Growing up in Dexter I was painfully aware class distinctions mattered more than they should have. Some of the good towns people gazed down their noses at the hard working blue-collar mill working class. While it would be fun to list the names of those bloodless cretins I will forego that indulgence and tell a different story. None of the three generations of Baileys fit into the aforementioned category. The Baileys treated my folks, my sisters and brother as equals and with respect. I viewed the Baileys as wealthy with their business in town and their monstrously large home filled with two different families. Both Chet and his sister Phyllis Brunk shared the big rambling yellow house across from Fay Scott Inn. Tommie Brunk was one of my closest neighborhood friends for years. Dave and Steve’s parents Chet and Derry were good people and worked hard in the family business along with Phyllis in the family business that spanned several generations. Each generation grew up in the house on Spring Street with its beautiful orchard and flower gardens on every side. We thought the house was haunted because it was once used as a funeral home and mortuary. I never saw a ghost there that I can remember.

Old man Lawrence Bailey owned a car dealership and oil business on Upper Spring Street just short of town where an Atlantic Richfield sign hovered with its recognized blue eagle against a yellow background looming above a set of buildings. Along the street in front of the structures a remnant of the twenties and thirties wooden roofed portico suspended from metal posts covered the gas pumps keeping patrons partially out of the weather as they filled their cars with gasoline. Directly across the street the Mayberry Mansion stood with its perfectly set stonewall bordering the front lawn.

Next door to the garage a huge show floor and display building once housed sparkling new Oldsmobiles and Buicks for sale. In later years locals used the massive space within the old storeroom and garage space below to house antique cars and boats through the harsh Maine winter months.

The only real constant in life is change and the business passed from Lawrence to son Chet and the name passed on down an additional generation to Dave.

Its fun to remember Dave as local high school football star and small town hero driving around town in his black and red corvette convertible. I like the idea that I ‘m connected to everyone in Dexter in lots of small ways as folks in small towns always are. Lots of the ghosts from the old days whisper things to me. Some of them wear Tiger Jerseys, some don’t. I just like to pass their whispers on.
- Fred