Getting around Lebanon was a different process 80 years ago. “We walked everywhere,” says Regis Jette, smiling alertly as she tells stories from her life. Her sunny personality shines through the tales she tells. Though her life had difficulties, she recalls things with a smile. She brings the word ‘chipper’ to mind.

Regis Heath was born in 1920. Her unusual name came from a friend of her mother. Her family, which came to include two younger brothers, lived in Canaan. Her father delivered ice with a horse-drawn wagon. He eventually moved to Lebanon for work, and drove a milk truck to Boston, then the local bus that carried people from town to town.

“We always had a trip” at Canaan school’s eighth grade graduation, recalls Regis, “and of course we walked because no one had a car. We went up Mt. Cardigan,” about five miles one-way from town. By then, of course, it was the depths of the Depression, though Regis does not speak of particular problems. “We were generally careful about money,” she remarks. “We always had a big garden, and what I remember from that is picking potato beetles. My dad grew a big potato patch, and us kids had to pick potato beetles,” she repeats with feeling, but still with a twinkle in her eye.

What scarred her more than the Depression was the death of her mother from a sudden illness when Regis was nine. “Even at the early age of nine, she was helping to run the house,” says her daughter Anne. Relatives offered homes to Regis and her brothers, Earl, known as “Boze,” about six, and John, then about three. But their father was firm about keeping his family together, and family rallied round in other ways, hosting kids during summer break, and helping at home.

For graduation from Canaan, Regis received a present from one of her aunts: a train ticket from Canaan to Lebanon (her father’s new location) on the Boston and Maine Railroad, so that she could finish 8th grade and graduate with her Canaan friends. She’d never been on a train before, but the young teenager boldly set off on this new adventure. Ghostly traces of the B&M’s presence can be seen in the Rail Trail, but in Regis’s day, trains were real and utilitarian.

In 1938 Regis married Adrian Jette, whom she knew from Lebanon High School, then on Bank Street. The couple had four children: Earl (known by his middle name as Bob, since there were several other relatives named Earl), Marguerite (Peggy), Anne, and Jim. The family lived on West Street, then on Hanover Street, where they were living in 1964 when the most recent great fire destroyed much of the city’s downtown. “Cinders from downtown were flying on our lawn,” says Anne. Adrian was a fireman, and he came down Mt. Support road, back from work in Hanover, telling the person driving to take him right to the fire station. Regis was in the auxiliary. “While the fire was going on, all the women were in the kitchen,” she says. “I remember walking towards Enfield with a big jug of lemonade.” Bob drove around with his uncle Earl. “The firemen had the perimeter under control,” he recalls, “but it was too intense to put out.”

Regis got an administrative job at Hitchcock Hospital, then on Maynard Street in Hanover. She worked for different doctors, doing what was needed, including checking in patients. She had excellent organizational skills. “I was always glad I did that,” she says, and so were her colleagues, who would say, “Ask Regis where the doctor put that.” She worked at the Hitch for 26 years, often going in early to meet up with coworker friends for a cup of coffee. At lunchtime she would usually walk uptown – that habit of walking was strong! She would do errands for coworkers on these trips. She also gave her organizational talents and sociability to many civic groups – the Cub Scouts, the Hartford Elks Auxiliary, the Catholic Daughters of America, and city elections, to mention a few.

One of the great sorrows of Regis’s life was the loss of her brother John in World War II. He had joined the Navy, and was reported missing in action. When, years later, she traveled to Hawaii, she found his name on the memorial wall. “I think it gave her a kind of closure,” says Anne.

After retirement from the Hitchcock, Regis began volunteering at the Lebanon Senior Center, originally at the Carter Community Building, though the stairs were a problem for some. She wanted to continue an active social life, and help the community. She realized gathering for meals would be an ideal format. She participated in numerous activities, encouraged others, and was Team Captain at Monday meals for 25 years. She continued to run and encourage the Senior Center for many years. One memorable occasion was a dress-up fashion show with unusual items loaned to the Center. Regis modeled a black feathered wrap with great style and enthusiasm.

In later life Regis was also able to pursue an interest in travel, beginning with a trip to celebrate her fortieth wedding anniversary. “I love San Francisco,” she says. “I wouldn’t mind living there! —going up and down those hills. My husband was in front of me and I held on to his belt” as they rode the streetcars. She’s been to Las Vegas, Cape Cod, Maine, the Blue Ridge, Quebec, and Florida, among other places. “You know,” she says, with her smile spreading, “I’m trying to think of places to go while I’m still healthy.”.

She didn’t marry to make this so, but Adele Patch has the perfect name. Over the years she’s earned fame locally, nationally, and even internationally for her quilts, her patchwork quilts. But she married for love, in storybook style.

The story started, classically, with a tough childhood in northern New Hampshire, where Adele was born in 1931, in the depth of the Depression.

“I was a skinny kid,” she says, one of 13 in an often tense blended family. Enough food was hard to come by, never mind extra for piling on the pounds. When she had just turned seven, the 1938 hurricane flattened the family’s house and blew out all the windows in the barn. Since the house was no longer habitable, the family moved to the Monroe Road in West Bath, where they acquired three adjacent farms for taxes.

“The muscular strength that it gave…”

For much of the year, the house had no running water. There was a spring piped in, but it would dry up in the summer and freeze up in the winter. Adele carried water from the brook.

The family had a grade herd of about 25 cows. From a young age, Adele hand-milked 10 of them, developing a grip she still demonstrates with delight.

“I got this strong by pulling teats,” she exclaims, teasing her visitor with another risqué expression.

She left school after eighth grade and worked at her family’s farm. She preferred outdoor work. In 1950 she used a horse to pull a power line a mile through the woods to reach the farm. Her stepfather then bought milking machines—but her hand-milking talent was about to change her life.

In August 1952, Adele, not quite 21 years old, went to the Grafton County Field Day at the county farm in North Haverhill, where she won the milking contest. The prize was a complete set of fancy dinnerware, but, says Adele, “I didn’t want dishes, I needed shelves for my five guns!” It wasn’t long, though, before household furnishings came in handy.

Don Patch, a young farmer from Lebanon, was watching the contest. Don was impressed, and not just by Adele’s prowess with the cow. As he eventually told her, “When you smiled, your eyes danced.” The couple was married three months later, the beginning of a happy marriage of 51 years until Don’s death in 2003.

And sew…

But what about that quilting? Adele needed maternity clothes when she was carrying the first of her three children. With characteristic boldness, she bought a cheap sewing machine and taught herself how to make custom-fitted clothes.

“I didn’t have five cents,” she recalls. “I learned on my own. I figure, if you’re not making mistakes, you’re not learning!” She adds, “I started taking in sewing. I didn’t like alterations, but I did it because I needed the money.”

She must have made a lot of mistakes, because her sewing is now extremely polished!

In 1980, Adele took a quilting class at Lebanon College. After the class, students from the group began meeting in each other’s homes and eventually formed the Northern Lights quilting guild, which now boasts more than 100 members.

Adele is constantly busy with quilts in different stages of completion. Close examination of each quilt reveals not just stunning workmanship but also intricacies of design that only unveil themselves to study.

“I’ve donated quilts for many causes,” says Adele. A few of the beneficiaries of these gifts are the City Hall Ballet, Habitat for Humanity, and the Lebanon Methodist Church, which she joined when she married.

The bell outside the church, on School Street, is also her gift, a memorial to her husband. Her eyes twinkle as she says, “Yes, the four F-words are important to me—faith, family, friends, and fabric!”
Quilts are not the only things Adele gives away. Her freezer is stocked with loaves of homemade bread, and her cupboard with rows of neatly labeled jars of jam. Departing visitors have these goodies pressed into their hands. “I’m a giving person,” admits Adele, with major understatement.

Beverly Damren has been an energetic and sociable presence in West Lebanon for 65 years. She has made her mark as a parent, a Den Mother, and counselor. She has worked in the schools, in social service groups, and most recently putting a strong shoulder to the wheel to get the Kilton Public Library up and running. Growing up in Claremont during the Depression, she learned not to wait around for someone else to do things for her.

Different Times, Different Pace

“Everybody walked – you didn’t think anything of it,” Bev recalls of her childhood. Her maternal grandparents had a farm, which her uncle later took over. The farm supplied some luxuries, such as butter, during the hard times of the Depression and World War II rationing, though the taste was “strong,” Bev remembers. And life in an old farmhouse wasn’t easy in winter. “They lived in the kitchen, which was huge, with a big woodstove.”

Claremont was a regional center in those days. “People went there to shop,” says Bev. “What changed it was the Interstate coming through. And then of course the changes in manufacturing.”

Bev was home from college in 1946 when she met Jerry Damren, recently out of the service. He had served in Italy, fighting at Monte Cassino. Taken prisoner, he spent eight months in a German prison camp late in the war. “There was not much to eat,” says Bev, describing his captivity. “It was the worst winter in quite a while, and there was no heat. You’ve heard of grass soup… But the worst thing was there was nothing to do. Boredom was the biggest problem.”

When Jerry returned, he finished up an education degree at Duke, where he had a baseball scholarship. His real love was history, recalls Bev, but when he moved back to New Hampshire he landed a job teaching social studies at West Lebanon’s high school, then in the Seminary Hill school building. Those first years he also “coached everything they had – well, not track.”

Sports were important, because there was not much for kids to do. “We figured to start in a small school, a good place to start, stay a couple of years and then move on,” Bev laughs. But Jerry stayed with the school his whole career, moving to Lebanon when the schools consolidated in the late 1950s.
Nowadays Lebanon and West Lebanon merge into one another, with commercial and residential development of various density linking the two centers, but the two towns felt very separate 60 years ago, Bev remembers, and because classes at the West Leb high school were so small the kids were very close. “Jerry took a job at the new high school to go with the kids,” she says. “It was very hard, especially for the kids who were going to be seniors.

At first, the couple lived in an apartment across the street from the school, a useful convenience since they had no car. In 1960 they moved to the house on Maple Street, just down the hill from Mt. Lebanon School, that is still Bev’s home.

While Jerry taught, Bev also involved herself with the schools, first as a volunteer, then subbing. “I really enjoyed Mt. Lebanon School,” she says. “I did everything but be the janitor! I even covered for the principal a few times.”

Bev and Jerry had four boys, three of whom have stayed in the area. While their claims to fame are various and impressive, it’s probably Jon who is familiar to the greatest number of people, since he is the owner and co-founder of Stateline Sports, which supplies equipment and clothing to most local schools, and also supports a wide range of recreational teams – an excellent example of a local, community-oriented business.

Kilton Library

Bev’s biggest mark on the town is undoubtedly the new Kilton Public Library. The old West Lebanon library, a small, solid building on the west side of Main Street, has an interesting origin. The library on the Lebanon Green was one of almost 1,700 across the country built with assistance from Andrew Carnegie. When West Leb residents heard these plans, they gathered money from community dinners, dances, and other grassroots fundraising to build their own library. Both libraries opened in 1909, but West Lebanon opened first.

Bev remembers using “the little library down here,” but adds, “You were very limited in what you could do. Still, it was friendly: Miss Watson was the librarian there, for 50 years, and the kids used it; it was the only place to look things up.”

In the days before the Interstate, Jim Kilton graduated from Dartmouth and returned to his father’s drugstore, Red Cross Pharmacy on West Lebanon’s Main Street. (The building is now a chiropractic office.) He ran the pharmacy, which also had a popular soda fountain, for many years, known for his kindness, and for putting in long hours. He and his wife, Willena, had no children, and in 1999 they left generous bequests to local organizations, including Alice Peck Day Memorial Hospital, their church, and $1.3 million to renew or replace the library.

The library trustees, including Bev, who had joined the board in 1997, examined the possibility of on-site expansion. “But there wasn’t much space, and it just didn’t seem wise to put that much money into a limited site. The place on Main Street – it was a filling station when I moved here – was an unattractive empty lot for the main street of a city. And they were asking a tremendous price, almost a million dollars. When Dan [Smith, then board chair] called, they had a potential buyer. He said, ‘If anything changes, let me know.’”

Over the next ten years, the trustees bought the land, raised additional funds, found an architect, and shepherded the project to completion. Bev, who was board chair when the library opened in 2010, says, “The best advice we were given was to get an architect who’d done libraries before; they knew things we wouldn’t have thought of. And Walter Paine [former editor/publisher of the Valley News] came on the board. I don’t think we’d be where we are if he hadn’t joined in – so involved and hard-working.” Considering, she adds, “It was a lot of work, but worthwhile, and I think everyone’s happy with the outcome.”

Terri Dudley greets a visitor with a hug instead of a handshake. A welcoming, grandmotherly woman (who is indeed grandmother of four and great-grandmother of five), she leads the way to a cozy living room filled with seasonal decorations. You’d never guess that she’s spent years in the civic and political heart of Lebanon. The titles of the positions and achievements on her résumé flood off the page.

But if you ask Terri what has been her greatest accomplishment, she instantly says, “Raising children.”

She didn’t limit her attention to her own three, or her five foster children. “Our home was the gathering place for all the children in the neighborhood,” she recalls. Her home at the time was the building that now houses Planned Parenthood in West Lebanon, but Terri and her husband, Roger, now live within sight of Mt. Lebanon School. “It’s so much fun to watch the children,” she says. “I’ve always been involved, one way or another, with kids.”

Outside the Home

Raising the next generation is only the tip of Terri’s iceberg. After all, it’s not everyone who has a major city bridge dedicated to them (check the sign as you drive over the Mascoma River between the Miracle Mile and Glen Road).

“I was surprised and humbled when they told me,” says Terri, “because this is my hometown. I was born here, on Slayton Hill.” She laughs and adds, “My son-in-law said the only other person he knew who had a bridge named after him was George Washington, and I said, ‘But you don’t know him!’”

For twenty years, from its inception in 1974, Terri chaired the court diversion program in Lebanon, devising personalized community service programs to turn around young offenders.

“It’s a very effective program,” she says emphatically. “When a child comes before the committee, they have to come with their parents, and admit their guilt. One time two kids, 10 and 11, had turned over stones in the cemetery. I said, ‘How would you feel if someone did that to your grandmother’s grave?’ and they understood that. They worked with the Lebanon cemetery department to reset the stones.”

“She has a very warm place in her heart for teenagers, for young people,” says Nancy Merrill, who’s known Terri for decades. “You’d never hear her say a bad thing about a young person, even when they messed up. She always sees the best in them.”

Terri was the first woman president of the Lebanon Chamber of Commerce, where she served for 18 years, and likewise first woman president of the Lebanon Rotary, where she served 20 years. During part of her time on the Lebanon Chamber she also served on Hanover’s Chamber of Commerce as a member and as president – an era of cooperation, obviously!

United Way, LISTEN, Lebanon College, and the Upper Valley Credit Union have all benefited from Terri’s efforts on their boards, as has Alice Peck Day Memorial Hospital, which named her Trustee Emeritus in 2011, one of only two people ever so designated. In this role she can participate in meetings but not vote. Clearly the trustees want to keep hearing her ideas.

In addition to her work with various community organizations, Terri has been involved in city and state politics. She served on the Lebanon City Council for 15 years, and was Assistant Mayor from 1992 to 1996, and then Mayor for two years. Elected to the New Hampshire House of Representatives in 1998, she served for eight years, and was a member of the Judiciary Committee, gatekeeper for proposed bills. It was strenuous but fascinating work, with buckets of serious legal reading.

“Lawyers, judges, and residents from all over New Hampshire would come before us and talk about why a bill should or should not pass, and we’d listen,” Terri recalls. After three years she became Clerk of the committee and sat at the head of the table with the chairman and co-chairman during meetings. She was there for the impeachment of Judge David Brock, the first judge impeached in New Hampshire since 1790.

Terri “is absolutely committed to the City of Lebanon,” says Nancy Merrill, who first met Terri when they served on the City Council together. Terri notes of today’s Council, “In the last three elections, there were no challengers. It bothers me: With the number of people in Lebanon, there ought to be folks interested in helping run things. It’s not that I have any complaint about the current council, but it’s good to have a contest.”

Oh Yes… a Job, Too

Terri worked for the Valley News for 37 years, as a reporter and columnist, and in advertising. She was the Advertising Director when she retired. Then she was recruited to start an interview show on WTSL radio. “The owner called me three or four times a week,” she remembers. “Finally I said I’d try it for a month, and I enjoyed it so much that I hosted the show for 15 years.”

The live call-in show aired three times a week, a relentless schedule of arranging guests and doing the necessary research. Eventually the show became weekly on Sunday mornings.

Terri rarely had difficulty eliciting information. “Most people enjoy talking about themselves,” she points out. “The only one I can remember in all that time is Lou Bressett, of Lou’s Restaurant in Hanover. He was a decorated Marine and honorary mayor of Hanover. I had him sitting there – this is live – and I welcomed him and said, ‘Let’s talk about you. When did you enlist?’ and he told me the date. I asked ‘Was it difficult to leave your home, your family?’ and he said ‘Yes.’ This went on till we broke for a commercial, and I said, ‘Lou, you have to talk to me!’ and he said, ‘I am talking.’”

Many Challenges

Terri was born in 1929. The ensuing years were a hard time to grow up. More recently, health problems have surfaced in her family, but she maintains a cheerful outlook, though anyone would forgive her for complaining. In 2011 her beloved Roger fell in an accident involving tree removal and broke his neck. Though he has largely recovered physically, the spinal damage left him with poor memory for recent events, says Terri ruefully, “but he goes out and shovels and does all the things he’s not supposed to do.” She has become much more housebound as a caretaker.“

I took my vows, 67 years ago in March, ‘in sickness and in health,’” Terri says. “I have a wonderful husband, and I’ve felt my marriage has been a blessing. We have three wonderful children, Sharron Smardon, Mike Dudley, and Jo Ann Langone. And I’m fortunate to have so many loyal friends.” With evident sincerity she adds, “Life’s been good to me.”

The current slogan used by the United States Army for recruiting purposes states the organization is “Army Strong.” At age 85, retired Army Colonel Clint E. Granger, Jr. could well serve as poster boy for that ad campaign.

Colonel Granger’s military bearing remains striking after a 30-year career that almost defies description. His posture remains ram-rod straight, his eyes bright, and his brilliant mind as sharp as the crease in his dress uniform’s pants.“

Well, I have to walk with a cane now, but I still get out there every day and complete my rounds,” he stated with a wide smile. “I can attribute that cane to a parachute jump that didn’t go as planned.”

Granger explains that it was supposed to be a routine parachute jump from a helicopter that was hovering at 1,200 feet above the ground. The jump proved far from routine.

“The rip cord opened fine, but my 28 parachute lines tangled and I tumbled end over end and hit the ground in just 16 seconds!” he explained. “I fractured my pelvis in several places and was hospitalized. I was 34-years old at the time and the Army wanted to assign me to a desk job, and of course, being me, I gave an emphatic “no” to that suggestion and returned to being a field commander after I recovered. I limped a bit but escaped the office job.”

That wasn’t the first time Colonel Granger defied the military establishment. He enrolled at the U.S. West Point Military Academy despite the fact that he came up just shy of the minimum height requirement.

“In order to get into West Point you had to be at least 5-foot-6, and I was measured at 5-foot-5-and-½. The then Surgeon General of the United States had stated, “Don’t worry he’ll grow!” I didn’t. I graduated in 1951 and was the shortest man in my class.”

Overcoming those obstacles, Colonel Granger went on to post a sterling military career that concluded by serving as the Director of the Planning Staff for the National Security Council at the White House. He was also the Deputy Assistant to the President from 1974-1976 and served as a deputy for Secretary of State Henry Kissinger.

Prior to that duty Colonel Granger served as Deputy Director for International Affairs, ODCSOPS, Department of the Army from 1973-1974. His duties included heading a State-Defense Department Task Force to Jordan. However, administrative assignments were not exactly the Colonel’s cup of tea. It was combat duties that had originally been his calling.

“I was 16 years old during World War II, and like most young men at that time, I wanted to go off and fight for my country. My fondest dream was to fly a B-17 bomber.”

Colonel Granger’s list of military assignments makes him a true living legend. His fearless dedication and fierce burning desire to serve his country has earned him so many distinguished awards and decorations that it would take a footlocker to store them all. A partial list includes two Silver Stars, four Legion of Merit Awards, two Meritorious Service Metals, a Bronze Star with three “V” awards, 10 Air Metal Awards, the Army Commendation Metal, a Purple Heart, and the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with Gold Palm.

Following his unbelievable military career, Colonel Granger continued to accumulate awards, this time as an established writer and author. His published works include the novels Kurdistan, Cathay, High Asia, Shalom-Peace, Crucible in Asia, Long Forgotten, and Mideast Madness. He also penned The Wild Blue, which he describes is suited for young adults and those who think young. His fascinating look at the future is contained in The Second Thirty Years War, and his autobiographical masterpiece is Falcon 6.

How does a grizzled warrior with the stature of Colonel Granger turn renowned author?

“I was a 25-year-old Lieutenant at the time and didn’t like the fact the U.S. Army did not utilize armored units with infantry units,” Granger noted. “It just did not make sense to me at all. Being stubborn like I am, I had something to say and wanted it noticed, so I started writing articles with my theory stated.”

After the Korean War he had requested an assignment to an Armored Infantry unit. At that time, Mechanized Infantry did not exist in the U.S. Army, but Granger foresaw that wars would be won with speed and slashing energy. Following many papers on the subject, he finally convinced Washington that such an assignment would be useful, as demonstrated during World War II by Patton and Rommel. But it was not yet a part of U.S. accepted doctrine. That is, until a young upstart Lieutenant published his theory.

Granger ultimately published countless military articles and books in such publications as the Military Review, The National Guardsman and the Canadian Military Journal, gaining a reputation as a true expert on military tactics and strategy. His conversion to writing novels was a natural progression and writing remains his passion.

“Oh, it always seems like I am sitting down to start another book,” he chuckled. “After all, I have to stay busy!”

Colonel Granger has lived all over the world, but when it came to retirement time he chose the Upper Valley. He now resides at the Quail Hollow Senior Living Community in West Lebanon. Considering his world-wide exposure to many exotic environments, why West Lebanon, New Hampshire?

“I chose this area because of the close proximity to the veterans hospital in White River, Jct., Vermont. I have seen a lot of veterans hospitals in my career, and this one is the best one in my view. The quality of people here and the care you receive is simply outstanding. These people really care. Of course, the VA hospital’s affiliation with Dartmouth-Hitchcock is an added bonus with all the resources they offer as well.”

At age 85, the Colonel looks back on his years in active combat and realizes all too well the agony of war and the toll it takes on the human body and the human soul.

“I have my share of wounds and scars. I’ve led many, many troops in battle, and I have to think about those who did not return. But for those that made it through, VA care is critical and meaningful.”

These days, the horror of war seems distant and Colonel Granger has adapted to life in retirement and enjoys his surroundings and friends at Quail Hollow.

“When I decided on living in this area, I first moved to Rutland, Vermont, but after visiting Quail Hollow I decided this was the place. It’s beautiful here, and I love this area.”

Colonel Granger is not only one of this country’s leading military heroes and now a world-famous author, but a devoted family man as well. He is blessed with five children – four daughters and one lone son – and, at last count, eleven grandchildren.

One thing you come to comprehend after spending time with Colonel Granger is that he remains an innovative thinker and never backs off from a challenge. To prove it, he has taken the first step in yet another life adventure.

Colonel Granger and fellow Quail Hollow resident Lynn Duffy have announced their plans to be married. A master negotiator for his entire 30-year military career, Colonel Granger retains that talent to this day.

“We have announced our engagement,” he stated with a sly smile. “All that remains is to negotiate the actual wedding date.”

How does one approach such a large step at this point in life? For Colonel Granger it was a simple and very touching decision to make.

“I have been looking all my life for the right lady, and I have finally found her,” he explained.

For Lynn, a former New Jersey resident, it was also a case of finding a soul mate with whom to complete life’s journey.

“It is almost a spiritual experience for me,” Duffy said. “It’s simply a beautiful and wonderful feeling.”

Colonel Granger nodded in agreement.

“Yes, she has added spirituality to my life. I was raised believing in God and religion was important to me. During my military career and experiences, I lost some of that, but Lynn has restored spirituality to my life.”

If you are in the vicinity of Quail Hollow in the coming days and see a distinguished-looking gentleman wearing a black Stenson-style wide-brimmed hat walking along with a fancy cane, give him a salute. He has earned it.