Box Socials: A Beloved Tradition of Food, Fundraising, and Fellowship in Woodstock

By Jennie Shurtleff

Beginning in the 1890s, “box socials” became a cherished tradition in the Woodstock area—an event that was part fundraiser, part social gathering, and entirely rooted in community spirit.

Box socials were relatively simple affairs that didn’t require a lot of group planning. In most cases, women would prepare a homemade meal for two and place it in a basket or box, which they decorated with crepe paper, ribbons, and other embellishments. Inside the box, they would include a card with their name.

 

The social would begin with an auction in which the men would bid on the boxes, unaware of who had prepared each one. After the auction, the mystery was revealed as the winning bidders opened their boxes, discovered the cook’s identity, and shared the meal with her. While this element of surprise lent the event a festive air, and occasionally a woman would drop clues to a man that she was interested in about which box was hers in hopes that he might bid on it, box socials were not generally romantic in nature. People of all ages and marital statuses took part, making the socials generally about friendship and fellowship, not about courting.

Occasionally, the tradition was playfully reversed. A 1902 advertisement for a box social in South Woodstock revealed that the Ladies’ Social Circle had paired their event with a “bachelor sale.” In this twist, the men were responsible for preparing and decorating the boxes, while the women did the bidding. The advertisement didn’t specify what cause the event supported, but the reversal itself hints at the fun and inclusive nature of the gathering.

 

Vermont Standard news item, February 20, 1902

Spirit of the Age, August 1902.

 

Later that same year, Taftsville hosted a particularly festive version of the box social, combining it with a masquerade party. Attendees, both young and old, were encouraged to come in costume, dressed as notable figures or characters. The event’s notice read: “Those who dress as ladies will please bring lunch for two.” The wording suggests that any man attending in women’s costume was expected to bring a box with a meal, whereas a woman dressed as a man was likely exempt—offering a humorous and progressive nod to the era’s evolving gender roles. Lemonade was the beverage of choice, sold at a modest three cents per glass.

By 1924, the Rutland Herald remarked, perhaps with a bit of condescension, on the continued tradition, noting, “Seems like old times to see a ‘box social’ advertised in the Woodstock Standard, to be held in the Universalist parlors. Wonder if they’ll play ‘post-office’ afterward.

 

The game of “Post Office”

“Post-office” was a kissing game popular at social gatherings, in which boys and girls were divided into two rooms—one designated as the "post office." One by one, participants from the opposite group would "visit the post office" to receive a kiss from each person there, then the roles would reverse. Though playful and scandalous by some standards, it was a common feature of youthful merriment at the time.

The Brattleboro Reformer, another Vermont newspaper, came to Woodstock’s defense after the Rutland Herald’s comment, writing:

“The Herald is ultra-modern when it relegates box socials to a place with antiques. They are still an occasional feature of social life in many up-to-date communities. However, the game of ‘post-office’ has been changed so that the old-timers would never recognize it. It’s played mostly in automobiles on the R.F.D. routes now.”

Though box socials remained a part of community life in Woodstock well into the mid-20th century—raising funds for school pianos, hot lunches, and equipment—their popularity began to wane after the 1950s. More modern and efficient fundraising methods gradually took their place.

Still, box socials left behind a legacy far greater than their monetary contributions. They were occasions for shared laughter, new connections, and a celebration of community over a shared meal. In an age of increasing digital connection, the warmth and simplicity of those gatherings offer a nostalgic reminder of the power of face-to-face community.

Matthew Powers