In a column some time back, I asked if we still have a fence viewer. Well, we do. Recently, the Select Board filled this important governmental position. You may not be familiar with a fence viewer, whose job it is to inspect new fences and settle disputes between landowners.
Fence viewing is an old New England duty that goes back to the 1600s. Farmers separated their property with stone walls … hence the many walls you see in the area are called stone fences. As the walls fell, deteriorated or were removed, the fencer viewer would determine whose cows were grazing in another farmer’s field … a serious criminal offense.
I first learned of a fence viewer many years ago when one was appointed in a town where I served on a local board. The position was offered to a distinguished, retired resident who had once been a state representative, selectman, former zoning-board chair and general town gadfly. The assumption being his new job would keep him out of the Select Board’s hair. The offer was made via an official letter.
The candidate, whom I will call “John,” and I shared the distinction of being losers in our respective political campaigns that year. Being a diligent reporter with a confidential source, I acquired copies of the letter and John’s response. Never one to throw anything away, I still have those letters.
The Select Board’s letter offered John the opportunity to fulfill his “lifelong ambition.” “The position of fence viewer is yours should you decide to accept it.” The letter went on …”The chief responsibility of the position is to be continuously ready to respond to a call for your services. Since no one can recall the last time a fence viewer was needed, the position likely will not involve any actual fence viewing but rather constant preparedness to view.”
Knowing John all too well, the Select Board felt it necessary to add this: “The Board expects you to be ready to view fences, not to sit, straddle or otherwise conjugate any other verb form associated with ‘to fence.’” John, being experienced in the ways of political protocol, responded in due time with an appropriate letter of his own.
He wrote, “I think there are not suitable words to describe the euphoria I experienced when I learned that it has become possible for me to be restored a titled position among the ruling class.”
Ever cautious, John wanted certain clarifications before accepting the position. Since he was expected to be always on call “like the police and fire chiefs and the dog officer,” he wondered, “… will a take-home vehicle be supplied appropriate to my stand-by status?” He humbly suggested that a beeper would suffice … “even a broken one.”
He agreed that he would not “fence with clients, verbally or physically,” even though “the best defence is often a strong offence when dealing a disputed fence.” Regarding the requirement that a good fence viewer must be able to “notice neglect,” he noted that the “condition of the west chimney and the front porch of my house provide abundant evidence that I am conversant with neglect.”
In the official letter, they outlined the fence viewer’s authority to hold hearings and indicated that it would be necessary for John to use “his good ear” unless the discussion “doesn’t demand the effort of listening, in which case the turning of a deaf ear is allowed.” To which John, risking revealing his excitement at wielding such power, asked for reassurance that he could “have people appear before me, instruct them to make their cases while I pointedly pay no attention to anything they say, and then force them to sit there while I make long, irrelevant speeches.” Thus, having confirmed what everyone else in town knew.
Anyway, John finally accepted the position of fence viewer. And I was told by a reliable source high up town government that the Select Board was relieved that they would not have to search out another qualified candidate.
As for me, I made it unequivocally clear that if the position ever became vacant again, they could count me out. I was happy just being a viewer. The fences could take care of themselves.
Editor’s note: Mattapoisett resident Dick Morgado is an artist and retired newspaper columnist whose musings are, after some years, back in The Wanderer under the subtitle “Thoughts on ….” Morgado’s opinions have also appeared for many years in daily newspapers around Boston.
By Dick Morgado