The Old Mill
By
(Please visit my web site at http://home.roadrunner.com/~Unadillaforks if you are interested in the history of Unadilla Forks, NY.)
The work of mortal men rot and decay away and only
the memories remain; but those memories are happy memories – tender
reminiscence of times gone by, joyful pictures of another era when one was
young and gay and happy. The past is
relived again and the days of youth with all its struggles and trials and tears
become as clear as if time had gone in reverse.
How often we stop in the present
to think of the past. How happy we are
to think of the other years, to think back on one of our life’s little quirks
or to shed a tear over some beautiful thing we remember of long ago. The old things give way to the new; progress
casts aside the outmoded but memories last forever in our mind.
To the people of Unadilla Forks
the old mill is now but a memory. How
far back in history it goes no one knows and it can only be told by those
acquainted with it to their children and grandchildren. The old mill will live on in the minds of the
next generation though nothing remains but the tottering wall and rusty bits of
machinery laid there ages ago. The whine of the saw, the grind of the
planers will be heard again by those who remember the old mill when it was a
behive of activity, humming with life.
The old dirt road has given away
to concrete, automobiles speed across a modern bridge where horses and wagons
once rumbled across an old log bridge over the river. The water cascades over the
dam as it did years ago and quietly floats by in silent tribute where
the old mill stood.
Perhaps Lodowick and Samuel Brown
stood in the old mill watching that water when they purchased the mill from
Amos Fisk in 1878. Men and time have
prevented any recollection of the mill previous to that time. The old mill, buzzing with life, outlasted
them. Still, it thrived through the
ownership of Charles and James Crommie.
Over 50 years ago, in February
1902, when winters were really winters, Charles Backus bought the old mill that
we would probably envy today. It became
a custom sawmill, sawing lumber for the surrounding populace at the price of
$2.50 per thousand feet. In this era of
steel and concrete, the H-Bomb and communism, the price is $15.00 per thousand
feet. That’s why they say, “remember the good old days!”
When Charlie Backus purchased it,
the old mill was then over 100 years old.
The insurance company wrote at the time, “You oughta erect a tombstone
on that spot!” The old mill laughed at
fire and never knew what a fire was to the day it was torn down.
In 1910 the lumber mill also
became a shingle mill and a four-sided planer was added for making silo staves.
The year 1914 brought a 7 ½
kilowatt generator to the old mill and Charlie Backus sent out a lighting
circuit and service line. The old mill’s
influence spread out, carrying light for 21 street lights and 42 home customers. The cost of wiring a house in those days -
$56.00; the labor charge, 50 cents an hour!
In 1928, the lighting rights were
sold to the Madison Power and Light Company.
The old mill went on turning out lumber and became known throughout the
entire area.
But alas! Time wears us all out and so it was with the
old mill. The saws stopped humming in
1940, never to go again. Within five
years the saw mill and the planer were sold.
March, 1953 brought the final end when the old building was torn down,
leaving only the stone foundations and a few bits of machinery.
The old mill had become nothing
but a legend; a legend that would probably survive time itself, going on
through the years of the future in the minds of succeeding generations
It is only a memory now. Strangers will pass the spot and see where it
stood, will listen to the music of the water as it passes over the dam, singing
a glorious hymn of resurrection, knowing that the old mill will go on forever,
giving faith and inspiration and happiness to all who hear about it.
The old mill has
long since gone
Never
to know another dawn.
The logs are
sawed, the shingles planed,
But all its work
is not in vain.
It built a
village, a town, a home.
It started a
legend at inspired a poem.
It sent out light
through all the land
And
created a church by God’s own hand.
The water still
flows by the old mill sight.
The strong, stone wall stand up to fight.
A
new bridge has come; and new people too
But
none will build the mill anew.
Only
the memories are all that remain
To
bring to us the old mill’s fame.
There
are tears of sorrow by those who knew
Of its life, its joys, and it trials.
So
let’s all tell across plain and rill
The mighty work of the River Forks Mill.