North Country Citizen

NEW ENGLAND'S rugged mountains cast a spell of quiet nobility this time of year, and it is proverbial that the strong, laconic men who people this North Country reflect the sturdy independence of its hills. All that is best in the North Country Man, with his versatility, quiet tolerance, and his severe respect for learning and the seeking of God's ways to man, has been an enlightened ideal of the nation since its founding days and has not diminished through the decades.

If a painter or writer were to explore these hills seeking a prototype of this kind of man, the real New Englander, he might find his search ended with Parker McLauthlin Merrow '25. In an age of militant specialization and communalism Parker Merrow is a welcome survivor of the Renaissance ideal of versatility and independent self-reliance. But he is not a man caught in the modern heresy of independence turned egoism. He is a man of character and compassion for his fellow man, deeply imbedded with the unbreakable moral fiber that has characterized the New Englander since he first became a part of this continent.

Officially, Parker Merrow has sufficient business and civic functions in his native Center Ossipee, New Hampshire, to keep an ordinary man on a ten-day week; and the rest of his activities, the things he does just for fun, could easily take up the better part of a book. As editor of a weekly newspaper, municipal judge, and lumberman, he is a busy man; but he claims that it is his loyal and efficient associates that enable him to keep his finger in so many pies and give about a third of his time to each of these, his official functions. For the rest of his time, the "fourth third," he is an avid sportsman and lover of the outdoors, conservationist, gun collector and ballistics expert, church deacon, and generally just a good friend to his neighbors. A staunch Republican, he ventured into state politics in 1954 and was elected for a two-year term on the Governor's Council.

EDITOR MERROW describes his CarrollCounty Independent as a "typical country weekly." But, he continues, "We like to think of it as a little better than typical." Feeling that no good weekly can touch upon anything but local news, editorially he doesn't care if Boston burns to the ground, but a five-pound trout or the birth of twins in the county will make headlines. He wants the Independent to be simply a nice long letter from home to its 3,000 readers. Some forty volunteer country correspondents send in the local news with the dedication of historians chronicling their own little bit of Americana.

In the frame, two-story newspaper office, Editor Merrow and two secretaries form the editorial staff, and the pressmen in the back rooms have all the equipment necessary to handle the printing end of the paper from start to finish. On days when the Independent it is not on the presses the shop handles job printing, and Parker isn't sure whether you can publish a weekly newspaper because you have job work or you can do job work because you have a weekly.

Parker also owns a half-interest in the Granite State News, another weekly in nearby Wolfeboro; and readers of both papers are old acquaintances of his creation, "Hank," the retired meter-reader who writes weekly letters to the editors filled with earthly philosophy and occasional anecdotes about his adventures in a mythical little town in Maine. Hank's spellin' is a mite weak, but his characteristic Yankee outlook on life has a literary merit all its own.

Members of the Class of '25 will always remember the sprightly column Parker used to write as class secretary, and his little vignettes were so popular that his "North of Boston" column still appears as an occasional feature of the ALUMNI MAGAZINE, on whose Alumni Advisory Board he now serves.

JUDGE MERROW presides over one of Carroll County's three municipal courts, which is located in a gray frame building conveniently near the Independent offices. The courtroom was once a school-room and there still hangs on the wall a blackboard that is now covered with traffic statistics and stopping distances. A row of ancient folding chairs lines the back of the room, and a small American flag on the desk is the only indication that court is in session.

A courtroom in a small New England village is an intimate place, and there is about it an atmosphere of quiet tolerance for the other fellow's point of view. Judge Merrow realizes that the vast majority of his defendants are just ordinary law-abiding people who have made an error of judgment, and he believes in treating them the way he would like to be treated in similar circumstances. Court is held every Saturday night so a man won't have to lose a day's pay to appear; and Parker has started taking French lessons from a local priest so he can partly understand the many French-Canadians who are brought into court on traffic violations from nearby Route 16, one of the main roads from Boston to Quebec. In a small country court like this he believes that a more personal touch is possible, and he tries to give plenty of time and consideration to each case brought before him.

However, this doesn't mean that a speeder or trigger-happy hunter can expect to get off easy. Traffic violators; if they are really at fault, get a stiff fine and a stern lecture on safety that strikes home; and he claims that he is often harder on the local citizens because he feels they should know what to expect from him. The courtroom's walls are lined with pictures of serious accidents - beautiful new convertibles twisted around telegraph poles, or skiers' cars that had been hurrying back to Boston on icy roads, with the engine in the driver's seat and expensive skis lying splintered in the blood spots on the road. Judge Merrow has seen most of these himself and he knows the price of reckless driving. And negligent hunters also had best steer clear of Carroll County. A crack shot and expert on firearms himself, Judge Merrow can tell you a lot about the danger of modern high-powered rifles, and he has little sympathy for the marksman who shoots first and looks later.

But to assume that Judge Merrow's brand of justice is without mercy and compassion would be a mistake. He is a man who tries to place himself in the offender's position and understands how temporary lapses of wisdom can come to the most law-abiding man.

There was a recent case where a hunter had mistaken a passing '49 Ford for a deer and taken two pot shots at it with a .30-.30, seriously wounding one of the occupants, a fourteen-year-old boy. Local public opinion was naturally inflamed and Judge Merrow was called upon to pass judgment on what he considered to be the grossest negligence. A stiff fine and 30 days in jail were about to be levied against the hapless hunter, but a series of witnesses testified to the man's ordinarily sound judgement and the regard for hunting safety he had shown in the past. Even the father of the wounded boy took the stand and stated that the doctor bills were all being paid by the defendant, and that he felt a jail sentence would not help matters in any way. After the last testimony had been given, Judge Merrow thought for a minute and then suspended the jail sentence. He sincerely feels in such cases that no one is safe unless justice is done, but he is not one to be vindictive; and in this case he felt that the man had suffered enough already at the hands of his own conscience. It is easy to see why some of the highest compliments paid to Judge Merrow come from the men who once stood before him in court.

LUMBERMAN MERROW is a partner in the Pearson-Merrow Lumber Company. He claims that his associate is the better businessman of the two, letting him get into the woods and cover the part of the operation that he really enjoys. An avid conservationist, he points with pride to a stand of cultivated pines, his tree farm, that grows in value every year yet gives a perpetual beauty and erosion control that will not be seriously diminished by an occasional scientific thinning for lumber. Just before his son, Lyford Merrow, was due to be discharged from the Air Force, Parker carefully studied new techniques for utilizing wood chips and other mill wastes instead of burning them as had been done previously for generations. He helped Lyford set up his own plant for processing the chips as pulpwood. He feels great satisfaction in being part of a brand-new operation that will eventually save many thousand cords of good timber that were formerly cut for pulp-wood.

DESPITE his many business and community obligations, Parker Merrow still seems to have plenty of energy and a surplus of enthusiasm left over for that "fourth third" of his time when he can indulge in the joys of his own private projects. He loves his hills and the great outdoors, and he is always glad to be out in the north country, whether it be for hunting, fishing or just walking through his stand of timber. Like any true New Hampshireman, he is a sportsman and always happy to be afield. But he is no mere dilettante at it - he knows what he is about, and he can tell you a lot about outdoor living and hunting rifles that the salesman at Abercrombie and Fitch never heard of.

His collection of firearms is his pride and joy and stands in a specially built cabinet in his living room. At first merely a general collection of antique arms, he was later convinced he should specialize and now he has a magnificent assemblage of Winchester rifles covering principally the period of transition from single-shot to repeaters. One of his prize pieces is a special Winchester '76 Exposition model that looks like it came from the factory yesterday. The pleasure of collecting firearms, he feels, is like that of collecting anything else - the joy of approaching the ultimate or definitive accumulation of anything, be it stamps or ancient weapons, but knowing that it is almost impossible to reach. If it was too easy to get everything in one particular line, says Parker, it just wouldn't be any fun.

In his garage sits an ancient 1910 Marion and, beside it, a '32 Packard touring car that looks like it could drive through a boxcar without much more than scratching a fender. The Marion is definitely a relic, and though the Packard is eligible for an antique auto license, Parker prefers to register it as an ordinary car since he enjoys driving it around the state just for pleasure. He has driven both cars over to Hanover on various occasions.

PARKER and Grace Merrow live in the beautiful old family home built on a hill commanding a magnificent view of Lake Ossipee's blue waters in the valley below. The house was built around the turn of the century by Parker's father, Lyford Ambrose Merrow, who had gone to Boston as a young man to make his fortune. Parker was born in Boston and attended Maiden High School before going to Dartmouth.

The Merrows have been in Center Ossipee for generations and Parker is proud of his forebears. He speaks with special enthusiasm of one of his ancestors who went out to Persia as a missionary before the American Civil War and who, when he heard about the conflagration between the states, returned to be a chaplain in the Union Army. It was this kind of adventurous man of high character, Parker feels, that gave New England its great place in American history. Character, and especially education, are New England's great products; and he claims that though this area can never match the rest of the country economically, so long as New England holds its unique place in American education, it will never become a backwater area.

New Englanders have always placed a high value and budget on learning, and it has paid off many times over in the caliber of men who have gone to honored places of national leadership from their schools and hills. The region's most valuable natural resource is the ability of its people, and light industry of the type demanding high skill and intelligence from its workers is recognizing this fact.

Editor Merrow is a vociferous advocate of the highest possible standards in education, and he is all for "three- or four-track schools" to facilitate the more rapid advancement of gifted children. In a recent Independent editorial, he stated, "We allow the potentially great mathematician, electronics- expert, physicist or chemist to slide into quiet oblivion, when a few understanding and encouraging words and a few dollars would send him to college and permit him to develop his true potential. The world of tomorrow does not belong to the strong and the brave. It belongs to the strong and the brave and the super-intelligent."

In June 1950, Parker Merrow returned to Center Ossipee with an honorary Master of Arts degree from his alma mater. President Dickey, as he presented the degree, cited "the good life you have shared with us all." And any one of us could count himself fortunate to have experienced but one part of the good life that Parker Merrow has led.

Parker Merrow '25 at his desk in Center Ossipee, N. H.

Editor Merrow scans the latest issue of the weekly "Carroll County Independent" which always includes some of his homespun wisdom, a feature having wide appeal.

Municipal Judge Merrow in the Center Ossipee courtroom, listening to a witness in a hunting-accident case that drew a stiff penalty and a much stiffer lecture on safety.

Two of Parker Merrow's hobbies are his prize collection of firearms, including Winchester rifles and older guns, and his antique cars, a 1910 Marion and a 1932 Packard. At left, he inspects a flintlock model from his collection; right, he hoists the hood of his open-air Packard.

Two of Parker Merrow's hobbies are his prize collection of firearms, including Winchester rifles and older guns, and his antique cars a 1910 Marion and a 1932 Packard. At left, he inspects a flintlock model from his collection; right, he hoists the hood of his open-air Packard.