On a Monday morning in 1918, John Derocher and his cousin Archie Garrent set off for the Androscoggin River. It was December, just a few days before Christmas, and the boys were eager to go ice skating.

Two younger friends, Willie and Ernie Cote, tagged along as the boys ran to the river, laughing and shouting at their friends who were splashing in the mud along Cedar Street.

The boys didn’t have enough skates for everybody, but that didn’t stop them. They could slide on just their shoes or wear one skate and push off with another. A lack of equipment couldn’t deter their enthusiasm.

They walked on to the frozen river from the Lewiston bank, just upstream from the Grand Trunk railroad bridge.

Charles Minnehan was on the bridge as the boys started across the frozen river.

“Go back!” he yelled to them.

The weather was warm for December, and water covered the layer of ice. “Go back!” he yelled, but the boys continued across.

Minnehan watched in horror as the ice broke under the boys’ weight and all four went into the frigid water.

As quickly as he could, Minnehan yelled for help as he ran to the shore.

Frantically, he grabbed boards from the railroad yard and put them out into the river. As Minnehan struggled to reach the boys, one of the Cote brothers managed to pull himself up onto the ice and get back to shore.

Balancing on his makeshift pier, Minnehan, joined by railroad worker James Beaulieu, made his way onto the ice. Just in time, he managed to get to the other Cote boy, who was flailing helplessly in the current.

As quickly as they could, the rescuers pulled Cote out of the water. But meanwhile, Archie and Joe struggled, just out of reach.

The boys tried to grab hold of the ice and pull themselves up, but the thin crust cracked and splintered more with every exertion. Their bodies numb, their limbs weak, they could not hang on. Too quickly for Minnehan and Beaulieu, the boys collapsed from their exertion and sank into the cold black water.

When police got to the scene they took a leaky boat out on the river to drag downstream from where the boys had disappeared. An hour after the accident, Archie Garrent’s body was recovered.

That afternoon, the Cote boys were at home, bundled up in pillows, blankets and hot water bottles. It was three days before Christmas. The doctor said they would recover.

Archie Garrent’s family lived in the same house, and as the Cote boys recuperated in a safe, warm bed, Archie’s mother spent her afternoon in shock from the loss of one of her four children.

Archie’s sister lay bedridden, struck with a serious case of the Spanish influenza, which had reached epidemic proportions that fall. Archie’s mother tended to the girl, mechanically going through the motions of care, her mind numbed from the tragic loss of her 12-year-old son.

Mrs. Garrent’s sister, Mrs. Derocher, lived next door. She was a widow, and John had been her only son. Several years before, Mrs. Derocher had lost her husband in a tragic accident when he too had drowned in the Androscoggin River.

That afternoon, Mrs. Derocher stood on the banks of the Androscoggin and watched as policemen dragged the bottom to find the body of her only child.

Luann Yetter teaches writing at the University of Maine at Farmington. Additional research for this column was done by UMF student David Farady.

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