USA > Rhode Island > Bristol County > Bristol > Sketches of old Bristol > Part 4
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Another odd character occasionally seen in town in my school days was Ben Mann,* an old servant and pensioner of Capt. James D'Wolf. He always appeared in town in a grey suit, wearing a short jacket over a coat. Ben had a love for New England rum, a love to which he was faithful unto death. Capt. D'Wolf recognizing the permanence of this affection left a pro- vision in his will, providing for a regular ration of rum for
*Benj. Mann (1788-1858), American, single, coachman for Senator D'Wolf for many years. When the family made the long trips to Washington in the heavy coach it was Ben Mann who handled the reins.
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Ben as long as he lived. One of the stories told of these two illus- trates the familiarity existing between them as master and man, and also old Ben's ready wit. "Capt. Jim", as he was generally called, was at that time managing an immense business. His ships going to all parts of the world, besides owning a large number of smaller vessels in the coasting trade, and running factories and farms. With so much on his mind it is not to be wondered at that one day after closing his office, he walked out in deep thought and took his way afoot to his residence east of the town, utterly forgetting his horse and chaise which was left standing in front of the office on Thames street. This absent-mindedness on the old gentleman's part necessitated old Ben's footing it to town to bring home the team, much to the latter's disgust. Shortly after this Ben was sent to town with the chaise and embraced the op- portunity to get drunk. When Ben's condition was discovered some friendly hands lifted him carefully and laid him in the bottom of the chaise, and, making the lines fast, started the horse towards home. The animal knowing the way pretty well turned all the corners safely and finally brought up at the gate and waited patiently for someone to open it. "Capt. Jim" looking down the lane and seeing the team without a driver walked down to investigate. Looking over the dasher he discovered Ben in a very limp and flabby condition. "Pretty drunk, Mr. Mann; pretty drunk," quietly observed the Captain. "Yes," said Ben- whose speech and whose wit were in normal condition-"but not so drunk but what I knew enough to bring the team home." This witty thrust at the Captain amused the latter immensely.
Other pensioners of Capt. Jim were the old colored "Darby and Joan", who lived in the little cottage just off Mount lane, east of Fox Hill. This couple were genuine Africans, having been brought from the "coast" when quite young and this century was still younger. Whatever "horrors" the "middle passage" had for them I know not, but in my time they seemed to be living peaceful, happy lives, having outlived the old Captain by many years and passing away not so many years ago.
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A favorite habit of this old couple in fine weather was the inspiration of that simple but touching poetical gem-
"Aguaway and Polydore A' sittin' on the cellar door."
I well remember the first menagerie, that is the first that we had ever seen, that came to town. A caravan it was called then, and was distinct from the circus proper. It came up from New- port, crossing the Ferry on the old horse-boat, all but the ele- phants, which swam across. It took three trips to ferry the outfit across in the old antiquated water wagon. Nearly the whole town was on the road to the ferry that morning, a large crowd was waiting at the old windmill which in those days stood just to the south of the site of the Herreshoff boat shops, near the junction of Hope and Walley streets. Few of us small boys had ever seen an elephant and it was all a great treat.
OLD-TIME FIREFIGHTERS
IN THOSE days No. I was located at the foot of Pump lane (State street); No. 2 and 3 at the foot of Church and Constitu- tion streets. The style of architecture of the station houses was the same with all. I especially remember No. 3, a square box of a building about 12 feet square. The door opened nearly the whole front and was securely fastened on the outside against any boy not big enough to reach the wooden button.
A copper box, green with verdigris, on four low wheels, held the simplest possible machinery for pumping water. Several leather buckets hung on the brake bars and a length of unservice- able hose (leather), a fifty-foot short, was strung along the top of the concern; no hose reel, no suction hose, but there were generally a few clam hoes in the corner of the house; its situation near the shore making it a convenient abiding place for baskets, seaweed forks and hoes belonging to the shore rangers of the neighborhood.
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Of course on an alarm of fire, anyone able to reach the button on the door had free access to the house, and generally the boys would get there first. Quite likely when any men arrived the engine would be out of the house and half capsized in the deep gully near by. The boys enjoyed a fire better in those days than now, they could "holler" and yell to their heart's content and had unlimited opportunities of making a nuisance of themselves, which they fully improved. I can only remember a few fires in my boyhood; the burning of the "Up-Town" Factory in 1843; the Butt Factory a few years later; and a little later the burning of the old Windmill, just below the Herreshoff place; and the fire of July 4, 1855, on the roof of the Baptist church. This last did hardly any damage and was only noteworthy from the re- markable presence of mind of the boy who "shinned" up the lightning rod to the roof and got the first water on the fire. I be- lieve now that all these engines had companies especially for them, but the only man I can remember as belonging to any of them was the late Samuel Taylor, who was I believe foreman of No. 2. I have heard in later years that the members of these companies used sometimes to meet together on festive occasions, styled "tripe suppers!" The fire in Fall River July 2d, 1843, which destroyed a large part of that town, though 12 miles away, was one that Bristol people were much interested in. It was plainly visible from this town, and on an appeal for help Bristol responded by sending the Hydraulion with a company to work it. I have always thought it a pretty quick piece of work for those slow times. That fire broke out early Sunday afternoon. When the serious extent of the disaster became apparent an express was sent over to Bristol by land for help. The company was mus- tered, the engine put on board a sloop, and Fall River was reached in time for the Hydraulion to do effective service in staying the flames and saving much valuable property. Fall River people were always very willing to give the Bristol com- pany full credit for the valuable assistance rendered at that time. As well as I can remember there was never a uniformed com- pany or a parade of local firemen in Bristol until the coming of
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the King Philip and the formation of that company. For a while after that machine came to town it was kept in the carriage house of James De Wolf Perry, just south of the down town factory. Its coming created great enthusiasm among the small boys and also those of older growth.
I think the uniform was blue shirt with red facings and black pants, with the regulation fire hat inscribed with the inspiring legend, "On to the rescue."
OLD BRISTOL REMINISCENCES
1840-1850 By GRAFTON W. GARDNER
FIFTY years ago there were some good old-fashioned people living in Bristol, and, as usual, the humorous side of character was generally found by us boys.
There was "Sam" Slocum, who used to go over to Pappoose- squaw and dig clams, wheel them home, wash them clean, and go out with a basket full of them to sell. He could be persuaded by no one, not even the late Gov. Byron Diman, to take twenty-five cents in change, but must have a silver quarter. How we boys used to pilfer his best clams which were always placed on top.
Then to see Sam on Sunday, dressed in a white suit, wearing a silk hat rather the worse for wear, going to church. Sam always attended the Congregational church and had one particular seat in the gallery. Sam had a temper when aroused, he being half- witted. One time we boys were tormenting him when he was sawing a load of wood for Capt. John Norris, who then lived on Church street. Sam got mad, real mad, and I bear the marks of that fun today, a large scar on my forehead. Sam loved the ladies and was extremely polite to them, and he was also fond of flow- ers. A buttonhole bouquet was Sam's delight.
There was Joseph Cade Waldron, who was familiarly called "Joe Cade". He was an old sailor who had spent many years of
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his life whaling. He was the hog-killer of the town. We boys used to watch Joe and follow him to a killing, so as to get the bladder for a football. We would get Job Barrus to make the cover and then we would put in our spare moments playing foot- ball. Ex-Lieut. Gov. Wardwell will remember those days when he was called "Dubbed Shins", for he could stand more kicking in the shins than any of the boys, never losing his temper, always smiling and ready to console the losers.
"Prof." Gushee was principal of the school and his punish- ment for any violation of school rules was a dose of "blue pill". Ask my old schoolmates, Governor Wardwell, Joe Burgess and others, why-for the "blue pill" was nothing more than a light, flexible piece of cowhide, painted blue-why, when one was sub- jected to a dose, certain parts of his anatomy burned and smarted for some time.
There was Ben Mott, the blind fellow, who counted as his friends about everybody in town. Ben, as everybody called him, had some odd sayings. The writer remembers well the comple- tion of the present Post Office and Custom House building. Ben was examining the location of the boxes, delivery windows and other parts of the new building, when Hezekiah Pitman, the postmaster, asked him what he thought of it. Ben grinned and said: "Why, it's as handy as a pocket in a shirt". Ben could go over the roughest streets in the town, blind as he was, better than most people. He was, in those days, looked upon as a good poli- tician. He had a good memory and could easily repeat an entire sermon. Ben was a faithful attendant and communicant of St. Michael's church.
Joe Springer, sexton of St. Michael's church, was another of the eccentric Bristolians who lived long ago. The old man had a habit, whenever the minister gave out notices of services, either in the church or vestry room, of jumping up and saying some- thing. Well do I remember how it used to worry and fret the old man just before Christmas when preparations were being made in the basement to decorate the church with evergreens. I recol- lect at one time when Rev. James Cooke gave out notice of an
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evening service in the church, old Mr. Springer, who was seated in the gallery, jumped up and in a loud voice cried out, "Mr. Cooke, there ain't any ile".
On the northwest corner of Hope and State streets, James M. Gooding conducted a watch and jewelry store. A crowd consist- ing of Samuel Church, Byron Diman, J. Russell Bullock, George H. Pearce, Capt. Gardner, Major Munroe, and many others used to wait there every night for the arrival of the Boston Eve- ning Journal. At that time Geo. W. Easterbrooks was the agent and distributor; he conducted a little store in the small brick building, on the south side of State street, one door from Hope street. This building was formerly occupied by Mr. Throop, the town clerk. While waiting they would pass the time in story- telling and in joking Sam Slocum about his clams, whenever he dropped in, and not infrequently Ben Mott would stand an atten- tive listener and a week afterwards would repeat every word that had been said.
Another of the old-timers was Josiah Gooding, father of James and Josephus Gooding. The old gentleman lived next south of the Durian Home. He had a bell so fixed that anyone opening or closing his store door would start the bell ringing, thereby notifying the family that someone was in the store. What fun we boys used to have opening the door, just to hear the bell ring. The good old man would come and look out of the door and go back only to be called again.
There was another store on the southwest corner of Thames street and Long Wharf kept by William Bradford, one of na- ture's noblemen. He kept a small store, and one would find in the winter time old and young men gathered around the fire, now and then sampling his cheese and crackers. I do not believe that Mr. Bradford could say "no" to anyone who said, "I believe I'll try some of your cheese and crackers, William". In the summer time you would find Capt. Blye, Capt. Willard, Herb Bosworth and Jonnie Rawson down on Long Wharf pitching pennies for amusement-gambling was unknown among our people in those days.
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James LeBaron, who lived on Church street and owned the rock building* on the corner of Church and Thames streets, kept a mixed store. Summer or winter he never appeared on the street without a snow-white cravat (then called neckerchief) and a tall beaver or silk hat. He rarely entered into conversation with any one and was considered eccentric in many respects, but a most worthy, and I firmly believe a Christian gentleman.
Where is the Bristol boy of those days, or man for that matter, who does not remember George Easterbrooks' famous oyster stews and clam chowders? The greatest of all of them for the last named dish was Capt. Richard Pearse; whenever a church fair was to be held the Captain was always asked to make the chowder. Oh, but it was different from the chowders of today.
There were the two Lawless brothers, both sea captains, who gave a merry affair every year.
Then there was William R. Taylor; he was colonel of the Train of Artillery for years. He kept a store down on Thames street. In later years he was our town treasurer.
There are so many memories of good old Bristolians of those days who are now gone, that it is almost impossible to record them all.
In those days the old Freemen's Bank, on the north side of State street, was presided over by Lemuel C. Richmond, and even now in my mind I can see the old gentleman with his little bag containing the keys of the bank, ready to open the bank at the appointed hour.
Where is the boy of those days who does not remember Mr. Barnes with his fife and Geo. Alger with his kettle drum playing on holidays until Bristol had a regular brass band; Mount Hope and Cold Springs for clambakes and picnics, where old and young met and played together; good old Dr. Jabez Holmes, with his bobtailed horse, "Billy"; and Dr. Lemuel Briggs, who always had a smile and a pleasant word for everyone. I think more boys rode in Dr. Holmes' buggy than in any other carriage in town.
*The Church Street House. Years ago it was known as "The LeBaron House".
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In those days to go and come from Boston was a great trip for one to take in one day; rise at 4 a. m., ride three hours in the stage to Providence, and then two and one-half hours by rail to Boston.
I believe the Fourth of July in those days was better and more fully celebrated in Bristol than in any place of its size in New England.
The editor of our local paper in those days was Wm. H. S. Bayley. He not only published the Phenix but embodied in his business that of auctioneer, administrator, etc. He was a fine man. Who of the boys does not remember his cheerful voice? There was a pleasant rivalry in the auction business between Mr. Bayley and Geo. H. Reynolds. Both men were quite opposite in disposition and appearance-the former being tall and slim, the latter heavy and stout. The Phenix was then published at Mr. Bayley's residence on Bradford street, the lower floor on the west side being used as a printing office and the east side as an auction room. Some very notable men lived and did business near to Mr. Bayley. Messadore Bennett was next neighbor, and was superintendent of the cotton mill known as the "Up Town Mill". He was another whole-souled man, always smiling and cheerful. Crawford Easterbrooks kept a general merchandise store just below Mr. Bayley, on the corner of Thames and Bradford streets. He was one of the "Selectmen" of our town. Coming up Brad- ford street toward Hope one came to John B. Munro's general store. He was another of the "Selectmen", and was also for a long period a member of the school committee. He was a good Christian and a kind man.
The corner of Hope and Bradford streets, northwest corner, was occupied as a town liquor store and was under the manage- ment of Hugh Gifford, under a sort of Maine liquor law. On the southwest corner was the Commercial Bank. Major Babbitt was president and Frederick Baars cashier. Major Babbitt was an- other good, jovial man, and we boys all liked him. The Major, Sam Church, Dr. Charles Doringh, Capt. Gardner, Geo. H. Pearce and Ben Mott were a team hard to beat. They were
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clever, social men, and when they got together stories upon stories were related by them. Then there were Nat Coggeshall, Stephen Church, W. H. DeWolf and Wm. Peckham. There was also Major Munroe, who lived on the Back road. What tricks we used to play on the Major. He drove a horse hitched to an old-fashioned chaise; his horse and Sam Church's horse were apparently of the same family. About dark one would find Sam's horse hitched in front of James M. Gooding's store, and the Major's in front of Dr. Briggs' drug store. Then the fun began; plans were laid to have strings from some limb fastened to the horse's bit. Often a piece of scantling would be run between the spokes across from one wheel to another, and similar devices which only boys could think of. Hiding behind the trees across the street we would watch them start, or try to start, for home; whipping and jerking the horses, but not advancing a foot. Sam Church was a man of very good, patient disposition, and would soon commence laughing and threaten the boys, but Major Munroe would just get "full mad", his language was not for refined ears; that was his way, but he was a kind man although he had a very quick temper.
Now, kind reader, have you forgotten the presiding judge, the one holding court, whenever occasion demanded? His name was Bennett J. Munro, and many reminiscences of him are still fresh in mind. He was looked upon with awe by the boys. One time about ten of us boys were arrested for disturbing the peace by set- ting off a bunch of firecrackers in the entrance to the school house. It was the day after the Fourth, and our desire to continue the celebration got the better of us. J. Russell Bullock was our law- yer and we all entered pleas of "not guilty". Now the funny part of it all was that only one boy was innocent, and the judge fined him and let all the rest of us go scot-free. We never could under- stand this, and always thought that the eloquence of our lawyer friend cleared us.
There was one gentleman of those olden days, Capt. John Norris, who never failed to give us boys good advice whenever he passed us on the street. Capt. Norris was a sedate, quiet man,
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never seen without his silk hat and a heavy walking stick. He was the chief owner of the Pokanoket Mill, then known as the "Down Town Mill". The two mills in town had the honor of being the fire alarm stations. If a fire was south of State street the "Down Town Mill" bell rang furiously; the "Up Town Mill" bell tolling slowly when the fire was north of that street. We had for a long time the Hydraulion engine, and also two tubs to which we had to carry water in buckets. The first named was a suction engine and in case of fire was usually placed down on the wharf. Later the King Philip No. 4, a side-bar engine was purchased, and a company formed with Major Babbitt as foreman. I was a member of that company. My services were only called for when the company paraded on special occasions, and then I carried a small banner; there were two of us for that service. The engine was on the south side of State street, near Hope street. In those days Hersey Bradford and daughter lived on the northwest cor- ner of Hope and State streets; the house at that time being flush with the street line. They lived there until death summoned them to a better home. The house was later purchased by Lieut .- Gov. Francis M. Dimond and moved back from the street.
Gov. Dimond built the house in which Capt. Gardner,* my father, lived and died. The house was built by Henry Warren and was then considered one of the finest houses in Bristol.
Gov. Dimond was a gentleman of the old school and a truly good and kind man. He had one son, Cornelius, who, with Messrs. Norris and Barns was interested in the Bristol Sugar Refinery. Then there was Potter Dimond, brother of the gov- ernor, who was collector of customs. His office was on Thames street, south of Wm. R. Taylor's hardware store.
The firm of A. T. & T. J. Usher, on Thames street, was en- gaged in the West India trade. Ask the boys of those days about hunting for long, smooth sticks and going down on the wharf to "lick 'lasses", when the bungs of the barrels were removed-and ofttimes were removed by us boys. Talk about onions; those
*Back in the year 1850 Capt. Joseph L. Gardner owned the Gardner's Planing Works. The works were situated just to the south of the old Cranston Worsted Mill.
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were times when more onions were grown than any other veg- etable, and Bristol was noted for its pretty girls and onions; as was Taunton for its bricks and herring.
The schoolhouses in my boyhood days were on High street- east side. The old Academy stood next north of the Methodist church. There were two grades, one upstairs presided over by Miss Shepard; in this school were scholars from 6 to 14 years of age. On the first floor was a school presided over by "Prof." Gushee. Later the "Select" school was started; its pupils were taken from "Prof." Gushee's department, and he and Miss Shepard then took charge of the Old Brick School, ranging in grades from Primary to Grammar School. All scholars in the latter were eligible upon examination to be transferred to the "Select" School. "Prof." Jillson, I believe was the teacher. He at the first abolished corporal punishment and appealed to our good instincts for good conduct. He only held the position for one year, and on account of ill health resigned. Words fail to de- scribe him as he deserved; when he shook hands with us all were in tears.
The next teacher of the school was Lafayette Burr, he re- mained for two years. His educational abilities were beyond question, but his practical knowledge of running a school was very slight, and, as a result, the school did not flourish so well and frequent lapses of discipline were common. He was fol- lowed by Dr. Nathan B. Cooke; his work as a teacher was rather difficult at first, but in time the boys gave in and the school flour- ished under his management. The old Academy had its history, and many of the townspeople went to school in that old building.
At that time Rev. Thomas Shepard aided many of the youths of the town in their preparations to enter Brown University.
In those days Bristol could boast of some very good private schools. Miss Charlotte Fales kept one, it was in the second story of the building at the northeast corner of Hope and Church streets. Two things I am positive of: Miss Fales wore spectacles, and kept a red-handled whip with which she administered casti- gation when necessary, without leaving her seat. Then there was
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old Mrs. Nye, who kept a small school in her own dwelling house on Hope street. She had a few pupils and was almost too kind for a teacher. The Misses French kept a school on Hope street, op- posite the Cushman homestead and Eagle Bank. Mary Dexter Wyatt also kept private school, but I cannot recall where.
Bristol had some good staunch men for school committee, the chief among them being Rev. Dr. Shepard, John B. Munro, Wm. P. Monro, and others whose names I cannot recall. Three months was the usual term of attendance. Vacations were only of a few weeks, I cannot say how many, but we all thought that like the recess periods they were much too short.
As I am writing about Bristol and its people as they were in 1840-1850, I want to mention an old negro named Pauledore, who lived in a small house on "Mount Hope lane", as it was called in those days. He was sort of an attache of the D'Wolf family, and was a native of Africa. When very young he was brought to this country on a slaver owned by Capt. James D'Wolf. Here let me remark that our little state was one of the first to import and hold negroes as slaves. We boys used to visit him often, when the old negro would tell us stories by the hour. We all had a great respect for old Pauledore.
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