Anyone whoever met him, never could forget him!! Content in his solitude, he lived on his hilltop farm halfway between Blandford Center and North Blandford from the late 1920s until his death in 1960, in his 91st year. He was my Uncle Josh.
Joshua Joseph Cross was born in Becket, Mass. on April 28, 1870, the first son of Lester Burton Cross and Hellen (Cook) Cross. One of ten children, he had eight sisters and one brother, Warren Lester Cross (my father) who was nine years his junior. The Cross family was among the early settlers of Rhode Island, Scotch-English in origin, (all fiercely proud of their heritage). Succeeding generations moved inland to the Berkshire Hills in Blandford after the War of the Revolution and many descendants still make their homes in the hilltowns today.
About 1875 Lester Burton Cross moved his growing young family to a hill farm near North Adams, Mass., where they were to remain through Joshua's growing up years. Five more girls and one boy were born there. The life of the family was typical of many during the last half of the 19th century, self- sufficient and productive through honest hard work. They had a dairy large enough to produce cheese and butter, eggs from their hens, and pork from the hogs that were raised in beech woods within the sight of Mt. Greylock. Early on, Joshua learned what farming meant and remained devoted to the old-time methods to his dying day.
Stubbornness and determination were two strong points of his character. According to family legend he hardly spoke a word until he was nearly four years old - he didn't have to with three older sisters who showered him with attention and affection, a devotion which continued throughout their long lives. He was said to have sat out a severe thunderstorm in the farm dooryard at a tender age, refusing to budge! As was common to the time he was educated in a one room country school. When he was about six years old he walked a long path home from that school, barefoot in new-fallen snow rather than mind the young school marm who had gone ahead to fetch his boots.
Joshua learned the joys of roaming the woods and hills, hunting and fishing with neighborhood companions. Guns and marksmanship were a great joy throughout his life. Among his prized possessions were
weapons actually used in the Battle of Bennington, Vermont in the Revolutionary War. He donated these weapons to the Museum in Bennington, Vermont, at the urging of his D.A.R. member sisters. One bird hunting expedition nearly took his young life at nineteen when a companion fired at the partridge feathers on the birds flung over his shoulder. He lived the rest of his life on one lung.
Stories can (and will) be written about his many travels and exploits as a young man; the trek on foot up one side of Mt. Washington in N.H. and down the other side, on into Maine, as a pioneer would have done it; his trips West to Myrtle Springs, Texas, and back in the 1890s on his beloved "wheel"-his 2 wheel bicycle. (When he was nearly 80 he bought himself a new "wheel" and it held the place of honor in the middle of his sitting room at his farm!) There were many escapades back and forth across the U.S. with his brother, Warren-"The Boy"-when Warren was old enough to go with him. They "rode the rails," poled flat boats down the Mississippi River, living off the land. They worked in the lumber camps of Wisconsin and Minnesota when that country was young, learning what life was all about away from the farms in New England. During the early 1900s he helped his father operate farms in North Adams, and Williamsburg, Mass. and in Winsted, Connecticut.
Joshua loved the West and resembled the famous Buffalo Bill in appearance. He was always particular about his appearance, wore his hair nearly down to his shoulders. It was sandy-red as a young man and snow white in his later years-a striking combination with his blue eyes and fair complexion. One of his proudest possessions was his Stetson Hat which he bought in Denver, Colorado in the early 1900s. Whenever he dressed up to go to town that hat went with him, shading the fair skin and white hair and sparkling blue eyes! During his years in the West he met and befriended many Native American Indians and his "gun room" had glass display cases with Indian artifacts of all kinds. He spent some years as a lonely sheepherder in Montana, alone with a thousand or more sheep, his horse, his dog and his gun-a Winchester 44-40. While in Montana, Joshua hunted and trapped, sending his furs East to the Crosby Friesan Fur Co., in Rochester, N.Y. He had two grizzly bear skin rugs, bear he shot in Montana when they attacked his sheep. It was always a great thrill to hear him tell about his exploits, never in a bragging way, but rather by way of explaining how life was.
One story he told was about shooting one of the grizzly bears. He was camped with his flock and something kept worrying his dog, and attacking his sheep. One moonlit night he "heard a ruckus" took up his old Winchester 44-40 and stepped from his tent and there was the grizzly outlined in the moonlight. The Winchester spoke, the bear turned, bawling, and disappeared over the rise. At daylight Joshua set out following the trail and found the bear, dead in a nearby bushy swamp. He kept one bearskin rug on the floor of his bedroom all the years I knew him.
Another story he told was of his return from sheepherding in Montana, where he had no contact with civilization as we know it today. He was awakened in the night by what he described as an "apparition" who told him his Mother was gravely ill back in Connecticut. (His mother had suffered poor health for many years; his parents had travelled down the east coast and up the west coast, looking for a climate suitable for her asthma problems, only to return "home" to Connecticut). Joshua believed his messenger, packed his belongings, contacted his employers to take over the sheep and headed east on the first train. He arrived home in Connecticut in time to see his mother before she died.
Uncle Josh lived on a hilltop farm in Blandford, Mass., about halfway between Blandford Center and North Blandford on what was called the Otis Stage Road. At Sam Tiffany's big old white house you took what looked like a "cart road" up over the old trolley tracks, along the edge of a small swamp, then up and up and up to that special spot where the wind always was blowing, clear and clean. That's why he loved it there. He could breathe easier.
There were "thank-you-ma'ams" on that long hill, designed to provide a place for the teams to rest with their wagons, and they also turned the water off the steep road so it did not wash in a heavy storm. There were old stone walls either side of the road, all the way to the house yard and maple trees, large and small. If a large tree was damaged in a winter storm, a new tree replaced it come spring. There was a "bar way" at the top of the hill and a second one just below the house yard. These were all man-made of trees from the woods and were designed to keep the farm animals from straying down the hill should they get out of their pastures. The fences were crudely fashioned, all made by hand tools- some for sheep, others old style barbed wire. On either side of the roadway there were pastures once you reached the top of that hill where Uncle Josh kept sheep, a few goats, his oxen and steers, a cow and a horse.
Shaded by huge old maple trees his house was a large cape cod style with a big two story ell running from one back corner, eventually connecting with the woodsheds, and an assortment of out buildings, with the necessary outhouse at the far end. Across the house yard the first building was a small barn, long and narrow, open on the near end with a small loft above. This was joined to the big barn which was built into the slope. The ground level of the big barn had stone foundation along two sides, much like a basement. The long front wall was wooden, with windows over stalls for the cows, oxen, and horse stall. There was a door on the North East end wall which was wood, that opened into the barn yard or corral. Then this led to the North pasture. The sheep and goats stayed in the back of the barn basement in harsh weather-out of doors the rest of the year. The upper level of the big barn was enormous-post and beam with huge bays and lofts on both sides of the main floor. Large doors opened on a track out to ground level on the back. The North Mowing stretched away to the hilltop and the blueberry patch.
The spring that furnished all the water for the house and barn was at the base of that North hill and it gravity-fed through old pipes quite a distance. (My father "witched" the water line, with the help of my husband in 1954, and when they were done they had a line of stakes across that upper field straight to the barn.) There was a dug well in the ell of the house with an old style well sweep (a long pole on a frame with a bucket attached by cord that could be lowered into the well). A giant elm tree stood over the house and well in this corner. Another giant elm tree stood over the shop-a separate building which housed a blacksmith shop, workshop, and cider press. Here was the frame for holding the oxen when they were shod.
The house was always painted white-no shutters or trim. There was a front door leading into a narrow hall, with an enclosed stairway to the second floor. There were two main rooms off the front hall, on either side. At the back of the hall was a large room used at times as a dining room. It had a parlor stove, seldom used. Through a wide doorway to the left was Uncle Josh's summer bedroom with an early "picture window" looking south across the hills of Blandford. This bedroom was used in summer-in winter there was a cot in the kitchen near the cookstove. Uncle Josh's bedroom was furnished with a huge old wooden bed, a lovely old desk, a chair and always the grizzly bear skin rug.
There was a long pantry room on the other end of the dining room, with a connecting door, one window and many long, wide wooden shelves and storage areas. Another door at one end of the pantry opened into the kitchen. The kitchen ran the full width of the ell part of the house and this room was the center of all activity. Along one wall was a counter, starting at the pantry door, then a long iron sink with cupboards below and shelves above, a window, then the "waterbox" which was a metal lined wooden box with hinged top, covered with oil cloth. Inside this box a small spigot ran a constant stream of water from the spring. The flow was adjustable and the overflow ran back to the barn and the water tub in the corral. There was always a metal dipper, a small washbasin, a glass mug on the shelf beneath a mirror and a clean hand towel on a wooden bar. The windows were all curtainless. From sunup to sundown the house was bright, oil lamps were used after dark and one went to bed early.
A door led into the kitchen direct from the dining room and there was an outside door from the kitchen leading to the corner where the well was under the big elm tree. The kitchen room was dominated by a large black cast iron woodstove, with warming shelf and water reservoir. There was a large woodbox, always full. The stovepipe was suspended from the ceiling and ran from the stove, across the kitchen to the wall of the main house, into the kitchen chimney. There was a small room off the kitchen, possibly a borning room, which in later years was made into a bathroom. A long, dark and narrow hallway, with coathooks on the wall led from the waterbox area to the back door and sheds. An enclosed back stairs went up to the second floor of this kitchen ell.
The second floor of the main house had three bedrooms and a hall and attics under the eaves. The gun room and "museum" was in a large, long room in the ell over the kitchen. The main house had a full basement dirt floor, stone walls, with a bulkhead on the south wall. A cellar stairway ran from the dining room, beneath the enclosed stairway to the second floor, a most dangerous arrangement of doors, etc., as someone found one night, stepping off into the cellar stairway. There was no central heating, no electricity and no telephone-fully air conditioned, especially in winter! There was a small porch opening off the south sitting room, where an old box-like hammock hung in the summer, and assorted rocking chairs.
During the 1920's Joshua had a farm near Brattleboro, Vermont where he raised a few sheep and the usual farm animals. When he was nearly 60 years old, he came "home" to Blandford. Through his brother, Warren, he learned of an old "Cross" farm-140 acres, more or less, at the top of a very steep hill road, windswept and isolated. Very much fallen into despair, the house and farm buildings needed major work. The land was gullied and eroded and it suited his needs! This was to be a labor of love. His five surviving sisters furnished his house and he proceeded to repair his surroundings. Everything that was done was by hand labor, using oxen and his one horse in his farming operations. He kept one cow for milk, a few pigs, chickens, a few goats and, always, his beloved sheep. He had his working team of oxen-Devons (Tom and Jerry) and was often breaking in a young yoke of steers. When it came to wagons or sleds, they were made on the farm, from trees cut on the farm. There was a shop with a forge and tools of all kinds (Antiques today!). A most unusual frame in one building was made to hold the oxen when they were fitted with shoes. He needed a hay wagon so he learned of a then ancient high wheeled relic over in the Gibbs brothers barn in North Blandford. A plan was drawn and a reproduction produced. What an experience it was for a young child to ride atop a load of hay in that haycart, holding on to an old pitchfork, as the oxen slowly drew it up through the farm yard, around to the big barn doors in to the mows. (There is something special about working with oxen-Gee, Haw, C'mere!).
No mechanized equipment was ever allowed on his land, only the slow, tedious trend of his ox teams, with sometimes an assist from his Morgan horse, SATAN. The horse was aptly named! Very few but Joshua could handle him, rightly so as he had raised him from a colt in Vermont. In later years, he had a Shetland pony, Shelley, and later her foal, Muffet. The foal had free access to his kitchen, as tame and housebroken as any house pet! He never kept a house cat or dog.
A major part of Joshua's "income" came from his maple syrup production. He had studied the "art" while living in Vermont. On the far corner of his 140 acres was a stand of sugar maples and here he built his sugar house. The arch burned wood, gathered throughout the year, and the evaporator was "direct from Vermont", as were the tin buckets and spiles. The oxen served as the power to pull the sled on which was mounted a huge metal gathering tub. As a child of eight (along with my sisters) I worked emptying sap buckets in the early spring sunshine alongside my Uncle Josh (who was 65 to 70) and my own father, (then over 60). Hard work! And, treasured memories. If you have ever experienced the fragrance of maple sap boiling and the taste of the warm syrup you can never forget it. Sleep comes easy after a day in the sugar woods, slogging in the mud and snow, the sound of the Chickadee song ever in the clear air. Another source of income was his wild blueberry patch-low and high bush. He had great respect for his Polish friend, "Blueberry Joe", who in later years came to own the farm. Joshua worked very hard, long hours to earn the money to pay his taxes. That was a point of honor to him.
Many of his fellow citizens of Blandford saw him as an eccentric old man who lived alone on his hilltop. His formal schooling was short, but he was extremely well read, much to the surprise of some "scholars" who visited with him. He had a remarkable memory and a keen mind. And, that much needed requirement for survival, old-fashioned common sense! He lived alone yet there was a steady procession of visitors; relatives, friends, strangers were drawn to his hilltop like a magnet. And you always came away feeling the better for it. He was a man of very definite opinions, maybe born in the wrong century. He loved to tell of the exploits of his forebears (how I wish I had been able to tape those stories). He often walked the miles to Blandford Center to shop for supplies at Johnny Peebles Store. No one knows the many services performed by the Blandford- Otis Stage. They picked up the mail in Russell and passed his mailbox at the foot of that long hill six days a week. Many messages and parcels passed through helpful hands for many years.
We used to say Uncle Josh ran on "sun time"-daylight to dark and the one old clock on the shelf in his kitchen stayed on Eastern Standard Time (FDR be damned). He did not agree with the "new deal" of the Roosevelt Era! The many friends and relatives shared interests in old time farming: training steers, haying, picking blueberries, hunting, or just target shooting. Marksmanship was his great delight and there were many competitions over the years, as the holes in the fish weathervane on the horse barn could attest. He not only had the old weapons, he had all the equipment to make his own ammunition. A man named Fred Cannon was a frequent visitor and he used to say of himself "and I'm no little gun, either". Mr. Cannon made the most beautiful gunstocks whenever they were needed. Another cronie was Mr. Harley Herrick who always spoke in a hoarse whisper-until he got out with that yoke of oxen and then he could be heard for miles! These men all worked with the oxen over the years, as did my father, Warren Lester Cross. My father was a quiet, gentle man and the animals always responded to his touch. Every once in a while, the free spirit in Joshua would transmit itself to his animals. Satan, his Morgan horse, reflected this in his habit of tossing-the-boss and taking off in any direction. Every so often Jerry (the "off ox") would take off with docile Tom teamed in the yoke and head for the barn-sometimes pulling the sled or stone boat or whatever halfway across those 140 acres.
Joshua's first cousin, Burton Cross Lloyd, was a confirmed old bachelor who lived all alone, after his mother died, in a dear old house in North Blandford. He had a nickname for everyone and Joshua was "Mr. Con- terrrary". Burton had an old Model T Ford called "Henry" and Burton and his Ford kept track of Cousin Josh, sometimes running errands such as the time he agreed to deliver a young porker was put in a burlap bag, supposedly fastened securely and placed on the floor in the Ford. This car had a windshield, a soft top with snap-on side curtains (that I never saw in place) and never was driven over 20 miles an hour. Halfway up Long Hill to Blandford Center the pig got out of the bag and Burton ran "Henry" into the ditch. The pig eventually was delivered to our barn in Russell, only to escape once again over a 6 ft. board fence and head for Blandford. Uncle Josh loved to tell this story, and chuckle!
Come deer hunting season there was always action in Blandford. My father had a couple of good hunting pals-Archie Williams, the lawyer from Westfield, and Jim Lyons, the Captain at the State Police Barracks in Russell. It was traditional for them to go to Josh's deer hunting. One year Josh had one bad luck shot after another. Toward the end of the hunt it got to him-he came home and shot the hog! Determined to have fresh meat, they all butchered the hog! Uncle Josh did his own cooking and was well known for his health bread, a recipe all his own with a handful of this whole grain and that from the big pantry, baked in the black iron woodstove- oven to a perfect result. We never figured out how he did it! On one summer visit with him he brought a fresh killed chicken into the kitchen and showed his young niece Barbara just how to fix chicken and dumplings, from. starting the wood fire to the finished product, and it was delightful! How proud they both were of that meal. When she was married some years later he presented her with a wedding present of a wool blanket, made with the wool from his own sheep.
Joshua and Warren each owned Winchester rifles always referred to as "44-40" and all the loading tools to go with them. They carried them with them on most of their trips and had many a meal on the road thanks to their hunting abilities-not uncommon in the earlier years of the 20th century. I had occasion to use that old Winchester one day. My sisters and I were climbing the hill to the farm on foot one early spring day when we encountered a big old porcupine. Having seen our dogs suffer with porcupine quills this was not our favorite wild creature and I was voicing my opinion as we entered Josh's kitchen. He looked at me with that direct gaze, walked over to the corner where he always kept his loaded Winchester, determined I knew how to use it and sent me forth to despatch the porcupine. Another of his young nieces had passed the test!
His final years were not easy ones, for him or those who helped him. He was a man who would walk to Westfield to have the dentist pull a tooth he could not pull himself, and then walk back home. He had little use for or patience with doctors. When he came down with one of his "pneumonia colds" in the spring, he would summon his brother to nurse him with poultices and gentle care. Many people can be credited with providing the needed helping hands in his last years- not the least among them his niece Priscilla Cross of Russell. Many a winter evening she climbed that long hill in the snow after a days work to find him waiting by the oil lamp in the window for his food or medicine.
I shall never forget the last time I saw him, then in his late 80s standing proudly in his dooryard-old rubber farm boots, worn farm clothes, his eyes intent and direct, looking out from under that broad brimmed Stetson hat, curly white hair nearly to his shoulders, and just a hint of a smile behind the old moustache. A legend in his own time.
If you know of some personal remembrance of this man, add it to this chronicle and honor one of the Hilltowns true characters.
From Stone Walls Magazine, Fall 1990
Joshua Joseph Cross was born in Becket, Mass. on April 28, 1870, the first son of Lester Burton Cross and Hellen (Cook) Cross. One of ten children, he had eight sisters and one brother, Warren Lester Cross (my father) who was nine years his junior. The Cross family was among the early settlers of Rhode Island, Scotch-English in origin, (all fiercely proud of their heritage). Succeeding generations moved inland to the Berkshire Hills in Blandford after the War of the Revolution and many descendants still make their homes in the hilltowns today.
About 1875 Lester Burton Cross moved his growing young family to a hill farm near North Adams, Mass., where they were to remain through Joshua's growing up years. Five more girls and one boy were born there. The life of the family was typical of many during the last half of the 19th century, self- sufficient and productive through honest hard work. They had a dairy large enough to produce cheese and butter, eggs from their hens, and pork from the hogs that were raised in beech woods within the sight of Mt. Greylock. Early on, Joshua learned what farming meant and remained devoted to the old-time methods to his dying day.
Stubbornness and determination were two strong points of his character. According to family legend he hardly spoke a word until he was nearly four years old - he didn't have to with three older sisters who showered him with attention and affection, a devotion which continued throughout their long lives. He was said to have sat out a severe thunderstorm in the farm dooryard at a tender age, refusing to budge! As was common to the time he was educated in a one room country school. When he was about six years old he walked a long path home from that school, barefoot in new-fallen snow rather than mind the young school marm who had gone ahead to fetch his boots.
Joshua learned the joys of roaming the woods and hills, hunting and fishing with neighborhood companions. Guns and marksmanship were a great joy throughout his life. Among his prized possessions were
weapons actually used in the Battle of Bennington, Vermont in the Revolutionary War. He donated these weapons to the Museum in Bennington, Vermont, at the urging of his D.A.R. member sisters. One bird hunting expedition nearly took his young life at nineteen when a companion fired at the partridge feathers on the birds flung over his shoulder. He lived the rest of his life on one lung.
Stories can (and will) be written about his many travels and exploits as a young man; the trek on foot up one side of Mt. Washington in N.H. and down the other side, on into Maine, as a pioneer would have done it; his trips West to Myrtle Springs, Texas, and back in the 1890s on his beloved "wheel"-his 2 wheel bicycle. (When he was nearly 80 he bought himself a new "wheel" and it held the place of honor in the middle of his sitting room at his farm!) There were many escapades back and forth across the U.S. with his brother, Warren-"The Boy"-when Warren was old enough to go with him. They "rode the rails," poled flat boats down the Mississippi River, living off the land. They worked in the lumber camps of Wisconsin and Minnesota when that country was young, learning what life was all about away from the farms in New England. During the early 1900s he helped his father operate farms in North Adams, and Williamsburg, Mass. and in Winsted, Connecticut.
Joshua loved the West and resembled the famous Buffalo Bill in appearance. He was always particular about his appearance, wore his hair nearly down to his shoulders. It was sandy-red as a young man and snow white in his later years-a striking combination with his blue eyes and fair complexion. One of his proudest possessions was his Stetson Hat which he bought in Denver, Colorado in the early 1900s. Whenever he dressed up to go to town that hat went with him, shading the fair skin and white hair and sparkling blue eyes! During his years in the West he met and befriended many Native American Indians and his "gun room" had glass display cases with Indian artifacts of all kinds. He spent some years as a lonely sheepherder in Montana, alone with a thousand or more sheep, his horse, his dog and his gun-a Winchester 44-40. While in Montana, Joshua hunted and trapped, sending his furs East to the Crosby Friesan Fur Co., in Rochester, N.Y. He had two grizzly bear skin rugs, bear he shot in Montana when they attacked his sheep. It was always a great thrill to hear him tell about his exploits, never in a bragging way, but rather by way of explaining how life was.
One story he told was about shooting one of the grizzly bears. He was camped with his flock and something kept worrying his dog, and attacking his sheep. One moonlit night he "heard a ruckus" took up his old Winchester 44-40 and stepped from his tent and there was the grizzly outlined in the moonlight. The Winchester spoke, the bear turned, bawling, and disappeared over the rise. At daylight Joshua set out following the trail and found the bear, dead in a nearby bushy swamp. He kept one bearskin rug on the floor of his bedroom all the years I knew him.
Another story he told was of his return from sheepherding in Montana, where he had no contact with civilization as we know it today. He was awakened in the night by what he described as an "apparition" who told him his Mother was gravely ill back in Connecticut. (His mother had suffered poor health for many years; his parents had travelled down the east coast and up the west coast, looking for a climate suitable for her asthma problems, only to return "home" to Connecticut). Joshua believed his messenger, packed his belongings, contacted his employers to take over the sheep and headed east on the first train. He arrived home in Connecticut in time to see his mother before she died.
Uncle Josh lived on a hilltop farm in Blandford, Mass., about halfway between Blandford Center and North Blandford on what was called the Otis Stage Road. At Sam Tiffany's big old white house you took what looked like a "cart road" up over the old trolley tracks, along the edge of a small swamp, then up and up and up to that special spot where the wind always was blowing, clear and clean. That's why he loved it there. He could breathe easier.
There were "thank-you-ma'ams" on that long hill, designed to provide a place for the teams to rest with their wagons, and they also turned the water off the steep road so it did not wash in a heavy storm. There were old stone walls either side of the road, all the way to the house yard and maple trees, large and small. If a large tree was damaged in a winter storm, a new tree replaced it come spring. There was a "bar way" at the top of the hill and a second one just below the house yard. These were all man-made of trees from the woods and were designed to keep the farm animals from straying down the hill should they get out of their pastures. The fences were crudely fashioned, all made by hand tools- some for sheep, others old style barbed wire. On either side of the roadway there were pastures once you reached the top of that hill where Uncle Josh kept sheep, a few goats, his oxen and steers, a cow and a horse.
Shaded by huge old maple trees his house was a large cape cod style with a big two story ell running from one back corner, eventually connecting with the woodsheds, and an assortment of out buildings, with the necessary outhouse at the far end. Across the house yard the first building was a small barn, long and narrow, open on the near end with a small loft above. This was joined to the big barn which was built into the slope. The ground level of the big barn had stone foundation along two sides, much like a basement. The long front wall was wooden, with windows over stalls for the cows, oxen, and horse stall. There was a door on the North East end wall which was wood, that opened into the barn yard or corral. Then this led to the North pasture. The sheep and goats stayed in the back of the barn basement in harsh weather-out of doors the rest of the year. The upper level of the big barn was enormous-post and beam with huge bays and lofts on both sides of the main floor. Large doors opened on a track out to ground level on the back. The North Mowing stretched away to the hilltop and the blueberry patch.
The spring that furnished all the water for the house and barn was at the base of that North hill and it gravity-fed through old pipes quite a distance. (My father "witched" the water line, with the help of my husband in 1954, and when they were done they had a line of stakes across that upper field straight to the barn.) There was a dug well in the ell of the house with an old style well sweep (a long pole on a frame with a bucket attached by cord that could be lowered into the well). A giant elm tree stood over the house and well in this corner. Another giant elm tree stood over the shop-a separate building which housed a blacksmith shop, workshop, and cider press. Here was the frame for holding the oxen when they were shod.
The house was always painted white-no shutters or trim. There was a front door leading into a narrow hall, with an enclosed stairway to the second floor. There were two main rooms off the front hall, on either side. At the back of the hall was a large room used at times as a dining room. It had a parlor stove, seldom used. Through a wide doorway to the left was Uncle Josh's summer bedroom with an early "picture window" looking south across the hills of Blandford. This bedroom was used in summer-in winter there was a cot in the kitchen near the cookstove. Uncle Josh's bedroom was furnished with a huge old wooden bed, a lovely old desk, a chair and always the grizzly bear skin rug.
There was a long pantry room on the other end of the dining room, with a connecting door, one window and many long, wide wooden shelves and storage areas. Another door at one end of the pantry opened into the kitchen. The kitchen ran the full width of the ell part of the house and this room was the center of all activity. Along one wall was a counter, starting at the pantry door, then a long iron sink with cupboards below and shelves above, a window, then the "waterbox" which was a metal lined wooden box with hinged top, covered with oil cloth. Inside this box a small spigot ran a constant stream of water from the spring. The flow was adjustable and the overflow ran back to the barn and the water tub in the corral. There was always a metal dipper, a small washbasin, a glass mug on the shelf beneath a mirror and a clean hand towel on a wooden bar. The windows were all curtainless. From sunup to sundown the house was bright, oil lamps were used after dark and one went to bed early.
A door led into the kitchen direct from the dining room and there was an outside door from the kitchen leading to the corner where the well was under the big elm tree. The kitchen room was dominated by a large black cast iron woodstove, with warming shelf and water reservoir. There was a large woodbox, always full. The stovepipe was suspended from the ceiling and ran from the stove, across the kitchen to the wall of the main house, into the kitchen chimney. There was a small room off the kitchen, possibly a borning room, which in later years was made into a bathroom. A long, dark and narrow hallway, with coathooks on the wall led from the waterbox area to the back door and sheds. An enclosed back stairs went up to the second floor of this kitchen ell.
The second floor of the main house had three bedrooms and a hall and attics under the eaves. The gun room and "museum" was in a large, long room in the ell over the kitchen. The main house had a full basement dirt floor, stone walls, with a bulkhead on the south wall. A cellar stairway ran from the dining room, beneath the enclosed stairway to the second floor, a most dangerous arrangement of doors, etc., as someone found one night, stepping off into the cellar stairway. There was no central heating, no electricity and no telephone-fully air conditioned, especially in winter! There was a small porch opening off the south sitting room, where an old box-like hammock hung in the summer, and assorted rocking chairs.
During the 1920's Joshua had a farm near Brattleboro, Vermont where he raised a few sheep and the usual farm animals. When he was nearly 60 years old, he came "home" to Blandford. Through his brother, Warren, he learned of an old "Cross" farm-140 acres, more or less, at the top of a very steep hill road, windswept and isolated. Very much fallen into despair, the house and farm buildings needed major work. The land was gullied and eroded and it suited his needs! This was to be a labor of love. His five surviving sisters furnished his house and he proceeded to repair his surroundings. Everything that was done was by hand labor, using oxen and his one horse in his farming operations. He kept one cow for milk, a few pigs, chickens, a few goats and, always, his beloved sheep. He had his working team of oxen-Devons (Tom and Jerry) and was often breaking in a young yoke of steers. When it came to wagons or sleds, they were made on the farm, from trees cut on the farm. There was a shop with a forge and tools of all kinds (Antiques today!). A most unusual frame in one building was made to hold the oxen when they were fitted with shoes. He needed a hay wagon so he learned of a then ancient high wheeled relic over in the Gibbs brothers barn in North Blandford. A plan was drawn and a reproduction produced. What an experience it was for a young child to ride atop a load of hay in that haycart, holding on to an old pitchfork, as the oxen slowly drew it up through the farm yard, around to the big barn doors in to the mows. (There is something special about working with oxen-Gee, Haw, C'mere!).
No mechanized equipment was ever allowed on his land, only the slow, tedious trend of his ox teams, with sometimes an assist from his Morgan horse, SATAN. The horse was aptly named! Very few but Joshua could handle him, rightly so as he had raised him from a colt in Vermont. In later years, he had a Shetland pony, Shelley, and later her foal, Muffet. The foal had free access to his kitchen, as tame and housebroken as any house pet! He never kept a house cat or dog.
A major part of Joshua's "income" came from his maple syrup production. He had studied the "art" while living in Vermont. On the far corner of his 140 acres was a stand of sugar maples and here he built his sugar house. The arch burned wood, gathered throughout the year, and the evaporator was "direct from Vermont", as were the tin buckets and spiles. The oxen served as the power to pull the sled on which was mounted a huge metal gathering tub. As a child of eight (along with my sisters) I worked emptying sap buckets in the early spring sunshine alongside my Uncle Josh (who was 65 to 70) and my own father, (then over 60). Hard work! And, treasured memories. If you have ever experienced the fragrance of maple sap boiling and the taste of the warm syrup you can never forget it. Sleep comes easy after a day in the sugar woods, slogging in the mud and snow, the sound of the Chickadee song ever in the clear air. Another source of income was his wild blueberry patch-low and high bush. He had great respect for his Polish friend, "Blueberry Joe", who in later years came to own the farm. Joshua worked very hard, long hours to earn the money to pay his taxes. That was a point of honor to him.
Many of his fellow citizens of Blandford saw him as an eccentric old man who lived alone on his hilltop. His formal schooling was short, but he was extremely well read, much to the surprise of some "scholars" who visited with him. He had a remarkable memory and a keen mind. And, that much needed requirement for survival, old-fashioned common sense! He lived alone yet there was a steady procession of visitors; relatives, friends, strangers were drawn to his hilltop like a magnet. And you always came away feeling the better for it. He was a man of very definite opinions, maybe born in the wrong century. He loved to tell of the exploits of his forebears (how I wish I had been able to tape those stories). He often walked the miles to Blandford Center to shop for supplies at Johnny Peebles Store. No one knows the many services performed by the Blandford- Otis Stage. They picked up the mail in Russell and passed his mailbox at the foot of that long hill six days a week. Many messages and parcels passed through helpful hands for many years.
We used to say Uncle Josh ran on "sun time"-daylight to dark and the one old clock on the shelf in his kitchen stayed on Eastern Standard Time (FDR be damned). He did not agree with the "new deal" of the Roosevelt Era! The many friends and relatives shared interests in old time farming: training steers, haying, picking blueberries, hunting, or just target shooting. Marksmanship was his great delight and there were many competitions over the years, as the holes in the fish weathervane on the horse barn could attest. He not only had the old weapons, he had all the equipment to make his own ammunition. A man named Fred Cannon was a frequent visitor and he used to say of himself "and I'm no little gun, either". Mr. Cannon made the most beautiful gunstocks whenever they were needed. Another cronie was Mr. Harley Herrick who always spoke in a hoarse whisper-until he got out with that yoke of oxen and then he could be heard for miles! These men all worked with the oxen over the years, as did my father, Warren Lester Cross. My father was a quiet, gentle man and the animals always responded to his touch. Every once in a while, the free spirit in Joshua would transmit itself to his animals. Satan, his Morgan horse, reflected this in his habit of tossing-the-boss and taking off in any direction. Every so often Jerry (the "off ox") would take off with docile Tom teamed in the yoke and head for the barn-sometimes pulling the sled or stone boat or whatever halfway across those 140 acres.
Joshua's first cousin, Burton Cross Lloyd, was a confirmed old bachelor who lived all alone, after his mother died, in a dear old house in North Blandford. He had a nickname for everyone and Joshua was "Mr. Con- terrrary". Burton had an old Model T Ford called "Henry" and Burton and his Ford kept track of Cousin Josh, sometimes running errands such as the time he agreed to deliver a young porker was put in a burlap bag, supposedly fastened securely and placed on the floor in the Ford. This car had a windshield, a soft top with snap-on side curtains (that I never saw in place) and never was driven over 20 miles an hour. Halfway up Long Hill to Blandford Center the pig got out of the bag and Burton ran "Henry" into the ditch. The pig eventually was delivered to our barn in Russell, only to escape once again over a 6 ft. board fence and head for Blandford. Uncle Josh loved to tell this story, and chuckle!
Come deer hunting season there was always action in Blandford. My father had a couple of good hunting pals-Archie Williams, the lawyer from Westfield, and Jim Lyons, the Captain at the State Police Barracks in Russell. It was traditional for them to go to Josh's deer hunting. One year Josh had one bad luck shot after another. Toward the end of the hunt it got to him-he came home and shot the hog! Determined to have fresh meat, they all butchered the hog! Uncle Josh did his own cooking and was well known for his health bread, a recipe all his own with a handful of this whole grain and that from the big pantry, baked in the black iron woodstove- oven to a perfect result. We never figured out how he did it! On one summer visit with him he brought a fresh killed chicken into the kitchen and showed his young niece Barbara just how to fix chicken and dumplings, from. starting the wood fire to the finished product, and it was delightful! How proud they both were of that meal. When she was married some years later he presented her with a wedding present of a wool blanket, made with the wool from his own sheep.
Joshua and Warren each owned Winchester rifles always referred to as "44-40" and all the loading tools to go with them. They carried them with them on most of their trips and had many a meal on the road thanks to their hunting abilities-not uncommon in the earlier years of the 20th century. I had occasion to use that old Winchester one day. My sisters and I were climbing the hill to the farm on foot one early spring day when we encountered a big old porcupine. Having seen our dogs suffer with porcupine quills this was not our favorite wild creature and I was voicing my opinion as we entered Josh's kitchen. He looked at me with that direct gaze, walked over to the corner where he always kept his loaded Winchester, determined I knew how to use it and sent me forth to despatch the porcupine. Another of his young nieces had passed the test!
His final years were not easy ones, for him or those who helped him. He was a man who would walk to Westfield to have the dentist pull a tooth he could not pull himself, and then walk back home. He had little use for or patience with doctors. When he came down with one of his "pneumonia colds" in the spring, he would summon his brother to nurse him with poultices and gentle care. Many people can be credited with providing the needed helping hands in his last years- not the least among them his niece Priscilla Cross of Russell. Many a winter evening she climbed that long hill in the snow after a days work to find him waiting by the oil lamp in the window for his food or medicine.
I shall never forget the last time I saw him, then in his late 80s standing proudly in his dooryard-old rubber farm boots, worn farm clothes, his eyes intent and direct, looking out from under that broad brimmed Stetson hat, curly white hair nearly to his shoulders, and just a hint of a smile behind the old moustache. A legend in his own time.
If you know of some personal remembrance of this man, add it to this chronicle and honor one of the Hilltowns true characters.
From Stone Walls Magazine, Fall 1990