When financial adversity fell upon the family, Sid, the lovable, good-humored second son, left home to earn his own way in the world as a clerk in a store in Hallowell. Later he was employed by Shaw and Washburn in Boston, becoming in a few years, a prosperous dry goods merchant on Kilby St.
Although the older boys were scattered they kept up a lively correspondence. Sid’s mail brought requests from his brothers such as: “send up a yard of nice linen and some fashionable patterns.” and, “Send three yards of as good blue cloth as you can afford for coat, pants and vest and velvet for coat collar and trimmings, also two vest patterns (patterned cloth, suitable for making vests) one light, one dark—good second best.”
Requests for loans were not uncommon and Sid received the everlasting gratitude of his brothers for his timely assistance. In his autobiography in 1874 Elihu wrote, “I feel grateful for the kindness of my brother Sidney while I was in Boston and Cambridge [1837-39]. He was always on the lookout to serve me.” Cadwallader never forgot that it was Sid who loaned him money to go West in 1839.
Elihu and Cadwallader had an even more important request to make of Sid in 1853. Although living in Illinois and Wisconsin they had obtained a Maine bank charter and prevailed upon their older brother to give up his Boston merchandising business and return to Hallowell as a cashier of the new institution—The Bank of Hallowell. In 1854 a friend of Israel, Jr.’s visited Sid in Hallowell and reported, “I dined last week with your brother Sidney. He is beautifully situated, and has made, I think, a fine matrimonial connection.” Ann Sarah Moore of Bangor was the “fine matrimonial connection.” She and Sid were to have twelve happy years together before tragedy struck. Their home was on the corner of Middle and Chestnut Streets, Hallowell, and it was characteristic of light-hearted Sid that he named it “Blythe House.”
In 1862 he organized a new bank—The First National Bank of Hallowell, and still continued to be a banker extraordinary to his brothers. By this time Sid and Sarah were parents of three sons—James, John, and Robert. After the birth of their fourth son in 1866 both Sarah and the infant died. Sorrow was heaped upon sorrow when, four months later, eleven-year-old James succumbed to diabetes. Blythe House and blithe Sid were in mourning.
Masterfully he regained his cheerful spirit for the sake of his two remaining sons. The three were inseparable and spent every possible moment at the Norlands where the beauty of the spot was tonic for Sid’s soul. In October 1866 he wrote in the family journal, “Never was so fine and fair a day… ‘Tis the best specimen of an autumn day, and a fine October day is the finest day the Lord ever made.” On an autumn day thirteen years later, Sid died and brother Samuel wrote in Journal IV, “Tis sad at Blythe House. The light of the house has gone out forever.”
Sid was appreciated for his wit and good nature. His love for laughter could lead him to some troublesome situations, such as the one that Cadwallader recounts from their childhood.
March 29, 1874
“It was in the winter of 1827-8, and Luda Monroe, before named, taught a school in Uncle Bijah Monroe’s old house, which had recently been vacated. Of the scholars that attended, I may not now be expected to enumerate all, indeed it is not necessary that I should name any except the hero [Sid] of the adventure I am about to mention… One unhappy day our hero asked to be dismissed a short time before the usual hour of closing, to which request Lude interposed an emphatic negative. Thereupon our hero took his hat and walked out before the mistress had time to interpose to prevent it. When she saw him departing & beyond her reach, I saw blood in her eye & knew that mischief was in the then no distant future. The next day our hero appeared as if nothing had happened. The classes were called & lessons heard, but expectation was on tiptoe, & “there was Silence deep as death and the blodest held his breath for a time”. Soon the storm burst. The culprit was “called up”, and the question put to him in an angry tone, “What do you mean by such conduct?” “What conduct?” responded the aggressor. “What conduct!” echoed Luda. “I’ll let you know what conduct!” said she, and suiting the action to the word she seized, and if you have ever seen a Scotch Terrier seize & shake a poor rat, you can have a very faint idea of the shaking administered on that unhappy occasion, and with many protestations that neither the “King of England or the Governor of France” should interfere with her prerogative, the victim was thrust out of school & seen there no more.” –
Cadwallader Washburn in the Washburn Journal Vol. III
