Dad was from upstate New York. More correctly, a town literally in both New York and Vermont (the state line runs right through the middle of the burg). His mother's family were old time rural Vermonters, and he shared many of the stereotypical traits of his people - solid, self-reliant, taciturn. Many questions answered solely with a "yup" or "nope."
Romaine Tenney was one of those classic Vermonters. He entered the pages of history more than fifty years ago when, in reaction to the taking of his farm for Interstate 91, he burned his house and farm buildings down, and shot himself. He had nowhere else to go. As author Howard Mansfield puts it:
Tenney was that farmer by the road tourists used to stop and talk to as they sought out a specific kind of Vermont experience.“Romaine himself, personally, he never went to town meeting, he didn’t write letters to the editor, he didn’t stand up and protest,” he said. “He was just living his life — and history, or the world, came to his doorstep, which is the way it happens all the time.”
An informal memorial to Mr. Tenney -- a maple tree (how Vermont) -- has stood ever since near Exit 8. We learned more about Romaine Tenney last year when we spoke with Mr. Mansfield about his book "The Habit of Turning the World Upside Down - Our Belief in Property and the Cost of That Belief," which features a chapter on Mr. Tenney.
But the maple tree is dying, and the Vermont transportation agency wants to replace it with a permanent memorial. Maybe appropriately, a controversy has sprung up about how to remember Mr. Tenney. His nephew "expressed frustration that community members weren’t consulted sooner." Vermont public radio recently interviewed Mr. Mansfield (stream it above) about the story, and the transportation agency's seeking of public input for a permanent memorial. Well worth a listen (as is Mansfield's book, which we featured in our class last semester).
So we ask: was Romaine Tenney a victim of progress and eminent domain? Did he overreact? What would you have advised a man who had nowhere else to go? How should Vermont remember his complex legacy?
