AN OVERDUE ENCOUNTER

By Dr. Robert Haldane, Jr.

As a child, I was entranced by stories of witches. In my imagination, I was with Hansel and Gretel. I escaped from forest cottage ovens, spit out the Snow White apple (even before Disney popularized that fabulous story), and traipsed the cow-path streets of old Salem.

When I was about six, my Aunt Bertie, a favorite relative, gave me a witch hat and mask, coat and boots. The mask had the traditional long, warty, nose making a frightful sight. On the steps of her house on Tuelltown Road, rural West Paris, Maine, I posed for a picture I have kept through almost three quarters of a century! It not only reminds me of many happy days at one of my favorite country sites, but it launches my thoughts about a very special person.

Bobby as Witch

I lived in northern Maine in a small town called Ashland. As most places in Aroostook County, it was a logging, lumbering, potato-growing community. It was a wonderful place for children to grow up knowing the wonders of nature. One of my best friends and constant playmate, Billy Walker, had a brother the same age as my sister, Betty, four years our junior. Billy and Bobby Walker had Shetland ponies, Silver and Tony. Bill and I often rode, bareback, around the area; Bill on Silver and I on his brother's Tony. In the winter, Tony used to love to break into a full gallop, head for the biggest snow bank in sight, and as he reached it, plant front feet wide apart and lower his head to the ground. As you can imagine, it was impossible for a bareback rider to stay on, even with two fists full of mane!

Such happy memories of Ashland days in The County include many parades, a regular feature of every patriotic holiday in that town. I remember contingents of GAR, Civil War veterans, and, of course, World War I veterans marching ahead of Scouts and Grange and various local groups. A usual unit in such parades was the decorated pony cart from the Walker place, with special invited guests.

Pony Cart in Parade

Frankly, I can't remember whether it was a Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, or Armistice Day (November 11 didn't become Veterans Day until many years later) that included a parade I shall never forget - albeit that the holiday was not the important memory. I was the guest with the Walker boys in their pony cart. There is a picture, taken in front of our Ashland house, probably by my mother, and from the short sleeves, bare ground, and trees not yet leaved out, I guess the holiday was Memorial Day. In any case, I can be seen in the cart wearing the WITCH MASK.

Here one must insert the note that in 1935 or 1936 when this event took place, rural Maine was the only, but adamant, majority Republican area in the county! That meant there was much partisan expression about the up-coming Presidential election. I took it all in with the exuberant enthusiasm of youth.

So when I got to ride in the pony cart, wearing the horrible witch face, I used the opportunity to show my political colors. I skooched down in the cart and each time we passed a group of spectators, I jumped up shouting, "I'm Eleanor Roosevelt!" The crowd loved it, laughing heartily, which encouraged me to continue the antic.

But Hazen Walker was the local Postman. In those pre-civil service days, that was a political appointment! The Walker's pony cart was well-known, and I was thus a threat to job security as well as offensive to the Democrat minority who (rightly) considered demeaning Eleanor Roosevelt jokes in very bad taste. Billy's mother, Peggy, called my mother with her scathing disfavor. I was NEVER going to be allowed in the pony cart again! I was required to say, "I'm sorry," even though deep inside I thought I had made a great public declaration.

Some years later, as a young adult, I began to read the newspaper syndicated column entitled, "My Day." Here I began to know something of the mind and heart of a gracious, caring, and courageous lady, Eleanor Roosevelt. Her morality, which my young ears had heard called into question, I now observed in trouble-filled times as higher than that of those who had vilified her, and higher than the White House she occupied so long, and even beyond the United Nations she so ably served.

About thirty years after the notorious pony cart incident, in 1965, I was serving a Church in Jackson, Michigan. Pastor of Arbor Grove Congregational Church since 1957, I was now taking my turn as President of the Jackson County Ministerial Association. The Ministerial Association, one body among many, including the NAACP, the Citizens Committee for Better Housing, The Beth Moser Mental Health Clinic, the YWCA, the YMCA, and various smaller civic groups, sponsored a Civil Rights Rally. The featured event was held at the African Methodist Episcopal Church in downtown Jackson.

As President of the County Ministerial Association, I was invited to give the Invocation for this auspicious occasion. Behind the center pulpit in this large sanctuary was a seat I can only describe as a love seat. It was not large enough to be called a couch, but was much wider than an over-stuffed chair. It was meant for seating dignitaries, probably including the Bishop - should he not be too wide a personage!

The AME Church was filled to overflowing. There were no extra chairs, nor spaces to place more. I was assigned to sit behind the Pulpit with the distinguished guest speaker, the Honorable Eleanor Roosevelt!

Eleanor Roosevelt

There we were, seated in the little love seat, literally cheek to cheek! We made polite small talk while we waited what turned out to be a very long time for the program to be started. After a few minutes, I summoned up enough courage and I told my cuddled-up companion the story of the pony cart. I was trying to apologize as she laughed and assured me that I shouldn't harbor any guilt over something so minor compared to the real assaults on her from dangerous sources. She said she wished she could have seen me at six or seven in that witch mask. What a beautiful lady! Her beauty shone from within and how grateful I am for that overdue encounter! She was one of my 20th Century heroes.

Epilogue

After almost 60 years, Bill Walker and I have found one another. Not only did I get his South Portland, Maine address, but he and his wife , Althea, winter in Naples, Florida. They called us at our home in Zephyrhills. We have found our friendship as strong as it was in the 30's and have vowed to keep the relationship vital. Silver and Tony lived to be thirty years old. We remember them as an important part of the life we shared in Ashland.

Birthday Party (Boys standing: Billy Walker, Bobby Haldane)

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