From the Vineyard Gazette edition of Oct. 10, 1980:

Opening upon South Road, Chilmark, is a private driveway extending northerly to a dwelling site half a mile away or better. There is nothing remarkable about this driveway, except that portion where it enters the highway. There it passes through, and not over, a hillock, by means of what engineers call a “cut” and the sides of this cut are perpendicular; as plumb as if made with the aid of a plumb-bob. That it is an ancient driveway is evident, and the cut itself is nothing modern, but the remarkable thing about this cut is the retaining wall on each side, curving outward and rising to the height of the bordering greensward, and constructed from small stones, laid up without bonding of any sort. In other words, it is a pretty wall, beautifully made and put together with a high degree of skill. It has not bulged nor settled, and it seems as strong and secure as it ever could have been, the weathering of the stones testifying to its age.

Over seventy years ago a Chilmark man, no longer youthful, told of helping to build this wall under the direction of Beriah T. Hillman, who owned the farm beyond the highway, lived upon it, and taught school during the two three-month terms when Chilmark schools were open.

Many persons will remember Beriah Hillman as an elderly resident of Edgartown, a veteran of the War of the Rebellion, in which he served as an Army officer, and as a justice “sitting within and for the County the County of Dukes County.” He had studied law and practiced it, and had sat on the bench as a judge, and in all ways had demonstrated his versatility and knowledge.

Aside from causal mentioning by elderly persons of Judge Hillman as a schoolmaster, the oldest story this writer ever heard of him was told by one of his Chilmark neighbors, himself a member of a Chilmark family quite as old as that of the judge.

It appeared that Judge Hillman — Mr. Hillman at that time — was interested in some legal matter and had consulted an attorney seeking advice. What he was told with respect to his problem was not satisfactory and, sitting in the lawyer’s office, he picked up a law book, turned the pages to a certain chapter and, pointing it out to the lawyer, said:

“Doesn’t that clause give me my case?”

The lawyer looked, and exclaimed in surprise: “It does indeed, but where did you study law?”

“At the end of the plow-handles,” is the reply credited to the judge-to-be.

Pungent indeed were the comments credited to Judge Hillman as he spoke in town meetings on matters of business that came before the voters. Apparently the site of the original town hall in Chilmark was under discussion, possibly before the building had been established there, or it could have been later. However that may have been, the location, on a lonely hilltop, seemed to be favored by the majority, and Judge Hillman commented with evident distaste: “Equally inconvenient for everyone.” His peppery comments from the bench were often quoted and it is regrettable that so few are remembered. In a case where a feud between families had eventually resulted in a charge of assault and battery, the defendant had pleased unusual provocation in that the plaintiff in the case had refused to speak to him or even to look in his direction when they met, and yet had politely lifted his hat and bowed to his, the defendant’s dog.

“Is this true?” asked the judge. The plaintiff admitted that it was.

“Why did you bow to the dog and ignore his owner?” asked the judge.

“Because,” explained the plaintiff, “I had more respect for the dog than for the dog’s master.”

“Understandable! Understandable!” muttered the disgusted judge.

The product of a rough and ready age, and with a background so varied, Judge Hillman was not a man who was easily fooled, as many another discovered. Yet he was known as a just and upright man, on the bench or off it; a power in his community to be reckoned with if any finagling was attempted.

It was an ex-school committee member who told this story:

It was agreed by one and all that the school had outgrown the school building. One faction was determined that a new school building should be built in a different location. The school board, with a substantial supporting faction, recommended that an addition be built onto the existing building. To the argument that the lot was too small for the purpose, the school committee said that if the existing building should be turned around to face a different direction, there would be ample room.

The result was that neither faction won in the town meeting which followed, which left the situation unchanged.

“We went to see ‘Briar’,” explained the ex-board member, “and asked him what we should do.”

“Heave ahead!” says he, “Swing your building around and build your ell and send your bill for the whole in to the town!”

They did it, and the town paid, just as “Briar” said they would.

Compiled by Hilary Wall
library@mvgazette.com