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1893 World’s Columbian Exhibition

Before Big Foot, The Mysterious Gyascutus of Vermont

Some claim the Gyascutus was first discovered in Vermont, where the animal is also known as a Wampahoofus. Others say it originated in northern Maine. Most who have studied this largely overlooked species say it was first discovered in a lumberjack’s dreams just before the Civil War.

Illustration of a Gyascutus from Henry Tryon’s Fearsome Critters.

Sitting in camp after a hard day of work, lumberjacks were inspired to invent all manner of legends and mythical animals. They wanted to trick greenhorns and entertain the others. One such animal was the Gyascutus.

Gyascutus

The Gyascutus is an animal that was somewhat imperfectly adapted to life on the hillsides of northern New England. It evolved so that the legs on one side of its body were much shorter than the legs on the other. The result was that a left leaning Gyascutus could travel rapidly counter clockwise around a mountain. The right leaning variety could travel in the reverse direction.

Of course the animal was highly susceptible to calamity if it got turned around with its longer legs on the uphill side of the mountain. The result was that he would usually tumble to the bottom of the mountain and die.

Scientists (using the term loosely) have reclassified the animal as a Side-Hill Gouger (Membriinequales declivitatis). They tracked its path westward.

Fearsome Critters

In one of the many collections of lumberjack folklore, Henry Tryon’s Fearsome Critters, the animal’s westward migration resulted from a partnership between two Side-Hill Gougers. One had shorter legs on the left and the other on the right. Tryon described how Bill Ericsson of North Haven, Maine, described the Gouger migration west.

“It Seems,” said Bill, “that the Gouger population was getting too thick. There warn’t enough food to go around and somebody just had to move out. A pair of these ambitious little varmints, one orthodox, one abnormal-legged, got together and decided to strike out for a new location. Of Course they could navigate on the hillsides and slopes all right; but they knew mighty well they’d bog down, on the flats, so when they struck level going they just leaned against each other with the longer legs outermost, sort of like a pair of drunks going home from town.” This mighty smart adaptation of a natural deformity took them well across the Central States and made it possible for them to found the Gouger Colonies now existing in the West.

Circus Runaway

Newspapers occasionally invoked the hunt for the Gyasctus to refer to any foolish pursuit. And in 1845, Midwestern newspapers began circulating the story of a pair of Yankees who traveled the Midwest and South exhibiting the Gyascutus in a circus-style show.

A crowd of paying patrons would gather in a darkened hall. A pair of “hoofs” peeked from beneath a curtain on the stage. Once the audience filled the room, the showman promised to give the crowd a taste of what the Gyascutus sounded like. After prodding the curtain, a monstrous wailing noise and much crashing and thrashing filled the room.

The showman sounded the alarm that the Gyascutus had broken loose and people should run for their lives. The ensuing panic would provide cover for the Yankee showman and his accomplice to escape. Somehow they managed to recapture the Gyascutus for another show by the time they reached the next town.

Regional variations of the Gyascutus abound in various folklore collections, but few people today claim to have actually seen one. Evidence of this once-plentiful species can be seen on Vermont’s Mount Mansfield. There hikers still can walk the Wampahoofus Trail on their way to the summit.

This story last updated in 2023. Image of the Green Mountains By Mike9827 – Took the photo while hiking on Mount Mansfield, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=56093659

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The Stoughton Musical Society Wins America’s First-Ever Singing Contest in 1790

In 1790 the Stoughton Musical Society was challenged to a contest by the chorus of the First Parish Church in nearby Dorchester. The Stoughton singers confidently picked up the gauntlet. America’s first singing contest was on.

It was natural that singers from Stoughton and Dorchester should compete. Stoughton, Mass., had once been part of southwestern Dorchester, which is now a part of Boston. Stoughton was named after William Stoughton, the chief justice of the Salem witch trials.

A Boston composer named William Billings inspired the formation of the Stoughton Musical Society. Billings, the first American choral composer, gave a singing school to the musical men of Stoughton in 1774. By 1786, 25 men formed the Stoughton Musical Society – now America’s oldest — on Nov. 7, 1786.

They agreed on such regulations as

The President only shall beat the Time openly; and if the President be absent, the Vice President shall preside; and if they both be absent, the Society shall choose a President pro-tempore.

Every member shall behave with Decency, Politeness and Dignity; and whoever behaves disorderly shall be punished according to the nature of his offense, according as the Society shall order.

Unbounded Applause

Within four short years, the Stoughton Musical Society’s reputation as the finest singers around reached the old town – Dorchester — including the singers of the old First Parish. .

The society’s 1929 history tells what happened next:

These well-trained singers of the old town, so near the “Bay,” from whose shores emanated then, as now, from the “Hub,” excellence in art, grace in scholarship, and refinement in living, could ill brook the judgment that Dorchester did not wear the honors in the art of singing as in many other accomplishments. Confident in their ability and ready to test it, they challenged the Stoughton singers to a trial. The challenge was accepted; a meeting arranged. It was held in a large hall in Dorchester, and says the narrator, who was one of the singers, “The hall was filled with prominent singers, far and near, including many notables from Boston.” The Dorchester contestants had a “bass viol” and female singers. The Stoughton party consisted of 20 selected male voices, without instruments, and led by “Squire” Elijah Dunbar, the President of the Stoughton Musical Society, who was not only one of the most accomplished singers in his day, but distinguished for his commanding presence and dignified bearing.

The Dorchester party sang first an anthem, recently published, executing it with grace and precision. The Stoughton party followed with Jacob Frenches new anthem, “The Heavenly Vision,” rendered without book or notes. The applause was unbounded as they took their seats. Again the Dorchester choir sang; then, to close the tournament, the Stoughton Choir sang, without book, Handel’s grand “Hallelujah Chorus,” recently published in the country by Isaac [Isaiah]Thomas.

The Dorchester singers acknowledged defeat and endorsed the taste and judgment of the ministry. So endeth this incident of the olden time.

New Prominence

Edwin A. Jones, a leading citizen of Stoughton, brought the Musical Society to new prominence in the 19th century. He joined the society in 1871 and sang with it until his death. Jones designed the Stoughton Town Seal with a harp in it to commemorate the society. (For his reasoning behind the seal, click here.)

Jones also got the invitation for the Stoughton Musical Society to perform at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. More than 100 of the Society’s singers and orchestra musicians in early American dress entertained fairgoers with 18^th Century New England music.

His Soul Was In His Song

Sanford Waters Billings, president of the Stoughton Musical Society, gave the following account of the successful concert in Chicago.

The Conductor was enthusiastic, hopeful, and proud of the Society whose concerts he was to conduct. The chorus caught this spirit of cheer and enthusiasm and sang as only those can sing who are inspired with the music of the Father. The orchestra was led by Mr. E. A. Jones, who looked upon the work of the day with delight and interest, realizing that the long looked for time had come, the expected day had arrived, and that grand results were developing as each new selection was announced.

His select company of artists forming the orchestra who took the place when others had failed, won for themselves enviable distinction, while the soloists won from the listeners many an approval, and the grand old songs of the fathers, the composition of the pioneers in American music, so heartily rendered by the chorus, won the repeated applause of those who had come to hear the strains of yore. Some expressed the thought that nothing had given them so much delight, had so thrilled their souls, so aroused the tenderest and strongest chords of the human heart as the rendering of Easter Anthem, Emmanuel, Contentment, and the other selections their ears had been permitted to hear.

An especial feature of the concerts was the appearance of Mr. Alanson Belcher who, at the invitation of Conductor Soule, led the chorus through the inspiring strain of “As Shepherds in Jewry Were Guarding Their Sheep.” Where could we go to find a parallel of this, to see the grand musical Patriarch of more than four score years step to the front, wield the baton, mark the time, and throw from his own soul into the souls of others the inspiration of one who, though his brow was frosted with many a winter, seemed like one in the grandeur of life’s prime ?

His soul was in his song. His was not the service of the lip; his was the thanksgiving of the heart.

On Tuesday, the concert was repeated, losing none of its beauty or excellence. Those who had listened to the songs which used to be sung by lips long since silent in the days “that are past and gone,” experienced a pathos and rapture that widen and deepen as the song goes on.

The Chicago Record, World’s Fair Bureau, the Chicago Inter-Ocean, and Chicago Tribune all gave reports of commendation.

That was a delightful event which happened at the Massachusetts Building on Wednesday, P. M., when, surrounded by representatives, not only of the Old Bay State but from other commonwealths of the Union, and from foreign countries, our Society gave in the parlors of the State Building one of its best efforts. So inspiring were the strains, so inviting to the ear, that ere one selection was completed, the rooms were filled to overflowing. Massachusetts was doing through the Old Stoughton Musical Society what no other state in the Union had thought of doing, bringing the songs of the past century of the Bay State to the ears of the representatives of the World at Chicago. At this gathering, Mr. Belcher gave with fine effect the “Boston Tea Party.” The manner and vigor of the singer and the patriotic spirit of the song will not soon be forgotten by those who were so fortunate as to be present.

Now known as the Old Stoughton Musical Society, it is the oldest continuous operating choral society in America. The next concert is December 13th, 8:00 PM at the Stoughton Historical Society.

To learn more about the Old Stoughton Musical Society, click here.

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Columbus Smith Found Fortune Abroad, Sadness at Home.

Columbus Smith, a Vermont lawyer, found in 1844 he could make a fortune by researching old deeds to locate the rightful heirs of English estates. For the next two decades he pursued other peoples’ inheritances, taking a cut for himself. He married, built an eye-popping mansion in Salisbury and collected antiquities. Part I of this story is here.

Columbus Smith

Columbus Smith seemed to set his life on a safe and sedate course, returning to live in Salisbury, Vt., after years spent in New York and Europe. If there is a lesson to his story, perhaps it is to never slow down because you don’t know what may be chasing you. In Smith’s case, he was chased by a series of calamities.

His first serious setback occurred in 1881. Columbus and Harriet’s son William, then 14, died of meningitis. The couple constructed an ornate mausoleum on their property, with glass shelves to hold its residents encased in glass-topped coffins. William was the first to occupy a space in the building.

Lost Hope

The death rattled Columbus Smith. His children’s former tutor, Irving Bacheller, by then living in New York, returned to Salisbury for a visit. He found Smith’s grief over the death of his son – “the main hope of his life” – had taken a harsh toll. It aged Columbus Smith and softened his mind.

After William died, Smith remained active in business and charitable affairs. He continued investing and building. He and Harriet spent one winter in Los Angeles, and he traveled to the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair, the Columbian Exposition.

Mary (Smith) McDowell

But daughter Mary was a growing concern. There are hints that during this time Mary, affectionately known as Pinky, was not well. She travelled to the American desert in the Southwest for health reasons. In 1896, however, it was announced that she would be married to Dr. Alexander McDowell of Bowling Green, Va.

McDowell was the son of Gen. Irvin McDowell, who led the Union troops in their ill-fated battle of Bull Run in the Civil War. Alexander had first followed in his father’s footsteps, enrolling at the West Point military academy. He completed his education at the Medical School of Columbian College, now George Washington University, and entered the Marine Corps.

Another Blow

The wedding would, of course, be a grand celebration. First scheduled for St. Stephen’s Church in Middlebury, the ceremony was performed at Shard Villa, and it was the talk of the county.

A little more than a year later, Mary died of tuberculosis. Seeing his last child join her brother in the family mausoleum apparently pushed the elderly Columbus Smith into depression.

Decline and Delusions

Columbus Smith grew acerbic and less attentive to details. His wife would later say that 1897 was the year she had to ‘get into harness’ and begin working to maintain their estate and wealth.

After leading a largely healthy life, Columbus Smith twice checked into sanitariums. Doctors treated him for his depression and Bright’s disease, then sent him home with medication. Harriet believed he would have avoided much misery if he had started taking his medication as soon as his daughter had died.

The decade of decline following Mary’s death was marked by paranoid delusions. Smith believed people were trying to steal his fortune, and he even made allegations against his wife. By the end, he had lost the power of speech, only able to make sounds. Smith died in November 1909.

Once Prominent

His obituaries noted that he was ‘at one time’ a prominent power in Vermont. Originally thought to have millions, he left an estate appraised at $340,000. It included far-flung properties in Illinois, Wisconsin, Nebraska, Texas and the Dakotas as well as New England.

In his will, Columbus Smith expressed the intent that Shard Villa should be converted to a nursing home for ‘old Christian women not addicted to drink.’ He stipulated the residual of his estate should fund its operation. Upon Harriet’s death in 1919, that’s what the mansion became – but not without one more legal entanglement. Would Columbus Smith have wanted it any other way?

The Final Probate Showdown

Anna Perry of Gardiner, Mass., and Fred Page of Ludlow, Vt. – a grandniece and grandnephew—challenged Smith’s will, which was written and amended from 1897 to 1903. They argued he was insane when he largely disinherited his family.

They pointed to curious details, such as a bequest of $1 to his brother-in-law ‘to buy a feather for his cap when he played soldier or a whistle and rattle to amuse himself in his declining years.’

To his wife, he left $25,000 ‘or $50,000 if she preferred.’ Such statements could be seen as whimsical, or evidence of mental decline. The Addison County Court heard from 112 witnesses, many of them friends and neighbors divided on the question of his sanity over the last decade of his life. After a hung jury couldn’t decide the matter on the first go-round, the Addison County Court declared the will valid.

Harriet Smith

Harriet, who had considerable wealth of her own apart from her husband’s, could have easily afforded to settle the case with her relatives. She declined to do so, fighting until the end to defend the will.

In 1914, the Supreme Court also upheld the will, which allowed for the establishment of the rest home at Shard Villa.

What happened next…

Shard Villa today remains an active and functioning nursing home. It entered a period of instability, and its board of trustees envisioned closing it in 2008. It has since undergone a revival, however, and is home to 15-to-18 residents.

On the grounds of the mansion, the mausoleum holds four bodies: Columbus, Harriet, William and Mary. A place for Mary’s husband Alexander B. McDowell remains empty.

In another tragic twist to the story, Alexander McDowell slit his own throat in 1908 while living in New York City. He had continued his relationship with the Smiths, traveling to Vermont to see them. And had he outlived Smith, he was to receive $2,000 from the estate, a room in perpetuity at the Shard Villa and the option to be resident physician at the facility if he wished.

Collections of haunted house stories also include Shard Villa, claiming Columbus Smith remains unsettled and still wanders the grounds from time to time.

Images: Photographer Don Shall’s Flickr Album; Middlebury College Special Collections; Henry Sheldon Museum of Vermont History’s Shard Villa and its People Exhibit.

This story about Columbus Smith was updated in 2022.

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