The venerable auction company F.O. Bailey Antiquarians, founded in 1819 and said to be Maine’s oldest continually operating business, now in Falmouth, Maine, isn’t as active in auctioneering as it was in decades past, or even centuries past. But when F.O. Bailey does put together a sale, it’s worthy of note. At the preview to the March 26 offering, a few early arrivers got a bit peeved when F.O. Bailey refused to open the door at exactly 8:30 a.m. Their pique soon passed, though, as they began poring over some good sports items and some significant historical offerings.

Some early baseball memorabilia opened the sale. When lots #1 and 2 took over ten minutes to sell, people started doing the math on the 300-plus-lot sale, wondering if they should book an extra night at the hotel. A bid of $6384 (includes buyer’s premium) finally took the opening lot, a page of 20 rare Caramel baseball cards, followed by a similarly drawn-out contest when $6160 won a total of 15 cards, including one signed by Bill "Rough" Carrigan (1883-1969). The Lewiston, Maine-born Hall of Famer Carrigan was a right-handed catcher for the Boston Red Sox (originally known as the Boston Americans) in 1906 and from 1908 to 1916, working as a player-manager in 1913 and winning world championships in 1915 and 1916.

Shortly after the baseball cards sold, a size 46 Wilson Red Sox warmup jacket from the 1950’s in navy wool with white leather sleeves, signed by about 30 players, including Dom DiMaggio, Dick Littlefield, Charlie Maxwell, Fred Hatfield, and some forgotten nobody named Ted Williams, sold on one bid for $3360. A page of 29 Ramly cigarette baseball cards finished the high-end sports items at $7280. One of the underbidders, Kevin Bronson of Springfield, Massachusetts, commented later, "It’s a nice group. They brought solid retail money."

Leading all items at $8400 was a thoroughly researched and valuable little scrap of paper. About the size of a modern business card and mounted between two protective glass panes, it reads in script, "I think the government should take, at eighteen dollars per gun, and accoutrements, all such as the sample to which this is attached, which Mr. Blunt will produce in six months, not exceeding four hundred per month—/ A. Lincoln/ Jan. 16. 1862."

According to other documents supplied, "Mr. Blunt" refers to Orison Blunt, a New York City rifle manufacturer and the inventor of a type of muzzle-loading firearms lock. In June 1861 Lincoln had responded to a letter from naval commander John Dahlgren with the annotation, "I have seen Mr. Blunt’s Gun and was much pleased with it. I think we should have some of them...for the present emergency it would be well to adhere to the dimension now constructed." In that same year, Blunt contracted with the war department to supply the Union with 20,000 Enfield-type rifles. By May of 1862, however, only 500 had been delivered, and the bulk of the order was canceled due to unfulfilled promise and some quality control issues. The next year, Blunt ran on the Republican ticket for mayor of New York City but was resoundingly defeated.

As often happens, though, the most interesting item is not always the most expensive. We give that nod to a little silver-cased mourning pendant from Reverend John Wiswall (1731-1812). Wiswall was a local historical figure of considerable importance. The inscription and pen and ink drawing on paper of a woman and an angel near a monument record the tragedy that haunted Wiswall’s life.

The consignor was Jen Segrest of Middletown, Ohio. In a scenario worthy of Antiques Roadshow she reported, "My husband found it in a bin full of stuff...just in the bottom of one of these stacking storage bins." He brought it home, and within 48 hours Segrest found volumes of information on the good Reverend Wiswall. She was even able to contact some of his descendants. Segrest then made the smart decision to sell the pendant in the area of its history and contacted F.O. Bailey.

Wiswall graduated from Harvard College in 1749 and later began studying divinity. Around 1755, he became the minister of a Congregational church in Falmouth, Maine, then still part of Massachusetts. In 1761 Wiswall married Mercy Minot, but a week after his wedding he suffered what may have been a nervous breakdown. Recovered from that, and from the crude treatment methods of the day, he converted to Anglicanism in 1764, a decision that one newspaper editorial attributed to the fact that he was "very much disordered in his upper House." In the years of the Revolution, he remained a staunch Loyalist, was arrested in 1775, and claimed that "not the severest punishment, not the fear of death" would shake his allegiance.

In the same year, Mercy and at least one of his daughters died, probably from exposure after his family was expelled from Falmouth and forced to walk to Boston in midwinter, while Wiswall was serving as a chaplain in the British fleet. Also in that year, Wiswall was present at the surrender of the infamous Henry Mowatt, captain of the British warship Canceaux. Mowatt later returned to burn virtually the entire town of Falmouth to the ground. Wiswall’s anguish prompted him to write, "the sufferings and Persecutions I have Undergone: together with the rebellious spirit of the People has entirely weaned my Affection from my native Country—the further I go from it the better." Thus he spent most of the next eight years in England before relocating to the Loyalist-friendly Nova Scotia to serve as an Anglican clergyman.

Although he was receiving ample compensation and had married a wealthy estate owner, Wiswall was fundamentally unhappy with the state of spiritual affairs, facing persecution by "wild enthusiasts" of every denomination. In 1788, he wrote despairingly to a friend, "I regret that ever I came to this Country—I was wretchedly deceived...I am banished from my Friends—and doomed to lead a most laborious life, pinched with poverty and oftimes not knowing where to procure the common conveniences not to say necessarys of life." In 1801 he was seriously injured in a fall from his horse, and he died in 1812, after serving several other missions in Nova Scotia.

Such was the unhappy life of the Reverend Wiswall, now remembered only in obscure historical writings, and in one $1568 mourning pendant, now happily in the possession of the Maine Historical Society.