Maine’s Roadside Springs

Communal Water in Days Past

by Tom Seymour

Town fountain and watering trough, Blue Hill, ca. 1910. The granite fountain and watering trough was constructed in 1902 as a gift to the town by Robert C. Adams. The fountain has two levels, the upper level intended for humans and the lower level for horses. It is located across Parker Point Road from the Dodge homestead. Guy L. Carter photo

“They shut it down,” the author’s truck driver friend said, clearly displeased. The “it” in his statement was a public spring down on one of the long peninsulas between Rockland and Boothbay Harbor.

This particular spring was fitted with a hand-operated pump for ease of drawing water. But it was more than just a spring. In addition to supplying clean, fresh water, the town spring was a meeting place, akin to the wooden bench in front of the general store. People met at the spring, exchanged pleasantries, caught up on town news and current gossip. In fact the spring truly helped define the community. It was, after all, a communal water source.

This scenario played out throughout Maine and New England. As people in small or isolated communities grew less dependent upon each other with the advent of superhighways, the Internet and social shifts in general, small niceties such as communal springs went the way of Burma-Shave signs.

And then they were gone. The reasons for decommissioning springs and paving them over were several. In many cases, fear of lawsuits made landowners jittery and feeling as if they had no alternative, closed their springs to the general public. In other cases, municipalities, not individual landowners, feeling a similar apprehension regarding lawsuits, also closed down public water sources.

Also, state-initiated testing found harmful bacteria in some springs, often resulting in closures. The unspoken truth, though, was that regular users of roadside springs, many the progeny of earlier users, had super-efficient immune systems. These people drank the same water for generations without harm.

This is analogous to the terrible wounds suffered by Civil War soldiers. Probably more soldiers died of sickness, dysentery and so on, than were felled on the battlefields. The amazing part of it was that so many survived. But Maine was a rural state and farming was the most common occupation. These tough, farm boys were good at staying healthy despite injuries and other threats that would do city-bred persons in.

This spring at Head of Tide in Belfast, sits in the triangle formed where two roads diverge. Fitted with a pump, this spring has a long and honorable history. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Head of Tide, along with City Point, were bustling hubs of activity and the spring supplied water for countless residents. Tom Seymour photo

Spring Types

A spring is a place where so-called “surface water” (as opposed to water from water-bearing strata deep underground, the kind that drilled wells tap into) comes to the surface. Sometimes, this water is under pressure and even if capped, a trickle often finds its way out to the open.

Often, these veins of water find their way to the surface on a hillside or even a steep mountainside. In this case, the water flows downhill and where it crosses the road, people would erect a pipe for the purpose of filling jugs and other vessels. A roadside turnout along the road allows people to park their vehicles out of harm’s way as they fill their water containers.

Sometimes these high-elevation springs allow people in houses below the spring to have year-round running water. Some private springs are used in this way even today. In the 1930’s, workers in the Oak Hill Granite Quarry in Belfast, lived in a rooming house at the base of the hill. A spring part way up the hill provided running water. The late James Mollison of Brooks, who worked in the quarry as a newly arrived teenager from Scotland, told the author his account of the power of this spring.

“We wanted to see how fast the water would clear up when disturbed, so I went up to the spring with a stick and stirred the bottom. This I did several times and each time, the water in the house ran clear before I could get down the hill.”

Other springs are said to have healing powers. In Wolfeboro New Hampshire, a local spring was home to a resort for invalids who would drink its water fresh, sure of experiencing relief from their symptoms.

In Prospect, Maine, a spring, now in private hands, back in 1909 a spring known as “Switzer Spring” was the source of water for a bottling plant. The proprietor built a windmill to pump spring water to his plant, where it was bottled and sold as Switzer Natural Mineral Water.

After the bottling plant burned sometime around 1912, a pipe was laid, bringing spring water to the shore. There, ships and smaller boats could fill their water containers.

Other springs were capped and fitted with a hand pump, similar to the one described at the beginning of this article. These were well-known to regular travelers and many people carried containers to fill with spring water to take home for drinking.

In 1889, the town of Stockton changed its name to “Stockton Springs.” The town began a spring water bottling business, but when sediment began appearing in bottles, the business was shut down. The town still goes by the name of Stockton Springs, however.

On top of a hill on Route 1A in Stockton Springs, stood a hand pump. This stood for many years and the author frequently stopped for a drink of ice-cold spring water. In recent years the place where the pump stood was paved over and a new generation is growing up with no knowledge of the fine, public spring that once stood on a hill overlooking the town.

Plaque on trough reads: “In memory of Benjamin Bussey 1826–1893. Presented by his sons Louis I. Bussey and George D. Bussey–1928.” Located along Route 7 in Dixmont, Maine. Tom Seymour photo

Current Springs

While the majority of roadside springs were closed to the public because of safety concerns, a few remain for visitors to enjoy. One such spring comes down from a steep hillside in the Town of Dixmont. This spring was typical of the many municipal springs that were walled up so as to not only offer water to horses, but also for people to fill their jugs with drinking water.

The days of travel by horseback have ended, but this roadside spring remains open. However, the drought of summer 2016 has, for the first time in many years, caused the spring to dry up at its source. With rain, though, the spring will once again offer water to thirsty travelers.

Another spring, this one on Route 52 in Lincolnville, is well-known locally for its pure, delicious water. Here again, local people come to fill their water vessels. However the 2016 drought has wrought its damage to this spring as well. Usually dependable, the spring has ceased to run. But like the Dixmont spring, the Lincolnville spring will come alive again as soon as the water table returns to normal levels.

Another spring, this one at Head of Tide in Belfast, sits in the triangle formed where two roads diverge. Fitted with a pump, this spring has a long and honorable history. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Head of Tide, along with City Point, were bustling hubs of activity and the spring supplied water for countless residents.

The Future

The question of landowner responsibility and liability was answered in 1997 when the Maine Legislature declared: “A roadside spring in not a public water system if the owner of the roadside spring does not collect, charge or accept donations, fees or money for the water or for testing or maintenance of the water and does not post signs or construct other structures that invite persons to use the spring.”

So with this as a buttress against lawsuits, some private and municipal spring owners have chosen to let people use their springs. For anyone getting water from such a spring, it is important to know that the water is pure. Lines of local people getting water is a good indication that the water is good.

Sometimes, especially with hillside springs that run down to the road, local sources of pollution may invade and infect the water on its way downhill to the spring. When drawing from a new spring, it pays to walk up the hill at least partway in order to ascertain that nothing is present that might taint the water.

Even though Maine has lost a significant number of its roadside springs, some do remain. So the next time you sip a cup of ice-cold water from a roadside spring, drink to the health of the landowner who has chosen to keep the spring open. And then think back to the generations of people who have relied on this very spring for potable water. Our roadside springs are truly a remainder of days past, a remainder of something we need to cherish.