An old newspaper clipping tells the story of two upstate New York "retreats" where "working girls," now referred to as "mill girls," were sent to ward off, or recover from, tuberculosis, often brought on by daily exposure to substandard working conditions. These two Adirondack region retreats were called "Uplands," left, and "Hillcrest."

Taking a brief – and I do mean brief – break from squeezing in as much summer as possible in a region that’s sometimes said to have just two seasons – July and winter – it’s the perfect time to stake claim to a few square feet of sand, unfold the beach chair, kick back and climb aboard for a pleasant journey down that proberbial stream of consciousness.

After all, this is that all-too-short phase of summer known as peak vacation time, when folks from away aim their vehicle(s) of choice at coastal New England and step on the gas.

The result is an impromptu parade featuring all shapes, sizes and ages of modes of transportation (not to mention all shapes, sizes and ages of the vehicles’ occupants) that eventually branch off the main parade route and begin snaking their way along one of any number of narrower, winding tributaries that they hope will lead them to their destinations before the kids remember that they’re kids and morph into whiny pint-sized monsters intent on getting the last word – or eye-poke – before Dad makes good on his threat to pull over and “straighten you kids out once and for all.”

Ahh, family vacations. They’ve been around for as long as anyone can remember, at least in some form. Ditto for non-family vacations, cherished, no doubt, by plenty of moms and dads who finally reached that glorious stage when the youngest kid began going off on his or her own and opening up a world of possibilities for the newly emancipated parents.

Surely, a lot can also be said for taking a “just me, myself and I” vacation, both the kind that comes with an itinerary for those who appreciate structure and the kind where the schedule is a blank piece of paper.

(File photo) To escape long hours, hard work and crowded, often unhealthy workplaces, mill girls such as these pictured around the turn of the 20th century were given two-week country vacations thanks to a program founded by wealthy society women.

Of all types of vacations, however, perhaps the most unusual, and therefore interesting, were the ones that were organized, beginning in the late 19th century, by a handful of well-to-do society women for the benefit of the so-called “mill girls” – mainly immigrant girls from Canada as young as 11 or 12 up through their teens who flocked to various Northeast mill towns, including Nashua and Manchester, for what they considered good-paying jobs in the region’s bustling manufacturing centers.

I read with fascination about this movement, which was among the topics in a recent New England Historical Society online newsletter. As they usually do, the society members or volunteers who publish the newsletter provided detailed accounts of this early vacation-oriented project that would lead to the creation of the so-called Summer Camp Movement, out of which emerged camping programs for Boy and Girl Scouts, YM and YWCAs (what Greater Nashua baby boomer doesn’t remember the Nashua Y’s Camp Sargent?) and the Fresh Air movement, which provided one- or two-week trips to the country for big-city kids living in poverty.

According to the NEHS newsletter, it was 19th-century copper heiress and philanthropist Grace Dodge who was at the forefront of that movement, which would build upon the work of Katharine W. D. Herbert, wife of a wealthy stockbroker, who founded what came to be called “The Working Girls Vacation Society” in 1890.

Of course, this was back when “working girls” had a somewhat different meaning than today.

Mill girls lucky enough to be picked for the program were given “a two-week, supervised vacation in the country,” with emphasis on “supervised.”

“The rich ladies were as concerned about the morality of the working girls as much as their health,” the NEHS story notes. They worred that the girls, once outside their normal routines, would “succumb to the blandishments of men or, worse, turn to prostitution … .”

The fact the founding society women were rich came in handy: They were able to purchase nice, roomy homes in various locations around New England and New York to accomodate the vacationing working girls.

But providing a vacation in the country at a very reasonable two or three bucks a week came with some stipulations. As rich women, the leaders were also social reformers, and agreed that no good could come of the girls “going unchaperoned to vaudeville shows, amusement parks, dance halls and sporting events.”

One of the leaders, Edith A. Sawyer, described in The Churchman “the horrors of such places, ‘where crowds congregate, and where there are electric lights, cheap music, pink lemonade and merry-go-rounds.'”

“The horror!” noted the writer of the NEHS article.

One of the homes in the country that society leaders acquired at some point was in New Ipswich, our neighbor to the west. Called the Homestead Inn, it was purchased around 1895 by the Rev. George J. Prescott, the rector of the Church of the Good Shepherd in Boston.

With the help of parishioners, who chipped in to help pay for “needed changes and furnishings,” Prescott turned the stately, two-story Colonial into a “house of refuge for weary shopgirls and self-supporting women who need the rest and tonic of quiet, fresh air, abundant food, and social cheer,” according to an excerpt in “The History of New Ipswich, New Hampshire, 1735-1914,” authored by C. H. Chandler.

Because many mill girls were proud individuals who valued their independence, they loathed the idea of taking charity, but Prescott and other leaders in the movement came up with a work-around – charging the girls a nominal sum so “that their self-respect may not be troubled.”

Chandler, the author, praised people like Prescott for their social work, opining that “among the many charities of the present time, there is no one more beautiful than the sharing by fortunate ones of the fresh air and sunlight of the country, with those to whom it is denied in the crowded city.”

Dean Shalhoup’s column appears weekly in The Sunday Telegraph. He may be reached at 594-1256 or dshalhoup@nashuatelegraph.com.

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