The Maine Barn
Barn in center with the carriage house and blacksmith shop on the left, tie-up on the right. Year estimated as 1925.
As far back as I could remember as a child, there was a barn that seemed to belong as it stood. It was built in 1857 and is still standing in its majestic grandeur, four floors high with two large front doors, so large a team of horses could enter through them pulling a large hay wagon and continue right straight down through the barn to the other end and out the back side. On the way, they could empty the hay in what they call in a barn, a hay mow.
As you entered through the front doors there was a wall on the right and on the other side of that wall were the tie-ups for the cows. Each cow had their own small enclosed area, called a stall. In the very front of the stall there would be a feeding bin; a place to put hay or grain and also water for each animal. Each cow had a name, and sometimes their name was even engraved in the wood in front of their bin.
On the left side of the barn as you entered the front doors was a small grain room which had a roof which we called the loft. Past the grain room was the hay mow, where all the fragrant hay was piled in a mound all along the length of the barn. If you stood in the middle of the barn, you could look straight up all four floors and, except for the great beam stringers crossing above for each floor, it was all open spaces.
One of the ways we played on a dreary rainy day in the barn in the year 1940, was to climb a ladder to the loft. My older brother, Paul, had tied a large rope around one of the beams on the fourth floor and this rope hung down past the second floor alongside the loft. We would run and grab this rope and swing half-way across the hay mow and then let go of the rope and drop into the hay below.
The author, Patricia, age 5 and brother Paul, age 8, with a calf. Pat is wearing her riding breeches. Year 1940.
I also remember the barn swallow nests. Probably seven months out of the year, my Dad would leave the windows open and the barn swallows would fly in and make their nests on top of the gigantic beams.
Before I was born, there was another building which was attached to the right side of the barn. It was the tie up for the milking cows. Mother told me that her grandfather and father milked over 100 head of cattle everyday, for they had a milk route. They delivered the milk with horse and buggy every morning.
This tie up building led to another attached, but separate, structure which was called a shed. This shed was, in turn, attached to the house. The shed was used for the farmers to take off their dirty clothes such as jeans, coveralls, layers of shirts, shoes, and boots used strictly for barn purposes. These clothes would remain in the shed until needed for work again and then the men could enter the house area and keep it clean from the barn dirt.
The buildings being attached one to the other served other purposes during the winter months. Even if the temperature was sub-zero or there was snow to the roof tops, the work would still get done because no one had to go outside. Many people from other parts of the country have asked me, “why do the Maine farms have adjoining buildings,” (as opposed to other states where the farm buildings are not attached). It was simply that the winter chores were now mainly all (as Maine people would say) indoors.
Picture above shows the farm house on the right, the tie up in the middle and the big barn
doors to the left..
My mother, Clarissa Harriman Perry Gould, was born in the farm house in the year 1911. She was an only child. Her lovely mother’s name (my grandmother) was Eva Jackson Harriman and her father’s name (my grandfather) was Clare.
Clare lived with his mother, Annie Harriman (my greatgrandmother) and father, Charles Harriman, (my great-grandfather), on a beautiful estate they had built on Waldo Avenue in Belfast, Maine. In the year 1908, Charles and Clare decided that they would like to have a dairy farm, so they sold their estate and bought a 106 acre farm on Belmont Avenue, 2 miles out of the town of Belfast. When Clare married Eva, he moved his new wife in to the farmhouse and they lived there along with Clare’s parents.
Charles, Annie, and Clare were still running the dairy farm in 1928, the year my mother and father met. My mother’s mother, Eva, had died when my mother was four years old and her grandmother, Annie, raised her. Annie passed away when my mother was 17.
Clarissa, age 17
My mother and father were married in the year 1930. They lived in the town of Appleton until Charles died and then they decided to move to the farm to live with her father, Clare. So this farm with the big, big barn is where I was born in 1935 to Clarissa and Robert Perry—in the same farm house as my mother was born.
Then, in 1941, my mother inherited this large farm because her father, (my grandfather), Clare, passed away.
The farm was no longer a dairy farm because of the great depression of 1929. The Harrimans had all their savings in the bank and the stock market fell—all was lost to anyone that put their money in the banks.
So now all that was left from the 100 head of cows was a few beef cattle for the family’s eating purposes and two or three milking cows for the farm’s own use. Dad built a big white wooden fence around the whole place. Mother had her riding horses, so Dad decided at this time to advertise as a riding stable so people could come and ride for a fee. Dad put a corral inside the wooden fence so he would have an area to keep the horses ready for the riders for certain times of the day .
There was still the 106 acres of land that had fields that had to be hayed and gardens to care for, and wood to be cut from the forest of trees so that there was firewood available for the wood stoves so we could stay warm during the long, winters.
Most of the business for the riding stable were women. Sometimes I got to ride with them because by this time, at five years old, I was already riding mothers beautiful horse, Gayle Harvesta. You see, my mother had always had horses and rode as a child herself during the time her parents and grandparents were raising her. There weren’t any other children for her to play with and the animals were her playmates; she not only rode horses but drove horse and buggy and horse and wagons. Also, during the winter, she would have her horse pull a sleigh.
One day when I was very small, mother and I went by sleigh to visit her friend, Priscilla Sanderson, who lived on another farm three or four miles away. On the way home, the roads became very icy and our white horse, Beauty, went down. My mother got out of the sleigh and removed the harness from the horse. She stood in front of Beauty and took hold of his bridle and encouraged him to stand. He attempted once and slipped, but mother talked to him and he seemed to know she was helping, so he tried again and this time, he got up. Mother harnessed him up again and we were fine the rest of the trip home. I can even remember my mother telling my father about our experience.
My dad with Lady Fawn Brooke and our family dog, Peter, about 1941.
The Second World War was going on in Europe and during these years, it was hard to make a living, but if you were fortunate to have a farm, you had to make it work for you. So, Dad tried to think of other ways to bring in money besides the riding stable. He decided he could also board horses at the farm, and this is what he did. One lady brought her Tennessee Walker, which is a very large saddle horse. My Aunt Mary boarded her quarter horse, and there was a black stallion owned by a person that didn’t get a chance to ride much. My mother’s horses included a pinto name Paint and her colt, Lady Fawn Brook. She also had a Morgan horse name Gayle Harvesta which was my favorite and which I claimed as mine. I would say to Mother, Gayle is my horse; and she never argued. My mother also organized a riding club and enjoyed many hours riding with her friends.
Dad would care for all these horses, feed and grain them, clean out their stalls, and let them out of the barn during days that were warm so they could stretch, run and eat the pasture grass. In cold weather, they would bed down in the barn in their stalls. The people that owned their horses would come at any time and ride at their convenience.
At this time, my Dad decided he had more room in the barn and, as an opportunity to make some more income, he bought a dozen sheep with plans to sheer the sheep and sell the wool. Of coarse, I loved having little newborn lambs, being able to bottle feed them and play with them. One of these lambs became a pet to me and Dad told me I named her Snow White. He said she would follow me every where she could, when I ran in and out of the house, she was always on my heels. He remembered one time we had to make a trip to Bangor. We traveled in our old Packard automobile and I insisted Snow White had to come along.
My Dad reminisced about the sounds of the big barn he would hear every day when he did his morning chores. He said the first thing he would hear when he walked toward the barn in the morning was the rooster crowing. That would waken the other animals. The mother cat would meet him at the big barn door, meowing at him for milk so she could nurse her kittens.
Sheep in the pasture (above). Picture below shows Clarissa holding David with Pat in the background and Pat’s lamb, Snow White, in the foreground.
By now the hens were scratching for some corn. If the cows were still laying down you, could hear them getting up. The horses would paw at the floor because they wanted to head outside to run and exercise and the sheep would make there bleating sounds, for they loved to be patted and get a little attention. Dad would always say, the barn had its own sounds.
My great-grandfather, Charles, was a blacksmith in the 1800’s. He had his blacksmith shop in the town of Belfast, not far from the estate home he and his wife, Annie Emery built. Charles was a very proud man and worked hard. Charles and Annie and one child; my grandfather, Clare.
It was when Clare was a grown man that the family decided to move to the country and work a dairy farm. When they moved out to the big farm, Charles built himself another blacksmith shop under a big apple tree beside the barn. I remember that the apples on that tree were the most wonderful flavor I have ever tasted—they were called A Bells Early.
A blacksmith shop was needed on the farm so Charles could make horseshoes for his own work horses. He also shod his granddaughters’ horses and her two ponies, Blackie and Sambie. In later years, Dad was able to make use of this blacksmith shop for the riding stable.
In the barn, Dad made a separate area for a bridle and saddle room to keep everything together and ready for the customers. I can remember one particular bridle and reins Mother used—she and her beautiful horse, Gayle Harvesta, would be invited to lead a parade in Belfast for different events. The bridle used in the parades was handbraided by a male friend of mothers and was a gift. The morgan seemed to know when the parade music started—he was in control and would pick his front feet up very high in a marching position. He was a beautiful sight with his mane cropped and his red-brown color and white stripe coming straight down from his ears to the top of his nose.
Clarissa with Gayle Harvesta, the horse she road in parades.
Pat on Gayle Harvesta, feet in the loop of the stirrup buckle.
In the bridle and saddle room were different styles and sets of reins; the ones used for work horses had big martingales; these bridles had a strap which passed from the noseband of the horse to the girth between the forelegs and was used to keep the horses from rearing or throwing back their heads. There were also long reins for work horses with bits that went across the horse’s mouth which were pulled by the farmer from side to side; these were used so the horse would know which direction they had to turn. The saddles
were made differently also. For instance, the one I learned to ride on was called an English saddle and there were a also a couple of western styles called McLellan saddles which had a horn at the front of them. There also was a very old side-saddle. I did not like that one at all. It was made before my time for the ladies that wore long skirts so they could sit on a horse with both legs hanging down the same side.
on a horse with both legs hanging down the same side. I had my own riding breeches. These were special pants used when riding. Mother’s friend, Priscilla, had bought them for me. My favorite saddle was the English saddle. Since I was so young when I started riding, Dad had to pull the strap for the stirrup buckle up as far as it would go—my feet didn’t reach the stirrups then so they had to rest in the looped strap.
My favorite horse was Gayle Harvesta because he was a very strong, loving horse that would give children rides, he had a gentle side and knew a child from an adult.
I had wonderful childhood years of learning, growing and playing. There was a rockwalled lane which led to the woods full of large pine hemlocks; birch, cedar and maple trees. These woods had been pastures 20 years before and used for the farm animals; the 100 head of cattle, the large work horses, a pair of oxen, and my mother’s horses and ponies. Those pastures were now a forest of trees where I would take my friends to play.
Clare Harriman’s purebred Jersey Bull, Silver Boy Tormentor Ladd, the oxen, pulling a wagon.
Clare Harrimon on top of the haywagon.
But there came a time when I began to hear whispers as my friends and I laughed, teased, climbed trees and ran the wooded paths in our wonderful world of childhood. The rumor was that my mother and father had decided to separate as husband and wife. There were a lot of decisions that had to be made and much to be done, but after a few months passed, this really did happen.
Two years later, plans were made to make a change in the big barn by Mother and her second husband. The year was 1948. Now, the barn underwent changes. The front doors were left on the original metal track but a smaller door was put in the middle. Carpenters came and prepared the barn to house four floors of broiler chickens which were to be raised until they were eight weeks old then sold.
Now, as you entered the front through the smaller door; a small coal bin was placed on the left side where the grain room used to be. The coal would be used to feed the brooder stoves which would keep the baby chicks warm. Beyond the coal bin and still on the left side, an elevator was installed to use to haul grain, water and feed up to all the other three floors.
Now for the first time, a floor was laid, for it had always been a dirt floor. I remember as a child digging in the dirt floor and finding sea fossils. The barn is built two and a half miles from the Penobscot Bay and the farmland was once covered by the water.
A second floor was put in where we had swung on rope and where we ran along big beams just above the hay mow; always feeling very secure because there was the hay below to fall into. The third floor was laid where the barn swallows flew with freedom and built their nests and a fourth floor also, where the big rope was tied that we swung on across the full length of the barn.
The carpenters built a ventilation center with two big air shafts on each floor. They also had to add more ventilation under the eaves of the roof of the barn and put on a 12 ft wooden flap which tilted up and could be propped open to let the hot air out and fresh air in. Six double-framed windows were put on both sides of all four floors, in each frame were eight small pane of glass. These could be opened for more ventilation for the chickens so they would not smother on hot days. The barn of my childhood was now totally different.
The baby chicks were all soft and yellow and called broilers. They were kept for eight weeks before taken to market and this is the way the barn was worked until 1958. By then, a new process for raising chickens was introduced. The Penobscot Poultry Company in Belfast, Maine was at this time the world-leader for special breeding stock for hens and their eggs. This procedure was done very precisely and called trap nesting. Each hen was put in an individual nest. The hen was tagged with a number and wore a band on her leg. Each one had a history kept on it. The eggs from the farm were shipped to South America and Africa to use as their breeding hens.
Left to right—Clarissa holding Peter, then standing, Billy, Terry, Charlie, Dougie and David. Patricia and Paul not pictured. Cynthia had not yet been born.
Pat, age 16, on Peanut in 1951.
Now, an egg room was added in the front of the barn between the coal bin and the elevator. The eggs were collected daily, cleaned and packed in special cartons which would keep each egg very protected so they wouldn’t get broken during their long journey around the world. Across the egg room, on the right of the barn, was a staircase that took you up to each level. The stairs could be used if the elevator was busy carrying grain or large quantities of materials such as the wood shavings used to blanket every floor. These shavings would be trucked in from the local lumber mills.
The barn housed chickens and their eggs for approximately twenty years and provided a livelihood for Clarissa and Roland and their large family of four Perry children, Paul, Pat, David, and Dougie, and five Gould children, Charlie, Terry, Billy, Peter, and Cynthia.
Roland became ill and had to retire from the chicken business. The barn now became empty of animals and was cleaned out to the bare floors. The family started using it for storage. The farm machinery was collected from throughout the fields and pastures; like the old harrow that was used every year to get the earth ready for mother’s new garden. She would take care of it herself; plant, weed and watch the vegetables grow and every summer there would be new to eat and canned for the long winter months in Maine.
Also in the barn were the old wagon wheels from one end of a wagon. There was an axle in the middle of the wheels and that axle was where we, as kids; would sit as we rode the wheels down over a pasture hill between the apple trees. A work horse collar hung on the wall, also horse shoes that someone had picked up and hung on a nail. There were bushel baskets that we had used in the apple orchards to gather the apples at harvest time. Actually, we used to start eating the apples when they were still small and green.
There you could also find old snow sleds with the runners on the sides of them—these had been used on the snowfallen hills. Early in the evenings were a frequent favorite time of the day; sliding down a long hill, turning around and pulling the sled all the way back up to repeat the same exciting pleasure of the ride. I can remember the feel of the weather outside, the crunch of the snow, the smell of the evening and the taste of the hot cocoa.
In a barn corner you could find an old sickle which had been used to cut tall grass and milk cans, from when the farm was a dairy business. Here also was Peter’s hot rod that he had built and used for driving the field and pasture trails and the dirt roads around the farm when he was a teenager. But now the hot rod was stored.
The wagon wheels which we used for play came from a work wagon from earlier times.
Windmill standing on the farm. Sheep showing in the picture. Date of picture estimated to be 1942.
The old lift top school desk was there that had been restored and used for the studious ones in the family; like Billy, who composed poems, and Cynthia, the youngest, who went on to college at the University of Maine in Orono—and the only one of us to earn a college degree.
There were many trunks in a corner covered by dust and cobwebs. Some were seaman trunks and there were a few old vaudeville trunks which looked like they were collected to restore, perhaps to give as gifts to use for a nostalgic decoration to be placed in a certain
area in the home. Against the wall was Mother’s pineapple bed posts, pushed up beside them was the chest of drawers that matched in a mahogany wood. 0n the top of the chest laid a box all tied up with string and in the box were my brothers, Paul, David and Terry’s, navy uniforms. They all served four years each in that branch of the military.
Laying over on its side on the floor was our old ice cream churn which we used when we gathered at holidays. We made our own flavors and we would all take turns churning the crank. Leaning against the churn were two old crockery pots, one mother used to put up mustard pickles which were aged for the winter months and the other was used for sauerkraut. For this, she would chop cabbage to ferment in brine and we would add this to our hot dogs that we had every Saturday night with home-made baked beans.
Hanging off one of the barn beams was a windmill blade. There are plans to put it back, as it is the only blade missing. The windmill is still standing tall down at the end of the apple orchard, as it has since it was erected in 1857 when the barn was built.
In the year 1972, Mother’s husband passed away and suddenly she was left alone at the homestead, so we all had to gather together to see which family could possibly move into the farm house with her. The situation was only right at this time for Doug, or Dougie, as we call him. We all agreed that Dougie and his family would move into the bottom part of the house and a new apartment would be built for mother on the second floor, so that someone would always be there with her.
Dougie built a beautiful big apartment, designed the way Mother wanted to have it and then built the main floor into a style that he and his wife liked. At this time Doug was a carpenter, building houses and then selling them for a living. He was doing real well at this business, but little did he know what was next for the new family and for the old barn that still stood so stately, waiting for another generation.
Dougie mentioned to me, “you know, I have to make the barn work for us or I’ll have to tear it down because of the taxes”. I can remember how it felt to hear those words, but I understood his reasoning.
Then Dougie got an idea and consulted with our brother, David, he being known as the one with the business head in the family. What Dougie dreamed of doing was putting a furniture store in the old barn. He talked about having three floors of displayed furniture. In this way, he could reconstruct the barn and make it work for him and his family and would be able to make a living right there at their home. Mother would be able to see the barn serving a purpose again, even though it wasn’t the dairy farm that her people had made their living.
Dougie (right) with granddaughter, Kaylie on his lap. David is pictured on left. This photo is current, taken in 1995.
Dougie looked into all aspects of why and why not to have a furniture store. The barn is located two miles from the post office square of the downtown section of Belfast, Maine. It all came up very favorable to go ahead with the plan, so Dougie set forth to do just that about the fall of 1977.
The reconstruction started with all inner walls being ripped out; then the whole inside of the barn was power washed out with a fire hose using a mixture of iodine and disinfectant to get rid of the dust, dirt and manure.
Dougie then rewired, insulated, put in wall outlets, light switches and put in new dry wall. He replaced hundreds of feet of sills, and poured a new cement floor on the first floor of the barn. He took out all the big windows, sheathed over all the walls where the windows were, leaving only two small windows on one side of the barn. He took out the big grain elevator and the staircase on the first floor; there he built the office for the furniture store. He placed a large, new colonial window with small panes of glass which overlooks the front of the store.
At the office door is a large barn beam which shows teeth marks from one of the work horses from long ago which had been chewing on the wood this is known as cribbing. All of the barn’s gigantic beams were all restained on all three floors which were to display the furniture.
Now the big door at the front of the barn took on a whole new look. A cement entryway was laid clear across the front of the store, as the old barn is now called. This cement entryway holds planters where flowers or evergreen boughs are placed, depending on the season. Then, over the door, an overhang was placed to protect the customers from the elements.
Remodeling took one year. The grand opening was held in October of 1978. Dougie had planned to work his regular job along with running the store, so, along with his wife, Dottie, he hired Dad to work in the store as well. But his plan did not work out from the moment they had the grand opening—Dougie was so busy he never went back to his job as a carpenter and our brothers Terry and Charlie had to go on without him in that business.
Caption from grand opening picture from the newspaper read:
NEW BUSINESS OPENS—Perry’s Furniture and Appliances, located on Rt. 3 in Belfast, was officially opened Saturday morning with a ribbon cutting ceremony presided over by Mayor Stetson Hills. With Hills in the photo are proprietors Douglas Perry, Dottie Perry and Robert Perry. The store features a large show-room displaying a wide variety of well-known brands of furniture and appliances.
Dougie had a new career, all right—seven days a week the store was open for their customers. They did this for two years, then cut back to six days a week (Sundays off), and have kept this schedule now for 19 years.
The opening inventory in the store consisted of sofa sets, recliners, tables and chairs, hutches and china cabinets, grandfather clocks, end tables, coffee tables, desk of different types, televisions, washers, dryers, refrigerators, stoves and dishwashers. There was also a selection of carpeting.
Three years later Dougie added an enclosed addition to the side of the store and an outside carport with an overhang which runs the entire length of the barn in the area where the old tie-up used to be.
Picture to left shows constrution on the overhang area. Peter is doing the carpentry. In the background is the construction on Mom’s apartment. Picture on right shows beginning of overhang area.
The car port is separated by pillars, making bays for the vehicles. Now the trucks and cars can be placed in their own stall, all neat, like the horses and cows were, long ago.
The enclosed portion is separated into rooms to hold over six thousand movie video’s; the new entertainment sensation. Video rentals keep the store tremendously busy.
The front video room is set up with rows of videos held in wooden display cases which stand on the floor. Adjoining this room is another area where videos are placed in racks on the walls. In the center of this room is an area where a furniture grouping is displayed.
The last room is where washer and dryers, refrigerators, and stoves are put on display. This room has an outside exit which leads to the long carport; this way the big items purchased can be taken out through this door to one of the delivery trucks without going through the main part of the store so customers shopping for other items will not be disturbed.
Car port area of the barn completed (right) and apartment addition completed (left). Year 1989.
Above on the second floor of the new addition is where they made a display of beds with headboards and side rails and different types of mattresses. This is a big area and there are other groupings of bedroom sets with matching bureaus and side tables. Dougie built a skylight in the ceiling so this room would be very open and bright. At the back of the barn, where the work horses used to walk out with their empty hay wagons on the way to refill them in the fields, Dougie had the carpenters (our brothers) add a section precisely for storage a holding place for the freight until it was needed.
So there the old barn stands still serving another generation. Even my grandchildren will have a chance to enjoy the barn. Some of the farms are fading away in this country now but the old barn stands very sturdy and proud for the people, my people, who have made their living with the Old Maine Barn.
Dedicated to my three grandchildren:
Alexandra, Jeffrey, and Luke Clements.
Layout by Kathlean Shannon Clements