From “Maine’s Merry Gardens” by George Taloumis, in our April 1963 issue.
From “The Real Peculiar Railroad” by Charles Morrow Wilson, in our March 1958 issue.
From “Dog Days in Fort Kent,” by Elizabeth Peavey, in our February 1998 issue.
From “Trekking on Rawhide,” by Robert Deis, in our January 1980 issue.
From “Farmstead at the Crossroads,” by John Lovell, in our December 1979 issue.
Richard Senter writes about the New Meadows ice race in Brunswick, in our March 1968 issue.
Some two miles from the mainland, with nothing between it and savage squalls, the old sentinel has been battered frequently. Civil War-era keepers, according to one account, were afraid for their lives during bad weather because the tower would sway nauseatingly.
Between 1888 and 1895, the light station was moved four times. Its first keeper, Eba Ring, was succeeded by Charles Ames, who was paid $25 a month for lighting the lamps at dusk and extinguishing them at dawn every morning.
“The House is bleak. There is no softening landscape, no adjacent buildings other than a lonely barn to add the warmth that a cluster provides, only sky as the limitless background to a house that is unadorned. One believes Wyeth when he said of the house, ‘I just couldn’t stay away from there. It was Maine.’ “
From the essay “Aroostook Yesterdays,” by Anne Hannan, in our November 1956 issue.
From “Crazy Over Cranberries” by Ken Textor in our October 1996 issue.
From “A Return to Golden Pond,” a photo essay by Benjamin Magro, in our September 1986 issue.