24/3/ 2019
THE WOLVES OF MANCHESTER
I am a content writer for the Manchester Union Leader. When I am on assignment I get to enjoy the New Hampshire country side, eat in every new restaurant that opens, and attend all the fairs, festivals and write general articles of interest that fill the Leaders pages
When I am not writing and I want solitude to think, I take my camera along and go fishing. This is exactly what I was doing during the hot summer month of August. This time my escape from the heat, the office, my wife Beverly and my 12 year old daughter Sylvia was on a small lake in Sullivan County named Little Sunapee.
It was there that I found myself standing on a wooden dock next to a shirtless man. He was sitting in a canvas chair wearing only swimming trunks and drinking from a pint bottle of Canadian Club whiskey. He had a long cane pole propped against the railing while he patiently watched a red and white plastic bobber floating on the clear water.
I have learned that it is often better to say excuse me, than may I. Not being shy, I put down my equipment, started assembling my fishing rod and said “How is the fishing”
Without looking or turning around he said. “I am not fishing I am thinking, and whoever you are this is private property and you are trespassing.”
I have been told many times the same thing, only to find that it was not true. I had walked quite a distance along the shore to find this spot and I was not about to go away without at least knowing If he was telling the truth.
“I don’t see a private property; keep out, no trespassing signs .so why should I not fish here? “
He turned around to look me. His face was etched in lines of sadness and I was taken by the over whelming look of despair he presented.
He answered “I built this dock, and the house you see behind it. I never thought that some stranger would come along and arrogantly park his *** on my land. There is a no trespassing and private property sign at the entrance gate, but obviously you can’t read.”
I turned away and looked at the house he was talking about .It was a very pleasant setting , a small neat cottage and garage built with carefully fitted field stones, the roof was covered with hand split cedar shakes that now were covered with lichen moss. The yard was recently mown and red tulips bordered the paving stone walkway the led to this wooden dock.
“I am sorry for intruding; I did not see the signs as I walked along the shore. Please accept my apology.” Then I picked up my tackle and started to leave.
“Do you mind if I take a few photos of your home before I leave’ I asked?”
“Mister if that is what it takes to get you off my dock go ahead, but why do you want to?”
“I am a writer for the Manchester Union Leader, My name is William Joyce and your home is just the sort of place that few city folks have ever seen. If I have your permission I will purplish it in the Sunday’s travel and entertainment edition.”
“In that case you may not take any pictures, and I will be damned if you can write anything about me. The last thing I want is to have a bunch of nosey people poking and prying into my life again. I cannot take any more of that.”
He got up from his chair, came up to me, glared into my eyes and yelled. “Now get to hell out of here before I throw you, your camera and gear into the lake.”
It was very obvious he meant it; I apologized once more and left.
While I was walking back to my car I began thinking about this man and his words. ”The last thing I want is nosey people poking and prying in to my life again.”
My curiosity was aroused and I determined that when I returned to my office would find out what this man was hiding and why he looked so despondent and sad.
When I got home I put away my fishing gear and went into the kitchen, gave Beverly a kiss on her neck and a pat on her butt.
“No fish today dear, I was thrown out of this man’s property before I could even wet a line. He seems to be a very odd duck, and tomorrow I am going to do a bit of detective work and find out more about him.” She smiled and said “That´s nice, I am glad you had a good day and there are no fish clean. Now change your cloths and wash up. I fixed something special for supper, stuffed onions, mushroom caps and grilled eggplant with veal chops. “
After supper I went out side with my daughter Sylvia to play her favorite game of hide and seek .I could not help thinking how fortunate I am to have her and my beautiful wife as my life’s companions.
The next morning I used the county maps and located the lot. Then i called the County Register of Deeds to find out who owned the property on the lake Little Sunapee. I talked to the very helpful clerk and explained I worked for the Union Leader, and then gave her my phone and fax.
She said she would fax me as soon as she found time to look up the title, when it was purchased, and who the present owner is.
I finished the Sunday article about Profile Lake and all of the attractions there, and was going home to my wife when the Fax came in. I took it out of the machine stuck in into my briefcase and left my office. .
In the morning as soon as I was in my office, I took out the fax and found it had all the information I had asked for.
“ Lot # 266 Little Sunapee Lake, Scott Thomas Pinkerton ,Registered as purchaser in 1992 paid $17,400.00 dollars ,received a building permit for a single private dwelling in December 1991, yearly property taxes $600.00 no delinquencies.”
There was something very familiar about the name. While tried to recall where I had heard it my editor came into my office.
Ralph Shoemaker is the person who knows everything and everyone in Sullivan, Merrimack and Rockingham Counties. He has been working at the Union Leader since the fifties and reads and edits everything that the paper puts into print .He looked over my shoulder at my computer screen. When he saw the name Pinkerton he asked me what I was doing. I told him of my meeting at Sunapee Lake and how he threw me off his property.
“Bill, you have met one of the most unfortunate men that I know of. I have often wondered what happened to him after his daughter disappeared. That was the biggest story to hit Rockingham County. It was front page news nationwide. It devastated him, destroyed his marriage and subjected him to a long and painful investigation that I think eventually caused his wife to take her own life.
Now I got to go, just stopped by to tell your next assignment is the hot air balloon show in Deerfield next week. “
That explained the melancholy man at the lake, and became the motivation I needed to find out all I could about this sad man.
The first part as simply a matter of searching the archives of The Union Leader, The first headline I found was dated April 6th 19 96. I looked at the photograph of a smiling girl with blonde hair dressed in a neat school uniform. She was holding a tennis racket and I was struck by her resemblance to my daughter.
Missing Twelve Year Old Girl
A young girl has disappeared from the Auburn boarding school.
Sylvia Pinkerton was last seen walking away from the school on the morning of May 4th.She was going to a tennis match sponsored by the school. She was dressed in a wool, plaid blue and white skirt, white blouse, navy blue waist length jacket, black loafers and carrying her tennis racket. If you have seen this girl or know her whereabouts please contact your local police. I looked carefully at the photo again and was struck by the thought of how much she resembled my own daughter, and the coincidence that they had the same first name.
I spent hours researching, and reading the stories surrounding her disappearance. The last one published 6 weeks later was on page two, and consisted of a recap of the incident and said that no trace of the girl had been found despite many searches even with the using cadaver dogs and extensive interviews with her parents, school mates and administrators. Authorities have concluded that she is to be listed as abduction, or possible runaway who disappeared under suspicious circumstances, the investigation was ongoing.
Determined to find out more, I once again looked up Pinkerton, and then i found an article dated June 20 1996.
Janet Pinkerton, mother of the missing Auburn Boarding School student Sylvia Pinkerton and wife of Scott Pinkerton died in a one car accident on route 4 at 10.00 pm.
Autopsy report shows at the time she was under the influence of alcohol and prescription narcotics. When her husband was finally notified, he was working on an oil drilling platform operated by Brown and Root Company in the Gulf of Mexico-
Memorial service to be held at the Howard Funeral Home in Manchester New Hampshire, on June twenty third at 10, 30 A.M.
To be continued