Fondest Boyhood Days Were Spent in Little Town of Milan, N.H.

By LEO E. CLOUTIER

WELLS BEACH, ME. -- Great men have often said that no man is richer than his memories and, if that be such, then the four wonderful years of my boyhood which I spent in the little town of Milan, N. H., and the memories of the place and its fine people which I tremendously enjoyed at the time, make me feel like a millionaire today.
This lovely little town, situated north of Berlin, N. H., and along the banks of the Androscoggin River, a body of water which was once a beehive of activity, with logs flowing down from nearby forests and to the Brown Company mills in Berlin for the manufacture of paper and other products, will celebrate its Bicentennial, or 200th year of existence, come Friday and Saturday of this week and Sunday of next.

ALWAYS FOND OF EVERYTHING ABOUT MILAN

I've always had a deep fondness in my heart for Milan because, way back in 1925, when my Dad, the late Leon J. Cloutier, left Lewiston, Me., to join Mark and Sidney Twitchell in woods operations in Milan, the manner in which its fine citizens and inhabitants accepted and treated us in such royal fashion left an indelible mark on my life during those impressionable years of my youth which I will never forget.
I will always remember . . . Milan Grammar School, with Miss Ramona Christie as 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th grade teacher, while Miss Hilda Brooks taught the youngsters in the four lower grades.
An ardent sports fan, Miss Christie organized and coached the school team which went on to capture the so-called North Country championship.
Milan routed Errol, 40-12, and this was baseball, although the score may resemble that of football. As I recall it, the skirmish was a veritable breeze for Milan, as the Christie "Murderers' Row" pounced on one [illegible] Beecher, Errol [illegible], for 21 runs in the opening inning.
Such boys as Mark and Earl Hamlin, Bob and Bill Mullins, Dick and Mert Jackson, Bob Anderson, Bob (Pud) Flint, Emile and Philip Johnson and yours truly comprised that power-laden Milan aggregation.
History proves that there's never been another outfit like that one and probably never will again.
It was my Dad who got me interested in this great game of baseball back then and, I'm glad to say, it's been the story of my life, for I'm still very much involved in it to this day.

PAID FRIENDS 10 CENTS AN HOUR TO PLAY BALL

There never were enough hours in a day for me to enjoy playing baseball to my heart's content.
During week days, I used to have to pay fellows like Bob York and his kid brother, Elmer; Earl Hamlin and Dick Jackson and Albert Thibault 10 cents an hour to hit grounders or fly balls for me.
On Sundays, I used to jaunt to Scott Stiles' farm on the east side of the river and get out in a nearby field and play ball with Merwin, Lanson and Alger Stiles, only to have Mrs. Stiles rush out of the house the moment she cast her eyes on us and tell us to stop playing because she strongly believed that no one should play baseball on the Sabbath Day.
Milan was a lively town in those days. It boasted two big general stores, one operated by Will and George Hamlin, in which was also the post office, and the other by Tom Taylor and Arthur Coffin.
My family rented Post Office Box No. 9 back then and it is coincidental that I've had No. 9 as my automobile license plate for the past 18 years, in deference to my favorite baseball player and pal, one Ted Williams, now manager of the Washington Senators.
If ever a townsman was admired as a person for his thoughts of kindness and consideration for his fellow man, it was Art Coffin, the sort of a man whom you want to thank God every day for granting you the privilege and honor of having made his acquaintance.
I used to live in the back woods in a logging camp and used to have to commute some six miles a day to and from school. I would lunch atop a grain shed in back of Taylor's store with Merwin, Lanson and Alger Stiles every noon. Those mustard and baloney sandwiches and hot tea which my mother prepared for me every day sure tasted like a banquet meal.
My Dad must have gotten a raise after a while for they had me board at Bert and Maude Sanderson's, whose home was located on the town's main street.
Mrs. Sanderson's favorite dessert was chocolate bread pudding and inundated in heavy cream. What a yumming dish. I can still taste it.
Milan Grammar School had a track team, one organized by Miss Thelma Clow of Lakeport, who replaced Miss Ramona Christie for a spell.

CHOPPED ICE OFF BRIDGE FOR TRAINING

There was a big bridge which then spanned the Androscoggin River and Miss Clow had the members of the track team chop the ice off the bridge in the spring so that we could practice running. It was a conditioning grind for the schedule ahead.
We journeyed to Errol one day to clash with our arch rivals and, running true to form, we walked off with the lions share of the spoils.
There was graduation, the end of wonderful years of learning and playing, always a sad moment, with Mark Hamlin, Bob York, Idel Crotto, Roma Potter and your scribe, not to forget Leon Fogg, Barbara Newell and Bernard Wheeler from West Milan, receiving our diplomas on June 8, 1928, at the Milan I.O.O.F. Hall.
Genial Alan M. McCurdy was superintendent of the Milan School system then and the guest speaker was Headmaster Daniel W. MacLean of Berlin High.
Undoubtedly the most prominent family in the town at the time was that of Mr. and Mrs. Will Hamlin, whose children included Phil, Don, Mark, Rilla and Alice.
I've always wondered why the powers-that-be did not name the town Hamlin instead of Milan, for there were more Hamlins in it than any other names. It could be that the town fathers, or those responsible for naming it, dropped the letter "H" in Hamlin and rearranged the remaining letters to form the name MILAN.
There were also such standout names as Mr. and Mrs. George Hamlin, Mr. and Mrs. Hazen Hamlin, Alton, Earl and Alice Hamlin, Mr. and Mrs. Dewey Hodgdon, Don and Sam Hodgdon, Blacksmith Joe Croteau and Dan Croteau, Game Warden and Mrs. Walter Simonds, Bob, Bryden and Hilda Simonds; Mrs. Dora York and Clayton, Bob, Elmer, Marion, Ernestine and Hazel York, Mr. and Mrs Burt Corkum and Mr. and Mrs. Milton Harrison, Mr. and Mrs. Ernie Dale, etc.
Among others included Velma Cole, whose Dad, O. T. Cole, was the road agent and Mrs. Edgar Flint, whose husband operated the town's only garage.

EARNED FIRST DOLLAR FROM RANSOM TWITCHELL

Mrs. Gerald Young was the top pianist in Milan. for she tickled the ivories for all major musical functions, including stage shows and movies. Ernie Dale operated the movie picture machine in those days.
Alvah Dale owned and operated a little store which boasted the only soda fountain - a sort of mini ice-cream parlor - north of Berlin.
The first dollar I ever received was given to me by a kind, elderly gentleman, one Ransom Twitchell, for piling up stove wood in his shed.
I will long remember Miss Eleanor and Elmore Pettingill for, without their amazing knowledge of math, especially algebra, in which subjects they tutored me for a spell, I would never have received my sheepskin from Milan Grammar School.
It was early in October, when the falling leaves started to cover the ground, that the New York Yankees defeated the St. Louis Cardinals in four straight games to notch the 1928 World Series. And because I lost a bet, I was forced to dress up as a girl - wig, dress, and high-heel shoes - and pull a two-wheel horse cart from one end of the town to the other, with Supt. of Schools Alan M. McCurdy riding in the vehicle and chanting all the way - Giddy-Yap, Giddy-Yap, Giddy-Yap!
And that same year, my family did not own a radio and, through the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Tom Taylor, I was able to listen to the World Series on their Atwater Kent radio. It had earphones and no loud speaker. However, my Dad suggested that I place the earphones in a big empty pail to amplify the voice, which I did and with astounding results.
It was the same Tom Taylor, an ardent baseball follower, who loaned to me his new catcher's mitt, which I haven't as yet returned.
Another baseball buddy of mine was Wayne Hancock, who gave me a new glove for Christmas, the first of my boyhood days.
For a girl athlete, Ramona Christie could give that baseball a most commendable ride. One day, when engaged in the art of teaching the boys on our team how to swing a bat, she propelled three drives over the cemetery fence, a barrier some 200 feet from home plate, which was located near the school woodshed.

CHICKWOLNEPY BROOK HAVEN FOR SPORTSMEN

Chickwolnepy Brook was considered a paradise for fishing then. One could spot beautiful trout all along the stream. Lavator Bickford owned a nice home at the base of Bear or Black Mountain, which was a true haven for fishermen and hunters, where a man could be all alone with God and country and at peace.
Ecumenism was practiced even then, for I will always remember the day that Minister Agnes Ellingwood, who also played the Methodist Church organ, asked if I would sing "There's A Cottage Small By A Waterfall" at the Easter Morn services, which I did with pleasure.
The attractive young ladies who drew the raves and whistles from the boys along the main stem at the time, as I best recall them, were Natalie Corkum, Hilda Flint, Lois Harriman, Betty Dale, etc.
Mark Hamlin was the only youngster who owned a Shetland pony then and, needless to say, he was the envy of everyone. However, he shared all the good things he owned with everyone.
Columns of this nature, where the recollection of names is involved, are invariably always most difficult to write, for one is always fearful that very important names might inadvertently be omitted.
However, I will say that if this epistle is one of such a nature, that the inadvertent omissions come from the head and not the heart.
I will always remember all of the exceptionally fine people with whom I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted during my all-too-few boyhood days in the wonderful little town of Milan, N. H., along the banks of the beautiful, tranquil and picturesque Androscoggin River.
Nothing will ever erase those tremendously impressionable years from my mind.

(COMPLIMENTS OF ONE OF LEO'S PALS!)

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