'THE GORE'
Leaves crunch beneath Russack’s feet as he follows an unmarked trail off of Tripoli Road, exit 31 off of I-93. With greenery abundant to his left and right, he walks about a mile in. Suddenly he points out a stone wall on the side of the trail that gives a hint of the history hidden by the trees.

“This was the town road,” he says. “And [the surrounding area] was all farmland. It was a farming community.”

Walking a tad farther, he comes to an eerie landmark on his left—tombstones of about 20 Thornton Gore residents. The dates of their deaths range from the early to mid-1800s, an era when farmsteads were established—and abundant—within the Pemigewasset Valley. Bordering the triangular-shaped town are five mountains; the area also lies within a narrow valley created by drainages of the Talford and Eastman brooks. According to a USFS report, Thornton Gore is “the largest, most integrated, and intact abandoned hill farm community on the National Forest.”

Nicknamed “The Gore” by locals, the area lies within the northernmost region of Thornton—east of Woodstock—and encompasses 2,600 acres. The first settlement occurred in 1804. From 1820 to 1840, the report says, “higher elevations were used for sheep raising and orchards. Groves of maple yielded nearly half a ton of maple sugar. Broad slopes were used for crops and pastures. Every farm owned a team of oxen, and the number of cattle tripled, producing 3,525 pounds of butter. Seventy-five percent of the farms produced wool.” 

However, the 1860s saw alterations in land use and population. Increased logging occurred in timber lots, and a new sawmill was built. Small farms without substantial woodlots weren’t deemed as useful as they once were. By the late 19th century, farmers were abandoning the land.

In his book The Franconia Gateway, Bruce D. Heald further explains this transition in Thornton Gore’s history: “Inhabitants discovered they were becoming isolated from the outside world and, as the well-known restless longing for city life took hold of the younger generation, the farms ran down, the mills stopped, grass grew before the doors, and silence took the place of the busy life that had been.”

George B. James of the New Hampshire Land Co. purchased many of the remaining farms and the mill. (Remnants—including a dilapidated mill wheel–can be seen by following the same trail onward and heading right into the brush before the convergence of the two brooks).

Logging was the next chapter in Thornton Gore’s saga, but it was a brief one. The Woodstock and Thornton Gore Railroad was created in 1909 and logging camps were established, but operations ceased in 1913 when the mill burned down. The town became part of the White Mountain National Forest in 1916.

The USFS report, completed in 1988, was a push to include Thornton Gore on the National Register of Historic Places. But the site has not been added officially, and the USFS doesn’t have the money for archeological excavations. “Since we are required to manage all historical sites as if they were listed [on the national register], we haven’t put a lot of emphasis on spending the money to have it listed,” Roenke says.

PRESERVING THE PAST
Financial concerns haven’t quelled discussions of further promoting the White Mountains’ abandoned communities. Russack and Roenke met with Chris Thayer, AMC’s White Mountain facilities director, in May to see how a partnership among various groups might expedite this process.

“In an era of declining federal and state budgets, nonprofits, historical societies, private businesses, and individuals have to come together to inventory and attempt to prioritize physical sites for protection, stewardship, education outreach, and promotional value,” Thayer says. “The end goal of any plan should help to inform the public about the unique story behind a particular place, offer guidance for its ongoing protection, and spark interest in learning more.”

Russack would love to see signs or kiosks that offer historical tidbits and maps for self-guided tours. In the Livermore area, these could connect the site with a scenic byway that has already been designated nearby. “That’s established,” he says. “That’s recognized. So, why reinvent the wheel when you can link with existing programs?”

The next steps might include the creation of a steering committee to guide efforts, followed by regional committees to narrow down focus areas, Thayer says.

“Interpretation and partnership is huge,” Roenke says. “It can add to the hiking experience, it can add to the driving experience, and it can add to the land management perspective. Our goal is to let the next generation experience these areas—and not have it all changed.”

Fred Durso, Jr., is managing editor of AMC Outdoors. He interned at E/The Environmental Magazine and covered numerous environmental topics while a newspaper reporter in the Philadelphia area.

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