Well over a hundred years ago, the elegant Poland Spring House would come alive as a “summer city” for the rich and famous who traveled from far and wide for the therapeutic waters. Entire families, including their household servants, spent summer months each year at Poland Spring.

Less well known is the popularity of that resort in the winter months.

By the early 1900s, Poland Spring’s “gilded age” was nearly gone. The automobile and extended range of railroads gave everyone more options for travel and recreation. Nevertheless, the allure of the marvelous hilltop setting and the massive resort hotel was still very strong.

It was a century ago this week that an unnamed reporter of the Lewiston Evening Journal interviewed Thomas W. Lawson, a noted financier and author who was spending a winter vacation at the resort. The newspaper article offers an interesting look at what we would now think of as the off-season of that world-renowned summer Mecca of Victorian millionaires, presidents and members of royalty.

Even though it was midwinter, Lawson called Poland Spring “the ideal spot on Earth.” He told the reporter, “There are but two ideal institutions in the world. One of these is Tiffany’s in New York and the other is Poland Spring. Both of these have captured my fancy by catering to the public and each is perfect in its way. Tiffany mounts its gems in a manner to please the eye of taste, while the Rickers (founders and owners of the Poland Spring business and resort) have transcendent genius that can touch the heart.”

Lawson didn’t stop at that. He continued, “I have traveled over a large part of the civilized world but have never found a place like this or any man who could give the personal touch to a hotel like the Rickers.”

What were the qualities that Lawson prized so much, even during a winter stay? He said he admired “the good old-fashioned custom of calling the noon meal ‘dinner.’ We go to dinner (not lunch) here at mid-day and at six o’clock have our supper.”

He had much to say about the winter activities, including snowshoeing, watching the antics of squirrels, romping with the children and attending the candy pulls.

Lawson said, “We make no less than nine kinds of candy. It is pulled over a hook like a ribbon and has to be done very quickly. When piled on a big platter the white and brittle candy with popcorn is about as inviting a dish as you can imagine.”

The outdoor winter sports also pleased the man, who was then in advanced years. The article said, “The toboggan slide is his special fad and here he takes some reckless plunges.”

The slide is “a natural chute leading down to Middle Pond and there is a drop of 150 feet in a distance of 650 feet.” The sleds and toboggans glide all the way across the lake, a distance of half a mile. Then the riders assemble at a farm sleigh drawn by a pair of large horses for the trek back up the hill.

Lawson also described the skating rink near the Mansion House, an older and smaller hotel facility not far from the massive Poland Spring House. The skating rink was 75 feet by 100 feet and lighted by electricity. Each morning, the rink was swept and sprayed to maintain a glassy surface.

The gray squirrels all around the property fascinated Lawson, who said they were totally tame and often sat on the guests’ shoulders. Some of them came at the whistle of people who fed them.

The Poland Spring resort entertained as many as 200 guests on summer days at the zenith of its popularity. The Journal reporter said the hotel’s population was around 100 on that winter day in 1912. Records show that the clientele a few decades earlier was principally from New York and Massachusetts. By the early 1900s, many residents of Portland, as well as Lewiston and Auburn, were among the vacationers at this remarkable gem of Maine.

Lawson’s interviewer took the opportunity to question the respected political and financial pundit about the country’s political situation in 1912. The Boston writer said, “Conditions are very bad in the country just now. The man who will win in the future will have only one plank in his platform, and it will go something like this: ‘He who has what isn’t his’n must give it back or go to prison.’”

Dave Sargent is a freelance writer and a native of Auburn. He can be reached by sending email to [email protected].