Three inches of fresh snow greeted us Nelsonites that morning, two days before Christmas. Our weekly Monday hike was on Friday this week, and we looked forward to exploring the extreme northeast corner of town. We hoped to check out some rumored trails around Rollstone Mountain, an intriguing area on USGS maps and Google-Earth satellite views. Rollstone Mountain and Holt Hill make up the uplands in the extreme northeast of Nelson. Strangely, the hill is higher than the mountain. Years ago Sue and I had followed a bobcat here, along logs and across walls, round feline tracks in powder.

Four of us carpooled from the village, skidding up slippery Old Stoddard Rd, barely squeezing by the Hayes wrecker parked mid-street on the straight uphill stretch of road past the town barns. The car on the flatbed was an indication of the driving conditions. So was the greasy road itself.

Two sections of Nelson’s town lines cross Rye Pond: a north-south section of the border abuts Antrim to the east. North of the east-west line sits Stoddard. It’s a wild area—most who drive NH 123 between Hancock village and South Stoddard spend less than a minute in Nelson, but a disproportionate percentage of the town’s moose collisions likely happen in those few rods. We parked on the shoulder and heading into the woods of Antrim.

Soon we were on the King’s Highway, here just a woodland trail between two parallel stone walls. In Nelson, this oldest of roads most likely is buried under 123. We could have followed it southeast into Hancock, where it becomes a town road, but instead we left it for another trail heading southwesterly. At a fork, we headed uphill to the right, thinking that was the main trail. We were wrong.

The trail disappeared on a slope of refrigerator-sized boulders. We clambered upslope, but soon decided to “follow the contour” south. We split up briefly when Kathy Schillemat and I headed uphill along a brook, while the other two, Niña Iselin and Kathy’s son-in-law Roland, chose the small ridge just past the brook. We soon rejoined on the ridge after the brook-walkers hit a tangle of downed trees, and we continued climbing.

This section was pure hardwood. Beech, maple, birch, but not a single conifer—pine, spruce, or fir— anywhere in sight. Soon we hit an actual trail—apparently an old logging road (and more currently a snowmobile trail, we soon discovered. It was also the left fork we should have followed, we later determined). This trail angled upslope to the right, northeasterly. Soon we saw conifers again—first spruce sprouts half buried in snow, then spruce saplings.

Up to now we had seen little fresh wildlife sign. Tracks of gray squirrels, mostly, and some snowed-over deer tracks. Now we found deer tracks among nibbled ends of evergreen wood ferns. Here the trail leveled—the main slope up west to our left, a rugged knoll rising on the right. It was an enchanting spot—Niña called it a fairyland. Between these slopes the trail passed through brushy pools and puddles, thinly frozen, around which we shunpiked.

A square of plywood nailed on a tree was a snowmobile trail sign. One arrow pointed down the trail we had just ascended. A side trail headed to “Mark’s Park”, whatever that might be. We went the other way, crossing a stone wall that likely is also the town line, thus returning to Nelson. The trail trended uphill. Soon we came upon fresh tracks of ruffed grouse stitching the snow and crossing the trail. We variously backtracked this “partridge” and followed the trail, until the trail headed steeply down where the bird tracks crossed again. The others returned to where we had first seen the tracks. I continued backtracking, and soon found where the tracks began. The bird had dragged its toes in the snow as it landed, then walked.

Meanwhile, the other hikers caught up with and spooked the grouse to flight. Fresh pile of droppings on a log, wingtips brushing the snow.

We continued uphill through mixed woods, towards where the grouse had flown. Saw no more sign of it, but where the slope steepened we found deer beds—melted patches in the snow. The tracks leaving them seemed very fresh.

It is fun to search for hairs in spots where wildlife have bedded. Usually you can find a few if you search. Deer and moose have hollow hairs, which likely provide better insulation than would solid hairs. It also means they kink if you bend them, like hollow garden hoses. We found and kinked a few.

When bushwacking in a group, you could walk in single file. Or you can spread out, improving the chance of somebody finding something interesting. Uphill from grouselaunch log, we were more scattered. I found red squirrel middens—little piles of spruce-cone scales where the little rodent had sat and snacked on spruce seeds, tearing apart the cones to get to the morsels—but only Roland saw the deer.

It appeared we were topping out. This could be the top of Rollstone Mountain, Holt Hill, or some other bump on the map. We were more into conifers—one section of open woods appeared to be pure spruce, contrasting to the earlier pure hardwoods. And here was the top—two or three car-sized boulders topped with an artistic stone cairn. Later we decided this was Rollstone’s peak. Through the woods and the fickle mist we picked out Nubanusit to the southeast.

Time to head back—one member of the party had promises to keep. To the east, we reckoned we would hit the King’s Highway, or maybe our old tracks. Within a few hundred yards or less we hit a stonewall running north-south.

I suspect it was the same wall we had crossed earlier to the north—the town line wall—and that if we followed it south we would get to where Kathy, Rick Church, and I had started a transect of Nelson a few weeks back. That wall is visible on Google-Earth’s satellite view, and makes a right turn where we had started our transect, heading west into Nelson. That excursion, on December 5, took us from the east edge of Nelson to Holt Farm Rd. We had bushwacked west from the town line, up over the shoulder of Holt Hill, skirted just north of White Swamp (the wetland north of Spoonwood), up an incredible steep slope of boxcar-sized boulders to a lookout spot on the north shoulder of Osgood (City) Hill, and on. (On a previous expedition, Kathy and I had named that spot “October Snow Rock”, for the day we first came there from the north. We had discovered it last summer on a hike up from Brickyard Brook and Kulish Ledges). Descending Holt Hill on December 5th, we had startled a black bear from a split red oak. We hope to return to that oak—there seemed to be a bear-sized hollow at the split, maybe 15 feet off the ground. Hollow trees have been used for denning. In November Kathy and I had found bear tracks in snow on a north shoulder of Osgood Hill.

Rollstone Mountain as an eagle might see it.

East from that stone wall on the probable town line, we slipped and slid down, grabbing saplings, our group spreading out to variously explore or avoid boulders, rock overhangs, logs and log-tangles, and finally gathered on a trail at the bottom. It was the same trail we had hit twice already. Near where we were now, it switchbacked up towards our earlier fairyland, but we followed it back to that left fork (where we had gone right), and our old tracks in the snow. Back to the King’s Highway and thence to the car.

I would like to know more about how the King’s Highway was laid out and constructed. It was a rough road through the wilderness, but here at the base of Rollstone, it passes through some bony land. Some boulders would have been a challenge to move. All this with oxen, horse, manpower, and what tools were then available? But if the Easter Islanders, in the remote Pacific, could move those much bigger monoliths without any animal power, these would not be impossible.

I have long thought that rebels in the American Revolution had dragged cannon from the captured Fort Ticonderoga to Boston along this road, and thus were able to drive out the British. I had heard this about Vermont’s old highway, the Crown Point Road, and I assumed that once they had hit the Connecticut River near Fort Number Four, they would naturally have continued on the King’s Highway through New Hampshire. But a little online research proved me wrong. Colonel Henry Knox, Continental Army, took a smoother and more southerly route through New York and Massachusetts, bringing 60 tons of cannon and other equipment to Boston in the winter of 1775-1776, in what was called “The Noble Train of Artillery”. Our King’s Highway awaits other adventures.

Sophia Newell (or possibly an imposter) in front of the Gad Newell home, on Cemetery Road.

Editors note:  This is the third and final article in a series relating the founding of the first ministry in Packersfield.  The first detailed the many efforts to acquire a minister for a small, remote community. Several ministers came for trial periods and several offers of employment were made before Jacob Foster accepted the call. The second discussed Foster’s contentious dismissal for reasons the records do not make clear.  What is clear is that the parting was difficult.  This final article deals with the start of Packersfield/Nelsons longest ministry, that of Gad Newell.  Sensitive to the situation in the aftermath of the Foster mess, the young Newell took a healing approach.

In the aftermath of the Reverend Jacob Foster’s dismissal, Packersfield moved on.

A much more established community now, the town seemed to have little trouble finding a replacement.  The process took two years, but there is no record of repeated trials of new ministers and rejected offers of employment. The town provided a settlement of 170 pounds (a sort of signing bonus) and offered the new preacher a salary of 70 pounds per year.  The new minister was a twenty-nine-year-old Yale graduate named Gad Newell.  The Reverend Newell was installed on June 11, 1794 and retired 43 years later.  His letter to the people of Packersfield bespoke his faith in God and of the healing needed in the aftermath of Jacob Foster’s dismissal reproduced here in its full late eighteenth century eloquence:

“To the Church of Christ and the people of God in Packersfield in the State of New Hampshire – grace, mercy and peace from God our Father and Jesus Christ our Lord be multiplied –

“It has pleased the God of our Lord Jesus Christ the father of glory with whom are the hearts of all men to unite this church and congregation in making choice of me for your Gospel Minister.  Accordingly you presented your proposals to me for my consideration (bearing date October 22 A.D. 1793). As it is one of the greatest events of my life and unspeakably important consequences depend it has become me and I do endeavor to feel myself under the all seeing eye of God and I trust I am not actuated from motives of personal private interest or reward but with a view to the glory of God. And have endeavored humbly to look unto God for His direction in a serious consideration and enquiry respecting my duty in this important affair — Considering the extraordinary and singular unanimity of the church and congregation and how undesirable it is for a people to be scattered upon the hills without a spiritual instructor and guide. These things lead me to conclude and afford a prospect that my compliance will be for the glory of God the honor and interest of the cause of Christ and the God of the immortal Souls.  From this view that it is for the Glory of God the interest of the Redeemer’s Kingdom and for the salvation of souls. I am as I trust induced cheerfully to comply with your invitations relying on the grace of God and the gracious promises of the Lord Jesus Christ made to his faithful ministers.

“And may I obtain mercy and grace of God to be a faithful minister on the new covenant to come unto you in the fullness of blessing of the Gospel of Christ seeking not yours but you and willing to spend and be spent in the cause of Christ and for the spiritual good of your immortal souls.  How great arduous and important the work. How solemn that I must give account of the souls committed to my charge. Should I consult flesh and blood and look to my own ability and sufficiency in undertaking and performing this great work I might well shrink back from it.

“Who is sufficient for these things is the expresion [sic] even of the great apostle through Christ strengthening even the weak may be made strong and small means blessed for great good. And without His especial gracious assistance no one can be properly sufficient leaning not to our own understandings but heartily to the allisufficiancy [sic] and faithfulness of the Great Head of the Church we may go forward finding consolation and support.

“It becomes a minister of Christ to give himself wholly to the work in which he engages not for filthy lucres [sic] sake but have a ready mind. And as I expect and engage this to do to spend the principal part of my time to study and labor continually for the upholding of Christ’s cause and church among you and for the spiritual interest of your immortal souls.  It is but proper as long as I thus do I should reap your carnal things receive from you a comfortable subsistence and this I trust I shall so long as the unanimity and friendship continues and there is a prospect of my being useful and doing good among you and when this is at an end it is best we should part. But may God of His mercy grant that no unhappy separation may take place, but that each of us may know what is proper for our several stations and to conduct as that we may further one another’s salvation.

“I shall stand in a near relation to this Church and in a very important one to you all both the aged the middle aged and the youth and even the children and all who attend on my ministry I am to watch for your souls as one that must give an account. Many will be the souls committed to my charge.  The work is difficult arduous and unspeakably important. I need therefore to be much in prayer meditation and study and to be diligent and faithful, and need and do desire your prayers your watchfulness your friendly correction and council as well as that you will need mine.   And the same forbearance being but a man shall I need from you that you will from me.

“As the upbuilding of Redeemer’s Kingdom and is infinitely important and the most glorious object and the welfare of your immortal souls of unspeakable concernment to you and as you invited me to labor among you in these things to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ it is my duty to be plain and faithful not to seek to please men but God. And it is important how you hear if may obtain mercy of God to be a faithful minister of the new covenant. What I deliver will be a savor of life unto life or a savor of death unto death to you all. But I would charge you not to hearken to what I deliver now follow my example any further than they shall be according to the word of God in your best judgment which you are to study daily to know what is the truth and practice according to it. For all men are fallible and imperfect.

“May God grant I so speak live and that you may so hear and practice that I and you may have occation [sic] to rejoice in the day of the Lord Jesus Christ that I have not run in vain nor labored in vain. And therefore let us keep near the throne of grace and continually bear each other and zion’s cause on our hearts in our addresses to the God of all mercies that we may finally rejoice together united by  – forever with Christ in his Kingdom and glory. Now the God of peace that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus that great shepard [sic] of the sheep through the blood of the everlasting covenant make you perfect in every good work to do His will working in you that which is well pleasing in His sight through Jesus Christ to whom be glory forever. Amen.

“I subscribe myself your affectionate friend and brother in the faith and fellowship of the gospel. Gad Newell

Dated Packersfield April 5^th 1794”

The young Reverend Newell was mindful of the fate of his predecessor when he wrote that he would remain in Packersfield’s service “so long as the unanimity and friendship continues and there is a prospect of my being useful.” He even contemplated the end of his service: For when “doing good among you… is at an end it is best we should part. But may God of His mercy grant that no unhappy separation may take place, but that each of us may know what is proper for our several stations and to conduct as that we may further one another’s salvation.”

It had been a little over two years since Jacob Foster’s difficult dismissal.

Gad Newell served long and well. His life and service saw the financial separation of church and town and the building of the third place of worship, Nelson’s current Congregational Church. He died in 1859 at age 95 and was buried in the very spot where once his pulpit stood high on the hill.

Click here to see more history articles by Rick Church.

And, it certainly wasn’t the smell of the kerosene pot burner or yesterday’s fried liver (Frank liked it well done).  Nor was it the stale and overflowing ashtray hand-crafted by his good friend Boo Doore from Harrisville, or the spare floatplane propeller propped up in the corner, or even the Remington pump-action deer rifle that hung in the spider webs over the kitchen window, under which a toaster fire had once charred its butt end.  And it probably wasn’t the wind that howled off the lake through the north end of the house, often accompanied by mini-drifts of snow blowing into the kitchen.

“What it was,” Barry says, “was that the kitchen door was always open – that old door scratched by generations of dogs – it was always open and everybody was welcomed in by Frank.

Mismatched mugs, chipped cups and tarnished spoons (even some sterling silver ones whose worn family monograms spoke of times past) were scattered among the paper clutter and the jar of instant coffee – perhaps a metaphor for the people often sitting around Frank’s kitchen table – some as mismatched and chipped as the mugs.  That was the allure.  You never knew who was going to be there.  And there was always somebody there – an impressive cross-section of humanity.

Perhaps it was yesterday’s social media, but news got passed along around Frank’s table – the good with the bad.  Stories that now make up a large part of our local lore were told (Frank was a master storyteller).  People laughed and cried. This was a true gathering of community vitality where things were shared and ideas were born.  Frank’s kitchen was a “happening” place, where a kind of grassroots democracy thrived.

Ray Oldenburg, author of The Great Good Place, would have called Frank’s kitchen a “third place”, where people gather and interact beyond the realms of home (1^st place) and work (2^nd place).  This 20 year-old book spoke of the growing loss of such informal gathering spaces and the community disconnect that has resulted.

In fact, folks at the Nelson Community Forum, held in September 2010, understood Oldenburg’s concerns, and shared some of the following thoughts:

“There’s no place to talk about day-to-day happenings”

“We need a place to ‘hang out’”

“There’s little communication around what already exists”

“We need a common place where we can ‘bump into’ others”

This theme repeated itself throughout the Community Forum weekend.  The town is crying out for “third places”.  (Copies of the Forum Final Report are available for download at www.movinginstep.org.)

While many wonderful “events” exist in Nelson that bring us together – first Tuesday teas, first Thursday potlucks, NELS luncheons, ice cream socials, etc., – many still seem to hunger for spontaneous gathering places in neutral spaces.  Some of us may seek that place in our amazing library, while others may seek that place in one of the general stores in our neighboring towns, where people gather to sit for a cup of coffee, some friendly conversation and community.

Folks at this end of town often seek the community of The Harrisville Store, where we not only ‘bump into’ our Nelson neighbors, but also have a chance to swap news and ideas with our Harrisville neighbors.  The Store is a gem among general stores, and in its own special way, it answers the call of Frank’s kitchen.

When the chairs around Frank’s kitchen table would break down, they were relegated to his no-longer-used front parlor to gather dust.  However, a replacement would somehow emerge (sometimes even an antique Chippendale) from that same abandoned parlor – perhaps another metaphor for the allure of Frank’s kitchen.  It was a social equalizer, not only for his chairs, but also for the people who sat in them.

Even though I know that most of Frank’s chairs burned up in his house fire, every time I go to The Harrisville Store, I like to imagine that a few of them were rescued from the charred remains, fixed up and passed along to the Store, where they live on in the spirit of Frank’s kitchen.

PS:  Where is your third place?  Submit a comment (below) to tell us.

These volumes contain important records of the small rural town we call Nelson, originally Packersfield, from the 19^th century, revealing how the schools, poor farm, roads and tax records were part of the social fabric of the community. They list who lived in the town and who the officials were over a period of several decades. Thaddeus Barker, John Breed, Josiah Robbins, Nathaniel Griffin, and George Tolman, to name a few who were tax collectors, selectmen,  and just ordinary citizens who paid taxes.

The reports show what was needed to run a rural school, such as lots of cord wood purchased from several different individuals. The records tell us the amount of salary and board money paid to single female teachers in 12 week increments and where they roomed. The school meeting reports were signed by Joel Bancroft, John Yardley, Horatio Osgood, Lyman Stone, and Milan Harris, to name a few.

There is a detailed list of items purchased for the Poor Farm giving us clear insight into what it took to maintain that facility even for a few years. In 1853, the Overseer of the Poor Farm, Upton Burnap, bought 2 large rocking chairs, 2 clothes lines, 3 dozen clothes pins, 1 ox yoke and bows, 1 iron shod bed and 1 pail. The complete list of items purchased the year before takes several pages in the record book.

The reports also give a detailed account of payments to Gad Newell, the first minister of Nelson, over the many years he was pastor. They give a list of the poor (before the farm was established), who took them in, and what the town paid for room and board. There are many entries listed to Dr. Nehemiah Rand, the town physician. Most importantly, these carefully written accounts indicate a commitment by the town to maintain these facilities, taking care of the poor and educating the children.

Thanks to the many people who buy the Moose Conservation License Plates that fund this grant for the protection and preservation of materials that are important to the history of New Hampshire and to our beloved town of Nelson.

Susan Hansel

Assistant Archivist

Town of Nelson

There will be a 2 mile hike leaving at 5Pm touring old town roads and cellar holes north and east of Woodward Pond. Meet in the Village and carpool.  Sponsored by the Nelson Trails Committee and co-led by Rick Church and Kathy Schillemat.

The old mill site is on the upper falls of Bailey Brook . The falls had a lot of water going over  it from recent rains and downstream the brook ran through its rocky bed with a musical sound.  The banks were lush with ferns. Bailey Brook briefly forms a wetland before entering a cut with steep banks culminating in the waterfall that can be seen from Old Stoddard Road.

The Nelson Trails Group, established under the auspices of Moving in Step, is working to make the beautiful, educational and historic places in town accessible to the walking public.  The nearly twenty-member committee plans to start by identifying Nelson’s abandoned but accessible old roads.  The first project,the town’s first documented road laid out in 1773 and only closed in 1959, is the original road from the Packersfield meeting house to Dublin some call the Klemperer Road.  It features gentle walking on an old road, four old cellar holes, and a number of vernal pools.  Forest types change as you pass stonewalls and are the result of early land use by the settlers there and the date of their final abandonment.

The group is in the process of documenting the natural and historical things of interest along some of our old roads and is seeking abutting landowner co-operation so that more Nelson walkers can enjoy the natural and historical features of Nelson’s abandoned roads. If you ware interested in participating, please call Rick Church at 603-847-3206.

Some kind of dispute ended the service of Packersfield’s first minister.  Town records do not tell us the nature of the trouble, but do record a difficult process by which the Reverend Jacob Foster was “dismissed” from service and a settlement made between him and the town.  We can guess, from the content of the proceedings, that money was a central issue in the dispute.

The first evidence of a problem is found in the minutes of the town meeting of June 30, 1791 with the following entry:

“Voted not to accept the Rev Jacob Foster’s answer as satisfactory. Voted to agree with the Church in a mutual council with the Reverend Jacob Foster.”

The town meeting appointed to a committee of five to draw articles of charge against Reverend Jacob Foster and arrange the evidence. The members were Deacon William Barker, Solomon Wardwell, Joseph Abbott, David Beard and Abraham Goodenow

We can read several facts into the situation by reading the entry carefully. A complaint had been made against the Reverend Foster that had not been answered to the satisfaction of the town. There were two bodies involved: the church and the town. Later documents refer to a third body: The Venerable Council. The town appointed a committee to manage this process and that committee represented both the town and the church.

Somewhat over a month later the committee presented its report to the town. We do not have a copy of the committee’s report. At some point the Venerable Council entered the dispute and rendered its own report, apparently in support of the minister. The town members met on August 9^th, but failed to agree on a way to resolve the issue. The meeting was adjourned to August 17^th when the town met four days in a row to try to resolve the issue. The meeting got testy at times as reflected in a vote to appoint Captain Ezra Smith and Lieutenant Peletiah Day “to keep order while the committee acts.”

Finally, after five days of meetings to discuss the issue, the town reached some kind of resolution and on the 20^th “Voted not to accept the report of the Venerable Council 72 to 0. Voted that Deacon William Barker, Joseph Abbott and Solomon Wardwell be a committee to give the thanks of this town to the Venerable Council.  “Voted to choose a committee to tell the Reverend Jacob Foster the result.”

The town paid Council expenses in the amount of 25 pounds and Josiah Melvin was paid for boarding the Council.

A few weeks later the town met again and chose the same five-member committee to meet with Mr. Foster and “make enquiry into the difficulty relative to the Rev. Jacob Foster and make a report. Also that the committee be empowered to make the Rev. Jacob Foster proposals after taking advice abroad.” They were to sound out their neighbors.

Whatever issue the congregation had with its minister, it had reached crisis proportions by the time it made the official town records. At that point virtually the entire congregation wanted their minister gone; one of the Church’s deacons, William Barker, was on the committee to draw up the charges. The other deacon, Solomon Ingalls, was the meeting’s moderator.  Finding himself isolated within his own community, Foster had turned to a council of fellow ministers for support.  His peers were encouraging, perhaps supporting the institution of the Church more than the man, but they were not proof against a congregation that was clearly of one mind regarding the man’s failings as their minister.

In early October the town received a proposal from Foster for a mediated end to the dispute:

“To the Town of Packersfield,

Gentlemen: Although in some former proposals I observed that the clergy were not to be excepted [accepted] in settling our difficulties [The advice of the Venerable Council had been rejected unanimously.] yet sensible that it is of great importance that these difficulties should be healed, I hereby propose to the people in this place that I will refer the final settlement of everything of a pecuniary nature to the judgment of five indifferent men of the laity the chairman to be chosen by mutual consent of the other four; two to be chosen by the town and two by myself, the choice to be overruled if any reasonable objection shall be made. And said referees when together may take into view as the ground of their judgment my present situation and that of the town, the late result of the council in this place and all the civil transactions between the town and myself. These proposals are so reasonable that I think they cannot fail of giving satisfaction. From your affectionate minister.

Jacob Foster”

Foster's Proposal

Whatever the other issues between the parties, this letter appeals for a settlement of the “pecuniary” and of “civil transactions”. The latter probably refers to the terms by which the contractual relationship between the town and the minister could be ended. The town seems to have accepted this negotiation process, but on August 27^th the town asked for assurance that Mr. Foster would agree “not to charge the town any pay for three Sabbaths to come if the town will call a meeting before the fourth Sabbath Day and comply with the award of the late differences between said Foster and the Town.”

On November 15^th Packersfield held another town meeting entirely devoted to the Foster matter. The Committee reported verbally that Rev. Foster had agreed.  The meeting took action accepting “the award of the late reference [mediation] between Jacob Foster and the Town.” The town voted not to raise the 135 pound settlement, but authorized Amos Child to borrow money on behalf of the town. Three days later the town met again and appointed a committee to ask the Reverend Jacob Foster to agree to ask for a “dismission” from his duties. The meeting was adjourned and  John White, Peletiah Day and Samuel Skinner waited  on Mr. Foster’s response. They received his written answer immediately after the meeting:

“To the Church and Congregation in Packersfield: As I am informed that the town has accepted the award of the late arbitrators and have appointed a committee who have given security in behalf of the town for payment of money, so I am now ready and willing to join with the Church and the Town in calling a council to dissolve the relationship between me and the Church and Congregation agreeably to the award and desire this may be done as soon as may be convenient. Packersfield, November 18^th 1791 thirty-nine minutes after six o’clock.”

Foster's Acceptance

That evening the reconvened meeting voted to “concur with the Church in calling a Council to dissolve the relationship between the Reverend Jacob Foster and the Church and Congregation.” And voted “to desire the Venerable Council in this place to dissolve the relation between the Rev. Jacob Foster and said town as minister and people.”

The town had devoted nine meetings covering the period from June to November 1791 including one marathon, four-day, virtually continuous meeting.  The committee of five that was first appointed to specify the town’s complaints saw the process through from beginning to end. The town must have been emotionally drained from a public contest with its minister. Though we do not know what complaints the town had against Mr. Foster, it apparently owed the minister a great deal of back salary.  Perhaps they had tried to get him to resign and had held his pay as leverage. It may have been a scarcity of ready cash. These were days of a largely barter economy when cash was scarce and people worked off their taxes on the roads.  Goods and services were exchanged or notes given in anticipation of a future payment in money or other things of value. Perhaps the town had tried to pay Foster in commodities it had received in payment of taxes or in notes given by taxpayers in debt to the town. We do not know. We can say that his seventy-pound salary was competitive; his successor, the Reverend Gad Newell was paid a similar amount.

Mr. Foster was finally paid in March of 1792 and left Packersfield.  He returned at the end of his life. He died in 1798 and was buried near the new meetinghouse.  The final chapter in the story was the reacquisition by the Town of the land Foster had been granted for his parsonage. His epitaph reads:

“Surviving friends come view the place

Prepared for Adam’s guilty race

No age exempted you may see

Death had a summons fixed for me”

We probably think that using commodities as a hedge against inflation and mediation panels consisting of mediators selected by each side are twentieth century inventions; they were practiced in Packersfield in the eighteenth.

Nelson Town Records Volume 3; A History of Nelson New Hampshire 1767-1967, Parke H. Struthers, editor

The author is grateful to Sue Kingsbury for her skillful editing.

Click here to see more of Rick’s articles on Nelson History

I’ve just lugged a couple of green plastic chairs up to the top of the Jack Rabbit, a hill overlooking Tolman Pond and the 1790′s vintage Farmhouse, which was cleared for skiing in the 1920’s – we’re told one of the first such hills in New England.

I sit here, looking out over this little 40-acre gem of water, and wonder what it was like in the early days of skiing when small ski hills were sprouting up all over the New England landscape.

Newt Tolman skiing off the roof. See more pictures at the end of this article.

Such was the case at Tolman Pond where brothers Newt and Fran Tolman helped their folks Ma (Sadie) and Pop (Wayland) run a guesthouse in the old family Farmhouse.  They also rented out ten summer cabins, whose renters usually joined the others for meals in the Farmhouse.  In order to make ends meet a little bit better, they expanded their winter business by adding something new – skiing.

They not only cleared the Jack Rabbit in the 1920’s, but also extended the clearing out in all directions eventually encompassing several acres.  They cleared trails up Hurd Hill behind the Farmhouse, and anywhere else they deemed feasible for a ski run.  The used the field, where Ted Lenk and Susan Weaver now pasture their sheep, for lessons and practice.  This field is still called the Practice Slope.

Newt set up a shop in the back of the barn at the Farmhouse to make wooden skis.  These were the days when you had to climb to get to the top of the hill, so he also recommended wrapping sealskins around his handcrafted skis to create some traction while climbing.

His ski-making venture soon evolved into making double-ended skis.  He and his wife then offered lessons in how to use these for something Newt called “figure skiing”.  In fact, Newt later spent some time in Austria studying established skiing techniques, but came home more dedicated than ever to figure skiing.

During this time, he also claims to have invented the use of metal edges, a strip of metal that he tacked onto the edges of the skis to make turning easier while skiing down the hill.  He then carved a couple of “steps” into the bottoms of his wooden skis to aid in climbing.

In a February 1957 article in the Atlantic Monthly, “Schussing a Few Decades”, Newt wrote that:

“among my own modest contributions were metal edges made out of bronze clock springs, a patented ski with a stepped bottom, and a technique known as “figure skiing.”  Using eight-foot double-ended skis, it enabled the skier to approximate somewhat loosely, much of the repertoire of Sonja Henie.”

Today, there are relics of Newt’s inventions tucked away in the hayloft at the Farmhouse gathering dust – double-ended skis, metal edges, stepped bottoms.  I think about these today, sitting up here on the hill – inventions far ahead of their time.

Becoming quite established as a destination for skiers, and with a growing clientele, many coming from the Boston area, it was time to turn up the volume and add a rope tow.

From some rapidly expanding Vermont ski hill, they found a discarded 1931 Model A Ford engine, packaged with the necessary pulleys, shafts, belts and drive mechanisms.  They were then gifted a well-worn, and no longer used, sisal rope from the drive that had powered the Cheshire Woolen Mills for many years in the neighboring town of Harrisville.

Together with these acquisitions, and with the skilled help from friend, neighbor, master mechanic, and later dedicated operator, Walter Hutchins, they went to work; and, in the late 1930’s, they opened for business with the addition of a new rope tow.

Meanwhile, back at the Farmhouse, the chores loomed large.  Ma Tolman, with the help of Mabel Curtis, housed and fed the skiing guests with reportedly fabulous home-cooked meals.  Pop, with the help of Newt and Fran, kept the wood shed filled, the fires stoked, the cows milked, the cream separated, the ice-cream bucket churning, the ice cut and stored for the ice-box, the eggs gathered, the plumbing fixed to accommodate its new-found demands, the root cellar and canned goods picked over, the chickens plucked, and the orders sorted from the Harrisville Store deliveries.

In the main part of the Farmhouse, where Tom Tolman and Larisa Belluscio now live, there were three double-bedrooms downstairs, two single-bedrooms upstairs, as well as the Rabbit Warren that could board a few more (heated by a hole through the floor which welcomed not only heat from below, but the rich smells from the kitchen), and the GHQ (aka General Headquarters), an unheated space that bunked as many as eight older kids. All of this was serviced by two rather marginally-plumbed bathrooms.

The living room and dining room became the after-ski and after-dinner gathering spot where music and stories and games were shared around the old upright Steinway piano and the center-chimney fireplace.  Newt and Fran were both skilled musicians and storytellers.

The other end of the house, where the sheds had earlier been converted into living quarters, was home for Ma and Pop.  This area of the Farmhouse became known as the Ski Room, and is used today by our family and friends.  This was where cold and wet clothing was shed and hung by the fireplace to dry.  There was a ping-pong table in the large open living room, and Priscilla Walter recently reported that she remembers a swing hanging from the rafters.  The cooking was done over here as well, accessing the dining room by a swinging door.  And, Ma was often found resting in her adjoining sitting room that she shared with a few cats, a deck of cards, and gift boxes of nibbled and tasted chocolates.  Someone was always visiting with her there.

In fact, when there were overflow guests in the main part of the house, she and Pop would set up a bed in this sitting room and offer their own bedroom to the paying guests.  Never knowing what tomorrow might bring, they stacked ‘em in anywhere they could while the going was good.

Above the Ski Room, there was a seasonal (then unheated and unplumbed) apartment used by the help in the summertime, and minimally used in the wintertime by Robert Curtis, who helped out on the farm.  Today, this apartment is home to Kirk Dale.

The ski hill operated into the mid 1940’s, but by then interest had shifted to the larger and better-equipped ski areas in New England.

But a few years later, Fran’s son Barry, who grew up skiing on the hill, tried to resurrect the tow.  In the late 1940’s, at about 15 years old, he enlisted the help of friend and neighbor, Frank Upton.  But the project was finally abandoned to the brambles, briars and ferns that eventually took over the hill.

But, old dreams die hard.  When Barry had children of his own, he became obsessed with the Ski Hill once again.  By the mid 1970’s, brush was cleared and trails were cut.  And then, from a defunct Claremont radio station:

He bought the Bombardier with Harry and Bronson*
To haul kids up the Ski Hill to ski down the Jack Rabbit.
It was a deal at five hundred, but it came in pieces,
In a truckload that dumped it all over the bejesus.
With an engine from Frank and shop time from Harvey**,
They rebuilt this thing into a sight far from sorry.
It arches like a rainbow, not knowing its front from its back,
And glides through the snow with the grace of a cat.
Up the hill, over the road, the kids hang on tight
To the railings and rope tow with all their might.
Dropped off at the top, the kids ski down,
Nor daring to stop less they miss the next round.

* 1959 Bombardier snow cat; Harry Suttenfield and Bronson Shonk

** Frank Upton and Harvey Tolman

So then again, as in earlier days at Tolman Pond, many neighborhood kids grew up skiing on the Jack Rabbit.

As I sit here up on the hill, I look out over where the tow once was and where the Bombardier once ran.  Perhaps someday the “Bomber” will be put back to use.  Meanwhile, it sits in the shed behind the Farmhouse needing some fixing.  Then again, perhaps some other means of uphill transportation will come along first.

But for today, the kids, even some in their 20’s and 70’s, don’t mind climbing the hill to get in a few runs after work and on the week-ends.  And, Barry, with his cousin Renn, his son Tom, his grandson Wayland, many other family members, friends, and even occasional cows, have kept the hill mowed, so that we can all look forward to a couple more runs down the Jack Rabbit – schussing into a few more decades.

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The Reverend George Whitefield did not (as far as we know) ever preach in Nelson, but he was a contemporary of Treadway and Foster, of whom no portrait is known to exist .

The original charter of Monadnock Number Six stipulated founding a successful town in accordance with the king’s requirements. The charter contained requirements to establish and support of religion and education. Three of the grantors’ shares in the town, a total of six one hundred acre lots, were reserved  “free from charge, one for the first settled minister one for the ministry and one for the school forever.”  One lot from each of these shares was to be in the center of the new town where a “convenient meeting house” would be built.  The meetinghouse was to serve as a place of worship and for public meetings. Breed Batchellor laid out ten acres of common land for this purpose in the original layout of the town.

In support of the requirement to establish religion, the town hired and paid for the minister and erected a meetinghouse to serve as the site of both civic and religious life of the town.  While not all town residents were church members, the minister’s salary was paid by the town, leaving both church membership and town residents with a joint responsibility for choosing or dismissing ministers.  The Congregational Church in the form of a Venerable Council of local ministers played a role as well, approving ministers as suitable or not.  Town financial support began to change when other denominations began to hold services in Nelson and ceased shortly after the Toleration Act (1819) passed by New Hampshire required that churches be privately supported.

The process of finding a minister for Monadnock Number Six began in a proprietors’ meeting held March 29, 1773 at the home of Nathaniel Breed, where it was voted to raise money to hire a preacher.  The hiring process was interesting. A committee was chosen to offer a trial preaching period to prospective preachers after which an offer of full employment could be made and accepted.

In the meantime a minister was necessary for the vital social functioning of the new community. Early on, the Reverend Joseph Farrar from the church in Dublin filled in. The Reverend Farrar presided over the marriage of Deliverance, daughter of Dr. Nathaniel and Ann Breed, to Lieutenant Abijah Brown in Packersfield on October 28, 1772.  Reverend Farrar returned to baptize another Breed daughter, Anne, in the new meetinghouse in July 1773. This was also the occasion of the preaching of the first sermon in Monadnock Number Six, and probably served as the building’s dedication as well.

A committee composed of Eleazur Twitchell, Amos Skinner and James Bancroft was charged with finding a Gospel Minister. In 1774 James Treadway was induced to come for a trial in which he was to “supply the desk” five Sabbaths after which he was asked to serve an additional five. He must have done well for on August 16, 1774 the town voted to “call James Treadway.”  Their proposal included land and a salary of 30 pounds per year increasing by 5 pounds per year until it reached 60 pounds. Twelve acres of the land would be cleared at town expense. There must have been a bit of negotiating as a subsequent meeting voted to give Treadway four Sabbaths off every year. Treadway turned them down.

The Treadway Offer (Nelson Town Archives)

The town returned to hiring preachers on a temporary basis. One of those hired was undoubtedly Solomon Reed.  In the Spring of 1779, Dr. Nathaniel Breed was paid 27 pounds 19 shillings and 6 pence to board the minister 12 weeks and 6 days and the town voted to raise 200 pounds to support the ministry that year.  These numbers make it seem as though poor Mr. Treadway had been offered too little, but this was a time of raging inflation caused by the financing for the Revolutionary War.  In 1779 it required 2400 pounds in continental money to buy 100 pounds in gold. A year and a half later 12,000 pounds Continental was the equal of 100 in gold. In any case Mr. Reed declined the full time position.

These must have been very difficult years. Men were away in the Continental Army. The fledgling United States was battling economic hard times.  The absence of a minister could have been an even more important rent in the social fabric.  Babies not promptly baptized might be liable to hell; illegitimacy was not a realistic social option so the availability of marriage was vital to young couples. Who could face death without the services of an ordained man of God?

Poor Packersfield finally brought the process to a successful conclusion. A town meeting in October 1780 “voted to give the Rev Mr. Jacob Foster a call to settle in this town in the work of the ministry by twenty-seven votes only two in the negative.”  Foster agreed to “supply the desk.”

According to Robert F. Lawrence in his The New Hampshire Churches; Comprising the Histories of the Congregational and Presbyterian Churches of the State, Foster was a 1754 graduate of Harvard and had been settled as a minister before. “He is said to have been in sentiment a moderate Calvinist, and a man of good natural and acquired abilities, and to have sustained honorably his ministerial office. During his ministry twenty-seven were added to the church.”

Again there were negotiations.  Jacob Foster was to get one of the ministerial lots providing he gave up any right to the other lot. The town would  “clear up and seed eighteen acres of land”, six acres in each of his first three years. They went so far as to specify that the land would be seeded with two pounds of “hard grass” and one pound of clover per acre. He was to get a salary based on the number of families in town and free firewood.  Subsequently the town was to supply their minister with 25 cords of firewood per year. The following is from the official town records:

“Voted to give Mr. Foster 55 pounds and 20 cords of wood delivered to his door yearly until the town has 70 families. Then to give him 60 pounds and 20 cords of wood per year until the town has 90 families. Then to give him 65 pounds and 20 cords of wood per year until the town has 100 families. Then to give him 70 pounds and 0 cords of wood per year.

“That the above salary be equal to money in the year 1774

“That he has liberty to be absent three Sabbaths per year. That the salary be stated in Indian Corn at 2 shillings per bushel, rye at 3 shillings and 8 pence per bushel and grass fed beef at 2 pence half penny per pound and other articles in like proportion.”

The Foster Offer

In these inflationary times, the Reverend Foster’s salary was carefully protected from inflation by stating that he be paid an amount specified in pre-war currency.  The mechanism of preserving that value was specified by equating a 1774-pound in terms of common commodities it could purchase, just as commodities are used today as an inflation hedge.

Jacob Foster’s installation was held on the last day of January 1781 and must have been a grand ceremony.  Packersfield assembled an “Eclesiastical Councell” [sic] composed of the ministers of nine churches: The Church of Hollis, The Church of New Ipswich, the South Church in Portsmouth, the North Church in Berwick, the Church in Greenland, the Church in Washington, the Church in Dublin, the Church in Keene, the Church in Wilton.  The town raised three hundred pounds for the expenses and paid “Dr. Breed four hundred pounds for entertaining said Councell” The small, unheated Packersfield meeting house at twenty-five by thirty feet must have been warm that January day with so many people in attendance.

Two months later Foster added to the 18 acres the town had provided and cleared by acquiring land between the old town common, Center Pond and Center Pond Road.  Later he would acquire 150 additional acres south of the Merriconn Farm.

Nelson Town Records; Deeds of land: Cheshire County Registry of Deeds; A History of Nelson New Hampshire 1767-1967, Parke H. Struthers, editor; Robert F. Lawrence; The New Hampshire Churches; Comprising the Histories of the Congregational and Presbyterian Churches of the State;   The Old Village on the Hill-top ,Rev. Edwin Noah Hardy, Ph.D. unpublished; no date

The author is grateful to Sue Kingsbury for her skillful editing.

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