Sketches from the History of the Cushing Family
Chapter I: The Story of Laban and Nancy Whitney Cushing



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Copy of a paper read at Cushing Family Reunion at Naukeag Inn, Ashburnham, Massachusetts, September 1st, 1915, by Effie A. W. Rideout, Historian.

The study of ancestry is often condemned by thoughtless people, and words of criticism and ridicule are thrown at the man who delves into past records to learn what and who his great-grandfather was. To most deep thinkers and students of human nature, however, the records of the past contain the key which unlocks the mysterious workings of our own lives and the lives of those nearest and dearest to us.

Science has now established beyond a doubt the force of heredity. We should not, however, make the mistake of laying all our faults to our forebears and congratulating ourselves for our virtues. Is our ancestry honorable, let us emulate it. Should it be weak or dishonorable, let us guard each action, that we may not yield to an inborn fault. Should we be too proud, let their failures humble us. Should we falter, let the knowledge of their strength uphold and inspire us.

Laban Cushing was born in Hingham, Massachusetts, April 25, 1791, was the fifth son of Captain David and Hannah Cushing Cushing. His family moved to Ashburnham, Massachusetts, in 1798, and his father kept tavern in the Center of the town on the road to Rindge. He is described in the town records as a very honorable citizen. There is little doubt, however, that open bar was kept at this same hostelry. It is now a fine-looking residence just beyond the Bela Pratt statue of "The Schoolboy," on the left as you journey up the hill on the main road. We have to thank Mr. Edward Hare for making our great-grandfather's home good to look upon and preserving it from decay.

It is hardly thought that a tavern was an ideal place to bring up a boy, and there are traditions that among the eight children of Captain David Cushing, our grandfather, Laban, was the "black sheep," often being styled by the townspeople as "Capt'n Cushing's Devil." Tradition has it that among the brothers and sisters he was the most fond of practical jokes, singing and dancing, and all sports, rather than of good hard work.

He is always pictured to my mind as of medium height, graceful and of quick motion, curly-haired, with merry blue eyes bubbling over with fun and frolic. He was aggravating, yet fascinating; never cross, never really unkind, but lacking the strength of character and business acumen which were natural to most of his family. Be that as it may, in Nancy Whitney, his wife, were centered all the the virtues which he lacked, and all the strength of mind and character which go to make " a perfect woman nobly planned." To her we may look with profound admiration and respect.

Some of us remember her still: erect of form, little bowed with age at threescore and ten. Her voice, rather high pitched and sweet, comes back to me as if I had heard it only yesterday. The intense blue of her eyes I have failed to observe in any of her descendants. Her smile was often quizzical, a characteristic of the Whitneys, who are so fond of a good joke.

Laban lived in the village; Nancy lived over the hill toward Westminster, where her father, Captain Silas Whitney, was the owner of a fine farm, probably the best in town. The number of his cattle, the size of his granaries, and his acres yielding bountifully, are a matter of history. His wife was Sarah Withington of Stowe, Massachusetts. Nancy was their eight child, born November 19, 1794.

So over the hill went Laban, whistling, to call upon Nancy. I fancy he went often, and in Nancy's eyes was good to look upon, for this boy and girl were only twenty and seventeen when they were married, April 23, 1811. Within four years they had become the parents of two little daughters. Nancy Whitney and Sarah Withington,

In 1817 Laban and Nancy went, with several other families, to a new settlement in Pennsylvania. Joseph Cushing, Laban's brother, ten years his senior, had bought large tracts of land there, and thought it a good place for Laban's family to grow up with the country. They loaded their earthly possesions on to ox-wagons and traveled to the "Promised Land." It was not "a land flowing with milk and honey" by any means. The latter part of their journey led through ten miles of dense forest, their only trail being marked trees. At night they slept with roaring campfires about them to drive away the wolves which were howling in the distance, often venturing quite near. A record of their life here, could we have its most thrilling incidents, would indeed be interesting reading.

Later they cleared the land and built log houses and barns for cattle and sheep. My mother has often entertained me with stories of their life in Pennsylvania. The place where they settled is now a thriving city, I think; it is Brooklyn, Susquehanna County. The house Laban built for his wife and baby daughters was quite commodious for a log house, as it had at least three rooms and a loft. Also I think there was glass in the windows. They had a goose pasture and a hog pasture, and they kept sheep and raised flax. Nancy spun and wove and fashioned the garments for all her family. Joseph was the first child born to them in the log cabin, and five more came to them before the return to Ashburnham, Charles being the last. They returned to Massachusetts in 1830.

Once, while they lived in Pennsylvania, Nancy rode on horseback to Ashburnham, a distance of more than three hundred miles, with a six week old baby in her arms. It was a business trip and she felt obliged to come on. I am quite sure that she came alone, except for the baby. That baby was my mother, Rebecca.

When they finally moved back to Massachusetts, it was winter, and they came with horses and a large sleigh, crossing the Hudson River on ice at Albany.

After their return to Ashburnham, they lived in a house near what is now the New Cemetery. My mother said this hill was the children's playground when they were small. The house was never a mansion, is not today, but it once sheltered a lively bunch of boys and girls who were not lacking in pride or purpose. After the return to Ashburnham, four more children were born to Laban and Nancy, two boys and two girls, making in all a family of twelve children, seven girls and five boys. All of these children lived to grow up and marry, and all had children except Sarah, the second daughter.

None of these children became great, in the world sense; but sterling worth, tenacity of purpose, business ability, attractive social qualities, musical and artistic tastes, have been among the characteristics which brought success tot hem. One trait that has been marked among them is loyalty to their own. These Cushings were of rather delicate constitution, none ever attaining extremely long life and several dying rather young. Laban was only fifty-six when he succumbed to an epidemic which prevailed in the town, leaving Nancy to fight the battle of life alone. The two youngest children were at the time of his death six and eight years of age.

Nancy lived to see all of her children married and to enjoy the many grandchildren and great-grandchildren who gathered around her. Her home in her later days was with her eldest son, Joseph, and she happily and hopefully passed into the Unknown from this home on Holt Street, Fitchburg, Massachusetts, at the age fo seventy-seven years. Her death occurred January 27, 1871. She is buried beside her husband in the Old Cemetery in Ashburnham.

The Cushing Family Association has honored the last resting place of their ancestor Laban by placing upon it a marker of the War of 1812. He enlisted in this war as a musician. On the tomb of his father, Captain David, a bronze marker has placed in memory of his service in the Revolutionary War. This tomb in the northwestern corner of the Old Cemetery is intersting to visit. A large horizontal slate slab has upon it the names of a goodly company of Ashburnham's early strong men. Prominent among them is that of Thomas Parkman Cushing, the founder of the Cushing Academy. The letters on this slab are becoming obliterated with age, and it would be a worthy project for interested persons to restore it.

The grave of Silas Whitney, Nancy's father, has also been marked by a descendant with a Revolutionary marker. He and his wife are buried in the same old cemetery on Meeting House Hill, where lie the remains of the four Cushing ancestors. The epitaph on the grave of Captain Silas Whitney strikes the modern reader as something of a witticism. It reads as follows:


"Look on me all my friends and see
As I am now so you must be.
When God sends death, you too must die
And feel his darts as well as I.
Seized with an apoplectic fit,
This world and all my friends I quit,
And now unnoticed lie I must
Till God reanimates my dust."