Old Sandy Spring Climb aboard this time machine and let your mind travel
back to Sandy Spring as it was in the late 1800s. Now look about you at that vastly different—yet in some ways familiar—community
of more than a century ago. The old roads of this earlier Sandy Spring are vaguely familiar.
That's because they run along the paths of today's main arteries—Georgia Avenue, New Hampshire Avenue, and Route
108. But back then they are unpaved and rutted, and alternately muddy and dusty. They are called turnpikes: A boom known as
a pike blocks your horse and buggy until you "turn" it by paying a penny or two, at toll gates at Sandy Spring,
Olney, and Ednor. Familiar, too, are many of the homes and families of that bygone era. More
than a hundred houses of that old Sandy Spring still stand today. Scores of familiar names, of families black and white, enjoy
equal antiquity. Reassuringly, those sturdy institutions the bank and insurance company conduct their steadily expanding business
across from the venerable Sandy Spring Store.
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Familiar, too, are many of the homes and families of that bygone era. More than a hundred houses of that old Sandy Spring
still stand today. Scores of familiar names, of families black and white, enjoy equal antiquity. Reassuringly, those sturdy
institutions the bank and insurance company conduct their steadily expanding business across from the venerable Sandy Spring
Store.
Most familiar is the Quaker Meeting House. Back then, wooden partitions separate the sexes, a large buggy shed
stands out back, and the cemetery holds fewer grave markers. But today's mellow brick structure is basically unchanged
since the Friends built it in 1817. The distance the early Quakers traveled to meeting on horseback-as much as five and six
miles-would set the boundaries of the greater Sandy Spring neighborhood.
In many ways our earlier Sandy Spring is a
totally different world.
Along each dirt road roughly a mile apart stand small country stores, selling groceries and canned goods, clothes, and
basic hardware. Here neighbors discuss the weather and crops and perhaps the next barn-raising, and maybe on rainy days ponder
a few games of checkers.
You study the people you encounter: Quickly you recognize among them a distinctive group—individuals
who though prosperous and educated are conspicuously plain of dress. The men wear drab suits and broad-brimmed hats, the women
simple gray costumes with shawls and tiny bonnets with few ribbons; young women do not let the ears show or the hair fall
down the back. The speech of these people is also different: thee and thy instead of you and your; First Day and Second Day
instead of the "heathen" names for weekdays.
These are "the people called Quakers." Some of their ancestors arrived in the early 1700s as the earliest settlers
of Sandy Spring In large measure they defined Sandy Spring's character. Anglican farmers settled among them, followed
soon by Catholics and Methodists. Through their work and that of their slaves they cleared the forest and raised tobacco and
corn.
In the hundred-plus square miles of the Sandy Spring neighborhood grew up a mosaic of crossroads communities—Ashton,
Mechanicsville (now Olney), Brookeville, Brighton, Brinklow, Ednor, Norbeck, and others. Each of these villages featured a
general store and post office, a blacksmith shop and wheelwright shop. Largely self-sufficient, claiming residents of diverse
religious affiliations, these crossroads communities nevertheless felt an allegiance to the Quaker hamlet of Sandy Spring,
which served as the focus important institutions such as the farmers' clubs, the insurance company and bank, the Lyceum
lecture hall, the historical record known as the Annals, a proud succession of fine schools, and numerous social groups.
In
our Sandy Spring of the late 1800s, agriculture is the source of virtually all wealth; nine out of ten Sandy Springers live
and work on the farm. Barns dominate the subdued skyline, amid a cluster of outbuildings: corncrib, smokehouse, icehouse,
woodshed, pig pen, chicken house, carriage house, springhouse, outhouse, perhaps a tenant house that once was a slave quarters.
Amidst these structures rises the farmhouse, sometimes brick, more often frame, the kitchen detached to protect against
fire from the wood stove and open fireplace. This is the domain of the toiling farm wife. Assisted perhaps by a maid, she
stokes the fire, scrubs the clothes in a galvanized or wooden tub, irons, makes the beds, cooks three country meals a day,
washes the dishes, dusts, gathers vegetables, cleans the chimneys of the kerosene lamps, cans fruits and vegetables, churns
the butter, sews and darns, packs the children's lunches for school, and processes the avalanche of pork at butchering
time. ("A man's work is from sun to sun./A woman's work is never done.")
In our earlier Sandy Spring,
black Americans far outnumber whites. A 1900 survey will show 1,000 Negroes, 700 whites living in the Sandy Spring area. Many
are freed slaves and their descendants. Others were attracted as freemen and freewomen before the Civil War—drawn to
a community in which many Quaker landowners freed their slaves decades and generations before the conflict, and often gave
them land. Some own or rent productive farms; many work on white farms, in the fields and in the homes. They are indispensable
contributors to Sandy Spring's agricultural prosperity.
In your trip back in time, you have left behind the convenience
of gasoline engines and electric motors, You now are back in a horse economy, in which each farm keeps six or eight valued
animals. One or two of them pull the buggy or carriage, and four to six pull the farm wagon, which hauls in hay and wheat
from the fields and transports crops to market. The horses also plow the fields and order the soil for planting. Some farmers
keep a pair of mules and many a pair of oxen, valuing their stubborn strength at pulling rock carts and yanking out stumps.
To Finish the History Click Here