Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Herbert T. MacFawn
as written by Fran MacFawn
I am writing this story while sitting on my deck and gazing at my yard which was once flowers and vegetable gardens maintained by H.T. MacFawn, better known as The Pushbroom Philosopher. In 1957, when I was first married to Bruce, H.T. and his wife, Amy, decided to subdivide their acre of land and give us half to build our home, which I still live in today. I recall the story they told me about H.T.'s birth on February 28, 1886. During a raging blizzard the doctor was summoned to their home to assist the imminent birth. Father had to hitch up the horse and buggy and somehow made it to South Weymouth and drove the doctor to their home in East Weymouth.
Unfortunately, the family fell on hard times while Herbert was growing up. Because of this, he dropped out of school at the end of the sixth grade. Despite his lack of formal education, he grew up to learn all kinds of things by experimenting, watching others, and good old common sense. He liked to talk about his courtship with Amy Lovell and how they enjoyed hiking in the woods, various church socials, picnics, and they both loved to perform in the church plays. I believe H.T. made the props and Amy, being an accomplished seamstress, would make the appropriate costumes. They also liked to take the trolley cars to Nantasket Beach and would walk to the station in
East Weymouth to save the nickel fare. He lost one eye during a fight with his brother who threw a fork at him which blinded him in that eye for the remainder of his life. Despite this unfortunate incident, he was able to live his life well and went on to great accomplishments.
Herbert was an amazing man who not only mastered the repairs and upkeep to maintain their home properly but knew how to make special tools when needed for a project he was working on. He was determined to complete it by using just what he had on hand. Money was never available to buy new tools or equipment so he learned how to make due with what he had. Despite this, he became talented in so many areas including carpentry, gardening, writing poetry for his own pleasure, singing in the church choir, dancing to the current songs and he was often called upon to help neighbors and friends whenever they had a problem. He also loved fishing, hunting, and I understand that he was an excellent pitcher and had a chance to join the Red Sox farm team but declined due to his eyesight.
I first met H.T. in 1954 while he was custodian of the Pratt School for twenty seven years. This school was closed in the 1960's and was converted to the Woodridge Condominiums where you can see the original building and the cornerstone 1906 is also still intact. Amy told me many stories about his twenty seven years at this school and the many dances that were held. It seemed that all the female teachers adored H.T. and they all would line up to have a dance with him while Amy would oftentimes feel left out. He obviously had an endless supply of energy. The teachers and neighbors were thrilled when he transformed the barren, rocky land around the school yard into a pictorial garden of beauty beyond description. He knew the common names of all the plants and flowers as well as their botanical names.
It wasn't long before he was known as Gramps to all the kids. Many cold and snowy nights in the depths of winter, he would stay at the school to keep the old furnace running so the teachers and kids would have a warm building when they arrived in the morning. Sometimes he would write poems and sayings on the blackboards of the classrooms. He was called upon to do many things during these years that custodians today would refuse to even think about doing.
He never listened to weather reports. I remember him going out in the yard; he would check the wind velocity, sniff the air, gaze at the moon and stars, notice the animals' behavior and any other clues that were apparent that would influence the weather. He was more accurate than the meteorologists are today, despite their fancy equipment and modern technology such as radar and Doppler’s.
He also had the ability to be a dowager, which means he could check the land with a certain stick and determine where there was enough water when someone would want to drill for a well on their property. When my children were pre-school age, they liked to follow him around the yard. He explained to them about the flowers and vegetables that he was raising and how the sun and rain interacted to cause things to grow properly.
In 1955 it was time for H.T. to retire from the Pratt School. The P.T.A. committee decided to honor him in a most special manner. They asked Amy to find all the poems he had written on scrap paper over the years. She had to search the house diligently to find most of them as he never organized them. His habit was to jot things down as certain events inspired him to do so. The committee compiled the poems and had a book published called "The Pushbroom Philosopher". The school children made book marks for each and every book. These books were sold out in a relatively short time. Unfortunately, there has not been another printing. His retirement party featured a "This Is Your Life" theme which was portrayed with surprise guests including his son who lived in Florida. I remember the auditorium was packed as it seemed half the town of Weymouth was there to be a part of this gala event to honor this outstanding man who never faltered on his job.
However, retirement didn't last long for H.T. as he soon became a part-time janitor at the South Weymouth Post Office, where he would walk to work. Generally, someone who knew him would pass by and offer him a ride, both to and from the job. People who knew H.T. would read his book and feel as if they actually knew him. He was basically a simple but complex man who I am honored to have had the pleasure of knowing him. His book will keep him alive for generations to come. I know this will happen as hardly a week goes by that someone doesn't ask me about him. Many of the lilacs, peonies, bluebonnets and other flowers still blossom in my yard today and it pleases me when I realize that H.T., my father-in-law, made this happen.
POSTED BY STAN on November 4, 2009