey brand is the
kind that leaves its impress. The P. Hun-
gry Dale brand also left its impress —
upon the federal treasury.
Harry B. Amey is one of those quiet in-
dividuals who plan the day's work while
dressing for breakfast. He doesn't stick
for a breakfast jacket and his waistcoats
and jewelry are not sufficiently noisy to
create a disturbance in church. Harry
lives back where the air is laden with the
odor of balsam and where the all-over
hat doesn't set the world to moving back-
wards. However, Harry B. knows a whole
lot about what to do and how to do it
when he finds himself on Broadway. Lob-
sters with their husks on don't phase
Harry. Harry ate them with and without
An Essex County Regular 29
years ago and he cut his eye teeth regard-
ing the better known labels long before
he left college. With the class of 1894
Harry B. Amey went away from Dart-
mouth college ready to do things. Many
of his classmates sallied forth and stood
where the calcium casts its brightest rays
but Harry decided that there was a chance
to make a living and a clean one in Essex
county even though the rays of greatness
that one might radiate would not rival in
brilliance those thrown of! by some of the
six-cylinder specimens whose papas were
afflicted with overgrown bank accounts.
Early in his career Harry Amey be-
came stricken with an attack of working
for a living and it begins to look as though
he would continue to work until he gets
the bell for the final curtain. Harry isn't
handsome, though he was called the hand-
somest baby ever born at the time of the
event. One might easily mistake him for
a humorist from his facial architecture,
but a two-minute conversation with the
member from Brighton will convince you
30 An Essex County Regular
that he is a very serious individual. He is
a lawyer and as lawyers are not supposed
to talk except for money Mr. Amey need
not be expected to become over-voluble
except in a professional way. His career
as a public servant has been brief. He has
held the job of state's attorney in Essex
county for a few terms, but that doesn't
overburden a man. There is always time
for the state's attorney of Essex county to
eat his meals. Folks drink "split" in Es-
sex county and consequently are afflicted
with only one kind of intoxication — blind
drunkenness. A few of the citizens run
amuck occasionally and aside from such
slight ripples the social life of the tall
timber county is seldom disturbed.
It is there that the original germ of
absentmindiphobia breeds. When Harry
B. Amey was elected by the freemen ot
Brighton a representative to the general
assembly the town clerk gave him a cre-
dential entitling him to participate in the
biennial lawmaking fiesta. Harry evi-
dently thought the document was a testi-
An Essex County Regular 31
monial of esteem or some sort of a memo-
rial and hid it in the leg of an old boot or
in the refrigerator. When Amey arrived
in Oniontown to find that he was minus
his title to the rockpile on the hill he
kicked himself and wondered what the
world would think of Brighton's member.
Generally Mr. Amey isn't absentminded.
His office equipment contains all of the
newfangled labor-saving devices, includ-
ing a private secretary by the name of
J. R. Corbett. Corbett has been attached
to the committee on revision of bills, as
a secretary or companion to the clerk,
W. A. Dutton of Hardwick. The clerk of
the committee is entitled to a companion.
Amey was sized up about right by Speaker
Howe and his appointment as chairman
of the committee on appropriations means
that the committee will have to be shown
before Harry and his associates will
approve of using the state's money.
While Amey is of the present genera-
tion he isn't inclined to rend things into
small strips. He cannot be rung in on the
32 An Essex County Regular
insurgents' firing line. Not a bit of it.
H. B. Amey is regular. Like all other
Essex county politicians he plays the
game strictly according to Hoyle. Harry
never attempts any fake plays. Some day
he will be given a chance to step against
the ration table of the federal govern-
ment.
THE NE'W YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR. LENOX
TfLDEN FOUNDATION-
As impervious to flattery as a piece
of granite is to water.'
HIS FATHER'S SON
I
THERE is no end of luminous ones in
Lamoille county. Some of them are
the kind that shine in the dark only,
and there are those that must needs have a
coat of lacquer applied regularly lest their
brightness become dimmed. One natur-
ally thinks of the top-of-the-ladder speci-
mens when talking about luminaries and
it is right there that the member from
Hyde Park is prepared to greet you. His
father is a United States senator, but it
doesn't afflict him with a swollen sweat
band in his headgear. "Russ" Page is rep-
resenting the town of Hyde Park in the
general assembly and his mind is on his
business. He is as impervious to flattery
as a piece of granite is to water. There
hasn't been a man in the legislature of
Vermont for a quarter of a century that
could take up a bill and consider it from
the cold-blooded standpoint that "Russ"
can.
36 His Father's Son
His father is a politician, but R. S.
Page thinks about the business end of a
proposition first. He doesn't care any
more about the glory that attaches to the
job of representing the town of Hyde
Park than he does about the fact that he
can grade calfskins with any man in his
father's establishment. If there is one man
in Vermont sufficiently primed with ini-
tiative it is this same quiet business man
from the Lamoille valley. You would im-
agine to look at him that he wasn't given
to smiling. Wait until Yale plays Har-
vard. Then Mr. Page lays business cares
aside and what he doesn't do in the noise
line isn't worth mentioning. He is in-
tense. Whether it's watching a football
game or selling a man a carload of calf-
skins, R. S. Page is always strictly on his
job. You can tell your story to this man of
business, but if you want him to listen
until you finish just leave out the "says I,
says he" trimmings.
Page is somewhat of a lawyer. He
knows more about the law of business
His Father's Son 37
than a big bunch of men who write "at-
torney-at-law" after their name. He can
draw a contract that will hold water and
also hold the parties making it. He can
look over a flock of sheep and it requires
a pretty good Yankee to beat "Russ" in
the transaction of buying or selling the
flock. Page is a born trader. He doesn't
play with the commodities dealt in by
Wall Street merchants, but he will buy
40 thousand of second-hand bricks, 14
carloads of sugar barrels, or 75 tons of
old iron. If you happen to have all of this
collateral R. S. Page will buy it and give
you his check then and there. That's his
long suit, paying cash down and taking
his discount. Did you ever receive a let-
ter from his father? They are of the kind
that makes you think life is to be always
June and October. Page, the young man,
writes letters — tens of thousands every
year — but every sentence carries the fact
that he is either attempting to sell you
something or to buy something. No frills
in a letter from R. S. P.
38 His Fathers Son
He is armed with a college education
secured at the University of Vermont,
and he knocked off the rough edges left
after graduation by a trip to Europe.
There are lots of things that R. S. Page
does not know and there are also scores
of things that he does know. He can take
the afternoon off and do a 50-mile spin in
his auto, but he manages to be back on the
job to sign the checks for a few thousand
dollars before his office force closes up
shop for the day. He may always be relied
upon to know the amount of his bank bal-
ance every morning before he does any
stunts in spending. In short, Page, the
member from Hyde Park, is a thorough-
bred business man and as a member of the
joint committee on temperance he will be
able to look at the liquor question from an
unbiased viewpoint.
Details to R. S. Page mean everything.
He has been brought up in an atmosphere
reeking with details. Cost systems, card
indexes, and miles of letter files surround
him in his office at home. He has been
His Fathers Son 39
educated to know why a thing is done be-
fore it is done, and "Russ" will expect to
be shown why a measure should pass be-
fore he will do anything like lifting.
Some people may imagine that being
Senator Page's son, R. S. Page will natur-
ally take instructions from his "guvnor."
Not so. Russell S. Page relies entirely
upon his own judgment. If there is one
man in Vermont that Senator Page can-
not apply fine Italian hand methods upon
with success it is his son, Russell. The sena-
tor is a pretty good politician, but he has
got to show his offspring where the latter
is to get off before the said offspring turns
any cartwheels in favor of the measure or
matter advocated by the pater. They are
always good chums, yet the boy is just as
cool-blooded when handing out a business
proposition to his father as he would be
to anyone else.
He was born in Hyde Park and while
his father has a big bank roll you won't
find a more democratic individual than
Page Jr.
THE NEW VORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LEf^OX
TIL D E N FG L: i : D , T ; |x! .
None wear their raiment with less
noise than the member from
Cavendish. '
A MAN WITH A HABIT
r | O come back and do it to the satis-
I faction of the neighbors is no small
task. That it can be done and done
again and again is proven by Windsor
county which sends up to the general as-
sembly a specimen of seasoned legislative
timber session after session. There are a
lot of correctly garbed members of the
lower house at Montpelier this year but
none that wear their raiment with less
noise than does the member from Caven-
dish. It's the same with his official
duties. This presumed-to-be candidate
for governor while keeping one of his
optics on the main chance is always alive
to the significance of the legislation being
enacted and it is considered a task to get
anything past the Cavendish man unless
it bears the label of regularity. While
he keeps his mind on the fact that he
would like to be the next governor he is
44 A Man With A Habit
alert also to the fact that he is the repre-
sentative of one particular town.
It was in 1902 that Allen M. Fletcher
blossomed out as a maker of laws. It was
his first taste and it tickled him to the
extent that he has been coming back
ever since. In 1904 he went to Montpel-
ier as an upper house man from Windsor
county. Then he got the habit and it has
stuck to him as though he was made of
gum tragacanth. In 1906 he was pointed
out as a come-back and two years later he
was tagged as a veteran. He is back again
this year and following the same tactics
as of yore. As tactics go his are not of the
sort to attract attention. However that
is his game. He is not given to making a
noise but he does desire to attract atten-
tion to the ambition he carries concealed
beneath his waistcoat. While other men
wear their hats on the back of their heads,
carry cigars at 45-degree angles and ex-
pectorate on the marble floor of the
Heaphy palace at Montpelier, Mr. Flet-
cher stands and gazes at the throng. He
A Man With A Habit 45
wonders how man'y of them can be relied
upon to lift good and plenty when the roll
of the state convention is called in June
1912.
When Fletcher came upon the scene in
1902 even such \vise ones as "Curt" Emery
and "Hod" Bailey, both members of that
memorable session, failed to notice until
it was over that another star had been
added to the galaxy of republican strong
men. Both Bailey and Emery took to
themselves of the glory of that session
all that the rules and the statutes allow,
but a man by the name of Fletcher got
honorable mention during the making of
the famous booze law. Up to that year
it had been one of the most heinous of
offences against the peace and dignity of
the state to be found with wine in one's
possession. Then came Clement, the in-
surgent, and proposed to allow the sale
of red liquor in Vermont by statute if
the people of any particular town should
so vote. "Joe" Battell and "Hod" Bailey
went after Clement's scalp and also after
46 A Man With A Habit
the scalp of any member who dared to sus-
tain the contention that it was not a crime
to drink a glass of beer. The records
show that Fletcher was inclined to give
Vermonters a chance to drink in the open,
despite the opposition of his colleagues.
That's what a birthplace in Indiana will
do for a man. Fletcher was born in In-
dianapolis and came to Cavendish in 1881.
If you should look up his autobiography
in the Who Will Be Who of Vermont
you will find Allen M. Fletcher listed as
a farmer. He does own one of the best
farms to be found in Windsor county, but
he makes more money from the increase
in value of railroad stocks than he does
from onions, oats or alfalfa.
He likes, however, to be called a farm-
er. A farmer governor sounds better for
Vermont than does a capitalist governor.
Fletcher wants to be governor and each
two years he adds to his acquaintance list
by attending the legislature. He may not
make as many friends per annum as some
of the higher-geared individuals but he
A Man With A Habit 47
certainly does not make enemies. Go
where you will in Vermont and you won't
hear a man speak ill of Allen M. Fletcher.
There are a lot of big heads who have the
temerity to prophesy that Fletcher is due
to find himself in the discard. This list of
egotists does not include Proctor, Page,
Mead, Fleetwood, Cheney, et al. These
individuals know what the frame-up is
and if they don't talk about it they are
aware of the fact that it's up to Windsor
county two years hence.
While Fletcher has the courage of his
convictions he does not go in strong to
convert his colleagues at Montpelier when
the colleagues display an indication not
to be converted. Fletcher has been blessed
with the best luck imaginable in escaping
mistakes. He is a diplomat for one thing.
Though he does not intersperse profanity
through his conversation in a committee
meeting he nevertheless speaks with suf-
ficient emphasis to pull many a measure
through a tight place. He is always inter-
ested in schemes tending to conserve the
48 A Man With A Habit
natural resources of Vermont and if one
desires to make good with Allen M.
Fletcher it can be done about as easily by
talking conservation as by any other
means. Fletcher is not an orator. He is a
better listener than he is a talker but when
he does talk he does not intend to waste
words.
Since 1902 Mr. Fletcher has visited
many parts of the state and many men
have come to know this well-groomed
citizen of Windsor county. He is not a
poor man and it does not cramp him finan-
cially to operate his automobile. He isn't
given to talking politics to the extent that
his neighbors are. He listens to what his
friends say but the siren's entreaties he
passes by. He declined to make a try for
the speakership. There were a few jealous
schemers who would have gladly laid
Fletcher on the shelf had he butted in.
Mr. Fletcher knew the frame-up regard-
ing the speakership as he does that of the
governorship in 1912.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TTLDEN FOUND>TTOKR
He knows he would be aiding legis-
lation if he could embalm about
182 members.
A TALL-TIMBER PRODUCT
r | X3 be born up in Fayston where bob-
I cats and albino deer are found in
their native state, to originate in the
land that gave to the world John Honest
Senter, is by no means a handicap except
that it is likely to set a man back a few
hundred miles who may aspire to enter
the social whirl. Forty-nine years ago last
November there was born up in the tall
timber country at the foothills of the
range a boy. His parents kept him there
22 years and then he came below the
clouds. His training in the bush had made
him self-reliant and the valley needed a
self-reliant young man. Waterbury saw
him first when he came out of the shrub-
bery, and he staid in that town over night.
To stay in Waterbury over night is to get
your name on the permanent roll and
Willard J. Boyce arrived there in 1883
and has remained there since.
52 A Tall-Timber Product
While he carries a sombre expression
about his facial architecture he can smile
when occasion requires though his pro-
fession does not call for anything boister-
ous in the smiling line. He is addicted to
the undertaking business, and it is to be
presumed that he looks longingly at some
of his colleagues in the lower house at
Montpelier and wonders if he will ever
get an opportunity to introduce a few
quarts of Alcoform fluid into their sys-
tems. Willard J. does not crave the oppor-
tunity to cater to the wants of his col-
leagues in a professional way because of
the money there is in it for him but from
the desire to do the state of Vermont a
favor. Boyce has been there before and
he knows that he would be aiding legisla-
tion if he could embalm about 182 of the
members of the house of representatives
so that their vocal equipment would be
incapacitated. When Mr. Boyce is needed
in the lawmaking stunt, call his name and
he responds with the same alacrity that
he displays in answering a telephone call
A Tall-Timber Product 53
for 27 thousand feet of birch flooring or
for a $175 burial case for one of his neigh-
bors with a healthy bank account. He
sells lumber as well as coffins. When it
comes to doing the Stafford-of-Brattleboro
and the McCuen-of-Vergennes act Boyce
fades like a dissolving view in an illus-
trated song. He is a good talker but waits
until he is called upon.
Two years ago this Faystonian product
came up from Waterbury to Oniontown
and he made good and this year comes
back. W. J. Boyce is also a product of
Montpelier seminary and he is one of the
graduates of that institution for whom no
apologies need be handed out. While
there are 182 talkers in the house this ses-
sion there are a few genuine business men
and Willard J. is to be included in the
bunch. He is not a politician. He has been
president of his adopted village and that
is about the limit of his public service
career except a term in the lower strata of
lawmakers in 1908.
If it becomes necessarv to send out a
54 A Tall-Timber Product
bunch of investigators from Montpelier
to get first-hand information Boyce is con-
sidered worth while. In fact when it is
necessary to break through the line of
talkers and impress upon the intellect of
these gentlemen afflicted with noise in the
throat that they must ring off Boyce of
Waterbury is just the kind of a man to use.
He will carefully and moderately intro-
duce some entirely foreign subject into
the conversation and the regular business
will again be taken up. To look at Willard
one would imagine that he was low-geared
but the impression would be entirely
wrong. Mr. Boyce is a quick actor and a
quicker thinker. He has lived sufficiently
near to Montpelier for the last 27 years
to have more than a speaking acquaint-
ance with the men who have been coming
to the legislature. He has seen strong and
weak ones come to the capital city and go
away forgotten. He has learned a lot of
things by keeping his optics open. Though
Boyce doesn't wear a silk hat except when
engaged in professional duties he isn't a
A Tall-Timber Product 55
tenderfoot. Not a bit of it. Willard J. has
been down Montpelier's pink path after
Jim Brock, John Senter and Fred Laird
have been in bed one hour and 10 minutes.
He has eaten at the Pavilion under the
proprietorship of Mine Host Viles, and
Prince Heaphy can't hand Willard any-
thing that will resemble a surprise pack-
age. While Boyce of Waterbury is a quiet
one he is continually thinking. He goes
home to sleep and thereby is able to get
enough out of his legislative salary to
break even.
If one wishes to impress a story upon
Mr. Boyce's mind one should stand on
Willard's left foot while telling it. Pathos
won't get a rise out of Willard J. Nothing
doing in the tear line. Willard will listen
to your tale of woe but you need not put
over any tearful dope. Burying dead men
naturally hardens one's tender spots and
while Mr. Boyce is one of the most com-
panionable of men he is not susceptible to
any baby-doll stunt by Aunt Annette
Parmalee. If you want to make Boyce
56 A Tall-Timber Product
laugh talk to him about Hapgood, the
Peruvian. Both come from the tall-timber
country but Boyce is a product of the
shadows of Camel's Hump. Boyce enjoys
the legislative game and when it comes
around time for Waterbury to make a bid
for an upper house position he will be on
hand. Of course there will be others but
wise ones say that Willard will follow in
the tracks of Eber Huntley, the strong
man of Duxbury. Eber and Willard are
modeled largely upon the same lines. Eber
has a facial resemblance to Pilate and
Boyce carries a Simon Legree counte-
nance. Both are business men.
THE NEV/
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOP, LENOX
DCU FC-r;r:D/Ti' N
'He isnt obsessed with the idea
that he's an orator.'
EDWARD THE QUIET
WHILE no one was looking Edward
the Quiet slipped into the house of
lawmakers in 1906 and though he
made no outcry nor indulged in motions
of the mouth he made good with his con-
stituents. There are a lot of Windsor
county windjammers who endeavored to
put Edward on the shelf when he reap-
peared in 1908 but Edward comes from
the town of Warren where the game does
not include giving up easily. He had rep-
resented the town of Rochester once and
had an idea that he could do it better a
second trip. He did the trick to the satis-
faction of all concerned and those with a
political itching told themselves that Ed-
ward had stopped and the rest of the
aspiring ones need not have any further
concern. It was just at that point that
Edward confused the bunch a bit. He had
had an opportunity to study lawmaking
60 Edward the Quiet
at close range with two terms in the lower
level and it occurred to him that he would
like to sit in the upper branch. Without
making any false motions Edward H.
Edgerton went after the job and stopped
it and he did it in a way to make some of
the older campaigners take notice of the
way the trick was done.
Edward the Quiet does less talking than
any other individual in the legislature.
He is a good listener though his hearing is
a bit impaired. Edgerton never smiles un-
less the story is a brand new one. He isn't
obsessed with the idea that he is an orator
nor is he one of those self-satisfied speci-
mens that hand you a keep-your-eye-on-
me-if-you-want- to-get-it-straight-look.
When he speaks he does so in terms that
can be understood and makes no attempt to
pronounce judgment upon every measure
that does not meet with his approval. Ed-
ward cannot be swept from his foundation
with a flowery-worded letter, and the
manipulator of language might as well
move along two notches and give up the
Edward the Quiet 61
job of talking this Windsor county sphinx
into a trance.
The silent one has seen 47 summers and
one less that number of winters and isn't
easily fooled. He was born in the land of
the sky line up in Warren, the town that
Joe Battell sees fit to call the "loveliest
village in the dale." Up where the clouds
first touch the earth Edward H. Edgerton
was born. Twenty years ago, fresh from
Barre academy with laurels displayed all
over his person, the silent one located in
Rochester and began his profession of a
lawyer. He is somewhat of a poobah as
he is given to holding several offices at the
same time. Once he got away with the job
of town clerk, first selectman, town agent,
and town representative. That, however,
is comparatively an easy task for Edward
the Quiet. He doesn't talk when attend-
ing to his official duties and consequently
it doesn't require over-exertion for Ed-
ward to issue a license to a brindle-pup,
adjust a claim against the town or vote
62 Edward the Quiet
when necessary in the upper branch of the
assembly.
As Edward stands beside the radiator
in the Pavilion office and hears a bunch
of false alarms explain how Roosevelt
really triumphed the man from Rochester
wonders why such specimens were omit-
ted from the list of animals on which the
state will pay a bounty. Edgerton is one
of the members of the general assembly
who go to Montpelier to serve both town
and state. He may fail to deliver all of
the goods that he is expected to but he
is strictly on his job, and the fuss and
feathers of ladies' week and a few other
such functions do not ruffle the quiet gen-
tleman who has come to Montpelier for
three consecutive terms. Edward was not
known outside of his town until he went
to the capital city in 1906. The newspaper
men passed the Windsor sphinx by as not
conducive to news making and it galled
him not. There is less of the grandstand
player in Edgerton of Rochester than
there is in J. Gilbert Stafford of Brattle-
Edward the Quiet 63
boro. Both are earnest and conscientious
but Edgerton has seen the desk-slamming
treatment handed to several over-voluble
members and he wouldn't take the chances
that J. Gilbert indulges in.
Edward the Quiet looks you straight in
the optic and there is no flutter of his
nerves as he asks or answers a question.
There is absolutely nothing in his make-
up that may be called oratory but there are
bunches of good, hard common sense
sticking out all over his frame. That's why
Edgerton is in the senate. Some day he
will be called upon to do even bigger and
more remunerative stunts than those of
representing his town and county in the
lawmaking body. Although labelled a re-
publican he has a sufficient amount of
insurgency in his clothes to make him a
a sort of leaven in the bunch of regulars
who talk themselves hoarse about their
regularity. Edgerton isn't one of those in-
dividuals that attend every gathering of
men from the general synod of Fat Heads
64 Edward the Quiet
to the Triennial Conclave of Ambitious
Geezers.
It's safe to say that Edward the Noise-
less is known to less men than any other
individual in Vermont with three legisla-
tive terms to his credit. Getting acquainted
with the proletariat hasn't been his long
suit. He gets acquainted with those worth
while and he can tell who is worth the
trouble. Not a bit spectacular, yet strictly
on his job, Edward H. Edgerton is doing
more than his part to expedite the public
business.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TTL.DEN FOUNDATIONS
He got the habit of working when
he was a boy."
ENERGY PERSONIFIED
ENERGY in the original package,
with a six-cylinder development
attachment, is a part of the equip-
ment of a democratic member of the
lower branch of the general assembly.
The butter-tub country has turned out
a lot of boys that could put over things
on the ones with a lustre, but never a
one has it produced that had anything
on H. Energetic Shaw, the member from
Stowe. H. Energetic is one of the bunch
at Montpelier this session who dare to
do things. For instance, he had the nerve
to nominate for the United States senate
a republican. Perhaps this bit of compli-
ment may be remembered by H. Energy's
friend, the Hyde Park senator, when it
comes to turning tricks after the demo-
crats have drawn the curtain on the end
of the act for the republicans. If it comes
to dividing up plums among the hungry
68 Energy Personified
even a republican senator might say a
good word for a democratic friend. At
any rate Howard E. Shaw of Stowe is
worthy the attention of those who deal out
plums. He has done what a few thousand
other Vermonters have failed to do. He
has made good and it is only a matter of
a few years more when he can take a trip
to Europe with his family. He is making
money.
Howard Energetic Shaw was born
in Stowe and the education its schools
afforded him was all that he craved. He
got the habit of working when a boy and
at 20 was learning the rudiments of mer-
cantile business. In the reign of Urban
Woodbury as king of Vermont, H. Ener-
getic started out in business for himself,
and while he dispensed soap, sugar, dried
apples and nails, he longed to branch out,
and accordingly took up the sale of lum-
ber. Howard lives in the tall timber belt
and as he can tell the number of thousand
feet of lumber in the butt of a pine by
tasting the pitch he has proved a success
Energy Personified 69
in selling lumber. Then he makes and sells
butter boxes. Besides the butter box
factory this energetic individual has a
couple of sawmills, a grist mill and three
or four warehouses in his own town and
in Tom Cheney's Village-on-the-Lamoille.
He hasn't dipped into politics very strong
as his political faith isn't of the sort that
gets a heavy drag in Stowe. However,
Howard E. is the kind of a man who can
win against combinations. He is the frank-
est sort of a fellow and one doesn't have to
discount what he says. He has been a
school director and town auditor, and this
year as representative to the gathering of
wise ones at Montpelier Howard Ener-
getic Shaw is getting a bit of insight into
the way laws are not made.
Shaw is one of the boosterites of the
snow belt. He deals exclusively in Ver-
mont products outside of his regular line
of merchandise. He is one of the men in
Vermont whom the potato merchants in
the cities know. They know that this ener-
getic Vermont merchant can ship them
70 Energy Personified
a carload of tubers as quickly as the goods
can be loaded. That's a specialty of
Howard E. Shaw — potatoes. Then he
sells maple sugar. If you should want to
buy a ton or 100 tons of maple sugar this
very minute Howard E. Shaw is the man
who can fill your order just as fast as it
can be packed. He deals in maple prod-
ucts and what he doesn't know about sugar
isn't of great value. You can't palm any
paraffine glucose trick off on H. Energetic
Not a bit of it.
Shaw has been going to Montpelier
periodically for the past 30 years and he
has a speaking acquaintance with a big
bunch of fellows who have sat in the halls
of the mighty in years past. Also he knows
who many of the wise men will be of the
future. Howard belongs to the fish and
game league of Vermont. It would be con-
sidered poor form for a Stowe man not
to be a member of that organization. Then
Shaw has been decorated with degrees in
other exalted orders. He lives in a small
town back among the hills but he can get
Energy Personified 71
down to brass tacks when it comes to dis-
cussing ways and means.
Howard E. Shaw is 43 years old and
one of the citizens that Stowe has every
reason to be proud of. He married a Stowe
girl and they have a 14-year-old son and
a 12-year-old daughter. Shaw and his
family are Vermont products that give to
the state a standing whenever exhibited.
He will probably always live in Stowe for
he has a cozy home and is making money.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TFLDEN FOUNDATIONS
ft
He can reduce the English language
to its least common denominator."
A SINCERE ADDISONIAN
WHILE the majority of wise men
who go to Montpelier biennially
to build the laws are entered on the
rolls as farmers many of them get by for
no other reason than that they live in a
farmhouse. There is, however, at least one
farmer of the legislature of 1910 who
knows what it is to earn his living by farm-
ing. There may be a number of other
solons who understand the art of wresting
a sustenance from the soil but they have
nothing on one quiet member from Addi-
son county when it comes to marketing
a product that brings good returns-
namely, Morgan horses. There may be a
lot of horse breeders in the general assem-
bly of 1910 but John W. Pitridge of
Leicester is one of the bouquet of horse
breeders who produce that style of ani-
mals known as "some class."
76 A Sincere Addisonian
A few years ago John got to thinking
about the glory that comes to a man who
goes to Oniontown as a maker of laws, and
after considerable reflection he decided
that he would make a try. He tried the
trick in 1908 and made Carl Williams
step about as fast as the Addison county
speed laws permit. In fact the last quarter
was one of the fastest ever shown in
Leicester and John W. nearly nosed in.
When the time came this year to score up,
a bunch of aspirants for lower house togas
faded and let John have things easy.
While Pitridge is a horse breeder he
never talks shop unless it is to a man who
will understand him. While he is a farmer
he is one of that class that keep track of
income and outgo. He makes no pretense
at being a scientific farmer, but he is one
of the soil tillers of the legislature who
can give a lot of semi-scientific individ-
uals a job lot of information that will help
them not only in making laws but in
making a farm pay.
He can write a lucid letter and his pen-
A Sincere Addisonian 77
manship is almost faultless. He looks, in
his picture, like a professional man, but
when you meet him you will imagine that
he is the inner kernel of the hardest
Yankee nut you ever attempted to crack.
He doesn't look it but he is a humorist.
He can tell stories that are listened to. He
didn't draw a committee chairmanship
and it's a safe guess that he didn't want
one. Yet when it comes to putting a digit
through the boutonniere aperture of one's
frock and arresting one's train of thought
John W. Pitridge asks no discount from
the rest of the bunch. He wouldn't ac-
knowledge that he is a diplomat, but he is
that, and one of the kind that can get a
hearing every time.
One invariably conjures up pictures of
being lost in the wilds when one hears the
name of Leicester Junction mentioned
and shudders as the conductor announces
the station. Sometimes the town has sent
to Montpelier men who were typical of
the reputation that the town has attained
as a junction, but this year John W. Pit-
78 A Sincere Addisonian
ridge is the "gentleman from Leicester,'1
and though he is a bit on the buckwheat
type he is just the kind of a man that is
needed to leaven the bunch. If there could
be 125 more just like John the serial story
of amputating a hedgehog's ear which
occupied the attention of the house for
several days earlier in the session would
have been reduced to an anecdote, and a
mighty short one at that.
Mr. Pitridge is 68 years old, but you
would never suspect him of standing off
the inevitable all that number of years.
He was born in Governor Ormsbee's town
which may account for his youthful
appearance. Educated in the Brandon
schools and hardly attaining his majority,
John enlisted and went into service in
Company H of the old Fifth of Vermont.
After John gets through talking with a
fellow-member the man cannot but get
the impression of sincerity that goes with
the talk from Pitridge.
John W. Pitridge doesn't use in his
vocabulary the term "quitter." There may
A Sincere Addisonian 79
be quitters in Leicester but they are not
members of the Pitridge family. John W.
wanted to go to the legislature and he
went. About the time that the Addi-
sonsque method of passing things around
labels Leicester as entitled to an upper
berth you will find John W.'s name and
fame being mentioned. If he goes after
it he will get it.
While Mr. Pitridge's larynx hasn't
been overworked thus far during the ses-
sion he manages to be on hand when it is
necessary to vote and he doesn't wait for
a nod from some highbrow before putting
in his "aye" or "nay.': He makes no at-
tempt at a speech but he dares to tell what
he thinks about a measure and he can re-
duce the English language to its least
common denominator in so doing. If the
house wants some information on Morgan
horses in addition to what Colonel Bat-
tell can hand out let it call upon John W.
The colonel raises horses for fun and John
raises them for money- -good money. Both
raise good horses and John gets good
prices. The colonel gets a reputation.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TTLDEN FOUNDATIONS
' With him politics and official
position are side lines,7
A SOMETIME SPEAKER
BLUE sky always is the theme with
the man who presides at the desk
down in front of Speaker Howe.
Sunshine and optimism constitute the
major part of the working equipment of
this individual with a humorist's face.
Even though he has read the roll of the
house a half dozen times in response to a
demand for the yeas and nays and the
gloom of a late December afternoon has
set the nerves of the rest of the bunch on
edge Charles A. Plumley appears un-
ruffled. He will go to the task the seventh
time with the same alacrity that he dis-
played in the morning. If Charlie Plumley
ever wore a frown it must have been when
no one was looking for you can't find a
man who recollects ever seeing such an
ornamentation on Plumley's countenance.
What Plumley may think about Tom,
Dick and Harry who are trying to do
84 A Sometime Speaker
spread eagles in the way of oratory he
never discloses. Yet he is by no means a
sphinx and many a member gets a lift over
some puzzling proposition from Charles
and no one is the wiser. While the clerk
of an organization is supposed to simply
do a little writing and keep the records,
the job of being the clerk of the house of
representatives of the Vermont legislature
requires more than a smile and an electric
call button.
Plumley has help when he needs it but
he goes in for doing his share of work and
there are several tasks that he does not
delegate to others. An experienced clerk
reduces the work of the speaker to a per-
ceptible degree. It is one of Charlie's
strong points to advance the business of
the house as fast as he can, and many a
committee chairman gets a bundle of bills
handed him several hours in advance of
the time he expected them, because
Plumley knows the game of keeping
things moving.
Visitors are always welcome in the
A Sometime Speaker 85
clerk's office after sessions of the house
but they will get the impression that if
they have any business to transact they
ought to be quick about it. With two
or three typewriters clicking and Clerk
Plumley doing the glad-to-see-you act at
the same time he is attending to some task
impresses the visitor strongly with the in-
clination that it is time to move along.
Plumley has been coming up from the
Dog River valley as one of the house
officials since 1900, and during that time
he has learned who is who in the game of
playing to the grandstand. When a grand-
stand member starts in to do things on the
floor Charlie gets busy with the stuff on
his desk. He can work and listen and
while he listens he knows just what he
will do before the house meets again.
Charlie knows the majority of the men in
the house about the third day of the ses-
sion, and it is the easiest thing in the world
to acquaint some friend with the annoy-
ance of grand-stand players. There are
no end of tricks that the clerk knows.
86 A. Sometime Speaker
Like his father in congress, Charlie is a
lawyer. He is in business with his father.
His father is an orator but Charlie does
not get by on that score unless it is at some
stag affair. Starting under the late Fred
L. Hamilton as an assistant clerk Plumley
has mastered the game of being clerk. His
office records are in shape every minute
of the day and he has a modern office
equipment. Plumley may be rightfully
labelled one of the coming men of the east
side of the mountain. Some day the town
of Northfield will elect him representative
and then he will preside as speaker. It
may not be generally known, but C. A.
Plumley is one of the best presiding
officers to be found in Vermont and with
his knowledge of legislative affairs he
would make an admirable speaker.
With him politics and official position
are side lines though the job of clerk does
not leave him any -poorer than when he
went to the capital.
When it comes to doing the gold lace
and clattering sword stunt at the gov-
A Sometime Speaker 87
ernor's ball, watch Charles. He is genuine
confectionery in a pink box. He learned
to be a soldier at Norwich university
where he got his degree in 1896. He was
born in Northfield and though he has a
bland child-like gaze he is over 35 years
on his way. He is modest almost to the
point of bashfulness and when called upon
to perform stunts requiring the spot-light
he shows a marked annoyance at the glare.
He isn't afflicted with stage fright though,
and his white gloves do not crawl as
he escorts Mrs. Henfeed up to shake
hands with a governor or Mrs. Governor.
Once Charles marched down Pennsylva-
nia avenue in an inaugural parade at
Washington ; he also knows how to waltz.
He is married. He isn't handsome but he
has a twinkling eye. He has taught school
and one of his specialties is keeping track
of events and people in Vermont.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TTLDEN FCVJKDATTONF.
A horseman who doesnt have to
carry a year-book under
his
A YANKEE ARISTOCRAT
UNLESS one looks at the records he
will make a mistake when he puts
down the age of Senator Cutts. The
average man would place Henry in the 50
to 55 class and you won't find one in 20
that would dare to include this alert
Orwellite above the 60 notch. Neverthe-
less Henry can beat that top figure by 14.
He is 74 years and some toward the end of
the chapter, but he didn't get off when the
train slowed down at the station for the
dead ones to alight. Henry T. Cutts comes
nearer possessing the attributes of a diplo-
mat than does any other man in the gen-
eral assembly of 1910, though that may be
somewhat of a task. Cutts is the sort of a
man that goes in designing a real Yankee
aristocracy. To start with Henry is a
farmer. His farm is one of the beauty
spots in the Champlain valley, and his
sheep — coarse-wools — are typical of what
92 A Yankee Aristocrat
that valley can produce in that line of
product. His horses- -Morgans and some
French coach — are the kind that go down
to the ring in Madison Square and bring
back the money. The senator is not as
active in breeding horses as he was a few
years ago and the horse show in New York
does not draw him nowadays except as a
spectator, but there was a time when Ben
Franklin blood used to show points to
horse show followers.
Henry and Mrs. Cutts have one of the
coziest homes to be found. Sometimes a
son lives on the home farm and Mr. Cutts
makes his home in Orwell village, but the
Cutts homestead is one that will dispel
homesickness from the heart of a man a
thousand miles from home on Christmas
morn. It is the same sort of a home that
Senator Cutts is a man — a cheerful one.
Senator Henry T. is never anything but
cheerful.
There isn't anything out of the ordinary
in the career of Senator Cutts. He was
born in Orwell, has lived there to date, is
A Yankee Aristocrat 93
a farmer, was once a member of the house
of representatives and is probably one of
the best known horse breeders in Vermont.
Cutts is the kind of a horseman who does
not have to carry a copy of the Yearbook
under his arm. He has been down the
grand circuit and back again and he has
raised horses that made good on the track.
Last spring Farmer Cutts's name was
mentioned for the senate and about the
same time the anti-Battellites of Addison
county- -there are antis to Uncle Joe —
produced a deck of cards and dealt out
several names. Henry won and Addison
county has no reason to regret that he was
sent to Montpelier this year. Cutts is not
a politician. He isn't so constituted that
he can frame up a give-and-take cam-
paign. He doesn't expect things handed
to him on decorated porcelain but he does
expect his friends to do the talking if
they want him to represent them in
the assembly. The senator enjoys ming-
ling with the lawmakers and taking
part in such matters as deciding the
94 A Yankee Aristocrat
constitutionality of a law which would de-
prive a blue-jay of his right to dine off the
fruits of a Vermont farmer. Senator Cutts
isn't old but he is old enough to see the
funny side of the biennial vaudeville and
if he should confess to you just what he
thinks about the matter he would tell you
that it would be cheaper for the state of
Vermont to hire a dozen professional
vaudeville artists every winter and move
them about from one town hall to another
than to employ over 275 amateurs in this
class of entertainment once in two years.
It is not a hard task to put over a bunch
of things on the average legislator, but try
it on Henry T. Cutts! He won't fall for
Oregon orchard stock, Blue Sky Smelting
and Mining company or anything else
that lies under the grass roots of some
western state. He knows a thing or two
about men who have invested their gold
in rainbows and he has a number of neigh-
bors in Orwell who have enjoyed the van-
ishing birdcage act when their money did
A Yankee Aristocrat 95
a mysterious disappearance turn about 20
years ago.
Though Senator Cutts is 74 notches
along the score he isn't one of those hard-
shelled specimens that are held up as sam-
ples of retarding influences against the
growth of Vermont. Not a bit of it. Cutts
is the type of a man that appreciates the
fact that rich men operate whiz wagons,
take an occasional snifter, and own aero-
planes. He is willing to let them do such
things in Vermont. The senator lives in a
town where the summer tourist business
adds a tidy sum to the bank accounts of
the natives and also supports a first-class
hotel. The senator isn't a guzzler, and it's
safe to say that he wouldn't know the dif-
ference between Seagram and V. O. P.
He is, however, a white man, and is will-
ing to let a visitor over in Ticonderoga
come across into Vermont in his auto and
do a spin along the lake shore on the clay
roads. Cutts wouldn't urge hanging for
such tourists.
Sometimes Mr. Cutts and his wife win-
96 A Yankee Aristocrat
ter in California. Though Henry T. Cutts
owns a dress suit and does not hold a plow
during the spring's work on his farm he
is a farmer. He knows which heifer to
keep for breeding purposes and he can
tell a lot of things about the value of
nitrate of soda. That is why he was chosen
chairman of the senate committee on
agriculture.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOr.'. LENi
;.' ' i Tlf
He might be called a relic of
dynasties that have
crumbled.'
A GILT-EDGED ONE
PROBABLY Orleans county has
fewer insurgents than any other dis-
trict in the state. They make a great
noise about their regularity up in Orleans.
The majority of the natives of that county
would rather get a soft thing in the way
of a political berth than to work for a
living. Even the old guardsmen who have
stood against the crib for years to the ex-
clusion of many a worthy youngster with
an appetite insist on coming back and try-
ing the trick over. To attempt to make a
census of those from Orleans county who
have partaken of the pap from the state
and federal teat would require a large
volume.
Some of the bunch who have separated
money from the public strong box have
been mediocre in quality while others
have carried credentials that entitled them
to stand near the throne of the real
88- 0
100 A Oilt-Edged One
pazazas. It is with the latter type that
this sketch deals. Though he was born in
the county of warriors in the town of
Rockingham and has been a citizen of
Derby only 18 years Franklin George
Butterfield — Senator Butterfield — has
tasted of everything he could get his lips
upon and some more. You needn't leave
F. George out when you're picking up
skirmishers to make a raid on the glory
heap.
While credited with over 68 years he is
one of those individuals who carry such
little things as three score years lightly.
Incidentally it may be mentioned that the
senator does not make a mess or a task of
carrying any of the official burdens which
have been saddled upon his broad should-
ers since he emerged from the gloom and
entered the area of the calcium many
years ago. He is college bred and it was
"Old Midd." that gave him his degree.
He has a war record gained as a member
of the 6th Vermont. He has many titles
besides his A. M. He has been a captain,
A Gilt-Edged One 101
lieutenant-colonel, and a judge advocate
general. He has got about a bushel of gilt
badges, and belongs to so many military
and other organizations that he sometimes
gives one a grip of the Big Poo Bahs when
he intends to use the simple handshake of
a common citizen.
In 1898 F. George was a member of the
legislature. While many of the old guard
who made up the lower branch at that ses-
sion have passed from the scene and the
doings of that body have been mostly for-
gotten there are still a few who recollect
how near Franklin G. came to getting in
bad during those days. He was looked
upon as a cake of ice by many of his col-
leagues and only adroit work upon the
part of his friends put Franklin in right
with the bunch. Actually he is a prince of
good fellows and a conversationalist that
holds an audience. It is safe to say that
Senator Butterfield's stock of stories about
the boys who wore official regalia and
pulled off highbrow stunts in days agone
102 A Gilt-Edged One
is about the best that can be located in the
north country.
While his facial makeup does not re-
semble Napoleon, his carriage bears a
striking resemblance to the man with the
cocked hat so familiar in history. He is
a member of the railroad committee of
the senate. It has been suggested that he
was placed upon that committee because
he is able to explain the difference between
riding in an ordinary passenger coach
and a Pullman parlor car. The senator is
strong on the social string, and while he
looks like a giant Brownie when arrayed
in a claw-hammer coat he is a genuine
Beau Brummel. He is a manufacturer of
wooden things and though he lives on the
Canadian line is so much of an American
that he is always willing to serve his coun-
try whenever there is an opening. In 1880
he had charge of counting the citizens of
Vermont.
In Montpelier he lives as becomes a
senator from Orleans and eats at the
Pavilion. He drew one of the choice seats
A Gilt-Edged One 103
in the senate, No. 4. While Senator But-
terfield belongs to no end of societies he
is a very democratic individual and talks
in a breezy way with everyone who wants
to tell him a story. He is one of the type
of Vermonters who put stress upon blue
sky, pure water and climate. If the legis-
lature should decide to select an official
press agent to exploit Vermont it would
not make a mistake if it selected General
Butterfield as an advisor to the depart-
ment of publicity. Though he lives near
the north pole the general knows lots of
things about the rest of the world, and it
is safe to gamble a small amount that he
is in touch with a sufficient number of the
politically inclined in different parts of
the state to keep informed of the range of
the political pulse.
He might be called a relic of dynasties
that have crumbled, yet his tentacles have
not become benumbed and he is ready to
receive the mantle of public office when-
ever there is a sufficient amount of em-
broidery attached to match the rest of his
104 A Gilt-Edged One
career. He is making money. As he strolls
about the office of the Pavilion he makes
an imposing picture. He will always be
General rather than Senator to his friends,
for to associate F. George with anything
but gilt requires a long draught upon the
imagination.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
Not the kind to get rattled when a
bouquet comes over the footlights.'
A MIGHTY HUNTER
IT isn't every youngster that comes to
Vermont who gets a seat among the
mighty. Perhaps another way to put
it is to say that not every youngster who
locates in Vermont makes good to the ex-
tent that he is selected by his townspeople
for a place among the makers of law at
Montpelier. It is somewhat of a task for
one born as late as 1879 to get a seat in the
general assembly of Vermont as early in
his career as 1910. It certainly speaks well
for the New York product when a sample
of it comes to Vermont in 1899 and 11
years later nails a desk in the foundry of
law-tinkers. However, that's just what one
Windham county member has done and
he managed to get annexed to a com-
mittee that offered him an opportunity to
do a few things. It isn't much of a job to
sit still in one's seat at Montpelier and
answer when a call of the house is made,
108 A Mighty Hunter
but it is quite a bit of a job to do something
that resembles the welfare of Vermont
and get away with the task while a half a
dozen boneheads are inflating their chests
and telling what ought to be done. There
are a lot of things that ought to be done,
and among them might be mentioned the
suppression of three out of five of the
members of every legislature that has been
elected for the last 12 years.
This is no secret. Everybody with the
interest of Vermont at heart knows that
there ought to be an open season on leg-
islators and that the use of trap-guns,
snares and dead-falls should be permitted.
Possibly it was the hope of Speaker Howe
that some such bill would be presented to
the committee on fish and game when he
assigned to the committee, as the ranking
member when Chairman Billings was ab-
sent, this Windham county youngster re-
ferred to. Marvin James Howard of the
town of Addison Cudworth — London-
derry— the man with a finger in the pie
and with both hands busy in the making
A Mighty Hunter 109
of fish and game legislation this year is a
youngster who hasn't been slopping over;
he was giving his colleagues an exhibition
of real work.
Now M. J. knows more about fish and
game than can be learned from studying
the label on a salmon can or admiring the
big buck in the center of that familiar
painting, At Bay. Marvin is some when
it comes to hunting and bringing back
game. Moose, deer, and bear have been
stopped by bullets from Marvin James's
rifle; and he has bagged enough quail in
a day's shooting to feed all of the real
sportsmen of the Vermont Fish and Game
league for a month. Getting this number,
by the way, didn't put him in the game
hog class by a long shot. Marvin isn't one
of those hunters who have their mono-
gram embroidered in pink silk upon their
nighties. He doesn't wear a nightie when
he goes hunting in the big woods to the
north — up in Canada and Maine. He
doesn't wear a highbrow smile at Mont-
pelier and talk about the needs of Ver-
110 A Mighty Hunter
mont. Not a bit of it. Marvin simply gets
down to business when a bill comes to his
committee. He discusses the bill with the
rest of the members and the rest of his
colleagues listen to what he says for he is
a real huntsman. That's the reason why
the State of Vermont stands a chance this
session to draw something resembling
sanity in the matter of fish and game legis-
lation. Col. Franklin Billings is the chair-
man of the committee, but he has been ill
a number of weeks during the session and
has also had a number of matters in con-
nection with the biennial lawmaking fiesta
which required his time and attention.
Colonel Billings has had no occasion to
worry, for he has left matters in the hands
of Marvin J. Howard, and M. J. H., be-
ing a home-made rather than a tailor-
made hunter, accordingly has taken a real
rather than an affected interest in his
duties.
Marvin Howard, though a youngster
of 31 years, can tell the story of the great
outdoors in a way that would make Jack
A Mighty Hunter 111
London crawl inside his sleeping bag and
remain quiet. Howard is the possessor of
the heads of moose and deer and the pelts
of bear — all the trophies of his own rifle.
He is also the possessor of a fund of real
"hoss sense," that his colleagues have seen
fit to draw upon during the meetings of
the fish and game committee. Howard
has never been able to make himself be-
lieve that simply because there was a big
bunch of tender-heads in the general
assembly their ideas should be presented
to the rest of the world in the shape of fish
and game legislation.
Marvin J. has broken into the political
life of his town a trifle and is a member
of the republican town committee. He has
been a fish and game warden for three
years, and his father-in-law is a politician.
Marvin is connected with a general store
and whenever a customer comes in and
announces that a bear, deer, fox or any-
thing worth shooting is in the vicinity
it's up to Marvin. He never comes back
without the goods, though he can tell a
112 A Mighty Hunter
few good tales about getting hungry and
footsore before overtaking a bear. He
isn't the kind of a man who gets rattled
when a bouquet comes over the footlights.
That's just the reason why Londonderry
has sent to the assembly a valuable man.
He is probably as valuable to the rest of
the state as he is to his own town on account
of his real knowledge of the needs of
sportsmen.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR. LENOX
Cigar smoke doesn't send him home
with a headache."
ANOTHER UNOSTENTATIOUS
SENATOR
THE visitor in the gallery of the
chamber that holds the upper strata
of law tinkers at the capitol finds it
easy to pick out the celebrities whether
they have face ornamentation in the shape
of hair or are so diminutive as to barely
fill their chairs. There is always a bunch
of swivel-necks who attract attention in
both houses and it is these boys from the
timber who oftentimes see their name in
print for no other reason than that it is
impossible to chronicle the doings of a
sitting without including a bundle of bills
introduced by these jacks-in-the-box who
are Johnnies-on-the-job when it comes to
furnishing material for the committee on
revision of bills. Every county is afflicted
with a crop of such individuals and when
a really unostentatious member arrives
there is some doubt in the minds of the
116 An Unostentatious Senator
attaches of the capitol whether he is up to
par or afraid.
The premier among the unostentatious
at this session of the assembly comes near
being a man from Orange county. This
county is credited with a host of unosten-
tatious citizens, but there are none who
have anything on the senator from Orange
who makes his home in Williamstown.
You can't flim-flam Lewis Mead Seaver
into believing that he should cackle every
time Lieutenant-Governor Slack opens
his mouth to speak. Lewis isn't so old that
he has lost the use of his thorax, for he
boasts only 62 years, but he has cultivated
the habit of keeping his mouth closed
whenever he has nothing to say. If there
is a member of the legislature who cannot
be charged with posing it is this same
Lewis M. Though he may be considered
a bit canny when approached by some
political scout with a scheme concealed
about his clothes, Senator Seaver is the
easiest man in the world to engage in con-
versation. He doesn't swell up like a
An Unostentatious Senator 117
poisoned pup or display symptoms of
apoplexy when talking. He is handy with
the English language, too, and when it
comes to dictating a letter Lewis is some
candy and a bit on top of that.
Though Senator Seaver made his first
pass at the big pot in 1908 he has been
one of the ingredients of the broth in
Orange county since 1904 when he became
a school director in his native town. He
held that job for a few years, and has also
been the agent of the town, and is at pres-
ent a selectman. This is about all the in-
formation one gets from the archives, for
Lewis is modest and does not tell what he
knows and thinks every time a biographi-
cal solicitor comes along with a hum about
making the senator great. Mead knows
just how big he is himself, and he never
attempts to make a man believe that he is
any bigger. He may have opinions as to
what constitutes greatness in his colleagues
but he isn't writing a book containing his
impressions. To show that L. M. S. is
worth listening to may be mentioned the
118 An Unostentatious Senator
committee appointments he drew. Lewis
is a member of the finance, claims and cor-
porations committees of the senate, and
he does work upon all of them.
A dozen years ago Seaver had not been
mentioned by those making up lists of
strong men, prominent citizens and per-
sons supposed to know what is going on
under the surface. It was less than five
years ago that his name appeared on the
confidential list of men whose knowledge
of conditions warrant them in expressing
an opinion. He drew a place on the ways
and means committee of the house of 1908,
and though he didn't fret the assembly
with talk at that session he was one of the
members who worked.
Seaver need not be classed as one who
has reached the top of the ladder by any
means. While he probably has no aspira-
tions to go to congress or to hold down
Leighton P. Slack's job of gavel-pounder,
he would doubtless like to come back
again to the assembly, and it's a safe guess
that when he does come back it will be as
An Unostentatious Senator 119
a member of the lower branch, for it's
there that Lewis M. could make himself
felt. Williamstown won't make a mistake
in sending the senator back sometime, and
if it should decide that he is the man to
represent the town in 1912 it will be con-
tributing a working member of the next
assembly.
He is a noiseless dresser and though he
doesn't look the part, he is a farmer in
addition to being interested in a corpora-
tion. He doesn't board at the Pavilion,
but he is a mixer and cigar smoke doesn't
send him home with a headache. Seaver
can be convinced and he has to be before
he votes. If the senate was composed of
Seavers the business of the official reporter
would be reduced to a point that would
make the flimsies look transparent. To
epitomize Seaver, senator from Orange,
is to say that he is a frictionless worker
who does not spoil the picture by opening
his mouth too often. While some of the
members of both bodies of the assembly
crave publicity it is not so with Lewis M.
120 An Unostentatious Senator
Truly he is averse to anything like a
bouquet and if one is handed him he
won't thank the individual who presents
the posies.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
rfLDEN FOUNDATION1
He ought to know better than to
make such ludicrous attempts
at being funny. '
IVES
IT takes all kinds of men to compose a
general assembly. Highbrows, bone-
heads, pussyfoots, reformers, agita-
tors, etc., are to be found in every legisla-
ture. The "etc." includes no end of funny
ones. Some are extremely funny, others
are funny and don't know it. Then there
occasionally gets in one that thinks he's
funny and makes the rest laugh because
he thinks so. To be the humorist of a Ver-
mont legislature is a stunt that can't be
pulled off by every Tom, Dick or Harry
that lands in Montpelier. To attempt the
job without credentials is extremely fool-
hardy.
Sometimes Steve Bowles makes motions
that are really funny, and at times Frank
Corry contributes a bunch of bulls that
may be classed as unintentional humor,
but the newest type of alleged humorist
comes from Rutland county. He drew an
124 Ives
appointment on the military affairs com-
mittee, and lives on the side hill. He has
seat 30, directly behind the assistant
clerk's, and every time Morton A. Ives
of Mount Holly, puts in his contribution
to the gaiety of things he is so located that
gallery habitues can get a proper focus
on him.
Morton really outclasses anything that
Mount Holly has ever before attempted.
As yet he has not attempted to josh the
chaplain, but what he has attempted in
the way of impeding legislation warrants
him being returned to the legislature in
two years and also entitles him to be made
the chairman of a committee of one to
devise ways and means to suppress would-
be funny ones.
Ives ought to know better than to make
such ludicrous attempts at being funny,
for he is 73 years old and was educated at
Black River academy. His career as a
public servant includes "every office un-
der the district school system," according
to Morton's biographer, and this may be
Ives 125
largely responsible for his condition.
Then he has always lived in Mount Holly,
and his sudden appearance in the lime-
light at the law factory may have done
something to him.
He is different from Nye, Ward, Bil-
lings, and other humorists, whose say-
ings are always good for a laugh. One
never tires reading what Bill Nye wrote.
Though the house may be busy, Mortie,
the gay old owl of Mount Holly, hands
out a line of slush that he seems to think
is A 1, V. O. P., bottled-in-bond humor.
The rest of the members are inclined to
get hysterical when Ives tries to be funny.
While "a little nonsense now and then is
relished by the best of men," this vaude-
villian from Mount Holly doesn't get the
hunch that the best of men prefer a breath-
ing spell once in a while. He doesn't seem
to know what the word "little" means.
Ives can't be accused of false pretenses
so far as his facial architecture is con-
cerned. He resembles a missionary rather
than a humorist. What puzzles his fellow
126 I vet
members is how Morton convinces him-
self that he is funny. His certificate of
election in the office of the secretary of
state makes no reference to the affliction.
However, he can't be suppressed and will
probably go to his home at the end of the
session thinking that he is the first and
only funny man that was ever elected to a
Vermont legislature. At home Morton
isn't considered dangerous in the funny
line. He is a real estate boomer and when
he gets a chance sells a slice of Mount
Holly's side hills to those wishing to start
a fresh air plant. Morton's attempts at
humor have lacked the sting of person-
ality and have proven harmless, even if
annoying. He will be as quickly forgiven
as he will be forgotten, which is going
some, as the man said who lost three wives
in as many years.
THE NEW YOKK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR. LENOX
TTLDEN l 'DATIONP.
'Simply a man from one of the mucli-
lalked-about small
A DEMOCRATIC DEMOCRAT
HOW would you like to be the big
noise of your political party in a
town where the total voting
strength of the place is less than 40?
When you can win against combinations
in a town with such a voting population as
has Athens you may consider you are all
there as an organizer. It was a close shave
for Uncle John Abner Mead in that bit of
landscape last fall. He got 19, and Charlie
Watson was one vote behind him. The
town went republican on the state ticket
but it sent to the assembly a yard-wide
democrat. Such democrats as Watson
have to wait until a democratic president
is elected before they can get a taste of the
public pap, but not so with Nial. N. B. is
somewhat and a bit more when it comes
to the question of who shall represent the
town of Athens. He may not always wear
his socks right side out and he may occa-
130 A Democratic Democrat
sionally forget his neckwear but he has
got it on a big bunch of limbernecks who
think they know the frame-up and freeze-
out game from east to west.
Now Nial is a product of the soil of the
town from which he hails and he has been
living there since he was born in 1875. It
is needless to say that he is not a capitalist.
There are no democratic capitalists in
Athens. Nial is an agriculturist, and
though he doesn't play the long string on
the scientific part of the business he knows
too much to attempt any such a thing as
crossing squash vines with tomato plants.
He comes as near being what the picture
books call a typical Vermonter as can be
found in the legislature this term. His
eye is that of a man who, by experience,
has learned that it is always best to take a
chance and discount what his neighbors
tell him. Nial isn't the sort to place all
men in the category of liars, but he knows
a few individuals who have given him the
song of the siren, and he is cautious.
Whenever Nial Bemis wants something
A Democratic Democrat 131
in Athens there is more excitement over
the matter than there would be if one of
the deacons of that hamlet should be
caught with a poker deck in his boot leg.
Bemis can start something quicker in
Athens than almost anyone else. He isn't
a drooling office seeker but he has had a
hankering for a number of years to repre-
sent his town in the legislature and he got
there last fall. He did not draw a place
on the railroad committee and his name
does not appear on the committees of ways
and means and appropriations. But this
means nothing particular. Bemis could
hand the members of either of these com-
mittees bits of home-made philosophy and
advice that wouldn't cut as deeply into
the treasury as do some of the suggestions
of his colleagues.
Bemis is simply a man from one of
the much-talked-about "small towns." It
wouldn't make any difference if he pos-
sessed the wisdom of Solomon his chance
of getting a place where he could serve
his state would be nil. Bemis was assigned
132 A\Democratic Democrat
to the general committee and supposed to
have been shelved. He was shelved, but
there are a number of men of the legisla-
ture of 1910 who will remember this
democratic democrat from Athens. There
isn't so much as a suspicion of frills about
Bemis. He doesn't crave compliments and
he wouldn't appreciate flattery. He is sim-
ply an example of the soil tiller of Wind-
ham county who has endeavored to do his
duty in the general assembly. Doubtless
there are a few score of fine hairs who
think they could make laws without the
aid of Nial. Nial doesn't care. He isn't
of a jealous disposition. He knows that
there are a number of hollow-skulls in
the legislature who got by in some unac-
countable way, but he is also aware that
the constitution allows these individuals
to indulge in lawmaking and so he left his
gun at home.
Mr. Bemis doesn't have palpitation of
the heart when some celebrity is intro-
duced to him. He isn't strong on an
acquaintance with celebrities but he is a
A Democratic Democrat 133
pretty good judge of the average run of
humans and he knows that some of the
Vermont brand of celebrities ought to be
in Windsor instead of Montpelier. Nial
lives on the lower level in the capital city,
and if the water of the north branch
should start on its annual rampage some
evening before the legislature adjourns
N. B. would have to climb the cliffs near
his abode on Elm street. He drew a seat
back near a window at the left of the
speaker, but Nial isn't troubled with cold
feet nor does he wear mittens and muf-
flers except when he is on a log job in the
woods.
There isn't a more conscientious mem-
ber of this session than Nial Bemis. The
manhandlers and logrollers have failed
to kidglove Nial every time there was
need of a vote, and accordingly he is
looked upon as too independent to repre-
sent a small town. Nial Bemis is a man of
opinions. He wanted to go to the legisla-
ture and it required a bit of diplomacy to
land the job, but he arrived. He doesn't
184 A Democratic Democrat
looks the part of Beau Brummel and he
doesn't try to. He can figure interest with
the best of them. His knowledge of land
values would make the ordinary lister and
appraiser hesitate to challenge his opin-
ion, yet Nial wasn't offered a place on any
committee where he could offer the state
what he has wrung from the soil — experi-
ence. Probably Nial's public career has
reached its zenith. His chances of being
a member of the state senate are no better
than those of a snowball on a hot stove.
Yet his record to date is one of which he
needn't be ashamed.
THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY
REFERENCE DEPARTMENT
This book is under no circumstances to be
taken from the Building
*
form 410
T
I