The Bridgeport evening farmer. [volume] (Bridgeport, Conn.) 1866-1917, 1917-03-02
LIFE or WATERS
LIKEPACE FROM
FENIM0RE COOPER
Quaint Basket Maker of
Connecticut Hills Asks
No Odds of World

Any one who has journeyed to High
Ridge, Conn, from Stamford, eight
miles, away, on a Friday morning is
7 likely to have met an old man, with
long, flowing locks of gray hair falling
over his shoulders, soft black hat, with
it's brim turned up on one side, and
the long, swinging stride of an old
pioneer or trapper, and carrying a
basket of eggs. If SO, the wayfarer
has seen REQ Waters, the basket ma
ker of High Ridge, who, with hardly
an exception for the last 20 years, has
gone to Stamford every Friday morn
ing to exchange eggs for groceries and
'get a few papers,"
The man and his craft belong to
the time of which J. Fenimore Coop
err wrote. He has the physique of
many of Cooper's characters-tall
| Observation-Disclosures, with quick move
| ments, and muscles as 1.-the and tough
as the .oaken splints of his basket,
thinking nothing of walking Is miles
and more in day at a gait that it
] would be hard for the average man
| to follow.
Rezo Waters was born not far from
| where he now lives under the shelter
threescore years ago he learned from
| his father, who also was basket ma
| ker, the ancient craft of which he is
now master.
While he was still a boy the father
| moved the family to New York and
opened a shop in basement on one
of the old downtown streets. It was
not long before the hoy was back in
he country again trying his hand sue
cesssively at Canvasslng, school teach
ing, farming and other avocations,
but finally he became again a basket
maker.
|. His shop stands close by bend in
the road, and the visitor who enters in
, response to a cordial "come in' finds
himself in a long, low room, whose
| windows face towards the east and
south, and in which there is nothing
not Immediately concerned with the
work in hand.
In the center stands shaving
horse" upon which the basket mate
rails are dressed off with a draw
knife.
At one side is an old-fashiOned
stove with a supply of knotty chunks
of wood behind it; on the opposite
side, block of stone and a hammer
to beat apart the grain Of the black
oak.
On the floor chalk lines that cross
each other in seeming confusion aid in
| laying the bottoms" Outside the
back door is a pile of logs-oak,
hickory, ash-each selected with scru-
pu1ous care and which, under skilful
blows with wedge and maui, will be-
come tough, supple ribbons to weave
around the basket slaves.
The basket maker sits in the center
of the room an unfinished basket be-
tween his knees. On the floor at his
side a little pile of materials, each
piece of which is critically examined
as it is picked up to be used.
Occasionally he rises and dips a
strip in the pail of water simmering
on the stove. Eisi only tool is a
short, pointed knifs set in a thick
wooden handle, with which he clips
length, shaves a silver, or with
skilful turn of the wrist tucks in an
end.
While the basket grows under the
deft fingers of the old craftsman he.
talks Of the art of Disadvantage
the search for woods; how it is only
the perfect trees with the straightest
grain and only the lower portion Of
those which are suitable; of the kinds
and their cuttings; how each tree is
separate study and each variety must
be treated differently to obtain strips
without breaking the fibers; or the
care of the wood; how it must be kept
under water in summer to protect it
from a minute insect which bores and
ruins it, and Of the kinds and uses of
the various sizes and shapes which he
! weaves.
A few miles over the hills in the
great towns the stores are full of
cheap factory-made baskets, but it
matters not to Rezo Waters Enough
orders find their way to his shop to
keep him busy and he is content.
He has sent baskets to Vermont and
Texas, to Maine and California, and to
good portion of the States between.
They are on the decks of oyster sloops
and in the barns Of farmers; they go
to market and they stand by the desks
of bank and railroad presidents; they
grace the sewing tables of ladies mad
the studios of artists.
They go out from the little valley
between the Connecticut hills, with
neither trademark, imprint, address
or identifying mark Of any kind save
the evidence of master craftsmanship,
but wherever they go some one rec
ognizes the token and orders find their
way back.
Each basket is the result of days
and miles of patient search over hill
side and through swamp for material,
! Of painstaking care in it's preparation,
the skill of master in its building.
! And as REQ Waters sits in his shop
and weaves away at his task he asks
| no odds Of the world.
! He looks to no patent rights no Sc,
/ cret process, no adroit merchandising
methods, no protective tariff. He
| has chosen to make baskets and he
| sees to it that the material that goes
| into each one is the best that nature
| affords and the workmanship so