Two men at odds over Canterbury land find different resolutions

For a time, David Lidstone, better known as River Dave, was the antihero in this saga, the rebellious figure who stood up against the powerful and bent the rules in search of a peaceful, quiet life.

A different reputation, however, attached itself to the other senior citizen in the legal fight, Leonard Giles of Vermont. He was painted as the callous, uncaring land owner, trying to stick it to a man already down on his luck – a man who lived alone in the Canterbury woods, off Exit 17 on Interstate 93, for nearly three decades.

Problem was he was squatting on Giles’s land. Rent free. Giles paid little in taxes on the 73-acre woodlot that was in current use status, but that was going to change if Lidstone continued living there, town officials told him.

“The person who should have the sympathy here is Mr. Giles,” Lisa Snow Wade, Giles’s attorney, told a judge last January. “He’s an 86-year-old veteran who’s been put through this. This has not been easy for him emotionally or financially.”

Events began unfolding six years ago, and the most recent news sounds like this once-national story has reached its conclusion. For one thing, Giles passed away last month at the age of 87, ending an arduous process that took a toll on him.

Meanwhile, River Dave, at age 82, has left the property in Canterbury, as was ordered by the court. He’s moved to Maine at an undisclosed location. He’s collected the approximately $200,000 donated to him after his story made national headlines.

Ken Folsom, Canterbury’s town administrator, was in office six years ago when he heard that River Dave was living illegally on someone’s land. He met with Giles face-to-face, alerting him that someone was trespassing on his land and Giles could be responsible for unpaid taxes.

“We said, ‘Look, we’re just letting you know that this is going on,’ ” Folsom said in a phone interview last week. “We said we would try to do something about it. It was very low-key.”

Giles ordered Lidstone off the property in 2017. River Dave didn’t budge, so a judge ordered him off the property where he had built a cabin, a woodshed, planted peach trees and raised chickens. When Lidstone still refused to leave, he was put in jail. Fingers were pointed. At the perceived greed of the landowner. At the unsympathetic leaders of Canterbury.

“You cannot imagine some of the calls and emails I got from all over the country,” Folsom said. “They were not very happy with the town officials, but most people in town probably understood what was happening. If they chose to educate themselves, they would say the town is not really the bad guy.”

The story included a strong local connection, beyond the fact that land north of Concord, along the Merrimack River, was where this unfolded. Lidstone was painted as the local, Giles as the out-of-stater. But that narrative was backwards.

Giles was born in Concord and raised in Canterbury. He attended a one-room elementary school, according to his obit. His father owned the general store in town and was also the United States postmaster.

Giles went to Concord High School and graduated from Kimball Union. He worked on his Uncle Leonard’s farm in Northwood back then. He played football and baseball at Norwich University and was a U.S. Army tank platoon leader in Munich, Germany. And he was awarded the Meritorious Service Medal by the Secretary of the Army in 1988. His reputation sparkled.

Lidstone was from Maine, who moved to New Hampshire later in life. He lived like a hermit because he had a mean streak, his family said. But over the years, he became a fixture on the river. His white beard was well known to locals and paddlers on the Merrimack.

“When an issue like this comes up, it triggers an emotional response,” Folsom said. “The little guy standing up to the man. I get it.”

Early on, Folsom met with Giles and his son in his office. Folsom described a tall, sturdy man, with a full head of silver hair. He said Giles was reasonable, easy to talk to, polite.

“A nice gentleman,” Folsom said. “He liked his childhood here and that was the first time I knew that he had grown up here. He was very low-key. He wasn’t angry or anything like that. There was no fist pounding on the table. A friendly conversation.”

Later, Folsom said he saw River Dave picking up his mail and the newspaper at his boxes near Oxbow Pond Road. He saw a man with a slight build and a Santa-like beard.

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“I was driving by going 25 or 30 miles per hour on a country road,” Folsom said. “He looked up and he waived and I waived and said, ‘Oh, I guess that’s River Dave.’ ”

As the legal case unfolded, River Dave was arrested twice for trespassing on Giles’s land. He blew off court dates, which did not sit well with the judge, and he spent time in jail for defying and disrespecting authority.

As Lidstone saw things, he had simply exercised his right to question authority. “Sometimes, you have to stand up for what is right,” he told the Associated Press.

With that, the antihero’s legend gained steam. He was Clyde Barrow, stealing money from banks while the Depression ruined lives.

Then came the donations, led by the $180,000 given by Palantir Technologies founder Alex Karp. About $20,000 from other donators also came in. Through the process, River Dave, at times, grew difficult to deal with.

He sparred with a judge and he sparred with the trustees who were tasked with keeping his money safe, including a woman named Jodie Gedeon of Boscawen, by far the most loyal ally River Dave could ever have hoped for.

Kayakers on the Merrimack River regularly paddled past River Dave at his adopted home. They’d wave to him. He’d wave back. That’s how Gedeon met River Dave. She helped him find a couch to sleep on once he was pushed from his cabin, which eventually burned down while he was in jail.

“He was a nice person to me,” Gedeon said. “We had a great friendship.”

That friendship was tested, however, when River Dave grew impatient while waiting for the $200,000 that was in a trust. Gedeon said her friend grew “vulgar and disrespectful.”

But instead of calling River Dave an ingrate, Gedeon took a different approach, and there’s little doubt that this old homeless man’s plight influenced her feelings toward him. That was a common theme among others as well.

“He thought I was holding his money,” Gedeon said. “There were some negative vibes that came from the money. That’s the root of all evil, but we’ve spoken, we’re friends and there are no hard feelings.”

The Giles family could not be reached for comment. Three phone messages left for River Dave were not returned. Gedeon often served as his mouthpiece, feeding the media tidbits as interest grew.

She said River Dave now has a home in Maine. She declined to say where. “He’s happy and healthy and doing well,” Gedeon said. “He’s reconnected with his son.”

She said the negativity associated with Giles and officials in Canterbury is a thing of the past.

Giles has passed away. River Dave has left the cabin.

“If people are still talking about it,” Gedeon said, “they need to move on. It’s closed.”

These articles are being shared by partners in The Granite State News Collaborative. For more information visit collaborativenh.org.