USA > Massachusetts > Essex County > Gloucester > In the heart of cape ann, or, the story of dogtown, 1906 > Part 2
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.At one time in her life, she decided to part with two rather long teeth that decorated each side of her upper jaw. They were not as long as Black "Neill's," which one old lady insists were fully an inch in length, nor as long as "Judy Rhines' ", but they were trouble- some, so she sent for " Granther Stannard" to act in the capacity of dentist. This must have been before the old gentleman became convinced that his legs were made of glass, and refused to use them, for he went over from his house on the " walled-in way." Tammy seated herself in a chair, and Capt. Stanwood took a firm hold with his nippers and soon a tooth
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gave way. Being a joker, he only drew it partly down, where it rested in plain sight, against her un- der lip. He then drew down the other to exactly the same length, and immediately afterwards announced, that owing to the obstinacy of the teeth, he could do no more for her. The pen refuses to record the torrent of picturesque language which history alleges was poured upon "Johnny Morgan's " luckless head. After worrying her awhile, the teeth were taken out.
CHAPTER III.
FROM FOX HILL OVER THE BACK ROAD.
N OTWITHSTANDING the various theories which have been brought forward to explain the original peopling of Dogtown and its mysterious decline, the writer believes it may all be traced to a circumstance which is in no sense mysterious, but on the contrary, just what might have been expected. This circumstance was the building of the bridge at Riverdale and the Goose Cove Dam, each making it possible to construct the road on the easterly side of the mill pond, and making what had been the road from Annisquam to the harbor a "back road." It is true the ancient map of the first parish made in 1741 or '42 does not show the back road as complete to the
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" Castle," but its present condition shows that it must have been extended in time, while Reynard street, leading to it, is one of Gloucester's oldest roads.
The reader can easily imagine the condition of af- fairs when the road from the Green northerly led only to Wheeler's Point. Then he must start from the Green through what is now Poplar street, turn up over Fox Hill, and wind down to Gravel Hill and across the moor to the vicinity of the Castle, and thence make his way over the hill by the Riggs house and around Goose Cove.
It will thus be seen that the central village of Dog- town was but a very short distance from the main road, while what is now Riverdale village is quite a distance from it. As old people tell us, it was then " going up into the city " to go to Dogtown. There was nothing singular at all that under those condi- tions-combined with the circumstance that the only land left for many Cape Anners in the last distribu- tion of the common lands (made in 1719) was in this vi- cinity-Dogtown should have thriven, and that when the building of both bridge and dam occurred, and the whole tide of travel left this road and went around the other way, Dogtown languished and died. It was something like a boom city in the West, which perishes when the railroad goes elsewhere.
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The facts that have been stated, then gave the home of Luce George and Tammy Younger importance, for almost everybody had to pass it.
Just beyond the cellar of Tammy Younger, after the turn in the road which brings one in sight of Riv- erdale, is the cellar of the first blacksmith in town, lying beside the travelled road, but still in the road- way. Here stood the shop of Joseph Allen, who came to Gloucester in 1674, being encouraged to set- tle by grants of land and a common right. He had two wives and seventeen children. One of the chil- dren, also named Joseph, became very wealthy, his home being on Poplar street, near the house so long occupied by Mr. Joseph A. Procter.
I think the blacksmith shop must have stood by the cellar, and the cellar have been that of the house, built by Allen (and occupied later by William Ste- vens, whose father married Anna Allen, Joseph's daughter), but known within the memory of persons now living as the "Noble " house, the Nobles being ancestors of numerous Riverdale people. At the corner of Reynard street is a house long occupied by William Carter, son of William and Annie Carter of Dogtown village, who married Rachel Noble.
The white cottage facing up the road immediately beyond is on the site of another old mansion which
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was standing before the back road became disused, Aunt Pamelia Allen being its occupant. Where the Tracy greenhouses are now located, opposite, was the home of John Wharf. When he died it became the property of his daughter " Poll," or Polly Boyn- ton. Her son sold it to the elder Tracy, who tore it down. Mrs. Boynton later married Oliver Younger. She was thus the ancestor of many of the Boyntons and Youngers of to-day.
Immediately adjoining the Wharf house was the Tristram Coffin house, remembered by many old people. Becky Rich lived where the piggery, at the foot of gravel hill, is, or was recently, located. She, like many others of the Dogtown fraternity, told for- tunes by means of coffee grounds. Mrs. Day after she was married, recalled going over to Aunt Rich's and having her tell of her beau "clear across the water." She says Aunt Becky was a nice old wom- an, but that little reliance was placed in her forecasts.
Opposite the home of Becky Rich was the house of Nathaniel Day. He was the grandson of Anthony Day, the emigrant, and married Mary Davis. He was the father of seventeen children, among them three pairs of twins. A son, Isaac, was gunner on the frigate Constitution, now being reconstructed at Charlestown. A man named John Liscomb at one
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time lived in one side of this old Day house. The late Eben Day, of Reynard street, as well as his brother, was born in this house, and played about the streets of Dogtown in their boyhood. It stood just beyond the barn, which is now there. The cellar has long been filled up. Liscom, referred to above, was generally called "Liscom John." Once he over- heard the remark:"Liscom John spilt all of 'Squam "; and he quickly retorted :
" If they're all as bad as you, 'Twas more than Liscom John could do."
At Brown's Plain, half way over the back road toward the Castle, lived Molly Millett. Later she lived at the Harbor on Back street, where Mr. Day recalled seeing her after she had become insane, fast- ened in her room with a clothes-stick. Next on the left was the house of a man named Emmons. Near the bars on the right hand side, as one turns in from Cherry street, lived Lyd Muzzy.
At one time in her life Aunt Rachel Smith, daugh- ter of Becky Rich, lived in the Castle. Later she lived in the house a little further on the back road from Molly Millett's. It was upon the hill, and the cellar remains. Then with her mother she went to Dogtown street, and lived in the Easter Carter house. After that she returned to the house on the hill. Here
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her son, Jack Bishop Smith, killed himself, and Aunt Rachel's sorrow over her loss is still vividly recalled.
"Aunt Smith" used to make a "dire drink," brewed from foxberry leaves, spruce tops, and other botanical specimens, which she was wont to peddle in the village, saying as she entered a house, "Now, ducky, I've come down to bring a dire drink, for I know you feel springish."
There were never many houses along this portion of the back road. Between the point where it met the Dogtown Commons road and the Castle stood the house of old Uncle Daniel Tucker, whose daughter Dorcas-" Dark Tucker," as she was called-nursed Judith Ryon in her last sickness. The Tucker house is still standing, a typical Dogtown dwelling, near the Castle on the Riverdale side and facing the back road. "Dark" Tucker was named for her great grandmother, Dorcas Lane.
It has always seemed to me that this back road more closely resembles the Scottish moors, as we read of them, than any portion of the Commons. About half way across to the Dogtown road formerly stood three houses in a row, while another stood on the opposite side. These houses were located where the boys now play ball,-" Brown's Plain," as it is called.
CHAPTER IV.
IN DOGTOWN VILLAGE.
IT is quite a little walk from the house of Becky
Rich, on the back road, up gravel hill, to the Vivian barn. This barn is a landmark, and here lived, in 1741, a man named Benjamin Newcomb, of whom nothing is known. When one reaches this point he is quite ready to enjoy the historic spots that lie before him. A few rods beyond the barn the road makes an abrupt turn and almost winds back upon itself. Just at this turn, on the right, is a split ledge, making a break in the stone wall that outlines the road. Into this crack in the ledge, a few years since, a misguided cow wandered. No human inge- nuity was capable of getting her out alive. Directly
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opposite is the site of the home of Joseph Clark, Jr. The cellar on the left, beyond the barn, which looks so much like a pile of rocks in a hollow, is that of Henry Davis. It is directly in the road, the yard not being walled.
The road, which has descended from the Vivian barn to this place, here begins to rise, and when it reaches a point a few rods further, where a fine view of Ipswich Bay, the Newburyport shore, and the West Gloucester hills is obtainable, the most celebrated cellar of Dogtown is seen. This is the reputed home of John Morgan Stanwood, who was many years ago made immortal by the muse of Hiram Rich in the pages of the Atlantic. It may be well for one to seat himself on the moss-covered door-stone and re- call the lines :
" Morgan Stanwood, patriot : Little more is known ; Nothing of his home is left But the door-step stone.
" Morgan Stanwood, to our thought You return once more ; Once again the meadows lift Daisies to your door.
" Once again the morn is sweet, Half the hay is down :-
Hark! what means that sudden clang From the distant town?
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" Larum bell and rolling drum Answer sea-borne guns ; Larum bell and rolling drum Summon Freedom's sons.
"And the mower thinks to him Cry both bell and drum, ' Morgan Stanwood, where art thou? Here th' invaders come.'
" Morgan Stanwood needs no more Bell and drum beat call; Hle is one who, hearing once, Answers once for all.
" Ne'er the mower murmured then, ' Half my grass is mown, Homespun isn't soldier wear, Each may save his own.'
" Fallen scythe and aftermath Lie forgotten now ; Winter needs may come and find But a barren mow.
" Down the musket comes. 'Good wife- Wife, a quicker flint ! ' And the face that questions face Hath no color in 't.
" ' Wife, if I am late to-night, Milk.the heifer first ; Ruth, if I'm not home at all, Worst has come to worst!'
" Morgan Stanwood sped along, Not the common road ; Over wall and hill top straight, Straight for death, he strode ;
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" Leaving her to hear at night Tread of burdened men, By the gate and through the gate, At the door and then-
" Ever after that to hear, When the grass is sweet,
Through the gate and through the night, Slowly coming feet.
" Morgan Stanwood's roof is gone ; Here the door-step lies ;
1
One may stand and think and think,- For the thought will rise,
" Were we where the meadow was. Mowing grass alone, Would we go the way he went, From this very stone?
" Were we on the door-step here, Parting for a day, Would we utter words as though Parting were for ave?
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" Would we? Heart, the hearth is dear. Meadow-math is sweet ;
Parting be as parting may, After all, we meet."
John Morgan Stanwood was the son of Nehemiah and Ruth (Morgan) Stanwood. The parish records show that he was baptized August 7, 1774. The poem, therefore could not refer to a Revolutionary experience. He died October 30, 1852, aged 7S. These dates so perplexed me, notwithstanding the tradition that Stanwood came back from the war a cripple, and the further fact that the children of Mrs. Dade, once a resident of the village, had- handed down her stories of the exploits of "Morgan Stan- nard," that I asked Mr. Rich his authority for the poem. He candidly confessed that although he wrote the lines with the full belief that Morgan Stanwood was the hero of the Rowe's Bank fight, Mr. Babson, the historian, later convinced him that Peter Lurvey, of Dogtown Commons, and not Stanwood, was the man who should have been immortalized.
It is quite evident, also, that Stanwood did not live in the house with the "door-step stone," for this is the cellar of John Clark, who resided there within the memory of men now living, and of his grand- father, Joseph Clark, Sr. This house, like most of
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those remaining in the early part of the century, was a small structure, perhaps 15×35, standing side to the road, with a door in the middle, and with an ordi- nary pitched roof. The cellars, which are generally 15 feet square, were under only one end of the houses. The Clark house became so decrepit that it was torn down in 1820. Clark must have died a short time before this date, and his wife and children removed to the Harbor. His daughter Naomi married Philip Priestly.
The next cellar on the left of the road, marked by a barberry bush, is that of this Philip Priestly, who is remembered as a hearty old man of 70, climbing a locust tree to view the festivities of the Harrison hard cider campaign in 1840. Nathaniel Babson, who helped tear down the Clark house, was formerly en- gaged in the freighting business from Gloucester to Boston, and Priestly was one his crew. Several per- sons who were born in this house, I am told, are still living. Priestly died Nov. 27, 1845, of consump- tion, at the age of 75.
Philip Priestly was the father of quite a family of children. One of these was Philip Priestly, well re- membered in Gloucester, another was Mrs. Hannah Curtis ; Eliza, who married Joseph Greenleaf ; Ann, who married a Smith ; and Jane. Philip's wife was
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Naomi Clark, as stated above. William Wilson, who married Sally Stevens, lived in the Priestly house two generations ago, and here were born John J. Wilson and three other children. One, Annie, married William H. Friend. These are well known and honored Gloucester names.
Opposite John Clark's house, already mentioned, was the home of William Pulcifer. Between Clark's and Philip Priestley's are two cellars, which some have incorrectly assumed were of farm buildings. One cellar is that of Arthur Wharf, son, probably, of Abraham, the suicide.
A large yard, enclosed by a stone wall, marks the site of the next house. Here lived Joseph Stevens, one of the most enterprising of the farmers of the village. I judge him to be the son of another Joseph, from the record of his baptism, Aug. 17, 1763, and have little doubt of his descent from Joseph Allen, as already stated. There is a large collection of foundation stones at this point, showing the location of the barn, with a passage leading to it from the house, the big shed for wagons, and the sheep pen. He kept more stock than any other man in the set- tlement. He laid claim to more land than any of his neighbors, and kept a good team, which was often in
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demand. His character is not highly spoken of, however, by those who recall him.
I am told by old residents of Riverdale that they well remember when the children of Joseph Stevens used to go to school in the old schoolhouse by the mill.
Directly opposite Stevens' house, on a knoll, stood the house of perhaps the most celebrated character in the village, Esther (or as she was commonly called, " Easter ") Carter. No cellar marks the spot, as there was none under it. It was the only two-story house standing in Dogtown proper, within the memory of any one now living. It was clapboarded, and the boards were fastened on with wooden pegs. A man who helped pull down the structure tells me he kept a number of the pegs as souvenirs for quite a while. Easter Carter was living in 1833. She was very poor, and it was a common custom for the young people of Riverdale and Annisquam to make excur- sions to her house, taking their lunches, and getting her to boil cabbage for them. The "cabbage dinner" partaken in picnic style, is still one of the popular institutions of Cape Ann. Easter Carter would tell the fortunes of the young people, doubtless linking their lives together in their forecasts in a way accept- able to the romantic. The walk home in the moon-
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light would be something to remember, as those Appalachians who have crossed the weird Dogtown pastures by moonlight in later years can testify. One staid old citizen recently informed me he had " often been up there with a parcel of girls."
Easter Carter was poor, but quite respectable, and undeserving of the distinction which classes her with other Dogtown dames of doubtful reputation. She was a single woman, and though pinched by poverty, very aristocratic. She did not like to have people think she, like some of her neighbors, subsisted on berries in the summer time. " I eats no trash," she remarked to a suggestion at one time. One bright Sunday afternoon the parents of David Dennison, with their small boy, went on a walk to the pastures, turning in by Easter Carter's house. He remembers that as they passed, she, divining that they were to pluck berries as refreshment, remarked, " The berries seem to hide this year."
Easter Carter was noted as a nurse. It was thought by the venerable Eli Morgan of Lanesville that Easter and her brother William came here from England, thus accounting for the silence of the town and parish records concerning them. A John Carter, apparent- ly her father, who married Jane Day, came to Cape Ann from England about 1741, as related elsewhere.
A TYPICAL DOGTOWN HOUSE.
1
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He says Joseph, a son of William and Annie, lived a long time in Lanesville.
I have said that Easter Carter was perfectly respect- able as well as aristocratic, and this character may to some have seemed incompatible with other state- ments. I have been somewhat mystified about it
myself. The truth seems to be that when Easter · Carter left the place, and the house of Becky Rich on the back road became too dilapidated for occu- pancy, she was taken up, bag and baggage, and in- stalled in Easter's house. Becky had a daughter, Rachel, widow of Thomas Smith, who went with her. It appears that the woman who told fortunes, boiled cabbage, baked Johnny cake, and made life merry for all the youth who visited her, was not Easter Carter, nor Becky Rich, but Rachel Smith. I am very positive that some old men I have talked with who as youths used to go up to Granny Rich's, confused her name with that of Easter Carter because of the house. But while it was admitted that many of the scenes of festivity connected with it occurred when Becky Rich lived there, it was insisted by peo- ple who must have known because they were there, that Easter, too, was wont to entertain the young people in it. At one time a party of young people collected a lot of wall paper-each bringing any
.
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pieces they had on hand-and went up and papered Easter's premises, the harlequin effect being quite pleasing to her, apparently. Easter left the house in her old age and was taken to the house of "Barberry" Wharf, in the old Proprietor's school house, on School street, where, tradition says, she was killed by kindness. Rachel Smith spent her last days in the Castle, which still stands near the " back road," her funeral being attended by the noted author, Rev. Z. A. Mudge, who preached in Riverdale, 1842-3.
Dogtown people had, as a rule, little use for but one story of a dwelling, and perhaps that was the reason that the upper floor of Easter's house was occu- pied by one of the most singular characters of the village. This was "Old Ruth." She was a mulatto, and doubtless was one of the manumitted slaves that abounded in Gloucester early in the century.
CHAPTER V.
"OLD RUTH AND GRANNY DAY."
THE old Ellery House, near the Green, formerly the parsonage of the first parish church, which stood behind it on the Green, and one of the finest samples of provincial or colonial architecture in ex- istence in New England, at one time had, if it does not have to-day, a slave pen under its roof. In the fine old gambrel-roofed mansion owned by Gustavus Babson, across the highway from the Ellery house, there is another. To whom " Old Ruth " belonged I
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cannot find out. She went by the name of "Tic," and also was known as " John Woodman."
The masculine cognomen fitted her better than the gentle name of Ruth, for until the closing days of her life she was never known to dress in feminine apparel. Perhaps she was the original " new woman." She was accustomed to doing a man's work, and dressed in men's clothing. Building stone walls and such heavy toil were her chief employments. She used to say that she worked out of doors when she was young because she had to do it, and that she wore men's clothing for the same reason, until she came to prefer it. When she was taken to the poor-house, she was obliged to conform to the customs of civilization and put on skirts. " A ledge beyond Easter Carter's still bears the name, " Ruth's Ledge," in her honor.
In a small hut in the same enclosure with Easter Carter's house lived Molly Stevens, old "Joe Stevens'" sister. No one keeps her memory green. She must have made life very unhappy for the gentle Easter, unless history is at fault.
Directly beyond this site, a pair of bars opening into the yard, and a big bowlder standing as a senti- nel in front, is the cellar of Annie Carter, wife of William, Easter Carter's brother, a record of whose baptism I find in the Fourth Parish, April 1, 1776.
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This was the last house taken down in the village. For some reason the place was always known as Annie's. After her death, William, with the chil- dren, moved away. Annie was known as " Granny Carter," and is said to have been a " little small woman." Perhaps I ought to say that my lamented friend Eben Day stoutly maintained that this cellar was that of Easter Carter and that Annie lived be- yond, the place being marked " Hetty Balch" on the plan. He said old Ruth climbed by outside stairs, which he remembered, to her quarters. John Low Babson and David Dennison are my authorities for a different view.
Two other cellars lie across the road from Annie Carter's, one being that of the house of good Deacon Winslow; and two, together with Joseph Stevens' potato hole, that may deceive the uninitiated, lie be- tween it and the cellar, on a rise of ground, formerly under the house, it is alleged, of Moll Jacobs, where Molly lived before taking up her abode in the Lurvey house, of which we shall speak later.
In an enclosure at this point are a number of small bowlders, marked, "First Attack," etc., thatare likely to mystify the visitor. One is marked, "James Merry died, Sept. 10, 1892." Mr. Merry was gored to death by a bull, his dead body being found by the rock
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bearing the second inscription. William A. Hodg- kins of Riverdale once gave the writer and a party of friends a very graphic description of this tragedy, as they stood at the spot. The marks were placed by Raymond P. Tarr and D. K. Goodwin, about a week after the death of Mr. Merry.
The Fifth Parish records say that " Moley Jakups, daughter of Isack and Molly, was baptized Jan. 31, 1763." Molly and Judy Rhines, with others, seem to have done a great deal to give to Dogtown a repu- tation which also was undeservedly conferred on Gloucester as a whole, so that the favored residents of Rockport were led for a generation to look down on a native of the larger place. No traditions, except those of a rather unsavory reputation, remain of Molly. Her cellar is the second on the right from a pair of bars, which now crosses the road.
Almost opposite the Jacobs cellar, on the left of the road, and just beyond the bars, is a well marked cellar, said to be all that remains of the home of Dorcas Foster. She was eight years old at the com- mencement of the Revolutionary war, having been born at the Harbor village. Her father left his fam- ily in this house for safety from the British, whom he feared might come and sack the town, and went to the war. George Wonson, who lived with his
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grandmother when a boy, recalls many of her stories of life in those troublous times.
Abraham Wharf she always referred to as " Neigh- bor Wharf," and called his wife "Aunt Wharf." The children used to be sent to the harbor village for supplies, and were accustomed to pay one dollar for a pound of tea, and for other necessary things in pro- portion. Little Dorcas naturally feared the British, sharing the terror which led to the growth of Dog- town, and one day when she saw seven soldiers, she started to run, without considering whether they were British or Continentals. She was reassured by one of them, who told her not to be frightened, as they would not hurt her. Her experience well illustrates the hardships of those and even later days, suffered by the brave residents of Cape Ann. Ezekiel W. Chard told me that in the embargo times the women of 'Squam would walk as far as Ipswich, going across the beach, to get a half bushel of meal, the distance being twelve miles. In those days it was very rare to get either bread or cake, he said.
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