It just wouldn’t be summer in Maine without a drive to the coast for a dinner. That’s been a tradition in our family for as long as I can remember, and it was always lots of fun.
The trip was something we always called “an outing.” As I read the newspapers of the early 1900s, I find dozens of stories about the outings that went on throughout the summer. Rain or shine, it seemed the residents of Lewiston-Auburn never missed an opportunity for good food and friendly fun.
There were many fraternal organizations that held annual parties for their members, and there were similar events organized by just about every school, church and business group you might imagine. One of those received a lively write-up in the July 29, 1912, Lewiston Evening Journal. It was all about the “Doings at the Annual Outing of the Superintendents and Foremen of Maine’s Biggest Shoe City,” and the headline read “HOW FAT MEN RACED AND AUBURN SHOES DID SPRINT.”
The reporter took a delightful tongue-in-cheek approach to his report, starting with an imaginary talk with the weatherman who, on that morning, “heard much music and saw a great gathering at the Auburn depot.” The weatherman called off his scheduled rainstorm and turned on the sunshine, it said, just in time for the 200 members of the Auburn Shoe Factory Superintendents’ and Foremen’s Association and their wives to board a special train for Maranacook Lake in Winthrop.
“This was a remarkable gathering in that it was made up of men representing nearly every branch of the shoe industry, men from all over New England and New York, manufacturers whose shoes have trod every civilized shore in the world,” the story said.
On arrival, the partiers formed a double line at the station and, led by the Brigade band playing “Way Down in Dixie,” they sang and marched down to the piazza of the Maranacook House at the lakeside. There, they assembled for a group photograph, which was published with the story. Although the newsman talked about constant merriment, the men looked quite ordinary in their suits, bow ties and straw hats.
The account of that day described all kinds of entertainment and competition. Bowling alleys and pool tables attracted many of them, while others “heard the call of the wet and went boating.” The athletic events opened with a single-oar race. Next was a 100-yard dash. Fred Johnson, official announcer, called on “the fat men” to come forward, getting five or six to volunteer.
“As one man, they demanded that the distance be cut to 25 yards.” The starter’s gun cracked, and the writer said “there were styles of running that the Olympic runners never dreamed of.”
A five-inning baseball game followed the races, and the afternoon continued with a lavish luncheon, a tug-of-war, shooting contests, and canoe races.
Many other newspaper stories of the early 1900s told about “outings” made possible by the day’s mass transit trolley system. Both horse-drawn trolley cars and later “electrics” took L-A families to Lake Grove, or to the popular parks in Lisbon Falls and Brunswick.
Those stories stirred memories for me of yet another kind of summer gathering that I enjoyed very much. Until some 40 or 50 years ago, it was possible to have an ocean-side clambake on a beach. I remember family clambakes when my father would organize building a fire-pit in the sand where a big blaze heated rocks. Wet seaweed fresh from the surf was thrown over it, and the lobsters and clams, as well as ears of sweet corn were tucked under the seaweed to steam.
A neighborhood corn roast was another popular event late in the summer when a big bonfire in our field cooked the corn, hot dogs, and marshmallows.
Today’s organizations often charter buses for “outings” to regional theaters, and museums, but day-long events by large organizations or families are not as common. We lost a lot when the “outing” in which everyone knew all the others disappeared, and we became just members of the crowd at a ballgame.
Dave Sargent is a freelance writer and a native of Auburn. He can be reached by sending email to dasargent@maine.com.
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