A Love Letter to My Dying Hometown
September 18th, 2008by Meghan Elizabeth Hunt
NEW HAMPSHIRE -
Dear Groveton,
I’m sorry we didn’t get along…
* * *
I grew up 300 miles north of Boston, in a small town on the banks of the Connecticut and Amonoosuc Rivers in northern New Hampshire. To paint a picture that will explain just how far north this tiny town is, consider the farthest point north you know of in New England and then add about seventy-five miles to it.
Unless you know where Groveton is (no cheating, Jennifer Duffield White), in which case just sit back and enjoy the explanation of how isolated a place can be when it doesn’t even technically exist for the purposes of the Census.
* * *
I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you for what you were…
Groveton, up until December 31, 2007, was a mill town. Centered amongst the small houses and tiny main street was a paper mill owned by Wausau-Mosinee of Wisconsin. I harbor a fair amount of ill-will towards these people who live 1200 miles away from the paper mill they owned, but I’ll get to that later. The point is that the paper mill died a predicted death on December 31st and ever since then the town that raised me has been decaying.
My father knew it was coming, but he couldn’t jump ship. In an area of the US that’s controlled by the paper and logging industries - an area of New England that is so isolated there is only one route to any point north - the job options are limited. The economy is bad, the wages are worse, and the travel is cost-prohibitive, as the closest factory positions, which provide the best pay, are located in either Canada (an hour north) or Littleton (30 minutes south).
His life was tied up in that mill and when it closed its doors, he managed to stay on for a little while and earn a little more money before the entire thing closed down for good at the end of April. For the first time in 35 or so years, my father found himself unemployed.
I don’t know who was more worried - him or me.
* * *
I’m sorry I couldn’t stay behind…
I hate big corporations. Northern New Hampshire thrives on small business - the mom and pop operations that have existed for as long as the generations that came before them. Perhaps it is because of this that big corporations like Wal-Mart and Target and the Wausau-Mosinee Paper Company rub me the wrong way. They arrive just as the local economy couldn’t stand to get any worse and they present a turn-around opportunity that can’t be ignored and in the middle of their speeches about adding to the economy and keeping your families afloat, they slip in the fine print about running out the small business owners and creating copies of themselves all over the map so your community becomes dependent on their paychecks.
Wausau bought the Groveton mill (formerly the James River Corporation) in the nineties in order to create an East coast distribution for their product. We’re a gateway to Canada, one of the easiest routes north, and for years the roads were clogged with pulp trucks and big rigs packed tightly with reams of paper. And then, suddenly, they stopped paying attention to their northeastern gateway mill. The need for paper decreased as online accessibility increased. Profits dropped over $1.5 million dollars in a year and instead of investing a little more time, our big benefactor - the one who promised to keep our town afloat and to keep our families clothed and fed - pulled out.
No job assistance, no apologies, no incentives or compensation for the sudden loss of an entire community’s economy.
It was as though they never existed.
* * *
I’m sorry I packed my car full of everything I own and drove away without looking back…
My dad was one of the lucky ones who was able to find work after the mill died. He works crazy hours and is tired most of the time, but he’s working and he’s four years away from retirement, so it could be worse. Much, much worse.
It’s weird, though, because as the town that raised him (and in which he raised my brother and me) dies off around him, he seems to be thriving in this newfound life. He’s probably the only person who left that mill happy.
Funny how life works sometimes.
* * *
I’m so very sorry.
Love, Meghan
Tags: dying towns, Groveton, hometown, paper mill, Wausau-Mosinee
I worked for several years in a West Coast paperboard factory. I’d pick up stacks of paperboard and shove them into glue machines. My hands were constantly cut from the paperboard’s sharp edges. The machinery was so loud I had to wear earplugs for my entire 12 hour shifts. I worked six days a week any time of day and I did that for close to three years. It seemed a lifetime.
And yet, I can only imagine the sweat equity your pops put into that town…
He spent far too many years lifting 75 pound boxes of paper and driving forklifts and inhaling paper dust. As sad as I was to see the mill close, a selfish part of me was glad that my dad could finally leave it behind. Plus, his new job won’t leave him crippled, which is always nice.
I worked in a factory assembly line, packaging glucose and fiber tablets for a distribution company. It was miserable work…I only lasted two months…I will never understand how my dad lasted 35+ years. Tenacity and stubborness, probably.
P.S. Earplugs suck, don’t they?
That’s hard work. I worked one day as a temp in a newspaper factory and I about croaked. My respect to your father - and to you, Nick, of the fancy sombrero!
Thanks!
And I know, doesn’t Nick look fabulous in that sombrero? I hardly recognized him without the bug cartoon….
You all are way too nice. You make me want to dance around in my floppy hat and drink brews!
Working in various factories for four years of my life gave me a unique perspective. Paperboard, styrofoam plant, fiberglas factories. I never write about them. Maybe I should. It’s hard to know what story to tell as I look at them like my own war years that I don’t really talk about. I just did what I had to do when my kids were babies, you know?
Your piece about your pops is way inspiring though. I hope he reads your words and in turn is very proud of you, Meg because you honor him and the mill town.
Reminds me of walking along the ruins of the Erie canal, past old rock quarries and mills. You can feel all the humanity that once bustled there.
I think that of all the professions in the US, the mill workers and the miners and the day laborers get a bad rap and certaining not enough appreciation and credit for what they do. We wouldn’t have most of what we do without some kind of factory. Perhaps that’s why progress is both good and bad.
It’s hard for me to drive through Groveton, to see the remains of the mill, and to know that 300 people were forced to move on with their lives at a point in time when the financial stature of the world was not exactly on their sides. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that something will come in and pick up the pieces.
Oh Meg,
I drove past your house yesterday. I am sitting in the park in Lancaster right now, stealing internet from the closed library and wondering if I might ever come back here. It is so green, so perfect a September day, and a calmness that I haven’t found in many months has settled over me. Maidstone is strangely, wonderfully, quiet now–no sound of the mill. No glow in the night sky.
I want to say I’m glad it’s gone. I am. But my grandfather worked there. It is the reason my family is here, the reason why we grew up where we did.
I want to say I’m glad I no longer live here, too. But sometimes, I’m not so sure.
Aw….I’m not going to lie, I’m a little teary. You should walk down the street, past the Lancaster National Bank, and say hi to my mom at the garage. She’d love it.
I think those of us who have left have always had a love/hate relationship with that part of our lives. We love that we were raised in the splendor of the Great North Woods but we hate the isolation and the feeling of being stuck. I love going home, but I always cry a little because I know I can’t stay. My feet won’t let me.
This was such an extraordinary read, Meghan. I can completely empathize. My grandparents ran a self-owned custom drapery business (and were New Hampshire to Florida transplants, btw) and because of that very simple mom-n-pop upbringing, I make a really conscious effort to avoid mega-stores at all costs, in the hopes that I’m doing a small part in keeping those kinds of stores alive. The uber-corporate mindset really bothers me, not for the profiteering, per se (although that really sucks balls), but for the blatant disregard for their employees’ livelihood.
Yay for the New Hampshire connection!
I live in a suburb of Baltimore and finding mom-n-pops is really difficult, but if I stumble upon small shops I’ll pay a little more just so I can stay away from Wal-Mart and Target. At least with the mom-n-pops I know where the money is going so I don’t feel so bad about paying a little more.
Thanks for commenting!
I understand where you’re coming from… A few years ago my parents and I trekked back to Michigan. The majority of my extended family lives there. We visited Lansing and Mason, which are my parents hometowns. Mason is a historic town, and has very much remained the same over the years. However, Lansing, where my dad grew up is shriveling up into a shell of itself. We drove by the house my dad was raised in (my Oma & Opa moved some time ago to Kalkaska, which is much further north), and the house my Great Grandmother lived in. I couldn’t believe how much had changed. “Mo Town” is dying, and I saw the disappointment written all over my parents faces. I honestly thought my dad was going to cry, and it scared the beegeebees out of me. There’s much to be said about blue collar workers, the big corporations that leave small towns gasping for air when they pull out, and small business owners. Well written, Meg :o)