Note    N7202         Index
Eugene was, like his father before him, a barber. He had his own shop in Clinton during 1914-1918. He worked also as a house painter in Benton. Blanche worked in a woolen mill.
 In his written work, "MEMORIES," son Harold tells about Eugene being a part of a true "barber shop quartet," as follows:
 "Where he got the grand piano, Lord only knows; he certainly couldn't have purchased it. However, it was in the shop, and they, the gang, had their barber shop quartet. I don't recall the names of all or who played the piano, but they sure had harmony. Dad had as I recall a good tenor voice and Uncle Herbert Gerald had a splendid bass." Harold then tells about Eugene and his "gang" doing a bit of mischief:
 "This couple got married, Arthur Richardson, don't recall his wife's name. I believe Arthur was the son of Buster Richardson. After the wedding they locked him in a freight car for the night. I'm sure he never forgave them."

 Eugene's second wife, Beatrice, was a Maternity Nurse (Midwife). Eugene and Beatrice divorced on 22 October 1938, when Beatrice charged him with "cruel and abusive treatment" (DIVORCE RECORDS, Vol. 24, Page 63, Maine State Archives Roll 7). She was killed in an automobile accident near Thorndike in Waldo County, in September 1972.


Note    N7204         Index
As a young man, Raymond learned the barbering trade in his father's shop in Dexter. In 1930, he was working as a barber in Pittsfield, Maine. His marriage to Valetta ended in divorce in 1946 (DIVORCE RECORDS, Maine State Archives Microfilm, Vol. 28, Page 149). Valetta lived a few years in Waterville, then moved on to Arizona, and then to California, where she died.
 Ray had left Maine long before that divorce was finalized. According to his obituary [op.cit.], he "was married in Virginia, Nov. 12, 1939 to Bessie M. McClamery."
 Ray operated a photography studio (Ray's Studio) in Logansport, Indiana, for 23 years (from about 1939 to 1962). Then, about 1962, he and Bessie moved to Wabash, Indiana, where he continued in the photography business until his death, 7 September 1964. He died at 1:40 a.m. at Marion (IN) General Hospital. Burial was in Mt. Hope Cemetery, Logansport.
 From what we can determine, Bessie lived on in Wabash for about a year, then, by 1966, moved away.

 Ray was a 32nd degree Mason, a member of the Orient Lodge 27 at Logansport, Scottish Rite and Shrine at Fort Wayne, the Elks Cub of Pompano Beach, Florida, and the American Society of Photographers.


Note    N7205         Index
Unlike his father and his brothers, all of whom were barbers, Elmer was a millworker.


Note    N7206         Index
Dale also "followed in his father's footsteps" as a barber in Dexter, Maine, and Springfield, Vermont.


Note    N7207         Index
In 1980, Harold wrote down several of his recollections in story form, detailing some of the fonder memories of his younger years. What he wrote gives us a good look at life as a boy, growing up in a small Maine town, in the early 1900's. Following are some excerpts from Harold's...


 "I, Harold Goodrich Scribner, born in Benton, Maine, March 19, 1906, fourth son of Eugene Guy Scribner, and Blanche May Goodridge. Note change in Goodridge, to Goodrich, subject to be mentioned again later.
 I do not recall living in Benton, where stood the farm house and still remains and appears very much the same. This was the home of my grandfather Heman Blackwell Scribner and Clara Cole my grandmother. Clara died ? and Grandfather remarried Ann Fogg whom I remember clearly, knowing no otherwise than that she was my father's mother.

 My first recollection of what was going on in this wonderful world was between the ages of four and five, which would have been the winter of 1910. I had pleural pneumonia and my doctor was Dr. Shaw. My parents had moved to Clinton, Maine approximately 2-1/2 to 3 miles from my birthplace....I recall being very ill and lost the use of my legs. The old house still stands and to me as of 1980 sitting on the bank of the river, same color, same porch on which I again learned to walk....I clearly recall the lady, fine looking lady, 'Cad Priest' who purchased and gave me the cart on which I learned to again walk by kicking around the porch....

 At this time, there were six in the family: four brothers, namely from oldest to youngest, Raymond Elwin Scribner, Elmer Eugene Scribner, Dale Leroy Scribner, plus myself....

 At this time in my life, Father was a barber and had a shop in Clinton, having learned the trade from his father, Heman. Here, Heman worked with him some of the time at this shop; brother Raymond learned the trade at age 16 years. Took his first job in North Anson, Maine. Back to this later. During my stay in Clinton, Maine, which was ten years, we moved twice, first move into a two tenement house, the landlord living on the ground floor....[Father] was quite an artist, self made, a gifted one, one would say. During our six week confinement with combinations of Chicken Pox, Scarlet Fever, etc., Mother had to watch out for us children and Father had to continue to barber that we could eat, as in those days hair cuts were 25 cents, and shaves 15 cents; neck clipped or shaved for 5 cents. However, as we were only a block from the barber shop he checked with Mother every so often, and in his spare hours, he drew cartoon-type pictures, newspaper style, of us kids with bodies covered with scales and I recall the closing of the cartoons of Mother with broom and dustpan in hand dumping them out of the window on the landlord's head. How we did enjoy looking at them. He made many beautiful pen-and-ink drawings, also charcoal, and crayon, as the years went on, but he had remarried twice after the loss of Mother Blanche May Goodridge, and at his death we got none of his work....

 We're still living in Clinton, and I'm getting to be a big boy by my way of thinking, about 8 or 9 years old, in with the gang, going to the swimming hole. The brook ten feet wide, with large rock in the center, never over three feet of water, and if one could get to the rock and back without a bloodsucker for someone to remove, he was really in luck....

 Crossing the Sebasticook River by way of the dam, as most of the time very little water would be flowing over it. Here we had built a small camp of limbs, etc. This was where we played and smoked our pot of that day. During the season of smoking which was done by way at first of rolling corn silk, dried leaves, or mullen, taken from cow pastures; sometimes we had to remove large portions of fertilizer from the mullen. We would roll cigaretes with whichever one available in brown paper from store bags or printed newspapers. I expect the ink wasn't too good for us....

 By now Grandfather had moved to Clinton, which was next door to us over Decker's store as we had moved into our last residence, the Cain house, owned by Marcellus Cain, the undertaker. House still stands, unrented, windows boarded, the barn where we had spent many hours playing hide and seek, throw the picket, and blind man's bluff. Albert Decker had a grocery store next door; Grandfather lived over same. Decker was grinding up meat for hamburger and lost a finger; we after wondered who ate the finger. Grandmother Ann died at this home and Grandfather came to live with us.

 Down the steet a couple of blocks on a side street lived my grandfather and grandmother, Andrew Goodrich and Dorcas Jacobs. I didn't get to know Grandmother too well, as she passed away quite early in my life. I'm not too sure, but believe he was a woodworker in a mill of which I at this moment don't recall the name, but remember the mill and location.
 Andrew died, and was buried in Clinton, Maine. I recall he was at Mother's funeral in Dexter, Maine in 1928. She also is buried in the Scribner lot in Clinton, Maine....

 The school I attended was a combination primary, grammar, and high school. I remember very clearly my days at this school and most clearly the last teacher I had. I'm at this time between nine and ten. Her name was Annie Lang, sweet and as pretty as a doll. A little early for a youngster my age to be making such a decision, nevertheless it remained as I have stated, and always will. I see us lining up in aisles of two wide when the bell rang to call us into school. Billy Files was the drummer, and I can to this day hear the beat of his drum....I should also mention two of my brothers. Elmer and Dale were also part of the gang. Wes Keen allowed us to play games like hide and seek in the baled hay in the rear of [his] store. Made tunnels, etc. I'm surprised that none of us got smothered. {Another store owner] Ira Witham was more the happy-go-lucky type and anything went as long as his children were happy. It must have been a large expense to Mr. Witham as every store day and in those days it was six days a week, Roger, the oldest of the Withams, would take the lead and one by one we took our huge piece of cheese usually cut by Ira as each came along helping ourselves to crackers from the ever-handy large round barrel, there was never a limit, just help yourself....We as youngsters got our spending money from such things as returning to the stores such as 24-1/2 pound paper flour bags in good condition as flour was in the days purchased by the wooden barrel or smallest amount 24-1/2 pound bag. Also, we would pick up every piece of tobacco tags such as Sycle-Spearhead, B.L., and many others. These we would exchange in Bean's Store for candy....

 Another experience of great importance to our childhood days was getting ice from the storage which was cut on the river and stored for the drug store, Hall's Drug Store. Mr. Hall had an ice cream making room in the rear of the store. Motor driven chain which passed around three ice cream barrels with cast-iron gear mounted on base of each barrel, making three flavors at one time, namely vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. He would operate the equipment, our chore was to get the ice from the ice house and place it in the large box for chopping of ice for the freezers, and to keep the ice supplied plus salt until he had completed the making of same. Now came the much looked for payoff.. To each of us came the flavor of our desires, one approximately five inch long cone filled with what would be equivalent to two of Swensons or Baskin & Robbins' 90 cent to $1.10 cones today....

 Once again, I wish to return to some of our experiences in the preparation of films for the local movies which were shown in the Town Hall in Clinton by a man whose name was Frank Mason. Silents, accompanied by a piano. I don't recall who played the piano. The screen was set up on the stage with long settees for the viewers, and a collapsible metal booth for the camera which Mason wound by hand. The price of a movie was five cents. One or two of us kids would rewind his reels as he spliced portions that needed repair for the evening show. For this we went to the show free.
 Many hours were spent walking around a narrow ledge-like board, hanging onto the clapboards of the Town Hall, hoping to make the trip around without falling off.

 I sincerely believe we enjoyed ourselves as much, if not more, than the youngsters of today with their expensive toys -- computer type, plus one to two and three hundred dollar bikes, etc. I believe in the youngster of today having these, but just do not believe he enjoys or appreciates them any more than we did ours.

 In the summer of 1919 school being closed for vacation, I was on my way downtown with a cart to get some groceries for Mother and I was met at the intersection of Free Street and Main by Mr. Taylor Edes who was the owner of Edes Bros. Store for Ladies. Mr Edes, who was a prosperous business man had a beautiful home on High Street next above Free Street and running parallel to it, who asked me if I would care to mow his lawn, and I accepted. I believe as I recall on completion I was told what a splendid job I had done and would I like to work for him in his store. "Yes, Sir " was my reply. I was told to be at the store the following morning at eight o'clock and he would show me my duties. We met and I was given the broom, plus a push broom, plua a supply of green material called Dust-Pain to hold down the dust while also slightly oiling the floor. This I did, plus emptied waste baskets, dusted the tops of the counters, etc., also emptying his office basket and ash tray as he was a pipe and cigarette smoker. He was so pleased with my attitude and work, I was told to again report for work the next morning. This I did and at completion of the duties performed the previous day and the forthcoming day to the beginning of school, given a key to the store and was to be at the store each morning doing the same plus cleaning the sidewalk and steps which there were three to the floor land. He would relieve me at 8 a.m. and I was off to school. One mile to go and the final bell ring was 8:20 a.m. This was the beginning of my training for track. I was also expected to be again at the store at 4 p.m. after school until closing time at 5:45 week days. All day Saturday, one hour for lunch, one hour for supper, and the store closed at 9:45 p.m. The fee was $2.50 per week the first year; then came the big increase to $3.50 per week the following years.

 I recall Mr. Edes talking to his nephew, Dana Edes, who had a store in Guilford, a few miles north, and if one was short on anything he would call the other. Nel Gurneau, who was a regular customer and rather loud speaker had come into the store as he was talking to Dana. Hearing Nel's voice, Edes yelled out "Tell Nel her drawers are on the way down "...

 During summer vacations, my salary was $12.00 per week the first year, then increased to $15.00 and was at that figure when Gwen and I were married.

 I'm now in N.H. Fay High School, named after the founder of the Fay & Scott Machine Shop, manufacturers of the Fay Lathe. Little more do I recall except that it was for many years very prosperous. Gwendolyn's dad worked there for many years. My brother Elmer did also, and nearly lost his life as the elevator gate was closing down on him, and had someone not stopped it he would have been cut in two pieces.

 I was quite a tease to the girls at this age, and particularly to one young lady with long pigtails who sat directly across from me....I often reached across the aisle and pulled the pigtails. She later became ill and had to leave school in her junior year. This young lady was a real doll. Her name was Gwendolyn Sinclair and later became Mrs. Harold Scribner. We courted for my junior and senior years as Gwen had taken a position as telephone operator for the New England Bell Telephone Co. Gwen's dad was Harold Albert Sinclair, her mother Lula M. Hatch and they had four children: Frederick, Marion, Gwendolyn, and thirteen years later their fourth child and second son, Wallace.

 As I sit writing just as I recall the happenings, I think how fortunate I was to have been given by the power above a woman so sweet, so lovable, who had left her schooling because of ill health, so-called Bright's Disease, and as I was told, not expected to live beyond the age of tweny-one. Knowing this I loved her so much, I just had to have her. God gave me nearly 43 years, the best years of my life, giving her the health to give me my one and only son, Dean of whom I am so proud as every father should be.