Maine Memory Network

CLAIRVOYANT GUESSES WEIGHT; HE KNOWS HOW OLD YOU ARE

OLD ORCHARD BEACH, 1948 -- This popular beach's newest personality can tell you things you might wish he didn't know.

Dave "the Guesser" Glovsky knows your weight. Your age. Your birthdate. Your occupation. He might even know what kind of car you drove to get here.

Dave the Guesser can meow like a cat so convincingly you'll go looking for the hidden feline. You can't see Dave's lips moving.

Remember Cyrano? He is Dave's wooden dummy from his ventriloquist show. Cyrano even has real dentures.

Dave's many talents are now (1948 )the talk of Old Orchard.

He's part of the attraction that has cars crowding the new Maine Turnpike that opened in December. Vacationers and others jam the roadway from Kittery to Portland.

Tourists who used to come to Maine for the whole summer now come in their cars, stay a week or two, and leave. They pack resorts like this one with its long sandy beach and pier.

And they flock to the many amusements -- and especially to the skilled guesser.

Dave, born in Portland in 1909, likes to show off his muscles. He's only 5 feet, 5 inches tall. But he has muscles from his other job as a furniture mover.

Some of the muscles might be left over from his career as a boxer. He started boxing at 16. Glovsky even fought New England Amateur champ Irish Jim Feeney to a draw in 1925.

But his boxing career was no match for his mother. She chased him out of the ring one night. Dave respected her wishes and moved away from boxing.

Only three years ago, in 1945, Dave stood in for a friend at the Pier, guessing weights.

The friend never returned; Dave never left.

Entertainers at Old Orchard are drawn to him, too.

NEW YORK, July 10, 1985 -- Old Orchard Beach's Dave the Guesser appeared last night on "Late Night" with Dave Letterman.

Even the lights of television could not intimidate Old Orchard's guesser.

Dave the Guesser was right on the mark guessing Letterman's age and that of a young woman from the audience.

Of his national television appearance, Glovsky said, "I did one heck of a tap dance."

He added, "There's nobody around like me, is there?"

PORTLAND, October 9, 1997 -- Old Orchard Beach guessing fixture Dave Glovsky died today at age 88.

IMMIGRANT NAMED MOTHER OF THE YEAR; BORN IN CHINA

PORTLAND, May 5, 1952 -- In some place, they might talk about Marilyn Monroe, the movie actress whose picture was on the cover of Life magazine recently.

Or maybe about Mamie Eisenhower, the candidate's wife and the model American wife and mother.

But in Portland, a diminutive Chinese immigrant who runs a laundry on Forest Avenue is the talk of the town.

It was only 31 years ago that Toy Len Goon came to America. Now she is the new Mother of the Year in her adopted country.

Some people say women should stay home and take care of the house, of children, and of husbands.

Toy Len Goon didn't have that choice.

When her husband, Dogan Goon, died in 1941, she was left with eight children, ages 3 to 16, to raise by herself.

Imagine that. She came from China. She had to learn a new language. She's worked nearly every day of her life since she's been here.

She and her husband ran the laundry on Forest Avenue. She's been doing it on her own for 11 years now, getting some help from her children.

Toy Len Goon's done such a good job at being a mother and a breadwinner that the Golden Rule Foundation picked her for the Mother of the Year honor.

She works in the laundry all day and still her children all got educations and are all doing well.

Now that's a modern woman.

A trip to the White House and the U.S. Congress are planned, where she'll meet another modern woman from Maine, Senator Margaret Chase Smith.

REED COUNTS DEMOCRATS, PANDEMONIUM IN U.S. HOUSE; CATCALLS, SHRIEKING, APPLAUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C., February 14, 1890 --"Czar," "Tyranny," "Revolution" were calls heard from the floor of the United States House of Representatives on January 29 when Speaker of the House Thomas Brackett Reed, the imposing Republican from Maine, ordered the clerk to count the Democrats.

The opposing party had used a favorite stalling technique. They asked for a roll call, then remained silent when their names were called. No quorum. The bill would be defeated.

Reed wanted nothing of it. He wanted legislation concerning a contested election of a representative passed.

The Democrats remained silent at the roll call. But not for long. Reed marked them all present. There was yelling and shouting and general disarray in the House chambers. The Democrats protested. Reed ruled them out of order.

And, after five days of debate and anger, Reed's Rules are now in effect. No more silent quorums. Business will be done.

WASHINGTON, D.C., September 4, 1899 -- Thirty-three years as a legislator and civil servant have ended.

Thomas Brackett Reed today announced his resignation from the U.S. House of Representatives.

He has served in the Maine House, the Maine Senate, and was Maine's Attorney General from 1870-1872. He was elected to the U.S. House in 1877 and had been there twenty years when he announced his resignation.

The large man, usually dressed in black, was Speaker of the House from 1889-1891 and from 1895 until his resignation today.

He was known by some as "Czar Reed" for his vigorous enforcement of House rules.

Sources say he could not live with the imperialistic actions of the U.S. government.

Reed said, "I have tried, perhaps not always successfully, to make the acts of my public life accord with my conscience, and I cannot now do this thing."

Reed did not like the war with Spain. He strongly disagreed with the annexation of Hawaii. And he deplored the purchase of the Philippines.

Unable to stand it any longer, the once-powerful politician is leaving Washington to practice law in New York.

MAN EATS CANNED CORN; LIVES TO TELL THE TALE

PORTLAND, 1852 -- Food in a sealed can? No one, not even the U.S. Patent Office believes it. But brothers Isaac and Nathan Winslow, Portland natives, believe it can be done.

The Patent Office denied their request for a patent and has accused the brothers of "spoofing" them. Still, the Winslows persist.

They say their can will preserve vegetables and other perishables.

They have been working for years to refine the canning process.

Largely through trial and error -- which they have carefully recorded -- the brothers have developed a highly effective process of preparing corn for packaging, cooking it, canning it, and heating the cans for the appropriate amount of time to ensure proper preservation.

They can now preserve vast amounts of corn with minimal spoilage.

Isaac Winslow, a longtime whaler, first got interested in canning corn while living in Havre, France.

Napoleon Bonaparte prompted the first practical canning techniques -- to keep his troops dependably fed on their far-flung adventures.

While those canning techniques weren't totally successful, Isaac Winslow was intrigued.

He bought the appropriate French patents and spent countless hours at sea thinking about how the process could be perfected.

(The Winslow Canning Co., which came later, was the work of Isaac's nephews, John and Frederick Jones)

Upon retiring from the sea to Portland, Isaac Winslow set out with brother Nathan, a hardware store owner, to perfect canning.

Before long, the brothers Winslow assert, everyone will be eating food out of tin cans.

POET'S SISTER TO PRESERVE FAMILY'S CONGRESS STREET HOUSE; MONUMENT TO LONGFELLOW

PORTLAND, 1895 -- Anne Longfellow Pierce wants Portland and America to remember her famous brother.

Pierce has signed a deed leaving Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's boyhood home to the Maine Historical Society upon her death.

The sprightly 85 year old doesn't expect that to be anytime soon.

She is said to have weighed the decision since the poet's death in 1882.

The "Old Original," as family members call the house, was built on Congress Street in 1785-1786 by Peleg Wadsworth, a Revolutionary War general, close friend of George Washington, and patriarch of the extended Wadsworth-Longfellow clan.

The house is notable for a number of reasons -- it was the first brick structure built in Portland -- but it is best known for its role in nurturing and shaping the life and work of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Longfellow's immediate family moved into the house shortly after his birth in 1807.

The poet wrote his first poems here, including the "Battle of Lovell's Pond." In some poems, such as "The Rainy Day Room" and "My Lost Youth," Longfellow's attachment to the house shines through.

He lived there until he left for Bowdoin College in 1822 and continued to make annual trips to the home for the rest of his life.

Ann Longfellow Pierce lived in the house all but three of her long years and has been its keeper since her parents' deaths in the 1850s.

And a fine keeper she has been. She patiently entertains pilgrims who come to pay homage to the poet, and is ever mindful of her brother's place in the hearts of Americans.

She has saved her family's furniture and keepsakes and has made few changes or modern updates over the years.

PORTLAND, 1901 -- Upon Anne Longfellow Pierce's death, the deed is executed.

In accepting her bequest, the Maine Historical Society agrees to keep the house as a "Longfellow Memorial" and to build their permanent home and library on the former site of the family's barn, just behind the house.

The Wadsworth-Longfellow House will become Maine's first historic house museum.

COMPANY AGENT WIELDS BRUSH; PAINTS PORTLAND SCENES

PORTLAND, 1889 -- The S.S. Portland, the brand new state-of-the-art sidewheel steamer built for the Eastern Steamship Co. was towed into Portland Harbor today where it will be outfitted and equipped at the Portland Company Pier.

This is just one more feather in the cap for the Portland Company, the manufacturing giant that anchors Portland's waterfront.

One Portland Company employee might be watching the big event with a special eye.

He's Superintendent George F. Morse, who not only works at the 44-year-old manufacturing giant, but loves to paint as well.

Morse might be dreaming about the design and building of steam locomotives, engines, boilers, and other industrial equipment.

But he's also probably thinking about his landscape paintings and the group he helped found, the Brushians, a unique organization of artists made up of businessmen who spend their Sundays painting outdoor scenes.

In fact, when Morse isn't at the Portland Co.'s bustling plant on Commercial Street -- the plant that straddles the Grand Trunk Railroad line, has two foundries, shops that manufacture virtually every part needed to build a locomotive, and employs hundred of workers -- he's often promoting the arts in Portland.

Morse is president of the Portland Society of Art. For a decade, he served as field director of the White Mountain Club of Portland and even made sketches of the White Mountains for the New Hampshire Geological Survey.

Morse has no shortage of energy or interests: he is also a talented inventor, a mountain climber, and an avid ornithologist.

And he's worked at the Portland Company since 1858.

PORTLAND, 1926 -- George Morse dies at 92.

He served as superintendent of the Portland Co. for 29 years, and was a draftsman there for 15 years.

Numerous paintings are donated to the Maine Historical Society.

FOGG CAPTURES BENJAMIN FRANKLIN; HAS OTHER DECLARATION SIGNERS; AUTOGRAPH COLLECTION GROWS

SOUTH BOSTON, 1879 -- Dr. John Samuel Hill Fogg, who has set his sights on the astonishing feat of securing the autographs of all 40 signers of the Declaration of Independence, recently bought a letter bearing Benjamin Franklin's signature.

Fogg, a native of Eliot, and a Bowdoin alum, has been in single-minded pursuit of the autographs of significant figures in American history since 1873 when he became paralyzed after contracting polio and had to stop practicing medicine.

Autograph collecting is the craze of the day, but Fogg takes his collecting seriously.

In a letter to a friend, he wrote: "I dislike to write myself an Autograph Collector though that is the plain term for it, as it always reminds me of the school girl besieging every noted person to write in her autograph album . . . I dislike to have my collecting placed on a level with the school boy's work."

He's thinking even bigger than signers of the Declaration. He also wants the framers of the Constitution, all the royal governors of the thirteen colonies, the 38 major generals of the Revolution, all U.S. presidents and vice presidents, and other selected notables.

That's a tall order.

Fogg's second wife, Mary Griselda Clinch, is an autograph collector too and her husband's partner in the endeavor.

She takes painstaking care in her mending, restoration, and preservation of the collection.

She even includes an engraving or other likeness of the signer on a cover page for most autographs.

PORTLAND, 1896 -- A proud son of Maine, Fogg bequeaths his Autograph Collection to the Maine Historical Society upon his death.

The collection is vast, containing more than 6,000 signed documents, many of major significance.

MORGAN STAYS AT ALMS HOUSE; HAD SOUGHT CITY HELP; WELL-KNOWN CITIZEN LOST ALL IN FIRE

PORTLAND, 1869 -- Jonathan "Squire" Morgan, who walks downtown streets in his large-collared cloak, wide-brimmed hat, leather goggles, and silver-headed walking stick, only wanted some more help as he tried to recover from his devastating losses in the well-remembered fire of July 4, 1866.

The flames devoured 300 of his books, melted his stereotype plates, destroyed a sample mowing machine, turned to ashes all of the copies of his book, English Grammar, burned a turning lathe and sewing machine, and consumed everything else that the then 89-year-old owned.

Morgan is well-known around town. He has been justice of the peace, librarian of the Maine Charitable Mechanic Association, and clerk of the Congress Square Universalist Church.

All he wanted was some financial relief from the mayor and aldermen so he could move out of the Alms House where he has lived since the fire.

Instead, his petition was denied.

And this for an inventor! A lawyer! An author of books about grammar and medicine!

The fire, started by a firecracker, burned buildings on 56 streets in the waterfront and eastern end of the city.

The Customs House, Post Office, City Hall, churches, hotels, bookstores, dry goods houses, and manufacturing firms burned. Steamships could not come into the harbor.

Portland adopted the phoenix as a symbol of its intention to rebuild from the ashes of the fire and the rebuilding is underway.

Now the buildings are all brick. There is a new water system. We have a city park -- Phoenix Park.

Middle Street is a model commercial area.

Exchange Street is the financial district.

But at least one Portland resident, Squire Morgan, did not rise from the ashes.

He is in the Alms House.