USA > Massachusetts > Hampden County > Hampden county, 1636-1936, Volume II > Part 17
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The Westfield Atheneum was incorporated in 1864 and the estab- lishment of it was mainly due to the public spirit of Samuel Mather and Hiram Harrison. The trustees of the Westfield Academy, largely influenced by Edward B. Gillett, made possible the removal to the present site, which was the former home of Hon. James Fowler, father of Mrs. Gillett and grandfather of Senator Frederick H. Gil- lett. When the new Atheneum was built that house was incorporated in the plant and, as the Fowler-Gillett house, is devoted to the juvenile department. The Hon. M. B. Whitney, with a gift of $80,000, which by fortunate investment was increased to $145,000, was the major founder of the present building.
Mrs. Florence Rand Lang, a native of Westfield, gave the money for the Jasper Rand Art Museum in honor of her father and grand- father. The Edwin Smith Historical Museum was given by William T. Smith in honor of his father. Many other gifts of money, fur- nishings, pictures and museum articles have been made by numerous friends of the town.
The Westfield Athenæum is one of the most beautiful buildings in the city. It is built of brick and has two imposing limestone columns on the front and limestone trim at the windows.
Just outside the entrance to the museum is placed a bronze bas- relief of Edwin Smith, while within is a room of colonial design, with old Deerfield wall paper, candle lights, a fireplace and beading taken from an old house in Southwick. There are cabinets filled with china, glass and pottery and large floor cases filled with other articles. At the far end is an old kitchen with fireplace and oven and kitchen utensils.
In the art room a series of loan exhibitions have been held and a few permanent pictures form the nucleus for a fine collection.
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The "Grandmother's Garden," laid out by the park commission on the Chauncey Allen Park, was given by Albert Steiger, a leading merchant of Springfield and a native of Westfield, as a memorial to his mother. He was also donor of the park. Individuals have been invited to make gifts of old-fashioned flowers and shrubs, so it is a friendly garden as well as an old-fashioned one.
Juniper Park is a fairly recent addition to the city's park system. A gravel driveway circles through the area and a bridle trail has been
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laid out. Picnic benches and fireplaces have been constructed to make the park of service to visitors.
Westfield marble has been used in at least twenty different bank- ing houses in the West, where the green variety is very popular with architects. The leading varieties being worked are black and green, spangled and verd antique, all of which take a fine polish. The works of the Westfield Marble and Sandstone Company are located in the
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Mundale district and the power for the mill is supplied by the Little River. These deposits have been worked to some extent since the earliest settlement of the country and there are traces of the opera- tions of the Indians, who took out conical blocks of the softer varieties.
Among the old established firms of Springfield was that of the J. W. Adams Nursery. Mr. Adams came to Springfield from Port- land, Maine, in 1867, in order to take advantage of a less rigorous climate. His first location was on a plot of seven acres between North Main and Chestnut streets, where he remained with the use of addi- tional land until 1912. Several greenhouses were erected and also a cement storage house to take care of foreign shipments. His original purpose of producing fruit trees gradually broadened to include orna- mental trees and shrubs until now the fruit department is only a small part of the business.
In 1912 the firm of J. W. Adams and Company, which included his sons, Walter and Charles, moved to a farm of forty acres in Westfield and now more than a hundred acres are devoted to the growing of all kinds of plants. A nursery business is one of the most important industries of the county, for on it future forests depend and it takes years to grow a supply of stock.
The John S. Lane and Son quarries were opened in 1893 and since then tons of the volcanic lava, known as trap-rock, have been taken out. It is crushed at the quarry, graded into six different sizes from two and one-half inches to what is sold as dust, and sent out by truck and by freight car all through this part of the country. Much of it has been used for railroad ballast and the rest for road construc- tion and in concrete work.
The Westfield State Sanatorium was opened for tubercular patients in March, 1910, on a high plateau above the Westfield River valley. It is placed on a tract of one hundred and seventy-eight acres and consists of three wards and several service buildings as well as barns and farmhouses. The children are housed in a separate ward and have regular school sessions, craft work and clubs such as other children have. They give plays and have celebrations and are enter- tained with motion pictures. Occupational work for the adults helps along the curative powers of good food, rest, and sunshine.
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Westfield's two hundred and fiftieth anniversary celebration was a noteworthy occasion. It started on September 1, 1919, and except for a day of rain the elaborate exercises were carried out as planned. The historical exhibit gathered from the old families of the town far exceeded expectations. A pageant of events in Westfield's history, written by Mrs. Patty Lee Waterman Clark, was the main feature and had over five hundred performers in the cast. The military parade on September 3 included the 3d Cavalry Machine Gun Troop, Red Cross workers, Grand Army of the Republic veterans, the Worcester Continentals, Springfield Veterans of Foreign Wars, the Westfield Fire Department and over four hundred service men. The parade was reviewed by Governor Coolidge, former Governor Samuel W. McCall and Major-General Clarence R. Edwards, all of whom later made addresses after the unveiling of the General Shepard monu- ment. Though the program of sports had to be omitted, the celebra- tion was one worthy of Westfield's past history.
Two crossed wires were blamed for the fatal blaze in Westfield on the night of January 5, 1936, when six persons perished in the flames which consumed the Van Deusen Inn and a seventh person died from burns. All of the victims were well known in the city and one was Grace Fickett, a member of the Westfield State Teachers' Col- lege faculty. Another was a young man of seventeen, a student at the Westfield High School.
The Van Deusen Inn was a flimsy building with partitions of wall- board and no fire stops of any sort. The exterior was of cement-brick veneer and the fire escapes were inadequate. There were, however, fire extinguishers on all floors and an inside alarm system. About thirty-five people lived at the hotel, but many were away for the week end. So rapidly did the fire consume the building that eye-witnesses were few, except to the later stages, when nearly 15,000 people gathered at the scene.
Among the rescues effected was that of Marion Stearns, an elderly resident of the inn, by Amoret Van Deusen, fourteen-year-old daugh- ter of the proprietors. Some of the trapped tenants escaped over a roof and were taken from there by firemen. This was the most serious disaster ever to take place in Westfield.
REMINISCENCES OF ADDISON L. GREEN-During a big flood the Westfield River burst its dikes and the lower part of the town became
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a muddy Venice. Following the flood the work of reconstructing the dike began and the high school boys turned out to help, inspired alike by patriotism and a desire for the splendid compensation of two dol- lars a day. Their zeal was attested not only by lamed backs and blistered hands, but also by the fact that the professional laborers, unwilling to follow their pace, threatened to quit unless the boys were discharged, and so the boys went back to school. At this period the canal paralleled the tracks of the "Putty Railroad" and in winter fur- nished the first skating.
John H. Haldeman was principal of the Green District School and Abner Gibbs of the high school. Mr. Haldeman had an unusual ability for imparting knowledge, a distinct sense of humor, a quiet dignified manner, a real interest in his pupils' welfare and a character that left its impress upon all who were under him. He had the faculty of personal intimacy with each of his pupils and his interest in them did not cease when they left school.
When Mr. Gibbs was principal of the high school the old academy building formed a part of the high school building. Its bell tower, its distinctive New England architecture and its walls scratched and cut with the names of men long since passed to their fathers are well remembered. Mr. Gibbs possessed much sympathy, practical sense, a capacity for seeing the other fellow's position, and the kind of enthusiasm that is infectious and sure to touch a responsive chord. His work and influence were not bounded by the walls of the school, but extended throughout the town. This was partly the result of lectures that he used to give upon scientific and popular subjects, in which he frequently applied his learning to everyday problems. He had a sense of humor, though it was rather dry and repressed. One day, coming up from Latin class, I picked up a tiny mouse, which upon reaching my seat, I dropped upon the floor without any particular thought of consequences. In a moment the school was in an uproar. Girls were standing upon the seats and boys were making vociferous efforts to capture the mouse. For some time Mr. Gibbs was sure the mouse had been released by another pupil and directed him to stand up and began to tell him most vigorously what he thought of the pro- ceeding. Of course, there was nothing for me to do but rise and explain that I was the guilty party. Mr. Gibbs became silent, the school was expectant, but after a moment of consideration he said he
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would see me after school. When we met he said after a while : "You did the right thing to own up so promptly, but don't you think it was rather a silly performance?" I admitted it was and the inci- dent was closed.
The high school had a lyceum which met once a week and its exercises consisted of debates, recitations and essays. A critic was appointed and at the close of the meeting made such criticisms as he or she was capable of making upon the program. Secret societies were a part of school life, but their mysteries lay wholly in the significance of their names, the password and the grip. It used to be a favorite stunt for the presiding genius of the society to call a man on the floor and then hand him a subject upon which it was his duty to speak for three or five or ten minutes. The facility acquired by some of the boys in this impromptu work was surprising.
Mr. Phineas Buell managed the Athenaum and a democratic insti- tution it was. One might go by himself anywhere and pull down from the shelves the books he fancied, look at them as long as he liked and read what he pleased. Mr. Buell was much interested in phrenology and I remember once introducing him to my grandfather. He imme- diately viewed our heads, remarked upon the similarity of the con- formation, and stated that any one familiar with phrenology could tell our relationship. We went away without explaining that it was a step-grandfather.
There are some men who fire the imagination of the young and one of them was E. B. Gillett. I was quite young when I heard him speak in public, but I have yet a clear recollection of a striking coun- tenance, acquiline features, powerful but pleasing voice and impres- sive manners. Probably it was contrast that fixed this recollection so firmly in my mind, because the town was later visited by Benjamin F. Butler, who was then a candidate for the Governorship of Massa- chusetts. Perhaps I expected too much of an ex-general and a guber- natorial candidate, but how far short of Mr. Gillett did he seem to me in dignity, appearance, language and thought.
I remember how amused was Sarah Kneil, a teacher in the high school, when one St. Patrick's Day the principal was absent. The traditions of the school demanded that there be a lively demonstra- tion on that day. The school assembled verdant in green sashes, neck- ties and blouses, and if their footsteps had not been heard coming
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upstairs during devotions, two boys would have appeared in green coats and trousers. They were waylaid on the stairs and never per- mitted to reveal their glory to an expectant school. After devotions it was insisted that all articles of green be removed and their resumption that day was forbidden under threat of direst penalties. When school opened in the afternoon it was found that while the orders had been literally obeyed, everyone was then resplendent in orange.
"Squire" Fuller, a lovable character, always wore a silk hat and dark coat, carried a cane, and invariably entered his office in the morning smoking a cigar. He was practically certain to lay down his hat, his cane and his cigar upon the desk, and then his cane usually fell upon the floor and the cigar when resumed had about an even chance of having its lighted end placed in Mr. Fuller's mouth, evoking his favorite exclamation : "By Godfrey ! By Godfrey !"
We used to get up at daybreak and drive out to Southwick Ponds for pond lilies and return home in time for school. The girls provided sandwiches and cocoa for our early sunrise breakfast. There were dances, too, and sleigh rides and bus rides to Blandford, to Russell and Salmon Falls, and dancing there to the tune of Ben Chadwick's concertina and under the inspiration of his prompting; dancing, like- wise, in the big hall out at Frank Atwater's, where we all understood George Washington was once entertained. Then there were excur- sions or picnics along the various beauty spots that line the little river as it comes tumbling down the rocks from the "dry bridge." There was a great deal of social life among the young people of the town, but it was dependent upon their capacity to amuse themselves and led them to develop their own resources.
WESTFIELD IN THE LATE 'SEVENTIES, BY BERTHA M. FREEMAN -To one who spent only the years of childhood in Westfield the backward glance makes the town seem like a wondrous playground. There was enough of country, so that one was never cramped for room or stifled for lack of air. There was enough of city, so that the circus and the merry-go-round did not pass us by.
In the spring we went up the Blandford Road in Mr. Hull's ice cart and off into the woods for the sweetest May flower, the trailing arbutus. Later, we would fill our baskets with wild strawberries and the "youngsters" of the wintergreen. Behind the trees and knolls and an occasional barn we played hide-and-go-seek counting: "Eeny,
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meeny, miny mo, pesky-lony, bony stro, hull-gull boo ! Out goes you !" or perhaps we varied it with : "Catch a nigger by the toe, if he hollers let him go."
When the first of May came we went forth hanging gaily colored tissue paper May baskets, darting out and home again for fear of losing the fun of chasing the basket-hanger at our own door. On the thirtieth we decorated the Soldiers' Monument and walked behind the noble veterans of the Civil War.
At graduation time we went in groups to the pastures and hillsides for the mountain laurel. The tragedy of the big flood is lost in the wonderful experience that the days brought. First the schoolhouse basement was full of water and the school yard a sea of boards, boxes and sheds, so that avenue of fancied torture was closed. Then we could revel in fishing with the garden rake for the vegetables needed for dinner from the top cellar stair, or better yet go boating up our own street, catching treasures as they floated past. The devastation sat lightly upon us to whom floods furnished holidays. The settled spring brought marbles and kite-flying from many a hilltop. There were no telephone wires to catch our strings and spoil our tempers. There was croquet, too, and sometimes archery. Who can forget the firemen's muster, when the old-time tub vied with the modern engine in throwing a stream of water? We recall the awesome "Yellow Day," September 6, 1881. The schools were closed, President Gar- field lay dying and prophets said this was the end of the world, but still we lived on.
There were crisp, clear Saturdays when we filled the hayrack with shouting boys and girls with bulging baskets and started for the chest- nut trees on the Berkshire Hills. In the glow of the setting sun we piled back into the hayrack loaded with nuts, tired and bur-scratched, but radiantly happy. As we creaked and rattled down the hills toward home snatches of song with "Co-ca-chee-lunk, chee-lunk, chee lay-lee" and "Rig-a-jig-jig" announced our coming.
The joy of Westfield in winter could not be equaled. King Street had unexcelled coasting, with double-runners flying by in close suc- cession. When we feared the street was getting too much cut up, we used to turn the hose on at night and find beautiful glare ice in the morning.
WESTFIELD HIGH SCHOOL
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Friday nights, when there were no lessons to learn, we gathered in somebody's big kitchen, made pop-corn balls, pulled molasses candy and walked home in the moonlight.
The vivid nights of the torchlight processions stand out clearly in our recollections. We decorated our windows in red, white and blue paper and put candles behind them if the marching was in behalf of our particular political party, but, if not, our windows were ominously dark.
Valentine's Day was a day of uncertain rapture with laced and fringed paper messages.
The autograph album was the giver and receiver of youthful emotions :
"Over here-way out of sight I'll sign my name just out of spite."
THE HIGH SCHOOL IN 1862, BY S. J. FOWLER-The high school used to be kept in the first story of the town hall, which was pleasant for the students, because whenever there was a town meeting there was such a noise in the second story that school had to be dismissed.
On the first day of the term the teacher would ask the boys what they were going to study and one after another would answer : "Arith- metic, grammar and geography." Finally, the teacher got tired of hearing that and said: "Now, I've had enough of this arithmetic, grammar and geography. You boys have come here year after year and studied those three subjects, and if you haven't learned those things it is because you haven't brains enough to take them in. You have got to take something else. Take astronomy or algebra. At any rate arithmetic, grammar and geography cannot now be taken." And they weren't.
Lessons were not always learned in that school. Once all the boys in the class failed and the teacher lined them up with their faces toward the blackboard. Then he made circles on the board about three inches higher than the boys' noses and said to each: "Put your nose in the ring." This they all proceeded to do, standing on their tip-toes to accomplish it. That position becomes very tiresome and painful after awhile, so the boys reached one way and another until they got erasers and rubbed out the circles, putting in others about two inches lower, so that they could stand on their heels. When the teacher observed the heels on the floor he sauntered around and
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immediately raised the boys by an application of the heavy ruler he carried in his hand.
A boy misconducted himself once, but he had been thrashed so often in the usual way that the teacher knew it would do no good. So the boy was sent out of school to get a sapling to be flogged with. He returned after a half day's absence with a young pine tree about twenty feet long and two inches in diameter at the butt, with the bark nicely stripped off and handed it to the teacher, who quietly told him to take his seat.
CHANGES IN WESTFIELD, BY FRANCES FOWLER-The boys liked to walk barefoot on the fences and there were fences for every house- lot unless a hedge of arbor-vitæ took its place. Some fences were scenes of walking competitions. The one on Broad Street in front of the Alden house was easy, but in front of the Morgan house the rails were set edges up and walking was quite a toeing-in stunt. Lawn- mowers were not much used during the days of fences and the streets were seldom sprinkled. When fences began to go out of style in the early 'eighties a young man airily offered his company to a young woman, saying : "May I escort you to your gate ?" "Thank you," she said, "the gate is in the woodshed."
One of the joys of travel was to have the stage call for passengers. Someone asked once what sort of a woman a certain child had made, "for," said she, "the last time I saw her she was hanging on behind the old stagecoach." Then came "hacks" and we drove all around town to pick up other travelers, and happy was the youngster who was called for first. Later there was a small omnibus, but usually people walked. Before the big flood there was a covered bridge over the river and at the further end of it stood a huge elm tree. This was one of the finest known specimens of New England's famous elms and of more than local fame through Henry Ward Beecher's praise of its surpassing beauty.
Vehicular fashion has changed as much as anything and merely to think of the different kinds of wagons, carriages, carts, sleds and sleighs which sped over the roads of Hampden County is to set one's mental wheels in a whirl. Sleigh rides are even yet unsurpassed in many minds.
Great changes are seen in the ways of the kitchen. Even when bought poultry was usually plucked and dressed and vegetables cleaned
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at home, berries were sold at the door from pails to dishes, milk was poured out by measure into wide pans or pitchers and the genial milk- man would give a child a drink from the cover of his ten-quart tin can. Milk tickets passed from hand to pocket and from pocket to pan over and over again. Nearly everyone made sausages and headcheese at home and tried out the lard. How good the hot crisp "scraps" smelled on a cold night! A whole orange was rather self-indulgent and a bunch of bananas a wonder to behold.
In connection with water in the kitchen one remembers the changes from the wellsweep, the pump in the yard, the pump in the kitchen, the cold water faucet at the kitchen sink, and the luxury of the hot water tank back of the range to the water service enjoyed today. From water to fire is but a step and reminds us how recent and how devoid of widespread excitement is the present fire alarm system. For many years the bell of the First Church clanged out the fire warning and if it rang at night everybody jumped out of bed and pattered from window to window and even up the garret stairs to see where the sky was red. All the young men rushed to the blaze and were rather drowsily envied by those who went back to sleep.
Near the academy from whose old belfry the bell cast by Paul Revere rang out a call as important as the call he gave to the sleeping patriots was the old canal. Here many a school boy shyly put on some girl's skates and advanced thence to paying other and fonder atten- tions. Here budding chivalry slipped and slid into favor, and skill in curves and edges were shown off to admiring eyes.
Bates' Pond on Pleasant Street was a safe fishing place for both child and fish, the safest of skating places for small children, and quite large enough for practice before one advanced to the more public canal. Southwick Ponds was a charming, peaceful haunt for after- noon and evening, with lilies resting on its breast and Manatick keep- ing guard. The old flat-bottomed boats gave early rowing lessons, which were followed by the homeward drive behind the fast little mares over the dusty plains.
Church services have changed much in fifty years. A few mothers allowed their children to read Sunday school books during sermon time and the minister, Dr. Davis, said he was glad to see pews full of quiet children, whose mothers could give him their attention. Sun- day observance was much more strict than now and everybody went to
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church as a matter of course, sometimes to three services. One Sun- day word came to a farmer that his cattle had gotten out of the pas- ture on Montgomery Mountain and he went up to see about it, taking some of the children with him. On his return, while worshippers were passing the house on their way to afternoon service, the youngest child brought blushes to the parents' faces by holding up a pail of berries and calling out : "Oh, mamma, we got two quarts !"
When Dr. Davis died the Sunday school marched to the cemetery. Some who were too young rode with their parents in carriages, but it was a matter of pride to be old enough to trudge along the dusty road.
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