Portland's
Town Seal
by Doris Sherrow, August 2000
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You've seen
Portland's town seal, of course, the bearded old fellow in the vest
and battered hat, driving a team of oxen? That seal was created by Portland
native Philip Gildersleeve in 1966. Gildersleeve
was chairman of Portland's
125th anniversary celebration, and drew the seal for the history written
by William Van Bynum. The original had his initials in the lower left
corner, and "1841-1966 Portland, Conn." above the picture. Both
have been removed in its subsequent use by the town.
Phil Gildersleeve was well known as a cartoonist.
He drew hundreds of cartoons for the ham radio operator's magazine QST.
He was a ham radio operator himself, and had worked as a radio operator
on merchant ships. He held various radio licenses since the age of 16
and won several awards for high-speed radio-telegraphic reception. He
could transmit 60 words per minute in Morse code! After his untimely death
in 1966, QST published an entire book of his cartoons, entitled Gil:
a Collection of Classic Cartoons from QST.
Portland Public Library, fittingly, has
a copy of the book, but I warn you: these cartoons are virtually incomprehensible
to anyone not versed in ham radio! They span the time period 1927 to 1966,
and are drawn in a sort of 1930s style reminiscent of Gasoline Alley,
Felix the Cat, or the Katzenjammer Kids.
"Gil" (Phil's signature in each
cartoon) created the mythical Podunk Hollow Radio Club, with "Where's
Waldo"-type pictures sprawling over the page, depicting the idiosyncrasies
of a group of radio enthusiasts getting together. The cover for the June
1964 issue of QST, for example, shows the Podunkers, hundreds of them,
happily camped out in a forest setting. In the large tent in the rear,
several are operating their radios. In the foreground, several more are
chatting up a couple of attractive girls in a convertible, little cartoon
hearts fluttering over one ham's head. And off to the far right, the Department
of Conservation is beginning to set up their blasting apparatus with its
accompanying signs of "Turn off all two-way radios!"
He drew a good many Jeeves cartoons,
depicting the faithful butler serving his ham operator master. His first
one, from February of 1940, is one I can relate to: from the other room
comes the master's voice, saying, "Jeeves, come here and help me
look for DX!" Jeeves, as uncertain as I am as to what "DX"
is, is coming on the run, carrying a road map, a telescope, binoculars,
a lantern, a compass, and a butterfly net! (DX, according to long-time
radio operator Gordon Barker, is distance--how far away you can reach.)
Gildersleeve's interests were not limited
to ham radio. He began working for the Middletown Press as the Portland
correspondent in 1940, became county editor in 1943, then city editor
in 1945. Some time later, he was named news editor. His cartoons also
decorated the Press, and various trade journals as well. He served in
the volunteer fire company, and was captain of Fire Company No. 2 for
nine years. He was on the Board of Education for eight years, and served
as a vestryman for Trinity Church.
In the words of QST, "Gil became a
silent key in 1966…" (think of the Morse code key, stilled from
clicking out its messages). He created the town seal mere months before
his death.
His seal pulls together a surprising number
of elements of historical Portland. Foremost is an old-time oxen driver
with his team, pulling a large brownstone sling. The greater part of Portland's
19th century wealth came from the brownstone industry. To the left of
the oxen is a small building like those visible in old pictures of the
quarries. Its tall chimney is smoking, connoting industry. To the right
is another such building atop the quarry wall, with a pulley for lowering
things into the quarry.
The majesty of the quarries is suggested
in Gildersleeve's use of the quarry wall as part of the background. Many
artists would have set their characters on a plain background. Despite
the limitations of a two-inch circle, Gildersleeve has limned in the stark,
rising blockiness of the quarry wall directly behind the brownstone sling.
Filling in the rest of the background is
the elegant sail of a schooner of the sort used for shipping the brownstone
in its heyday. Not only was this a significant part of the brownstone
business, it harks back to earlier days when Portland was less of a brownstone
supplier and more of a shipbuilding center. In fact, it may be no accident
that the schooner rises more or less from the center of the seal, since
shipbuilding was the source of the 18th century wealth of Portland, a
starting point from which other industries flowed. Gildersleeve's own
great grandfather, Sylvester Gildersleeve, was Portland's most
prominent shipbuilder.
I owe a particular debt of gratitude to
Phil Gildersleeve, or maybe to his wife Florence. They lived in
my house in the 1940s, and they acquired a copy of the Colonial Dames
research on it. When I bought the house in 1972, I had absolutely no interest
in history. But I kept looking at these shiny old brown photocopies of
deed transcriptions and genealogy, and history began to move into my brain.
And that path less traveled has truly made all the difference for me!
I only wish I could have met Phil Gildersleeve; his seal is intricate
and graceful, but it sounds like his character and personality are the
things for which he is best remembered.
