INSIDE THE KINGDOM September 26, 2018 the Chronicle Section B – 16 Pages Hubbard show captures old-time images and tales by Joseph Gresser GREENSBORO — Ethan Hubbard, who once drove the backroads of Vermont in search of old-timers is cruising the state again, this time sharing photographs and stories collected over nearly 50 years. On Saturday, his travels brought him to the Highland Center for the Arts for the opening of a show of his black and white portraits of folks he came to know over the years. His exhibit, titled “Driving the Back Roads: In Search of Old-Time Vermonters,” is a collaboration between Mr. Hubbard, the Vermont Folklife Center, and the Highland Center. It will be up through December 2. The photographs offer images of a generation that scratched out a living on hardscrabble farms, many in Orleans County. But the real pleasure of the well-attended reception was hearing Mr. Hubbard and well- chosen guests tell stories about the lives of those his camera captured over the years. Unlike some grab-and-go photographers, Mr. Hubbard got to know many of his subjects well, visiting and revisiting them over the years. As he spun his yarns, there was visible confirmation of his knowledge in smiles, laughter, and nods from friends and family members of people about whom he told stories. Mr. Hubbard came to Vermont as a young Ethan Hubbard chats with one of the almost 100 people who turned out for the opening of his show of photographs. Behind him is a picture of Albert Chase of Middlesex demonstrating how to hone a scythe. man in the 1950s and got a job at the Vermont Photos by Joseph Gresser Historical Society. It gave him all the excuse he needed to ride around with his camera. Today he is around the same age many of his face shows few signs of a life of field work in here he gestured for his audience the fill in the his subjects were when he shot their pictures Vermont’s harsh climate. blanks, correctly shouting out “cows” — than and recorded their stories. Mr. Hubbard is a bit Othe r than that, he would not appear out of people. more clean-cut than most of his old friends, and place in one of his own photographs. He talked about Harry Smith, a man who Each is a large black and white window into lived alone on a Waitsfield farm and the first old a vanished world. All those people whose Vermonter he met. Mr. Hubbard said Mr. Smith pictures I recognized have long since died. Some only weighed two pounds when he was born. I saw and nodded to in passing; others I knew of His mother put him in a shoebox and put him in only by reputation. the oven to keep him warm. Many of the images are simply portraits, like Mr. Smith, who was 55 when Mr. Hubbard the photograph of Ephraim Salls of Greensboro, first encountered him, habitually wore two or who looks out of his photograph at the lobby of a three union suits, as well as a couple of pairs of building he could have hardly imagined would overalls, Mr. Hubbard said. be built in his hometown. He described a hike with Mr. Smith down While the photos claim to be the focus of the the mountain to Waitsfield, where Mr. Smith Highland Center show, they are more like a tug traded. Mr. Smith carried a knapsack full of at the viewer’s sleeve, holding her in place while produce to exchange for his simple needs. Mr. Hubbard spins a brief yarn. On the way down the mountain, Mr. In the case of Ephraim Salls, the story on Hubbard said, his friend stopped as they passed the card accompanying his image tells how he through a covered bridge and indicated a wept as he told Mr. Hubbard how summer convenient knothole through which he relieved people trusted him to look after their camps. his bladder. The idea that Mr. Hubbard’s pictures speak Mr. Smith owned a 125-acre spread for which to the gallery visitors is not merely a metaphor. someone offered him a million dollars. According Viewers can listen to interviews, or more to Mr. Hubbard, Mr. Smith refused to sell. properly conversations, featuring Mr. Hubbard “What am I going to do with a million and some of his subjects. The old recordings are dollars?” he asked Mr. Hubbard. “Buy a condo broadcast over the center’s wi-fi system and can and wear tight britches?” he added, speaking of be heard over a cell phone. skier’s pants. Instructions appear on cards near the photos Mr. Hubbard recalled being called to Mr. that are connected to recorded conversations. Smith’s bedside when he lay dying. He said he It’s pretty clear that Mr. Hubbard doesn’t sat next to his friend and wept, the tears falling think of most of the people in his pictures as on Mr. Smith’s face. subjects. In the stories he told Saturday night, All of a sudden, Mr. Smith woke and looked they mostly appeared as close friends and at Mr. Hubbard. mentors. “You look awful,” he told him. “Why don’t Erdine Gonyaw was baking pies for the Albany Town Mr. Hubbard captured the crowd of nearly you lie down over there for a spell?” Meeting when Mr. Hubbard, whose VW bug seized up 100 folks early. In speaking of mid-twentieth- Mr. Hubbard had assistance when he spoke in the 20-below weather, knocked at her door. “Come century Vermont he reminded people the state’s of a local family, the Fosters of Walden. in, come in, or we’ll both freeze to death,” she said. He population was a mere 350,000 souls, all of (Continued on page 16B.) did, staying to eat some warm pie and take this photo. whom were proud to say Vermont had more — IN THIS WEEKLY SECTION, YOU’LL FIND: BIRTHS l WEDDINGS/ENGAGEMENTS l OBITUARIES l KINGDOM CALENDAR l CLASSIFIED ADS l RESTAURANTS & ENTERTAINMENT l REAL ESTATE & AUCTIONS l YOURS FROM THE PERIMETER l RUMINATIONS l AND MORE! Page 2B the Chronicle, September 26, 2018 First frost, full moon At the general store in East Burke I sat in my And, in finding the ax, I made a self-discovery: I truck and drank coffee while watching the am becoming more paranoid as I age. If I can’t mountain bikers, on foot for the moment, mill find a tool these days, I’m quick to think someone back and forth between the bed and breakfast has taken it. Since I live alone, I should know joints where many of them stay and the town’s better. But imagination lately has been bullying two or three places that serve breakfast to those my memory. Fortunately, I have grown more getting an early run on the day. It’s most always patient than accusatory. I took a few swings with a diverse group, and on this frosty morning, it the ax and made a careful note of where to store appears to be evenly divided between those who it. Chainsaws maybe, but who after all steals wear shorts and T-shirts and those wearing axes these days? lightweight quilted parkas and toques. I tried to I had just finished scrubbing the kitchen table pick out the Vermonters by the clothes, but it when I heard the dog start to bark. I thought he wasn’t as easy as I thought. might be barking at some woodland critter until I From East Burke I drove over to see the saw him come running toward camp; it’s what he Indian, whom I hadn’t seen for a regrettably long does whenever he wants to put me on alert. time and who hasn’t been to camp for nearly two From the stoop, I saw two riders approaching years as a life of smoking has cut short his camp on horseback. It turned out to be a couple breath. He was glad to see me, even though I new to the neighborhood, checking out the lay of woke him up and got him and his wife out of bed. the land. I knew each of them from a different We talked books and politics, and he asked what I context. was planning to do with the day. “I’ve only been to your camp once before, “I’m going to camp,” I said, and proceeded to when I went looking for my dog this spring,” Yours from the Perimeter tell him how poorly someone had used the camp, Brian said. He dismounted but his wife stayed in leaving food scraps and dirty dishes in the sink the saddle and watched the dog, who clearly by Paul Lefebvre and on the table. “What bothers me most is that didn’t know what to make of the horses and kept I can’t find that limbing ax I got from running between them while keeping a safe The first frost of fall arrived on Sunday. Bushwhacker,” I said. distance. Soon, another neighbor and his dog, a Late, when compared to past years, I didn’t think “I may have an ax for camp, Paulie,” he said. large white Pyrenees, arrived. We all had a it had come at all when I got up and let the dog “Remind me when you come by next time. You neighborly chat as I went through the motions of out, shortly after first light. I had laid a kindling going into camp by yourself?” closing down camp.