Polaroid album

My mother gave me a little red Polaroid album a while back, and I have finally gotten around to scanning the pictures. The photos begin with Thanksgiving and Christmas at Foxley, then a trip to the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia, and finally Easter photos in the front yard at Foxley. Polaroids were certainly fun and convenient--but they don't have a date printed on the back of them like processed film. I know that the Polaroid Swinger camera was produced between 1965 and 1970. The photos are certainly from that era. Julie and Rich were married in 1967, and they appear together here, possibly in their first home in one. Ganny died in July 1970, and Doc Bussler died in 1972. Do you see Anna Bussler in any of the pictures?--she died in October 1967. I'm going to do my best to identify everyone below the photos, but please help me if you know who is in the pictures and when they were taken. Thanks!



Thanksgiving at Gladys and Dave's home Foxley. Around the table clockwise: Young Dave's eyeglasses and nose (my father), Rich, Julie, an unknown man whose hands are in the picture, Dottie, Vernon, at the head of the table is Gladys (my grandmother), unknown young lady, Ganny (my great-grandmother), the top of Pat's head, unknown young lady with dark hair, Liz in white sweater holding food (my mother), and unknown young lady with blonde hair. One of the unidentified young ladies is probably Dottie's daughter Anita.



Thanksgiving at Foxley, around the table clockwise: Ganny (my great-grandmother), Pat , unknown young lady with dark hair, Liz (my mother), unknown young lady with blonde hair, at the head of the table again is Gladys (my grandmother), Dave (my father), Rich, Julie, unknown man, Dottie, and Vernon Swiger.



My grandmother's sister Dorothy Beall Swiger. This is the dining room at Foxley on Thanksgiving.



Christmas at Foxley: Dave unwrapping an aquarium set (my father), Gladys cleaning her glasses (my grandmother), and Ganny (my great-grandmother).



Julie next to the Christmas tree. This does not look like Foxley--maybe it was taken at her new home with Rich.





It looks like my grandparents went to see the Liberty Bell with Julie and Rich. The first photo shows the backs of heads: stranger, Rich, and Julie. The second shows Gladys in a fur coat, the Liberty Bell, Rich, and Julie. This is perhaps the fur coat my grandfather gave her as a Christmas gift one year, wrapped in a garbage bag.





Always collies at Foxley. This little one appears prominently in the Easter photos, too.



Dave (my grandfather) snoozing in a wingback in his stocking feet.



The bow tie is a dead giveaway: this is Doc Bussler.





Easter at Foxley, clockwise starting at the top: Rich, Julie, Young Dave, Gladys, and Pat.



Easter at Foxley, clockwise starting at the top: Rich, Julie, Pat, Gladys, and Big Dave.

Family Cemetery at Glyndon

Each Memorial Day the gravesite is groomed and bedecked with fresh flowers and an American flag. But most of the year it is quiet and plain and tucked in the edge of the woods.



The monuments here are as follows: headstones for Reuben Brigham and Marjorie Snowden Brigham; a bench given by University of Maryland class of 1908; and a sundial "from friends in agriculture."



The inscription on Reuben's headstone is "The Old Knight's Vigil" by Alfred Noyes:

ONCE, in this chapel, Lord,
Young and undaunted,
Over my virgin sword
Lightly I chaunted,
" Dawn ends my watch. I go
Shining to meet the foe.

" Swift with Thy dawn," I said,
Set the lists ringing !
Soon shall Thy foe be sped,
And the world singing :
Bless my bright plume for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.

War-worn I kneel to-night,
Lord, at Thine altar.
O, in to-morrow's fight,
Let me not falter.
Bless my dark arms for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.

Keep Thou my broken sword
All the long night through
While I keep watch and ward.
Then, the red fight through,
Bless the wrenched haft for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.

Keep, in Thy pierced hands,
Still the bruised helmet.
Let not their hostile bands
Wholly o'erwhelm it.
Bless my poor shield for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.

Keep Thou the sullied mail,
Lord, that I tender
Here at Thine altar-rail,
Then let Thy splendour
Touch it once . . . and I go
Stainless to meet the foe.



The inscription on Marjorie's headstone reads, "To thine ownself be true."

Auction Alert

Elsie Brooke Snowden (1887-1945) -- or "Aunt Elsie" as we think of her -- is hitting the auction block on Sunday, September 27th, 2009, at 10:00am EST, at Sloans & Kenyon located at 7034 Wisconsin Avenue, Chevy Chase, MD 20815, 301-634-2330. The painting to be auctioned, shown here, is called "Misty Market Scene." It hung in my grandparents' bedroom for years. "Misty Market Scene" is an oil painting, unframed, 41" x 54". The painting is in Sale Number 45, as Lot Number 1337, minimum bid of $350, with an estimated auction value of $700-$900. According to the auctioneers:

Snowden, from Ashton, MD, studied painting at the Corcoran School of Art and the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, where she won the prestigious Cresson Traveling Scholarship in 1914. Exhibiting regularly with the Society of Washington Artists and Washington Watercolor Club, and at the Corcoran Gallery Biennials, Snowden became known for her atmospheric landscapes and city scenes.

It would be great to see this stay in the family. Makes me wish I had some disposable income! Here is a link to the auction house and to the details about the auction lot.
--Barb

Confederate Field Trip

Lieutenant Nicholas Snowden was the last in our branch of the Snowden line to be born (7 Apr 1828) at Montpelier Mansion in Laurel, MD. He was a graduate of Georgetown University and enlisted in the Confederate army in 1861. Nicholas served in the Ist MD Infantry, Company D and fought in the First Battle of Manassas. In the Battle of Harrisonburg, he charged into gunfire from Yankee troops concealed behind a fence. He fell pierced by three balls and died in the arms of his cousin Capt. James R. Herbert. The date was June 6, 1862. General Jackson posthumously awarded Nicholas the rank of Major for his valor in battle. He was briefly buried next to the Harrisonburg road and then interred at Union Church Cemetery in Cross Keys, VA. In 1884 his body and tombstone were transferred to Loudon Park Cemetery in Baltimore, MD, to the Confederate Hill section.

There are several historical markers that commemorate the Battle of Harrisonburg. I borrowed a map from Google Maps and indicated the locations of three of the relevant markers. You will note that all three of the sites are related to the place of death of General Turner Ashby. It is doubtful that we would be able to determine the place where Nicholas died with any certainty. But we do know that he was fighting under Ashby, that they both perished in this battle, and that Nicholas was temporarily buried near the Harrisonburg road (present day Route 11). So we can infer that Lt. Nicholas Snowden met his death in the vicinity of the triangle made by the three historical markers, just south of the present day campus of James Madison University. Since the battle map shows the Ist Maryland at the south end of the Confederate line, perhaps Lt. Nicholas Snowden was fighting closer to Port Republic Road.

A-30 - Located on Route 11 (S. Main Street) Harrisonburg, VA, between Edgelawn Drive and Port Republic Road. This marker indicates that General Turner Ashby, the "Black Knight," fell 1.5 miles east of the marker site, on Chestnut Ridge. The text of the marker reads:

"Where Ashby Fell. A mile and a half east of this point, Turner Ashby, Stonewall Jackson's cavalry commander, was killed, June 6, 1862, while opposing Fremont's advance."

A-35 - Located on Route 11 (S. Main Street) in Harrisonburg, VA, between Miller Circle and Rocco Drive, near the railroad crossing. The text of the marker reads:

"End of the Campaign. Here Stonewall Jackson, retreating up the Valley before the converging columns of Fremont and Shields, turned at bay, June, 1862. A mile southeast Jackson's cavalry commander, Ashby, was killed, June 6. At Cross Keys, six miles southeast, Ewell of Jackson's army defeated Fremont, June 8. Near Port Republic, ten miles southeast, Jackson defeated Shields, June 9. This was the end of Jackson's Valley Campaign."

Chestnut Ridge - Located on Turner Ashby Lane, off of Neff Avenue (as direct access from Port Republic Road has been closed). The text of the marker reads:

"Chestnut Ridge - Death of Ashby - 1862 Valley Campaign. On June 6, 1862, the vanguard of Union Gen. John C. Frémont’s force, pursuing Confederate Gen. Thomas J. 'Stonewall' Jackson’s army south up the Shenandoah Valley, reached this point near Harrisonburg. Jackson’s rear guard, led by Gen. Turner Ashby, engaged Federal cavalry here and captured Col. Sir Percy Wyndham, the English commander of the 1st New Jersey Cavalry who had earlier boasted that he would 'bag Ashby.' The 1st Maryland Inf. and 58th Virginia Inf. set an ambush for the Federals. At about 6 p.m., however, Union forces appeared not in the road as expected, but in a concealed position near Ashby’s force. When Ashby’s horse was shot from under him, he rolled off the mount, regained his footing and ordered his men to stop shooting and use the bayonet, shouting, 'Charge, men! For God’s sake charge!' Then a Union bullet pierced Ashby’s side and passed through his chest. He fell dead while his men cleared the Federals from the woodline. The next day, Ashby’s body lay in state in the Frank Kemper house in Port Republic, where a brief funeral service was held. Jackson viewed the body there in private. Although Ashby’s lack of discipline had drawn Jackson’s sharp rebuke two months earlier, he later praised Ashby. 'As a partisan officer I never knew his superior,' Jackson wrote. 'His daring was proverbial ... his tone of character heroic, and his sagacity almost intuitive in divining the purposes of the enemy.'"



Ashby's forces were defending Jackson's progress from the rear and did battle with Fremont's cavalry led by General George Bayard. Among that Yankee force were the Ist Pennsylvania Rifles, Company B (a.k.a. the Bucktails, the Morgan Rifles, Kane's Rifle Regiment, 13th Pennsylvania Reserve, etc.). The Bucktails claim credit for felling Turner Ashby after his horse was killed and he continued to do battle on foot, although contemporary accounts also claim that Ashby was a victim of friendly fire. The Bucktails history website features an excerpt from the Southern Historical Society Papers called the Fight with the Bucktails, which I have reproduced here in full. It appears to have been composed by General Bradley Tyler Johnson for the Southern Historical Society Papers 10 (1882: Jan/Dec) 103. The emphasis is my addition to highlight portions that refer directly to Lt. Nicholas Snowden.

Memoirs of the First Maryland Regiment
FIGHT WITH THE BUCKTAILS

On the evening of the 5th of June we arrived early at Harrisonburg, and leaving the Valley road turned to the left and went into camp. For the last two days we had been marching leisurely along closing up stragglers, and feeding the horses and men pretty well with the provisions the country afforded. Fremont had been very pertinacious, and was continually on our rear. From Strasburg up, the artillery---either of the pursuer or pursued---sounded continually in our ears from day-light until dark. But as we diminished our pace he slackened his, and indicated that though eager to strike a flying foe, he was not so well prepared to fight one which faced him. Since leaving New Market, such had been our attitude, willingness to fight him whenever the position suited us. On Friday morning, June 6th, we marched late. General Steuart had been relieved of his cavalry command and returned to the " Maryland line," consisting of the regiment, the Baltimore Light Artillery, Captain Brockenbrough, and Captain Brown's cavalry company, which had joined us just after the fight at Winchester. He had also assigned to him the Fifty-eighth, Forty-fourth, and two other Virginia regiments.

That morning being the rear-guard we were late starting, and delayed by the enormous trains which were carrying off the plunder of the expedition, by the afternoon we had not marched more than three miles. The head of this column was then at Fort Republic, five miles distant, where a bridge spans the Shenandoah. While the cavalry under Ashby had dismounted, during one of those numerous halts, which render the movement of a long column so tiresome, a regiment of Yankee cavalry suddenly dashed through them. Quick as the Yankees were, however, they were not quick enough for Ashby, who instantly formed and charged, routing them totally, and capturing prisoners and horses.

Among his prizes was Sir Percy Wyndham--an itinerant Englishman-a soldier of fortune, who though without rank or position at home, had served in the Italian campaign of Garibaldi, and was a man of gallantry and courage. He was eagerly caught up by the Lincoln Government, when personal courage and dash were at a premium, made Colonel of cavalry, and sent off to the Valley to meet Ashby. His only interview with the Virginia Cavalier was when he was riding bareheaded behind one of Ashby’s troopers---a prisoner. He expressed profound disgust at the arrant cowardice of his men, to which he attributed his whole disaster. As soon as Ashby chased the remnants of the Yankees back he returned, and reported to General Ewell that he had discovered an infantry force coming rapidly on us, and showed him that by a quick detour through the woods he could strike them in flank. Ewell, delighted at the prospect, ordered Steuart's command back at once. The regiment in the order of march in the morning had been last. In thus reversing the direction it should have been first, but having been placed to support a battery, two Virginia regiments got ahead of us. The Colonel however soon managed to cut in. and got up next to the Fifty-eighth Virginia. Ewell and Ashby rode at the head of the column---the latter explaining to the former the nature of the ground, the position of the roads, and the direction of the enemy. Though too far off to hear what he said, his dark face was lit up in a blaze of enthusiasm, and his eloquent gesticulation indicated his meaning as intelligibly as words. "Look at Ashby," said the Colonel to the Adjutant, "see how happy be is!" In a few moments we entered a thick wood, then changed direction in line of battle. Companies D and G of the regiment out as skirmishers under Ashby's immediate command. Moving cautiously along, in the quiet woods, every sound was exaggerated in the stillness, and at last without a moment's warning the Fifty-eighth gave way and ran back. " Steady there men, steady First Maryland," shouted our Colonel as pistol in hand he headed the broken mass. " Form behind there!" pointing to our solid ranks. The panic was only momentary, one of those strange accidents which occur in battle, and almost immediately the Fifty-eighth re-formed and went on. In a minute the sputter of the skirmishers was heard immediately followed by the volley of the Fifty-eighth. "Charge, Colonel." cried General Ewell, who was just by us---" charge men," said Colonel Johnson, and down the hill we went with a cheer, in a run. But we found no enemy. The fire on our right was excessive we were made to lie down, but balls began exploding and smacking among the men on the rocks. "Those Virginians are killing our men." Off galloped General Ewell and the Colonel, both to stop the firing, but directly returned finding out they were Yankee bullets. " I see one, Colonel can I kill him," cried Southoron of Company H. Assent was given, and he pulled away, but his cap snapped. Coolly putting on another he fired. "There I've killed you," said he. "Let us charge them, let us charge them, Colonel," came from several. " Very' well," said he. "Up men, forward, file right, march"-and as soon as the colors came into line, " By the right flank charge!!!” in a voice that could be heard far above the crash of small arms. The right companies and colors went in on a run, the left companies catching up, they closed with the Bucktails, who were strongly posted behind a worm fence full of undergrowth and briars, and drove them out, and as they ran across the open field, poured a most deadly fire into them, which melted them away like frost before the sun.

We afterwards heard that of over 200 Bucktails who went into that fight only fifty came out. After driving them off, a brigade of infantry was seen a short distance off, and a six-gun battery of brass pieces with an apparently large force of cavalry. They had had enough though for the evening, and it only being General Ewell's instruction to check Fremont sharply, he retired. The fight, short as it was, had cost us dearly. Ashby's horse fell at the first fire, immediately jumping to his feet, he half turned round to the Fifty-eighth, in front of whose second company he was brandishing his right hand with his pistol, ordering them to charge. The confusion was such that they did not obey him, and he fell, a ball entering his right side just above his hip and passing diagonally upward, came out under his left arm, showing that the ball was fired by someone lying down. Though in front of the Fifty-eighth, he was not more than thirty yards from the enemy, who were lying flat behind the fence. The opinion of Lieutenant Booth, who saw him fall and was closer to him than anyone, is that a shot from the Yankees killed him. We lost Captain Michael S. Robertson, Company I, killed instantly; as he fell, he said, " Go on, boys, don't mind me." He was a native and resident of Charles County, one of our oldest families---wealthy and highly educated. At the same time fell Lieutenant Nicholas Snowden, Company D, from Prince George of that well known family. At the time of the Baltimore outbreak he a cavalry company, which he immediately put under arms until, like so many others, he found Hicks had betrayed the State, and he came to Virginia. No braver, or more gallant gentlemen than these have died for Southern Independence. With them fell six or eight more dead, Color-Sergeant Doyle was shot down, Color-Corporal Taylor caught the colors, but soon went down, the next Corporal to him caught them, but instantly falling, Corporal Shanks, Company H, seized them, lifting them arms length above his head, carried them safely through the fight.

Colonel Johnson had been that afternoon to see General Jackson, and was in full uniform, rather an unusual sight in that army where few officers wore any sign of rank. As the regiment charged, his horse was shot in the shoulder; then directly received in his forehead a ball, intended for his rider, and as he fell, another in the pommel of the saddle. His uniform doubtless procured him these compliments, as he was not more than thirty yards from the Bucktails. Captain Nicholas, Company “G,”- found Lieutenant-Colonel Kane, their commander, sitting on a stump with a broken leg, who invoked the Captain to shoot the cowardly hounds who had run off and left him. Although this fight was quickly over, it was one of the bloodiest of the war, considering the time and number engaged. Our loss was about one hundred killed and wounded, and that of the enemy probably one hundred and fifty in all, including prisoners, of whom there were very few. Dr. Johnson, the surgeon of the First Maryland, the next morning had Lieutenant Snowden buried near the Harrisonburg road, and his company buried Captain Robertson in Union church-yard by the brick wall opposite the gate the first church on the road from Harrisonburg to Port Republic. Feelings of sorrow at the loss of so many friends strongly impressed us all, and Saturday was quietly spent in taking position and going into camp near the Shenandoah. General Jackson had the day before directed the Colonel to pick out a good camp and recruit his men. " Drill them four hours a day," said he. Friday evening we had one drill, which has just been described. Fate had reserved such another in store for us.

This I Believe

NPR's revival of the 1950s This I Believe series concluded earlier this year. Selected essays from the project were shared on NPR from 2005 to 2009. Among them was Frank Miller's essay "That Old Piece of Cloth," originally aired on September 11, 2006. The following transcript is reproduced from this page, and you can listen to Frank reading his essay here.

















(Photograph from Collider.com)

That Old Piece of Cloth
by Frank Miller
September 11, 2006

I was just a boy in the 1960s. My adolescence wasn't infused with the civil rights struggle or the sexual revolution or the Vietnam War, but with their aftermath.

My high school teachers were ex-hippies and Vietnam vets. People who protested the war and people who served as soldiers. I was taught more about John Lennon than I was about Thomas Jefferson.

Both of my parents were World War II veterans. FDR-era patriots. And I was exactly the age to rebel against them.

It all fit together rather neatly. I could never stomach the flower-child twaddle of the '60s crowd and I was ready to believe that our flag was just an old piece of cloth and that patriotism was just some quaint relic, best left behind us.

It was all about the ideas. I schooled myself in the writings of Madison and Franklin and Adams and Jefferson. I came to love those noble, indestructible ideas. They were ideas, to my young mind, of rebellion and independence, not of idolatry.

But not that piece of old cloth. To me, that stood for unthinking patriotism. It meant about as much to me as that insipid peace sign that was everywhere I looked: just another symbol of a generation's sentimentality, of its narcissistic worship of its own past glories.

Then came that sunny September morning when airplanes crashed into towers a very few miles from my home and thousands of my neighbors were ruthlessly incinerated -- reduced to ash. Now, I draw and write comic books. One thing my job involves is making up bad guys. Imagining human villainy in all its forms. Now the real thing had shown up. The real thing murdered my neighbors. In my city. In my country. Breathing in that awful, chalky crap that filled up the lungs of every New Yorker, then coughing it right out, not knowing what I was coughing up.

For the first time in my life, I know how it feels to face an existential menace. They want us to die. All of a sudden I realize what my parents were talking about all those years.

Patriotism, I now believe, isn't some sentimental, old conceit. It's self-preservation. I believe patriotism is central to a nation's survival. Ben Franklin said it: If we don't all hang together, we all hang separately. Just like you have to fight to protect your friends and family, and you count on them to watch your own back.

So you've got to do what you can to help your country survive. That's if you think your country is worth a damn. Warts and all.

So I've gotten rather fond of that old piece of cloth. Now, when I look at it, I see something precious. I see something perishable.

A Case Rides Again!

His work for WSSC in the area of water conservation was groundbreaking and served as a model for municipalities across the United States. But did you know that Arthur Putnam "Brig" Brigham (or "Uncle Cee" as I think of him) was a regular contributor of articles and photographs to the Gas Engine Magazine family of publications? So much so that his passing was mentioned with deep sorrow in the April 1, 1992 letter from the publisher and again noted In Memorium in the following issue:

ARTHUR P.' BRIG' BRIGHAM, 63, died January 22, 1992 at home in Bella Vista, Arkansas. Husband of Helen Case Brigham, great-granddaughter of J. I. Case, Brig had been the editor of the Eagle, newsletter of the J. I. Case Heritage Foundation.

Born in Washington, D.C., Brig grew up in Montgomery County, Maryland and graduated from the University of Maryland as a journalism major. From 1959 until his 1981 retirement, he served as Public Affairs Officer of the Washington Suburban Sanitary Commission.

While reading a Gaithersburg, Maryland weekly newspaper, Brig spotted the item (a picture of a Case steam engine) which led him and his wife into their intense involvement with antique machinery and the engine collecting hobby. He was a frequent contributor to IMA and GEM [Gas Engine Magazine].

Here is an article that I particularly enjoy, both for his lively description of the event and for the photograph of his wife, Helen Case Brigham, driving a tractor that accompanied it. The article (found here) is titled "A Case Rides (and drives) Again!", and it was originally published in the March/April 1984 of Steam Traction.

A Case Rides (and drives) Again!
Steam Traction Magazine
March/April 1984
Arthur P. Brigham
















Helen Case Brigham, great-granddaughter of J. I. Case, recently enjoyed the opportunity to follow in his footsteps when she took the helm of Thomas R. Gingell's 50 HP Case at the Mason-Dixon Historical Society's Steam Gas Round-Up.

In 1850, Jerome Increase Case the founder of the J. I. Case Company and pioneering inventor/manufacturer of agricultural equipment was traveling the Midwest selling his machines, trading horses and standing behind every deal he ever made.

A letter 'J. I.' wrote to his wife, Lydia, on September 5 of that year from Madison County, Indiana, described how some purchasers of one of his machines abused the equipment so badly that 'they condemn it as worthless ... say they could not thrash 30 bushels of good winter wheat in a day with it and that they will have nothing more to do with it.

'If I can get horses, I will show people that the machine is just as I recommended it to be,' Case wrote. 'It is going to detain me longer than I expected, but I shall make every possible effort to return (home) as soon as possible.'

Five days later, he wrote Lydia again to report: 'The men who had the machine got it so much out of repair that I was not able to put it in order, try it and get away again until this morning. They had completely murdered the reputation of the machine. Could only average whilst thrashing some 30 bushels of wheat per day.

'They utterly refused to pay me for the machine,' Case continued, 'and the neighbors (Hoosiers in full), supposing the machine to be Yankee humbug, advised them to sue me for damages.'

Case settled with the complainers, refunding money and taking back the machine.

'Then, in order to show the 'cattle' that the machine would thrash 200 bushels a day, as recommended by me,' he continued, 'I thought it best to put it in operation; and, after much trouble, I succeeded in getting good hands and horses to make the trial. All (witnesses) united in saying that, if the machine could thrash 200 bushels in a day, it could not be equalled by any in the country.

'We got the horses broke to the machine and ready to start at 12 o'clock,' Case noted. 'That afternoon, we thrashed and cleaned nicely 177 bushels of wheat and stopped to take our dinner and tea in the time. This seemed to please and surprise my friends, the Quakers.'

It was this tradition of pride in any equipment that carries the Case name that brought J. I. Case's great-granddaughter, Helen Case Brigham, to the Mason-Dixon Historical Society's 21st annual Steam and Gas Round-Up Days at the Farm Museum in Westminster, Maryland, this fall.

Helen heard about the event, after reading about a similar rally of old farm machines in 'The Gaithersburg Gazette,' a Maryland weekly which ran a story with photos showing a Case steam engine owned, beautifully restored and operated by Thomas R. Gingell of Emmitsburg, Md. In a telephone conversation, Gingell invited Helen to the Mason-Dixon gathering to see and ride on his Case engine.

From the minute she arrived at the Farm Museum grounds until she headed for home five hours later, Helen Case was in a state of ecstasy. Throughout her 50-plus years, she had read about her great-grandfather and had heard family stories about him. In her youth, on the Case Ranch in Eldorado, Texas, she had driven a gas-fueled Case farm tractor; and she had seen the old J. I. Case steam engine on display at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C.

But, at Westminster, Tom Gingell took her aboard his operating, 50-horsepower Case Traction Engine. He took Helen for a ride in the machine, circling the Round-Up site wide open at two to three miles an hour. Then, Tom stoked the fire box to get up a good head of steam and after a few basic instructions put old J. I.'s great-granddaughter in the driver's 'seat' (not a seat at all, you have to stand to operate this machine!).

Helen had a blast, as farm machinery buffs gathered around at the Mason-Dixon Historical Society's Round- Up to meet J. I. Case's great-granddaughter.

If the 'Old Man' happened to be looking down on the scene from Heaven (or wherever) on that day, he probably smiled broadly to see 'a chip off the old block' at the throttle of Gingell's shiny black, circa 1920 Case steam engine.

Helen certainly smiled broadly, flushed with Case pride and responding to the enthusiastic greetings of Round-Up visitors who came to meet her and shake the hand of 'old J. I.'s great-granddaughter' after the public address announcer introduced her to the crowd.

'Listen to that engine ... That's beautiful,' Helen shouted over the sounds of the energizing steam while she remained at the helm of Gingell's machine. Later, when Tom took over to hook up to a belt and demonstrate the engine's power, Helen's description of the belt's 'whomp ... whomp ... whomp' in combination with the engine's powerful, steamy throbs was: 'That's magnificent!'

Toward the end of 'her day' at Westminster, Tom invited Helen to drive his Case engine in the Round-Up parade; and, by this time, she was handling the machine like a veteran throttle wide open, whistle blowing, waving and smiling to the crowd.

'If anybody in the crowd had said a bad thing about that engine when I was driving it in the parade, I would have crawled down from the cab and punched him in the nose,' she reported at the end of the day, her Irish jaw jutting out and her blue eyes flashing much as J. I. Case's jaw must have jutted and his eyes must have flashed when he fixed the machine in Indiana and showed the complainers and their witnesses that the Case thresher could 'thrash' 177 bushels in half a day (almost twice the production he had promised) and that J. I. Case was a man of his word.

In addition to getting her first opportunity to operate a Case steam engine at Westminster, while there Helen also heard about the 'Big Event' the Annual Reunion of the Midwest Old Settlers and Threshers Association in Mount Pleasant, Iowa, where Tom Gingell and others say she might get to ride possibly even drive a Case engine with the power of more than 100 horses.

Since Helen is a Case, as in J. I. Case, she probably will never rest easily again until she journeys to Iowa or wherever she has to go to drive one of those big machines. The Case pride and the Case love of useful, reliable, powerful machinery are in her blood. If there is a Case machine bigger than Tom Gingell's 50-horsepower beauty, then, DRIVE IT SHE MUST! How do I know this? Why, I've been married to J. I.'s granddaughter for 33 years.

Author's Note: Helen Case is the daughter of the late Percival Fuller Case, formerly of Racine, Wisconsin, home of the J. I. Case Company. P. F. Case moved his family from Evanston, Illinois to Case-held ranchland in southwest Texas in 1938. Helen was raised on the family ranch, an active participant in the care of herds of sheep and cattle. Since 1950, when she married a Marylander, she has lived in Silver Spring, Maryland.

Jerome Increase Case, founder of the J. I. Case Threshing Machine Company, one of America's pioneering inventors/manufacturers of farm machinery in the late 1800's.

Profiles of Reuben Brigham

From the website of the Association for Communication Excellence in Agriculture, Natural Resources, and Life and Human Sciences:

The Reuben Brigham Award is offered in memory of Reuben Brigham (1887-1946), a native of Marlboro, Mass., and graduate of the University of Maryland. He served as an extension editor and 4-H Club agent in Maryland and was called to the Federal Extension Service office in 1917 to develop an editorial and visual aids service for extension editors. Brigham traveled the nation, conferring with editors and directors, and helped states develop their own editorial offices as separate units.

He organized the American Association of Agricultural College Editors and served as its president, secretary and treasurer. He established the Extension Service Review in 1939 and participated in the Farm and Home Hour of the National Broadcasting Company. During the Depression, he helped develop action agencies of the Agricultural Adjustment Administration. As head of a regional section of the AAA information office, he ensured that extension staffs were involved in that organization’s information plans. He later was appointed assistant director of the Federal Extension Service and was associated with extension directors, the land-grant college association and policy-making committees of the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Brigham died in Chicago while attending a meeting at the National 4-H Club Congress.

The Reuben Brigham Award, established in 1947, is reserved for a communicator, including a public relations or advertising professional, who has made a a major contribution in the field of agriculture, natural resources, or life and human sciences at the regional, national or international level. Active and retired members of ACE, a land-grant college or university staff, or USDA staffs are not eligible for the award. (Click for a list of past winners.)

* * * * *

A profile from the ACE retirees website:

Reuben Brigham. President 1924-25. U. S. Department of Agriculture

Reuben Brigham was born Dec. 13, 1887 in Marlboro, Mass. He was the son of a farmer and professor of agriculture. He graduated from the Maryland Agricultural College (later the University of Maryland) in 1908. For the next five years he operated a farm in Maryland, then returned to the university in 1913 to serve as secretary of Alumni Affairs to the university president. When the Smith-Lever Act established the extension service later that year, he joined the Maryland College of Agriculture staff where he was their first extension editor and 4-H club agent.

In 1917 he joined the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s extension service in Washington, D.C. to develop an editorial and visual-aids service for extension editors. He also started the Extension Service Review magazine in 1930.

During the depression years of the 1930s, he joined the Agricultural Adjustment Administration (AAA) where he was in charge of a regional section of the “Triple A” information office. In this position, he “saw to it that the college editors of the nation were used in all information plans and that the local state extension staff, including the editor, was not by-passed. . ..” He later returned to the extension service and was named assistant director.

He died unexpectedly Dec. 6, 1946 while attending the National 4-H Club Congress in Chicago—one week short of his 59th birthday. Following Reuben Brigham’s death, Past President Frank Jeter (North Carolina) said, “Brigham has as much to do with the successful formation and organization of the American Association of Agricultural College Editors as any other one single person.” Since 1947 AAACE/ACE has given the annual Reuben Brigham Award to honor the contributions in agricultural, home economics, and rural communication of a person outside its membership—the organization’s highest award.

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And finally the culmination of a recent research project by Scout Jim Bikel titled "Reuben Brigham: Legend Unveiled," dated March 21, 2009, about the founder and first scoutmaster of Boy Scout Troop #264. He presented his project to the 10th annual Montgomery County gathering for National History Day. I had the pleasure of meeting Jim Bikel--a very nice young man--and I think he did a great job here. I have inserted two minor corrections into the text, which appear within brackets and are italicized:

Introduction

As part of a competition for an extracurricular activity known as National History Day, I did a research project on Mr. Reuben Brigham, commonly known to you as the troop’s founder. National History Day is a competition that is similar to a science fair for history. This year, the NHD had a theme of legacy. They recommended that we each pick a person from any period of history to research, and to focus on their lasting impact on the community, nation or world. While others focused on more well-known characters such as John Wilkes Booth, Walter Reed or Dr. Bird, I chose a lesser known character that I knew impacted me. Reuben Brigham, I knew, founded our scout troop in 1927. I knew nothing else about him, and didn’t expect much. Instead, I found he left much more than a scout troop behind. Be aware that I write about only what I was able to find out, and it is likely that some information is missing.

Childhood Years and Early Background

Reuben Brigham was born in Marlboro, Massachusetts, on December 13, 1887. His early years were spent growing up on a farm. His father taught him the farming methods himself, and Reuben also went to many different schools. He grew up not only in America, but in several other nations, including Germany and Japan. Sometime, he moved to the United States again and settled in Ashton, MD. He went to the University of Maryland (known back then as the Maryland Agricultural College), and he then graduated in 1908. After his graduation, he farmed for five years until his life became interesting.

Parcel Post

Ever wonder how that package came to your door? Ever wonder who started the Parcel Post? Farmers in the United States long wanted a government parcel service, due to the high prices that private companies would require. You often had two choices with items. You could pay more than half the worth to ship your products east or you could let them rot while you haul them yourself over the Appalachian Mountains. The reverse was true with getting something. If you needed, say, a Model-T car-to-tractor conversion kit so you could use a gasoline engine instead of a stubborn mule to plow your fields, you would have to pay the evil railroad companies more than twice the value of the kit to ship it to where you could pick it up, or you could take the dangerous route east yourself to get the part, leaving your farm unattended and spending hard-earned cash on gasoline and such. The National Grange, a large nationwide organization that farmers used to unionize and advocate for farmer rights, had turned a blind eye to it. Mr. Brigham, of the Olney Grange, wasn’t about to let a good plan go to waste. (The Olney Grange was a branch of the Maryland Grange, a branch of the National Grange, which was formed as unions won battles in industry while envious farmers still struggled.) By encouraging congressman David J. Lewis to test its soundness in Congress, he managed to get it through. There were many points at which the Honorable David J. Lewis admitted he felt like giving up. He said that through Mr. Brigham’s bottomless enthusiasm, he managed to gain enough support to get the legislation passed. Farmers and city folks nationwide loved it. A farmer now did not have to spend near as much to get a stupid part, so he was able to expand his farm more rapidly, and the customers ended up paying much less due to the significantly lowered shipping costs. The only downfall to this legislation was that the railroad companies were going bankrupt (eventually leading some of them to unite as CSX.) So next time you receive a package at the door, think about how it all started-from that same man who founded our scout troop.

The Agricultural Department

Ever hear about the United States Department of Agriculture? (You know, that government agency that inspects meat, leaving a sticker on it if it looks good enough?) It was originally started to help farmers and ranchers become educated about their actions, work, and sanitation, and to clean up the meat-packing industry scandals. According to the Agricultural Extension Service, he was called to the Department of Agriculture in 1917 to take charge of producing visual and editorial materials. After serving a year in the army, he returned to the agricultural department. He worked in the Agricultural Extension Service, which was created for the purpose of gathering the above stated materials. In the Extension service, he created a magazine which is still published today, known as the Agriculture Extension Service Review. In 1933, he was placed in the Agricultural Adjustment Administration (remember learning about FDR’s New Deal in History Class?). There he developed a regional contact division, which was used as a public relations committee for the AAA and other depression and wartime agencies. (The AAA was later deemed unconstitutional by the Supreme Court.) Another of his extension jobs was being the 4-H Club leader to Maryland, and he eventually became the top figure in the national 4-H Club. The 4-H Club was an organization founded to teach farm youth the basics of farming and how to do it the right way (preventing another Dust Bowl), and to give farm youth a proper education and upbringing. In his work, Mr. Brigham was very dedicated. He would not give the people he needed to contact a telephone call or a proper letter, but instead he would go out there in person and talk and become friendly with the farmers. He was so attached to his work that he died of an ailment when he went out west to contact a few farmers in 1946.

Mr. Brigham and War

In 1918, a year after Reuben joined the Agricultural Department, he joined the army. He fought as one of millions of “doughboys” fighting in WWI for the Allies against the Central Powers. He only fought for a single year, and not too much is known about his actions, most likely because he was no one of high rank. Reuben’s children were all involved in WWII. His son, David Brigham, served in the Pacific, and his other son served in Europe. His daughter became an army nurse. Mr. Brigham understood how the Axis Powers saw the war from their point of view, instead of just the Allied view, having grown up in Japan and Germany himself.

Mr. Brigham and Family

As stated before, Mr. Brigham’s father had dragged Reuben’s childhood all over the world. Mr. Brigham married Marjorie Snowden on June 7, 1915 at Ingleside (Queen Anne's County, MD) [*correction by Barb - Ingleside was the name of Francis Snowden's home located south of Ashton, MD, on what is now Route 650 New Hampshire Avenue]. Mr. and Mrs. Brigham were devout Quakers, and played a role in the Sandy Spring Friends group. As stated before, Reuben had three children. His first son, David Lewis Brigham, was named after Congressman David J. Lewis, a friend to Mr. Brigham. He had a second son, whose name I cannot find [*correction by Barb - Reuben had two more sons named Francis Snowden Brigham and Arthur P. Brigham, both of whom are deceased]. His daughter, born on February 22, 1922, was named after her mother, to become Marjorie Amber Brigham [now Marjorie Brigham Miller]. Marjorie, (the daughter) is still alive. She lives in Vermont, and helped me with my MDHD project. David Brigham married Gladys Beall in Rockville on December 28, 1938. David and Gladys Brigham had a son, who was also named David. This David Brigham, grandson of Reuben Brigham, is the person who has his name on a plaque on the bell structure in front of Sherwood High School. David Brigham Sr. died in 1999, and he had written a memoir about his father for the troop (also posted on the website). Reuben, having died in 1946, is buried on his property in Ashton next to his wife, Marjorie.

Property and House

Mr. Brigham bought his property from Francis Snowden in 1921. He built his house, named Glyndon, and that house still stands. It is visible at 1022 Olney-Sandy Spring Road, Ashton, MD. Our troop used to do our annual primitive there, but due to a problem with the neighbors, we have used the Haviland property as a substitute. (I will not discuss this too much, because I am bound to get it wrong, not knowing all the details.) On his property, he and his wife are buried as previously stated side-by-side. Besides the grave markers, there are different memorials honoring him, one from the American Legion Post #68, (which he helped found after WWI and which is still the sponsor of the troop), another from the University of Maryland Class of ’08 (1908, not 2008), and another from “Friends in Agriculture”.

Brigham and Youth

Mr. Brigham believed in the proper upbringing of rural youth. This is visible through the 4-H clubs he was involved with. David Brigham Senior has already written his brief memoir about the Troop’s history, so I shall not restate that. To access it, follow this link.

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Correspondence from the late 1940's between Reuben "Shorty" Brigham and John William Firor are housed in Duke University Library's collection of Firor's papers, indexed here but not available online. Measuring in at 6'6" tall, this "Shorty" must be our Reuben.

Gladys Beall Brigham

Grandma passed away in her sleep this morning. She was 93 years old. Please check back in the next day or so, as I will post information on the funeral arrangements as soon as I have it. Thanks.
--Barb

12/30/08 - Edited to add:

The service for Gladys Brigham will be on Saturday, January 3, 2009, at 11:00 a.m. at the Oakdale Emory United Methodist Church in Olney, Maryland. The funeral service will be preceded by a private family burial at 9:30 a.m. No viewing is planned. There will be a reception in Brigham Hall at the church following the service. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you send a donation to the Oakdale Emory UMC Music Fund. Thank you for all of the kind wishes.

Gladys Brigham is preceded in death by her husband David L. Brigham, her son David A. Brigham, her daughter Frances Ann Brigham, and her sisters Anna and Miriam. She is survived by her sisters Dorothy, Dolores, and Flora, sisters-in-law Marjorie and Helen, daughter Julie and her husband Rich, daughter Pat and her husband Tom, daughter-in-law Liz, grandchildren Paul and his wife Maria, Alison and her husband Scott, Barb and her husband Robb, David, Daniel, Georgi, and Robin, and great-grandchildren Anna, Christina, and Kelly.

The Sandy Spring Museum

I visited the Sandy Spring Museum last week and snapped a few photographs. I remember when the museum first opened in a small brick home in Olney. My father, David A. Brigham, was a charter member and somehow designated as the first person that the security company called every time the wind blew and set off the alarm. Many a late night got dressed and drove up over to reset the security system. It must have been a little like being in the fire department again. Both he and my grandfather lived to see the new facility open. And it is really a testament to the Sandy Spring community. I want to share some of our family's images from the museum and the website. Many of these appear in the book Sandy Spring Legacy, which you can purchase directly from the museum. (I also found used copies listed on Amazon.)

This photograph and text about Reuben Brigham is part of an exhibit at the museum. Reuben and David J. Lewis worked together on the Parcel Post bill.

Sherwood's first tackle football team, fielded in 1944, smiles despite a disastrous initial season. Coached by math teacher Dwight Hurley, left, they are, front row from left: Mike Conner, Jimmy Frenzel, Willard Derrick, Fred Fry, Tom Benson, Calvert Heil, Keith Himebaugh, and Charlie Morris; second row, William Miller, Kyle Cantwell, John Johns, Robert Franklin, Sonny Johns, Louis Bussler, and Arthur Brigham; back row, Dick Kimmel, Pete Black, and David Haviland.

Girls' tennis flourished at youthful Sherwood High of 1910. The players are, front row from left: Polly Janney (Shields), Lydia Chichester (Laird), and Katherine Nichols; second row, Deb Iddings (Willson), Barbara Miller, Irene Kimler (Miller), Helen Barnes, Annie Miller, Edith Shoemaker; third row, Gladys Brooke (Tumbleson), Lydia Tatum, Anna Snowden (Bussler), and Henrietta Waters.

Iced tea for 2,300 is brewed by Gladys Brigham (center) and Anne Gilpin (right) for the forty-third annual Hospital Supper and Bazaar in 1964. Mrs. Gilpin's sister, Mrs. C. Jones from England, observes. Staged by the Woman's Board, the annual supper and bazaar has been a major community event for nearly 80 years.

A childhood recollection of David L. Brigham, born 1916: "I curried the horses, mucked the stalls, milked the cows, slopped the pigs, fed the chickens, loaded the manure spreader, and cleared the barnyard and chicken house." In this photograph David L. Brigham rides up front and younger brother Francis Snowden Brigham shares the hay rake with grandfather Francis Snowden at Ingleside in 1922.

Two teams pull plows at Ingleside, just south of Ashton; the 1855 home stands at right. Gussie Holland works the plow in foreground, while Ingleside farmer Francis Snowden supervises the annual plowing ritual.

The museum website had photographs of David, Arthur, and Francis Brigham but none of their sister Marjorie.

Namesake

My grandfather's full name was David Lewis Brigham. He was named after David John Lewis (1869-1952). The photo of Mr. Lewis to the left is from the Library of Congress. He was born in Nuttals Bank, Pennsylvania, the son of Richard Lloyd Lewis and Catherine Watkins. David J. Lewis began his career as a coal miner, studying to become an attorney in his spare time. He passed the Maryland Bar in 1892 and began practicing in Cumberland. In 1893 he married Florida Bohn. Mr. Lewis served in the Maryland state senate from 1902 to 1904 and then as the U.S. Representative from Maryland's 6th District from 1911 to 1917 and again from 1931 to 1939. He was a Democrat. Although I found no mention in any of the articles I found about him, Mr. Lewis played a major role in establishing domestic parcel post service within the United States on January 1, 1913, during the Taft administration, according to Brigham family lore. Gran tells the story of "the little Welsh coal miner from Cumberland" here.

--Barb

At his desk

This is David L. Brigham working at his desk. I do not have any other information about this photograph though. It was taken at his place of work and not at his desk at home, which was considerably more crowded. Please comment if you know the year, the photographer, and/or the location. Thanks!
--Barb