USA > Rhode Island > Bristol County > Bristol > Sketches of old Bristol > Part 3
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"One time he went to the house of a relative, he had neglected to give his hands the much needed washing. 'What would you say if I came to your house with hands like yours?' he was asked. 'I'd be too polite to say anything about it,' was the reply."
"Senator James D'Wolf enjoyed Sammy's wit and sometimes suffered from it. The little fellow often paid his respects to the senator at the Mount, his beautiful home east of the town. One
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time he treated Sammy to a small glass or 'pony' of fine old brandy, telling him it was very rare and at least forty years old. Sammy looked at the little glass in front of him and remarked, 'It's mighty small, Senator, for its age.'"
"General George D'Wolf once remarked that he had never played a game of cards for money, attended a horse race, or trav- elled free. 'I wish I could say as much,' Senator D'Wolf com- mented. 'Why don't you,' said Sammy, 'the General does.' This General George D'Wolf at one time came out in a new uni- form, it so delighted Sammy that the general had him measured and fitted for one just like it. This gave the little fellow un- bounded delight and on all state occasions he would come out in his little scarlet coat and cape."
"Sammy dearly loved cider and one time he had a barrel of it in partnership with a neighbor; the quantity seemed so ample that it was arranged with an end on both premises, nicely fitted with a spigot in each head. Not long after the neighbor went to draw some cider and found the barrel empty. 'How is this, Mr. Usher?' he asked. 'I don't know,' replied Sammy, 'I've only drawn from my end.' "
As he grew old and his means were drawing to an end he was often invited out to his meals. Sometimes when these invitations were not forthcoming he would call about meal time and remark, "I haven't had any dinner since yesterday and tomorrow will make three days since I had any," and this usually brought an invitation to stay. As he grew old he missed the company of his friends that he had enjoyed for so many years-nearly all of them had long since passed on-he was an old man and beginning to feel that he was alone in the world. The yellow satin breeches and blue coat had long ago worn out; the lace frills and cocked hat had become shabby, but sparks of the old wit still flashed. He lived in a little house on one of the side streets; the house was flush with the pavement and the street line. His wants, as far as possible, were looked after by two kind old ladies, maiden sisters, old friends of the family; the good old souls, from their slender means cared for him, as he grew feebler, up to the last. Finally
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the end came, on the 27th of September, 1833. The pathetic little form was laid in the coffin, his beloved scarlet cloak wrapped around him; the funeral was held from the little chapel, most of the townsfolk were there to pay their final respects to the little figure they had known for so many years.
The following sketch of Sammy Usher was written by Dr. S. C. Smith* in 1875.
When I was a boy Bristol had its share of oddities and notabil- ities. Chief among its eccentric characters was Sammy Usher, who doubtless will be remembered by all of the older generation. Sammy was the son of one of our earliest Episcopal clergymen. He was a dwarf and from congenital imperfection of vision and intellect had never learned to read. He was of good family and at one time was in possession of some landed property which he rented. The income from this and what he received from the old friends of his father and other benevolent persons was sufficient for his maintenance. I believe he never became a town charge in his old age but at the last was cared for by two kind old ladies, with whom he made his home.
The last time I met Sammy was many years ago, while on a summer vacation trip to Bristol. We chanced to meet at the store of Pardon Handy on Long Wharf. Sammy had come for his customary glass of cider, of which he had always been very fond. He learned who I was, and having known my father, entered in a long talk with me. While we were talking, Deacon Thrasher, who had been a regular tenant of Sammy's small garden lot, called to renew the lease. The deacon approached and inter- rupted Sammy while he was in the middle of one of his early reminiscences. For some minutes the little fellow seemed to ignore entirely the presence of his tenant; but at length, when the deacon became more persistent, he turned suddenly upon him with a very supercillious manner and with his peculiar high- pitched and child-like voice demanded, "What do you want,
*Dr. S. C. Smith was born in this town in 1814. In 1825 he removed to the State of Wiscon- sin. Years ago he wrote a number of interesting sketches about his early life in Bristol. These appeared in the Phenix under the pen-name, "Perry Winckle". It was not generally known until long after his death (1876) that they were from his pen.
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sirrah?" "Mr. Usher," very respectfully answered the deacon, "I would like to renew the lease of your lot." "Well, sir," squeaked out Sammy, highly incensed at the intrusion and haughtily eyeing the deacon from head to foot, "don't you know better than to interrupt gentlemen when engaged in conversa- tion? Call at my house, sir, at three o'clock p. m. and I will give you a categorical answer-now go," and he waved him majesti- cally toward the door.
Sammy's home at this time was an attic room in the dwelling of his benevolent old friends who from their own slender means supplied him with food and lodging. Like many others of small mental calibre Sammy would sometimes make very sharp and witty replies. His reply to a couple of young Bostonians I have often heard repeated when I was a boy. Two young bloods from the Hub, meeting Sammy at the hotel, thinking to have their fun with the little fellow, looked down upon him with apparent sur- prise, and one of them enquired, "Ah! what little fellow is this?" Sammy drew himself up to his greatest height and without an instant's hesitation answered, "Be gad! sir, my name is Saul, the son of Kish-looking for my father's asses-and now I've found 'em!"
On another occasion, Sammy, who had been the owner of a hungry equine which he was fond of riding through the streets of the village and which for the want of oats had died, chanced to meet a gentleman, long since dead, who saluted him by saying, "Ah! Mr. Usher, I see you have to go on foot now-you are one of the hasbeens." "Yes," squealed Sammy, indignant that his poverty should be so ungently thrown at him, "Yes, sir-and I believe that you are now one of the hasbeens-you used to walk the upper deck of a man-of-war, sir, now you walk the land." The gentleman had formerly been a naval officer but had been dismissed from the service.
Sammy was proud of his ancestry and inclined to regard with haughty contempt those who had to labor for a livelihood. One day a gentleman now among the stolid men of the village but who at that time was the owner of a small seaweed sloop-and
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used to bring in loads of that useful fertilizer-saw Sammy standing on the wharf as his boat ran up into the dock. He hailed him with a "Good morning, Mr. Usher." Sammy did not return the salutation. Thinking perhaps he was not heard, the boatman repeated the salutation and added "a pleasant morning, sir." Sammy would not condescend a reply to the friendly salute, but turning to Captain Browning, who happened to be passing, ex- claimed, "Only look, sir, at the impudence of that kelp gatherer trying to pass syllogisms with a gentleman."
One time Sammy met in the hotel where he was in the habit of passing his time, Parker Borden. Parker occasionally amused himself by drawing out our little friend and often came out second-best. "Sammy," said he, "how long does a fool live?" "I don't know," was the quick reply, "how old are you, Parker?"
Sammy lived to be very old and destitute; his fine clothes had long since worn out and his dress was very shabby. What was remarkable, after he was over seventy, he had an entire third set of teeth and partially recovered his hearing which had been de- fective for many years.
Note-In view of what has come down to us concerning Sammy's pecuniary circumstances, the following may shed a little light on the matter:
"He was cared for by his father, the Rev. John Usher, jr., until the latter's death in 1804, who left the bulk of his small estate in trust; and at her death in 1812, his sister Hannah Usher Robecheaux left her property in trust. So it would seem that he could not have been in such dire need as reference might indicate."
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BRISTOL in 1840 Written in 1907 by "OLD BRISTOLIAN"
MY MEMORY extends back to sixty-seven years ago, before either of the mills on Thames street or the old sugar house were built; when there was no depot here, and long before the cars came to Bristol; no boat-building shops nor rubber company plant in town; not a house on Mount lane, as it was called then, or any of the avenues leading to it. There was one house that stood on what is called Gooding's avenue, occupied by a colored family, former slaves of Capt. James D'Wolf, he having brought them from Africa. They were called Pauledore and Adjua, and they had quite a large family of girls. There was another small square house standing in the street at the entrance of DeWolf avenue, which was occupied by an old colored couple; the man's name was Ichabod, and the wife's Barbara.
The street now called Catherine street, when I was a boy was a rope walk owned by Benjamin Tilley, grandfather of Rear Admiral Benjamin F. Tilley of the U. S. Navy. This rope walk extended east from Wood street as far as where the N. I. R. Co. pumping station now stands on Mount Hope avenue, and did a very large business in the manufacture of rope, cables, and rig- ging for vessels in all the New England states. The men who worked there were all old townsmen; Aaron Easterbrooks, John Easterbrooks, Joseph Springer, Samuel Sparks, John Howland Pitman, and many others whose names I am unable to recall.
The square now enclosed by High, Walley, Hope, and Bur- ton streets contained when I was a small boy only three dwelling houses. One of them on Hope street was owned by Lemuel C. Richmond who owned a large part of the square. There were two houses on Burton street; one of them owned by John Diman, a cooper by trade, and the other by Leonard Waldron, a gardener growing large quantities of onions, and carrots. Mr. Richmond was a large landowner in the south part of the town at that time
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and carried on farming extensively, growing corn, potatoes, wheat, and hay. He also owned a large herd of cows. He was the cashier of the old Freeman's bank on State street which was located in the building now owned by Richard S. Gladding.
The square bounded by High, Burton, Wood, and Walley streets then contained but two houses, which were on High street. One was owned by Richard Waldron, and has been moved to the upper part of the town within a few years. It formerly stood where Mrs. John Simmons now lives. The other house stood where the Codman mansion now is. William Lawless, father of the late Capt. James Lawless, lived there; it was later taken down to make room for the present large house. The street now called Bay View avenue, was then called Crooked lane. When I was a small boy there was but one house on this lane; it was owned by George B. Monro, and is still standing-a gamble- roofed house facing west.
Sixty-five years ago there were three wharfs in the north part of the town. The one farthest north was called Pearse's wharf, owned by William Pearse, father of the late John Wesley Pearse, an honest upright man. The next wharf south was owned by Thomas Church, who was engaged in the export and import trade with Cuba; he exported large quantites of hoops, which were used in making hogsheads for molasses, which he imported to Bristol. He also exported large quantities of potatoes and onions to Cuba. He lived on the farm owned by the late Ben- jamin Church on Poppasquash. He was the father of the late Samuel W. Church, State Senator for many years, and no one had reason to complain of his integrity, for he was an honest man, whose word was as good as any man's bond. Stephen T. Church, his brother, was fully his equal in every respect. The next wharf south of Church's wharf was Peck's wharf, and was owned by Nicholas Peck.
In 1840, the time we are writing about, there were two wharves, where the "Sugar House" now stands. The north wharf belonged to James White, who formerly lived in and owned the house which is now the Old Ladies' Home, on lower
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Franklin street, and which was given to the town by his son, James White of Newport. James White, sr. used this wharf for storing wood, in which he was a large dealer, for that was before coal was generally used by families in the town. The first coal brought here was a small quantity in large lumps, brought here on the deck of a vessel, and given to people for a trial. The owner of this coal was James DeWolf Perry, father of the late Major Raymond H. Perry. At that time there were no stoves in town, except the old-fashioned wood stoves without grates. Of course the coal would not burn in these stoves, and those who tried it, pronounced the coal "nothing but black stones," and continued to burn wood for sometime after. Mr. Perry later kept a small coal yard at the foot of Constitution street where the railroad station now is. David Waldron was salesman for him for a long time. They had no delivery teams, as there was such a small amount used, so the coal was carted by the local teamsters.
The wharf south of James White's wharf, was owned by Capt. John Norris, father of the late Col. Samuel Norris. Upon this wharf (in 1849) was built the sugar refinery, by Horace M. Barns, Samuel Norris, and C. R. Dimond, who carried on a large business in refining sugar. The firm name was C. R. Dimond & Co. The business was not successful, and it was afterwards bought by three enterprising young men from New York, Hugh N. Camp, Edward W. Brunsen, and Charles Sherry, who made extensive additions to the works, and did a prosperous business, all becoming wealthy, and retiring. Afterwards Mr. Brunsen bought the works and formed a new company called the Phenix Sugar Refining Co. Mr. Brunsen was president, and a Mr. Chapman of New York was treasurer. The stockholders were all Bristol people. The enterprise proved a failure, and wound up after making two assessments upon the stockholders.
At the time the principal stockholders were: Maj. Henry Goff, Sam Drury Wardwell, Wm. T. C. Wardwell, John B. Munro, James A. Miller, Alfred Pierce, Capt. Allen M. New- man, Seth Paull, J. Howard Manchester, Capt. William H. West, Benjamin West, Nathan N. Cole, and Nehemiah Cole.
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The wharf south of the old sugar house was occupied by Crawford Easterbrooks, who kept a wholesale provision and grain store. After his death Hezekiah Wardwell kept a lumber yard on the wharf. Before the Namquit Mill was built, the wharf south of the Wardwell wharf was used for ship building, and several ships of large tonnage, for those times, were built there. The next wharf south was Dimond's wharf.
The wharf now owned by the Seth Paull Co. formerly be- longed to James D'Wolf. He carried on a large trade with the East Indies, Africa, Russia and other parts of the world, and manufactured New England rum in one of the large buildings still standing on the south side of the wharf, and called yet the "still house". Mr. D'Wolf was reputed to be a very rich man, for those days; he owned the bank called the Bank of Bristol. Samuel Smith was the cashier, he carried the keys to the banking rooms and the vault in a green flannel bag about twelve inches long and eight wide. The keys were the common, old barn-door type, weighing about one pound each, and one would think that the old cashier was carrying the keys of King Solomon's Temple. The bank was located in the brick building just south of the Seth Paull Co's. coal office on Thames street. The bank bill's would hardly pass outside of the state; I have offered them in New York, and they were thrown back to me as "no good". It was the same with all our State banks before the Civil War, the bills were worth, outside the state, about as much as a last year's almanac.
The wharf south of the D'Wolf wharf was owned by Ephraim Gifford, grandfather of Samuel Drury Wardwell and William T. C. Wardwell. It was used by A. T. & T. J. Usher, who were engaged in extensive export and import trade with Cuba. They imported large quantities of molasses, and owned and chartered a big fleet of vessels, and gave employment to many people. They bought nearly all of the onions that were then raised in Bristol county, which usually amounted to from 100,000 to I 50,000 bushels a year. The old saying among the growers of onions was: "What the smut and worms don't take the Ushers will."
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Following are some of the men who were masters of the Ushers' fleet: Benj. B. Usher, Geo. F. Usher, William Munro, Richard S. Pearse, Davis Ingraham, Geo. Coggeshall, Capt. Zeete, William Hunt, Capt. Johnson, father of Chas. A. John- son, the grocer, Isaac Camm, Charles D. Eddy, Geo. Wilson, Job Wilson, Stephen T. Williston, Jobe Williston, Harvey Fer- guson, Samuel Wells, (or one-armed Sam, as the boys used to call him).
The wharf south of the Gifford wharf, was owned by the Fall River Iron Works Co., which ran a line of boats from Fall River to Providence for about 70 years and made a landing at Bristol Ferry and Bristol each way, every day in the year except Sunday, whenever the weather would permit, and "it was a bad day when she missed a trip". The name of the first boat to run on this line was the King Phillip, the next was the Bradford Durfee, then followed the Conanicus and the Richard Borden. Seth Durfee was clerk for many years, and William Dimond did the collect- ing, and carting of the freight for a great many years. Mr. Dimond always carried the bills to collect in his old plug hat, and a great many bills went wrong when that old hat blew off. Harry Dimond was collector after the death of William; and after Harry came William James Dimond, who died a few years ago.
The next wharf south of the Steamboat wharf was Sprague's wharf ;* it was owned by Ephraim Sprague, who used it for wharfage for the public and anyone who landed anything on it and did not pay the wharfage was pretty smart.
The wharf south of the Sprague wharf was owned by Robert Rogers and Jacob Babbitt, the latter being the grandfather of the late Edward S. Babbitt. Mr. Rogers was engaged in the importa- tion of iron and hemp, and owned a number of ships. Capt. Wil- liam Mosher was one of his ship masters. The wharf south of Babbitt's, so called, was formerly owned by Capt. Charles D'Wolf, brother of James D'Wolf. James DeWolf Perry lived
*August, 1865: "Bank of Bristol sold to National Rubber Co. the wharf estate on Thames street at the foot of Church street, known as "Sprague's Wharf, for $3390."
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in the Charles D'Wolf mansion which was nearby, when I was a boy, and it was one of the most beautiful places in Bristol. Later the house was used as a boarding house. Capt. Joseph L. Gardner, who owned the house where Dr. Gallup now lives, on Hope street, built a large establishment on the grounds for a saw mill, block making, blacksmithing, and many other businesses. Gen. A. E. Burnside also built a shop to manufacture firearms, which was all completed and was to start operations "the following Monday morning", but before Monday morning came a fire de- stroyed the entire plant. That was over 50 years ago. The wharf south of the Capt. Charles D'Wolf wharf was owned by Capt. Samuel Gladding, and was of great use in my time.
The wharf south of the Gladding wharf was where the Herre- shoff boat building is now carried on. Back in the year 1840 it was a small tumble-down affair, with a small building at the head of it, on Hope street. Here a man named Slocum started the manufacture of what is said to have been the first headed pins made in this country. After that John W. Dearth began the manufacture of soap. Then Capt. Hugh N. Gifford began the tanning of hides there, but none of them made any money, so gave it up.
When I was a boy the southeast quarter of our common was a burial ground, with a high stone wall on three sides, the north, west and south sides. On the east side there was a board or rail fence. At that time there were a great many graves in the en- closure; but back in the fifties all the bodies were taken up and reburied over in the East Burial Ground. In those days there were many fine gravestones marking the last resting place of the old settlers; these were all removed to the East Burial Ground at the time. One can still see today where the old road leading to the cemetery used to be; just to the south of the Court House there is a rise in the ground showing where the roadway used to be. On the east side of the Common there used to be a small building about 1 5 or 20 feet square, where the Train of Artillery used to keep their cannon or "wheel pieces" as they were called .*
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The King Philip fire engine was housed in a barn near the "Mansion House" when it first came to Bristol, some sixty odd years ago. The old engine has done her duty in years gone by, and saved a great many thousand dollars in Bristol on many a bitter cold night; she is entitled to all the credit possible. Sixty- five years ago there were four fire engines in town. One was called the Hydraulion, and was then considered a great fire fighter. She was equipped with a suction hose and all the latest improvements of the times for fighting fires.
There were three other engines, all very small affairs, called No. I, No. 2, and No. 3. One was housed in a small building at the foot of Bradford street, one at the foot of Church street, and one at the foot of Constitution street. The engines were equipped with about 50 feet of leather hose and 12 or 15 leather fire buckets with the engine's number painted on them. It was the law at that time for every person who owned a house in town to have two fire buckets hanging in the front hall or entry of the house, with his name on each bucket. When there was a fire in town every man was expected to take his buckets to the fire and help pass water along to fill the "tubs". At the big fires the men formed in one line, passing the filled buckets along, while the women formed another line, passing the empty ones back to be refilled. The big powerful men of the community manned the bars of the old pumpers.
As for the stages running out of Bristol there were three lines. John Chadwick and Nathan Warren each ran a line to Prov- idence, and I think the last mentioned owned the line to Fall River. I presume the Providence lines ceased when the railroad was built. The last driver I remember on the Fall River line was Frank Manchester, now I believe a resident of Providence.
Bristol had in those old days its share of queer characters, persons whose mental or physical peculiarities or eccentricities marked them as oddities in the community. Sammy Usher died
*"Parson" Wight's records, 1800-"Gun-House for the Artillery Co., east of the Public Square." Town-Meeting records of 1843-"Wm. R. Taylor was appointed a committee to dispose of the old Gun-House on the Common."
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before my time, and I judge must have been decidedly a "char- acter". Many were the stories told of him in my boyhood. Dr. Henry Turner of Newport, who was much interested in, and was an authority on, Rhode Island history expressed a wish to me some time before his death that an account of Sammy Usher's life and career might be preserved in its appropriate place in the history of the state. Sam Oxx and Sam Slocum flourished in my day. The latter's mission seemed to be to furnish amusement to several generations of boys. How proud Sammy looked when he made his appearance about 9 o'clock in the forenoon of the Fourth of July at Gooding's corner in his immaculate white suit and his immense brass breast pin, to which he exultingly called his friends attention. Alas! Sammy hardly ever got far past that corner before some bad boy would manage to get a bunch of lighted firecrackers in the pocket of that white jacket. What a "circus", too, to see Sammy another day, rushing pell mell down "Pump lane" in chase of the boy who had just stolen his basket, trundling his wheelbarrow ahead of him to keep the boy's wicked confederate from stealing that too. But when Sammy was pressed too hard he would take to stones, and then the boys must look out, as he could generally "get there" with a stone. I remember one boy he hit in the back with a rock that nearly put an end to that boy's fun for good and all. In early life Sammy had a sort of secondhand interest in the "Great Metropolis", having as he declared, a brother who kept a "cookie stand" "right round the corner in New York".
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