Allen and Emma Miller had been getting ready for days, hanging Twin Elms, their house at the corner of Slab City and the Belfast Road with flags and bunting. Farther up the Belfast Road Asa and Florence Pitcher had the same chores the Miller family was rushing through, and the Pond People as well. Living at the head of Pitcher Pond made their place the unofficial headquarters for all the people with cottages along its shore. On a typical summer morning the Pitchers sold milk, eggs and butter, provided water and even a place to shave (their kitchen table). But luckily, their rusticator neighbors were heading to the Center as well, though for them it was more of a lark than a serious celebration of the town's birthday.

 On Slab City Road thirteen year old Burton Andrews helped his stepfather, Frank Richards, perhaps harnessing the horse, while his little half-sister, Geneva, seven years old, helped their mother, Rose. They'd ride out along the Chester Dean Road, the crossroad between Slab City and the road to the Center, and there join the crowds coming up from the Beach.

 Dave Heal had been up early as well.  At forty-three and divorced he made his home with his sister Ellen and her husband, Allen Moody, in their house in the Center. Their place too was decorated in red, white and blue for the Big Day. One of the Centennial's planners, Dave was on the music committee. Later in the day he'd be singing in a male quartet as part of the exercises at the Meeting House.

 On Youngtown Road Robert and Carrie Hardy's nine children ranged from twenty year old Fred to five year old Hetty. With four boys and five girls there was plenty of help in both kitchen and barn getting ready for an excursion. A dozen other families up and down Youngtown would be heading out to the Center as well, including several courting couples.  A day away from the farm work would mean a rare day together. Before the next year or two were out Claude Heald and Ethel Young would marry, Ethel's brother Winfield would marry Blanche Hardy, and Fred Hardy would marry Carrie Young.  As the names indicate, there were many marriages among siblings and cousins. Double cousins were common in Lincolnville, that is the children resulting when a set of siblings marries siblings.

 The Carvers at Ducktrap, brothers James and Dennis and their wives, Winnifred and Sophia, were next door neighbors; between them they had ten children still at home whose ages ranged from five to twenty-nine. One of these, James and Winnifred's son, Russ, was eleven the day of the Centennial. His future wife, Jennie Hardy of Youngtown, was nine. Perhaps their paths crossed at the big Celebration, though their "official" time of meeting was more than ten years away.

 Not everyone planned to go, of course. Some farmers didn't dare miss a good drying day right in the middle of haying; they'd mowed the day before and had to rake the hay today, turning it to dry.  Others just weren't sociable types, and didn't enjoy mingling in crowds, be they strangers, neighbors or perhaps especially, relatives.  If they lived near the main roads their children might be seen watching the parade of vehicles with undisguised envy, for chances are the young ones didn't share their elders' unsociability. Hopefully, a kind-hearted neighbor, spotting these youngsters, offered to bring them along, and hopefully the parent agreed.

 The roads into the Center were crowded early with wagons, carriages, buggies, people afoot; they came in from the little side roads and lanes, down from the hill farms and up from the shore. Not everyone lived in Lincolnville. They came from Searsmont, Belmont, Northport, Camden and beyond. A Centennial celebration was a big event, and handbills had advertised it well. The houses along the way that were decorated added to the sense of excitement, especially in the children. Closer to the Center, the crowds grew thicker, the decorations more elaborate. Flags hung across Main Street, and the stores were decorated lavishly. The Old Meeting House, a severe square of a white framed building, was swathed in red and white bunting; a dark green "1802" hung over the door. Carriages and wagons were left everywhere; the horses freed from their traces were tied up under trees and in other shady spots to escape the warm sun.

 With a promise that "noisy persons will be taken care of", and that the right to sell refreshments would be reserved to Lincolnville residents, the Centennial committee had thought of every detail. First on the program was the parade of clowns and "horribles." Even though most of these characters were local boys dressed up in fantastic costumes, the effect on the children was gratifying.  At 10 a.m. a ball game between the Lincolnville and Appleton teams resulted in a win for the home team. At noon families could eat the picnic dinners they brought from home or eat at the Elm House hotel. The Methodist church, [345 Hope Road] had organized a restaurant for the day, as well, to raise funds for their new bell. After dinner Meservey's Quintet of Rockland gave an open-air concert, playing in the streets until time for the exercises.

 At 2 p.m. people moved inside the Old Meeting House for the Centennial addresses. The crowd was estimated at 500, filling all the pews downstairs and the balcony and choir stall upstairs. For the first time in many years the original high pulpit, some eight feet above the main floor, would be used. The Centennial chairman, summer resident Judge G.W. Kelley, in his opening remarks, said there were two classes of men we should direct our attention to --those who lived 100 years ago and those who will live here 100 years hence. Joseph Mullin read his historical sketch followed by Arno Knight's Centennial Ode sung by a large chorus to the tune of Auld Lang Syne. T.A. Hunt, Esq. of Camden gave the Centennial oration. The program wound up with both chorus and audience singing America the Beautiful.

 The rest of the day was given to dancing in the Band Hall, located on the knoll behind the present WWII Memorial, to the music of Meservey's Quintet; the proceeds defrayed expenses of the grand celebration. As the day wound down towards evening, chores waiting at home pulled farm families away. Women piled their reluctant children into wagons where their husbands sat, reins in hand and an anxious eye at the lowering sun. Young men and women with responsibilities for milking and chickens might yet come back to the Center when their chores were done. Fortunate were the tradesmen, clerks, sailors and others not tied to a barnful of animals, for they could dance and flirt until the band packed up, and the long, once-in-a-century day was over.

Diane O'Brien
 Sleepy Hollow Rag Rugs
 Lincolnville, Maine