Lambtown Red Schoolhouse Association
The Red Schoolhouse Association (made up of former pupils and teachers of the Lambtown School, Ledyard, Connecticut) first met in 1925 and continued to meet annually at least into the 1950s. The school itself closed in 1949, and the building (where Association meetings also took place) was torn down sometime after 1966.
The Day [New London, CT], Sept. 5, 1934
Lamb Family Reunion Held with Red Schoolhouse Assn. at Ledyard; Members’ Poems Feature Program
The annual meeting of the Lambtown Red Schoolhouse association and reunion of the descendants of Daniel Lamb were held at the Lambtown schoolhouse in Ledyard Sunday. The reunion was held there so members of the family who attended the Red Schoolhouse might also attend the association meeting.
Members of the Lamb family met at noon for a picnic lunch and hot dog roast, after which they attended the meeting in the schoolhouse.
The exercises opened with the singing of Auld Lane Syne by the 40 or more people in the building at the time. A report of the last meeting was read by the secretary, Dr. Clara H. McGuigan of Philadelphia. This was followed by a number of poems, nearly all of which were written by former pupils of the school. They were:
Night Thoughts, a Christmas poem by Phoebe Watrous, read by Mrs. McGuigan as Miss Watrous was unable to be present.
Giving, by Ida Whipple Benham, read by Miss Gertrude Watrous.
Kumsamore, by Mary McGuire, read by Mrs. McGuigan.
A Little Bit of Color, by Elisha W. McGuire, read by the author.
Equality, by Ida Whipple Benham, read by her brother, Timothy Whipple, after which Mr. Whipple told of the school teaching days of his sisters, Ida and Nellie, and also reminiscences of his own experiences as a teacher.
After Mr. Whipple’s remarks, Far Away was sung by the assembly.
Following the reading of the poem, Unawares, by Mrs. Carrie Northrop Whipple, and College Oil Cans, [written by Will Victor McGuire and read] by Elisha McGuire, Dr. Charles H. Lamb of Norwich sang a solo, Beautiful Land of My Dreams.
In an address by Arthur L Young, field supervisor of education in Ledyard, he strongly advocated the development of creative ability in pupils by encouraging the writing of poems and the making of articles of beauty. Mr. Young also strongly advocated Parent-Teacher associations.
Another subject stressed was the value of the school library in education, in connection with which he told of the state library grants and the conditions under which the same could be obtained.
The Rev. George P. Jones, another guest of the association, expressed his pleasure at the high character of the exercises of the day and his respect for the old fashioned school which had produced such results as were shown by the poems which had been read there during the exercises.
The singing of God Be With You Till We Meet Again closed the exercises, after which sandwiches, cake and fruit punch were served.
The assembly singing was accompanied by Curtis Watrous on the violin and Miss June Watrous on the guitar and to them a rising vote of thanks was extended.
The violin used by Mr. Watrous was the handiwork of his brother and himself and was made partly from wood cut, cured and wrought by their own hands.
Two new members, Timothy Whipple of Old Mystic and Mrs. Bertha Lamb Houghton of Brattleboro, Vt., paid dues of 50 cents each which entitles them to a paid life membership.
During the meeting it was voted to use some of the money in the treasury for the purchase of at least three folding chairs before the next meeting. A collection of $5.50 was contributed for the purpose of purchasing an additional number of chairs.
After a pleasant time spent in visiting with old and new friends the assemblage reluctantly dispersed, nearly all expressing their eagerness to attend next year the reunion to be held as usual on the Sunday following the last Wednesday in August which Is known as Bill Dinner Wednesday.
Among those who had never attended the Lambtown reunion before were Mrs. Gertrude Frink Beckwith and daughter Dorothy of Old Mystic. Mr. and Mrs. Samuel a Lamb of Stonington, Mr. and Mrs. Ray Lamb of Noank, Mr. and Mrs. Charles W. Chapman of Ledyard, Mrs. Bessie Watrous and daughter, Florence, of Ledyard. Clifton Watrous and daughter, Marie, also of Ledyard, Mrs. Louise Crouch Christopher and Mrs. H. A. Christopher of Groton, Mr. and Mrs. Francis Whipple mid children of Groton, Mrs. Charles H. Lamb of Norwich. Mr. and Mrs. Arthur L. Young of Norwich, Miss Viola Bucko and sister of New London, and Miss Nancy Holmborg of Ledyard.
Some of the others who were present were Miss Alice M. Chapman of Center Groton, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Clark of Ledyard, Mrs. Susan Wiemann and family of Ledyard, Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Gray and family of Ledyard, Mrs. Lena Colver and son Robert of Ledyard, Mr. and Mrs. Edmund Lamb of Ledyard. Mrs. Hazel King of Stonington. Mr. and Mrs. Ray Colver of Old Mystic, Mrs. Althea Merritt of Fort Hill, Groton with a part of her family, Mr. and Mrs. Timothy L. Crouch and sons Harvey, Paul and Arthur, Mrs. Ida Wilcox and daughter Esther. Mrs. Esther Holmberg, Miss Carrie Watrous, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas G. Whipple of Groton, Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo C. Shafer and Harry Shafer of Ledyard, Charles Shafer of Cow hill, Groton, Dr. John McGuigan of Philadelphia,
the Rev. and Mrs. George P. Jones of Stonington, Dr. Charles H. Lamb of
Norwich, Mrs. Laura Pierce Phillips of North Scituate, R. I., the Misses Dorothy and Ella Wydler of Ledyard, Mrs. Maude Lawrence of Center Groton, Miss Elsie Watrous, Mrs. Mabel Watrous and family, Mrs. Amy Crouch, Miss Ruby Watrous and Miss Margaret Crouch, all of Ledyard; Mrs. Bertha Houghton and son of Brattleboro, Vt.
The sandwiches served were provided by Mrs. Thomas G. Whipple, Mrs. Clara McGuigan and Miss Gertrude Watrous. The cakes for the occasion were made by Mrs. Leslie Gray, Mrs. Fannie Clark and Mrs. Susan Wiemann. The fruit punch was provided by the Misses Phoebe, Carrie and Gertrude Watrous.
The Day [New London, CT], Aug. 25, 1936
The annual reunion of the Lambtown school will be hold at the Lambtown school in Ledyard Sunday at 2 p. m. Those who wish may bring a basket luncheon which will be enjoyed after the meeting on the school grounds.
These annual meetings of all former scholars and teachers of the school started back in 1925 and each year a marked interest has been noted in the gatherings as, more and more of the former pupils have responded to the invitation to be present and participate in the get-to-gether. New acquaintanceship have [sic] been made and old friendships cemented as a result of these gatherings. All former pupils of this old district school are cordially invited to be present
Red
Schoolhouse Assn. Has Annual Meet at Lambtown School Building in Ledyard
Members of the Red Schoolhouse association of the Lambtown school, Ledyard, met Sunday afternoon at the school for their seventh annual reunion. Former students and teachers of the little red schoolhouse, which is really painted red, were welcomed by the President Mrs. Edmund H. Lamb and the following program was carried out.
Doxology—by the assembly.
Vocal selection—Clifford J. Desley.
Sketch of the Life of the late Timothy T. Whipple, a beloved former pupil, who passed away Aug. 16—Mrs. Leila Gray.
Address —The Rev. George R. Sweeney of Old Mystic.
Prayer—The Rev. Mr. Sweeney.
Violin selection—Philip Haughton, using a violin owned by his grandfather, Daniel Lamb of Ledyard.
Remarks were made by Elisha McGuire, Thomas Whipple, Alonzo Shafer and Mrs. Joseph Clark, all of whom gave reminiscences of their days in the little red school.
After a vocal selection by Clifford J. Desley the business session was called to order and the minutes of the last reunion were road, after which the following officers were elected
President—Mrs. Edmund H. Lamb.
Secretary—Dr. Clara Hammond McGuigan.
Treasurer—Mrs. Leila Gray.
The meeting closed with the singing of God Be With You Till We Meet Again.
Those present at the gathering were Mrs. Louise Crouch Christopher, Mrs. Leila Gray, Mrs. Fannie Clark, Mrs. Hazel King, Mrs. Lena Culver, Mrs. Susan Weiman, Karl Weiman, Flossie, May and James Weiman, Joseph Clark, Bertha Lamb Haughton, Mrs. Christopher, Mrs. Waterman, Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo Shafer, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Whipple Edmund H. Lamb, Elsie Watrous, Mrs. Stephen Watrous, Esther, Ruby and Marilyn Watrous, Mrs. Elmer Watrous, the Rev. and Mrs. George R. Sweeney, C. J. Desley. Mr. and Mrs. Earl Spencer, Mrs. Ruth Stark, Lucille, Louise and Hannah Stark, Joel Whipple Mrs. John Elliott, Harriet King, Arthur Crouch, Mrs. Alfred Montgomery, Mr. and Mrs. Othy Crouch, Miss Gertrude Watrous, Robert Colver, Lillian Lamb, Mrs. Roy Lamb, Miss Irene Merritt, Walter Lamb, Robert King, James Lamb.
The Misses Gertrude and Carrie Watrous are former teachers of the school.
The first reunion of the Red Schoolhouse association look place on the last Sunday in August, 1925, to which former pupils and teachers had been invited. In response to that first invitation 122 one-time pupils and teachers gathered at the little school located on a hillside just off the highway leading from the Sandy Hollow road to the Quakertown road. Here old friends greeted one another and wandered back mentally over the pathway of life to the days when they first entered the doorway of the little building to begin their mastery of the three R's.
This reunion was such a success that it has become an annual affair. At the reunion held in August 1932, it was decided to form an association which was done and Miss Gertrude A. Watrous was elected the first president and Dr. Clara M. H. McGuigan secretary and treasurer.
The eleventh or Lambtown district of Ledyard dates back a century or more, but the original school was situated northwest and between the house known as Deacon Lamb's and the Roach place, near the bend of the road. On July 9, 1859, James C. Lamb, in consideration of $5 received to his full satisfaction leased to Timothy Whipple, the agent or committee of the Eleventh district, the plot of land upon which the present school was built. There is a stipulation in this lease which gives back to the heirs of James Lamb this plot of ground if at any time the Eleventh district “shall see fit to no longer occupy it.”
The first teachers in the present school were Francis E. Gallup, who taught the winter term of 1860-61, and Hannah Lamb, who taught the summer term.
The Day [New London, CT], Aug. 28, 1939
Fred
Watrous Named President Lambtown Assn.
Fred Watrous was elected president yesterday afternoon when the Lambtown School association met in the Lambtown schoolhouse.
A large number of members and friends attended. The program included several musical selections by Billy and Eddie Washington, the Sunshine Twins; Marjorie and Bernice Watrous gave vocal selections. Several of the former teachers and pupils of the school gave short talks.
Thomas Whipple, retiring president of the association, conducted the business meeting and in the absence of the secretary, Mrs. Clara McGuigan, Mrs. Susan Weimann read the report of the last meeting. It was voted to hold the next meeting the last Sunday in August, 1940. Mrs. Leslie Gray, treasurer, gave a report.
Those attending were Miss Gertrude Watrous, Miss Carrie Watrous, Mrs. Harold Watrous, Fred Watrous, Billy Washington, Eddie Washington, Louis Watrous, Philip Crandall, Mr. and Mrs. Karl Weimann, Mary Weimann, Florence Weimann, James Weimann, Karl Weimann, Jr., Ernest Daboll, Mrs. Lucy Crouch, Mrs. Phoebe Crouch, Mrs. Mary Main, Dora Main, Charles Main, Marjorie Watrous, Bernice Watrous, Mrs. Hulda Lamb, Edmund Lamb, Thomas Whipple, Mrs. Palmer Whipple, Gertrude Whipple, George Crouch, Stephen Crouch, Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Gray, Virginia Gray.
The Day [New London, CT], Aug. 26, 1940
Former teachers and pupils of the Lambtown School association met yesterday afternoon in the schoolhouse at Lambtown to elect officers. In the absence of Fred Watrous, president, Miss Gertrude Watrous presided. The records of the last meeting were read by the secretary, Mrs. Karl Wiemann and the officers were elected as follows:
President—Fred Watrous.
Secretary—Mrs.. Karl Wiemann.
Treasurer—Mrs. Leslie Gray.
The Day [New London, CT], Aug. 29, 1942
The Little Red Schoolhouse association held its annual meeting at the Lambtown school yesterday Afternoon. In the absence of the president, Fred Watrous, Thomas Whipple, a past president of the association, was in charge. Minutes of the last meeting were read by the secretary, Mrs. Karl Wiemann. The officers for the coming year are
President—Fred Watrous.
Secretary—Mrs. Karl Wiemann.
Treasurer—Mrs. Leslie Gray.
Attending were Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo Shafer, Center Groton; Mr. and Mrs. Harrie Chapman, Somerville, Mass.; Mrs. Leon Colver, New London; Mr. and Mrs. Karl Wiemann, Misses Mary, Florence, and Helen Wiemann, James Wiemann, Miss Alice Chapman, Center Groton; Miss Clara Burnett, Miss J. Burnett, Miss P. Lamb, Mystic; Thomas Whipple, Francis Whipple, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Christopher, Groton; Mr. and Mrs. George Nichols, Miss Carrie Watrous, Miss Gertrude Watrous, Mrs. Elmer Watrous, Miss Elsie Watrous, Miss Bernice Watrous, Mr. and Mrs. Fred Watrous, Miss Pearl Watrous, Miss Joyce Watrous, Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Gray.
Close by the cove stands Kumsumore,
Open wide its welcoming door
Leading down to the steps on the shore.
Neighboring children play on the docks —
Black hair, auburn and “goldilocks”—
All for gotten are schools and clocks.
The cove is a wonderful place to play,
With its sunny lights and shadows grey;
The water is warm and the crabs are thick —
“Here, give me a crab-net — that one, quick!”
He’s a wary fellow and off he goes,”
But I’ll have him yet before he knows!”
“The boat is rocking — let’s row to the bridge.’
O, the cove is dear with its cool green ridge
Of pine and hemlock and sloping shores,
“Let me row now, Dick, give me the oars.”
And off they go ‘till mother’s call,
“Time for the beach, Boys!” a stampede all.
Bathing suits — and white wings?— Nay —
A stride, a dip, a plunge — and away!
And mother (who’d think it) has learned to swim!
At first she was shaky in every limb
When Father painstakingly tried to teach,
Her feet just clung to the sandy beach;
But now she has confidence, lo! it is done,
And she follows along in the wake of her son.
And now for the change into common clothes —
O, only the bather and swimmer knows
The tingling joy when the body glows.
And dinner now, for ‘tis baking day —
“Work at the cottage is only play,”
Mother says so, — she ought to know,
And her girlish laughter proves it so.
Auntie Maude, beloved by all.
Gentle, helpful,— her loving call
Comes to the Boys on the dock below
“Somebody’s come, — can you guess? do you know?
After the greetings we sit around
While Kenneth shows Grandma the shell he has found
On the beach today, and Ritchie leans
Towards Father’s chair, as English scenes
And English customs unfold to view;
Grandpa lived there, so this is true,
That English boys in the far off days
Were “taught to work.” Then Grandma says
That she “thinks tomorrow will be a fine day.”
And she beams and smiles in the dearest way.
While Kenneth mutters under his breath
That “An English boy must be tired to death!”
And uncle smiles, while Grandpa sighs
In reminiscence; then Grandma’s eyes
Just twinkle and shine and she says “how tall
The Boys are getting.” She thinks by fall
Their teacher won’t know them — and that is all.
But, oh, when the intimate hour draws near
‘Twixt daylight and dark and the sky is clear,
On the wide piazza in rockers low
We sit and gaze on the cove below.
The limpid water, the boats that glide —
The old stone bridge with its massive side
Fronting Klink’s Island that lies between
The bending shores with their shaded green. —
O, this is rest and Mother sighs
In full contentment; — Father’s eyes
Are happy too — “yes, this is rest —
Of all, I like this hour the best.”
The Boys, each follows his train of thought,
“It was here,” said Ritchie,” our soldiers fought
The British — but oh, long years before,
The Indians owned this, — shore to shore, —
Right here were their wigwams at Kumsumore.”
Then Kenneth calls, from his Mother’s side,
“Do you think your drift-wood has gone with the tide?
I’ll bet you don’t find it there next year” —
And Ritchie replies, “Now, never you fear;
That driftwood is fastened firm and strong,
No tide in this cove can tow it along!
“Come let’s get a cracker-jack,” off they run
But are back in a trice — there’s lots more fun
On the porch at the cottage than down on the “ walk.”—
You can wade in the cove or just listen and talk,
Or if you keep silence the fishes will play —
How they leap from the water — then splash and away!
And the queer little water birds (garrulous things)!
You’d never believe they were creatures with wings,
For they chatter and scold and go stalking along,
The “loon” and the “piper” with never a song.
But — “It’s time for bed now, Boys,” the fiat is said,
So off to the little cove bedrooms to bed;
With a last loving look to the waters below
Their white curtained windows — the rythmical, slow
Lapping of water almost at the door —
O, life is enchantment at fair Kumsumore!
Elisha Whipple McGuire (1854-1940)
There's a little bit of color
Floating softly overhead,
Gently gleaming in the sunshine
Bits of blue and white and red.
Only just a starry banner
In the gleam of light I see,
'Tis a little bit of color
But it means the world to me.
Now I see it in a vision
Borne by living arms of steel
On the awful field of battle
Where before it foemen reel.
Taut its lines and torn its fabric
'Mid the storm of shot and shell,
'Tis the emblem now of justice
And of tyranny the knell.
If the bearer of the banner
On the field shall chance to fall,
There are millions more of freemen
That shall grasp it at his call,
And can have no greater honor
Than to bear it firm and high,
For the love they bear their country
And they do not fear to die.
Then I'll raise the bit of color
As the dearest thing of all,
Emblem of the light of freemen
Who shall gather at its call.
Floating proudly o'er our country
Idolized from sea to sea
'Tis a little bit of color
But it means the world to me.
Will Victor McGuire (1865-1894)
On a board of bright mosaic wrought in many a quaint design,
Gleam a brace of silver goblets wreathed with flowers and filled with wine.
Round the board a group is seated; here and there are threads of white
Which their dark locks lately welcomed; but they’re only boys tonight.
Some whose words have thrilled the senate, some who win the critic’s praise—
All are “chums” to-night, with voices redolent of college days.
“Boys,” said one, “do you remember that old joke—about the wine—
How we used to fill our oil cans and repair to ‘No. 9’?
But at last the old professor—never long was he outdone—
Opened up our shining oil cans and demolished all our fun!”
In the laugh that rings so gayly through the richly curtained room,
Join they all, save one; Why is it? Does he see the waxen bloom
Tremble in its vase of silver? Does he see the ruddy wine
Shiver in its crystal goblet, or do those grave eyes divine
Something sadder yet? He pauses till their mirth has died away,
Then in measured tones speaks gravely:
“Boys, a story, if I may, I will tell you, though it may not merit worthily your praise,
It is bitter fruitage ripened from our pranks of college days,”
Eagerly they claim the story, for they know the LL.D.
With his flexible voice would garnish any tale, whate’er it be.
“Just a year ago to-night, boys, I was in my room alone,
At the San Francisco L—— House, when I heard a plaintive moan
Sounding from the room adjoining. Hoping to give some relief
To the suffering one, I entered; but it thrilled my heart with grief
Just to see that wreck of manhood—bloated face, disheveled hair—
Wildly tossing, ever moaning, while his thin hands beat the air.
Broken prayers, vile oaths and curses filled the air as I drew near;
Then in faint and piteous accents, these words I could plainly hear:
‘Give me one more chance—one only—let me see my little Belle—
Then I’ll follow where they lead me, be it to the depths of hell!’
When he saw me he grew calmer, started strangely—looked me o’er—
Oh, the glory of expression! I had seen those eyes before!
Yes, I knew him; it was Horace, he who won the college prize;
Naught remained of his proud beauty but the splendor of his eyes.
He whom we were all so proud of, lay there in the fading light.
If my years should number fourscore, I shall ne’er forget that sight.
And he knew me—called me ‘Albert,’ ere a single word I’d said—
We were comrades in the old days; I sat down beside the bed.
“Horace seemed to grow more quiet, but he would not go to sleep;
He kept talking of our boyhood while my hand he still would keep
In his own so white and wasted, and with burning eyes would gaze
On my face, still talking feebly of the dear old college days.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘life held such promise; but, alas! I am to-day
But a poor degraded outcast—hopes, ambition swept away,
And it dates back to those oil cans that we filled in greatest glee.
Little did I think in those days what the harvest now would be!’
“For a moment he was silent, then a cry whose anguish yet
Wrings my heart, burst from his white lips, though his teeth were tightly set,
And with sudden strength he started—sprang from my detaining arm,
Shrieking wildly, ‘Curse the demons; do they think to do me harm?
Back! I say, ye forked-tongued serpents reeking with the filth of hell!
Don’t ye see I have her with me—my poor sainted little Belle?’
“When I’d soothed him into quiet, with a trembling arm he drew
My head down, ‘Oh, Al,’ he whispered, ‘such remorse you never knew.’
And again I tried to soothe him, but my eyes o’erbrimmed with tears;
His were dry and clear, as brilliant as they were in college years.
All the flush had left his features, he lay white as marble now;
Tenderly I smoothed his pillow, wiped the moisture from his brow.
Though I begged him to be quiet, he would talk of those old days,
Brokenly at times, but always of ‘the boys’ with loving praise.
“Once I asked him of Lorena—the sweet girl whom he had wed—
You remember Rena Barstow. When I asked if she were dead,
‘No,’ he said, his poor voice faltering, ‘she is far beyond the Rhine,
But I wish, to God, it were so, and I still might call her mine.
She’s divorced—she’s mine no longer,’ here his voice grew weak and hoarse
‘But although I am a drunkard, I have one they can’t divorce.
I’ve a little girl in heaven, playing round the Savior’s knee,
Always patient and so faithful that at last she died for me.
“‘I had drank so much, so often, that my brain was going wild;
Every one had lost hope in me but my faithful little child.
She would say, “Now stop, dear papa, for I know you can stop now.”
I would promise, kiss my darling, and the next day break my vow.
So it went until one Christmas, dark and stormy, cold and drear;
Out I started, just as usual, for the cursed rum shop near,
And my darling followed after, in the storm of rain and sleet,
With no covering wrapped about her, naught but slippers on her feet;
No one knew it, no one missed her, till there came with solemn tread,
Stern-faced men unto our dwelling, bringing back our darling—dead!
They had found her cold and lifeless, like, they said, an angel fair,
Leaning ‘gainst the grog shop window—oh, she thought that I was there!
Then he raised his arms toward heaven, called aloud unto the dead,
For his mind again was wandering: ‘Belle, my precious Belle!’ he said,
‘Papa’s treasure—papa’s darling! oh, my baby—did—you—come
All the way—alone—my darling—just to lead—poor—papa—home?’
And he surely had an answer, for a silence o’er him fell.
And I sat alone and lonely—death had come with little Belle.”
Silence in that princely parlor—head of every guest is bowed.
They still see the red wine sparkle, but ‘tis through a misty cloud.
Said the host at last, arising, “I have scorned the pledge to sign,
Laughed at temperance all my life long. Never more shall drop of wine
Touch my lips. The fruit was bitter, boys; ‘twas I proposed it first—
That foul joke from which poor Horace ever bore a life accurst!
Let us pledge ourselves to-night, boys, never more by word, or deed,
In our own fair homes, or elsewhere, help to plant the poison seed.”
Silence once again, but only for a moment’s space, and then,
In one voice they all responded with a low and firm “Amen.”
Return to QUAKERTOWN Online