USA > Rhode Island > The "Old Stone Bank" history of Rhode Island, Vol. IV > Part 23
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coaches, and were cradled upon carriage springs, the only important alteration being the installation of wheels with flanges.
Referring again to the noise and terrify- ing aspects of the pioneer rail fliers, we find that, in the beginning, the good people of Stonington feared that the new fire-ma- chines or locomotives would set the town ablaze with their spark-belching chim- neys, and so, on August 9, 1837, the free- men met to discuss the impending danger. They voted to have the town fathers "frame a Bye-Law to prevent the passing within the limits of the Borough of Loco- motive Engines propell'd by Steam and to affix penalties." Forthwith, Mr. Whistler was warned officially not to lay rails in or across any of the town streets. Rails did eventually run through the village di- rectly to the steamboat wharf, but the first trains were halted beyond the then settled portion of the town, and hauled to the docks by horse power.
Well does the Historian remember the extreme western end of this early railroad line that in his time was a branch that left the Shore Line, so called, east of the Borough at the Stonington Junction. The tracks were still there and used often during his boyhood because the railroad wharf property was then utilized for repairing Sound Steamers, and for a considerable period, the old Stonington Line Steamers, taken away about the turn of the century, returned to the old port until repairs were made to the fire- damaged piers in New London.
Taking a hand at raising and lowering crossing gates, exciting rides in the cab of a switching engine, talking with the cross- ing tender, whose chosen occupation seemed to be the most desirable that could be hoped for, climbing atop aban-
doned freight cars, riding around on the old roundhouse turntable, the morning of the tragic train wreck at the Junction, all are vivid memories of what the author knew first hand of what had survived in his day of Rhode Island's second railroad line and the first to be operated on Con- necticut soil.
As time went on, Rhode Island became railroad-minded, and other roads followed in rapid succession. The Providence and
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Worcester came in 1844, and the Provi- dence and Plainfield, formed in 1845, soon merged with another road to form the Hartford, Providence and Fishkill, whose line to Willimantic was opened in 1854. The lines to Pascoag and Franklin came soon after, and Bristol was connected to Providence by rail in 1855. Then came the road from Warren to Fall River, and later, the extension to Newport.
From the standpoint of importance in the record of American railway expansion, the Stonington Road remains as the one historic steam road of the State. It grew in significance as link after link was made with other roads to form the Shore Line between Boston and New York, and its existence probably hurried railroad pro- moters in Connecticut to bridge river after river and finally join their rails with those that Major Whistler wisely laid, over a hundred years ago, to reach the more pop- ulous sections of Rhode Island, avoiding the heavy grades and unsettled portions of the western part of the State.
Rhode Island's pioneer railroads were built to serve as adjuncts to the existing lines of water travel, but this original purpose was soon forgotten as the rail-
roads gradually enmeshed this section of New England in a network of branch lines, providing the bloodstreams of trade and travel. Inland towns soon became manufacturing centers because the rail- road could bring raw materials to their mills and factories and take away the finished products to larger shipping centers. The coming of the railroad quickly marked the end of turnpikes and stages, and it also marked the gradual decline of local travel and transportation by water.
Many believe that the open airlines will supplant the railroads and the passenger ships, but, the author doubts if any hur- tling dash through the cloudless strato- sphere in a giant, streamlined airliner, will ever be so genuinely pleasing, thoroughly satisfying, or so romantic, as a trip from Providence to Stonington on the old-time "Boat Train," followed by a night of sweet slumber brought on by the slap-slap of gentle waves, the muffled swish in the paddle boxes, the whistle of an offshore breeze, the rhythmic creaks that only a Sound Steamer could produce, the rattle of the rudder chains, and the distant toll- ing of a mournful bell-buoy.
THE AMERICAN BAND
1
E VERYTHING seems to have its period of particular vogue, sometimes enduring and sometimes brief. It is, of course, espe- cially easy to corroborate such a statement in one instance by pointing to the con- stantly changing styles in clothes. But the same thing applies in nearly every field. The generations that preferred the legitimate stage, the pleasure of evenings of quiet conversation, the coal stove, fresh vegetables, the victrola, walking, and feminine women have, with slight excep- tion, given way to those which favor motion pictures, evenings of bridge or cocktails, gas and electric ranges, canned goods, the radio, the automobile, and the more forward and aggressive female. We shall not foolishly insist that such prefer- ences are entirely founded upon whim. The inventions that have accelerated the
tempo of everyday life must be held largely responsible. We only are tempted to won- der why the things that would seem to possess intrinsic qualities of endurance through any age should fall from full favor in such marked degree. This is the case with such a thing as band music.
During the past century the band, as a musical ensemble, was extremely popular, not only as a unit of street parades, but as a source of entertainment through the medium of public concerts, held outdoors and in. In the latter part of the century there were hundreds of well-known bands and many famous band leaders, where now there are comparatively few with only a few such names as Sousa and Pryor familiar to the average individual.
Along in the early 1820's there were in Rhode Island and Providence particularly
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FIRST CONCERT,
OF THE COURSE, BY THE
AMERICAN BRASS BAND.
FRIDAY EVENING, JAN. 26, 1838, AT THE CITY HOTEL.
PROGRAMME.
PART I.
1. Grand Coronation March, (full Band,) . Mehul.
2. Evening Parting Hymn, (Trio,) Trombones and Bass Boieldicu- Horn,-Bliven, Dunbar and Barncy.
3. Gramachree, with variations-E flat Bugle solo-Greene. Full Band accomp. arranged by 5
Knaebel.
4. Heroes' Quick Step, (full Band,) Kuaebal.
5. Grand March, from the Opera of Cinderilla,
PART II ..
1. Grand Troop-composed and arranged by S. Knacbel.
2. O Dolce Concento-solo, with variations-Trombone. Bliven. } Full Band accomp. Mozart
3. Quick Step-Trumpet Obligato, Cook,
4. Charming Waltz-Trombone Obligato, Bliven, Kuaebel.
Strauss.
5. Quick Step, from the Opera of Il'Pirati,
6. Finalc-Wood Up, (by request.) Holloway.
(> The Course to consist of six Concerts, to be continued once a fortnight, until completed.
17 Tickets for the evening, to be had at Thurber's Music Store, and at the door.
what were known as "Martial Teams," then "Martial Bands." These teams at first consisted of but a fife and a small drum. Later the bugle was added, fol- lowed by the bass drum, the clarinet, and the trombone. "Joe" Greene, of whom we shall write more fully later, had a "Martial Band" in the '20's, consisting of
two bugles, one trombone, a bass drum, and a fife and small drum. This furnished some of the first regular band music this side of Boston. In 1826, William Hamil- ton came to town bringing what was called a "menagerie" band and a personal repu- tation for bugling. He immediately re- ceived an offer from the First Light In-
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fantry Company to settle in town for good. (We might note here that the early bands- men, leaders included, did not follow their musical calling as a full-time profession but only turned to it in the evenings when their business day drew to a close.)
Hamilton accepted the invitation, set up in business in Providence, and organ- ized a small band that attained swift pop- ularity. He filled many local engagements, importing extra talent from Boston when- ever necessary. With his five-keyed Kent bugle, he himself was able to thrill many an audience with clever solo playing. In 1829, he was presented with a handsome nine-keyed B flat instrument but it took him some time to master it thoroughly. Meanwhile he began to have a rival. In Newport, a young man by the name of "Ned" Kendall, a good violinist with a marked versatility as far as all instru- ments were concerned, happened to hear Hamilton play, took a liking to bugling, and set about learning the art. His prog- ress with the instrument was so rapid that when he asked Hamilton for a place in his band, the latter took him on. It soon became perfectly evident that he could "play circles" around Hamilton, impro- vising variations that the other had not the skill to match. However, in 1830, "Ned " Kendall went to Boston to become the leader of a Boston band and left the field clear for Hamilton.
In 1832, the State Fencibles of Phila- delphia came to town, bringing with them Frank Johnson's Colored Band of twenty- four players. The First Light Infantry planned a great musical celebration using both Johnson's and Hamilton's bands. The latter did not take to this kindly and flatly refused to play with colored musi- cians. Consequently, during the scheduled parade, Johnson's Band marched up Benefit Street, while Hamilton's Band came up South Main Street. Johnson's men were excellent musicians and he himself was very obliging in playing as many pieces as his audiences desired. Hamilton was censured for his prejudices but the matter passed over and he soon regained popularity. However, he did not remain in Providence long afterwards, but moved to Hartford.
In 1837, stimulated to action by the for-
mation of the Boston Brass Band two years before, a group of fourteen inter- ested musicians gathered in the counting room of Benjamin P. Robinson on Canal Street to discuss the organization of a new band. The available instruments were four bugles, four horns, two trombones, two drums, a trumpet, fife and cymbals. "Joe" Greene was chosen leader, and thus what was to be the American Band came into being. Practice began at once in rooms on South Water Street, and by January, 1838, a first series of six subscrip- tion concerts was launched at City Hall. That these were very successful is revealed in a newspaper item stating that "the band will shortly appear in a new uniform which the generosity of the subscribers to the course of concerts has mainly enabled them to obtain."
The band's first appearance in parade was in April, 1838, the members resplend- ent in full uniform, their music setting the step for the First Light Infantry Company. Later in the year they went to Stonington for their first parade outside the city. The following season "Joe" Greene went with the Boston Brass Band and Benjamin West took over the leadership of the Prov- idence organization till his return two years later. From then until 1865, "Joe" Greene continued as leader of the band, reaping abundant glory for both the or- ganization and himself.
He had been born in Johnston but had spent his boyhood in Uxbridge, Massa- chusetts. While in the latter place he bought a three dollar bugle from a passing stagedriver and taught himself how to play. Later, in the height of his career, he was presented with a solid silver E flat bugle, equipped with twelve solid gold keys and a solid gold mouthpiece. With this magnificent instrument he used to play his famous solo, "Wood Up," to the never lessening delight of all listeners.
His band played for the renowned con- cert when Jenny Lind made her appear- ance in Howard Hall in 1850, but this was only one of the first of a host of prominent engagements, during which the band traveled through all New England, through the west and south, and even parts of Canada. Excursions, Brown commencements, parades, Masonic and
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military functions, in fact every occasion where a good band was needed found the organization in demand. In 1853, it was incorporated as the American Brass Band and was definitely attached to the 2nd Brigade of Militia. Later, the name "Brass" was dropped from the title inas- much as at least ten other bands through- out the country had copied the former name.
The year 1861 found the band in the Civil War as a part of the 1st Rhode Is- land Regiment. Its members seem to have escaped unscathed in the battle of Bull Run but in the melee of that retreat "Joe" Greene and a companion had to discard the big bass drum.
With the close of the war "Joe " Greene resigned from the leadership although he continued to march with the band and even tried to organize a new one before his death. The next leader, already fa- mous not only in this country but in Eng- land, Ireland, and Germany, relinquished his term of service with Dodsworth's great New York band to come to Providence in 1866. This was Daniel Wallis Reeves, one of the most noted band leaders of all time and the man whom Sousa, with deep rev- erence, has called "The Father of Band Music in America." He was a hard master at rehearsals but he moulded the Ameri- can Band of Providence into perhaps the greatest unit of its day and kind, and it was small wonder that it soon became known as "Reeves' American Band" throughout march-loving America.
Reeves was a thorough musician, dedi- cating his life to his art and working for principles far beyond popular comprehen- sion. He was a copious composer of mar- tial music, always having something ready for publication. In this field his famous "2d Regiment March" alone won him in- ternational renown that has endured to this day. Many of his other compositions were likewise dedicatory in name. It was he who gave the first outdoor presentation of "Pinafore" at the old Park Garden, using a real boat on real water. He gave many other concerts at the Garden and at Crescent Park.
Under Reeves the band reached its greatest popularity, playing in nearly every prominent city of the country, des- pite those who tried to keep the organiza- tion in Providence. Reeves personally assumed all financial expenses, a large burden, music alone costing $5,000 a year. There was a short interlude during which he took charge of the Gilmore Band fol- lowing P. S. Gilmore's death but he finally returned to Providence and directed the American Band until his death. At his funeral in the old First Baptist Meeting House the band played his own dirge "Immortelle" as he had requested.
The band then passed into the hands of Warren R. Fales, a well known Rhode Island character, who also bought Reeves' vast musical library. But the peak of the band's glory was past. It died with Reeves. Momentum carried it on a while but it never attained the same heights.
BUTLER HOSPITAL
A s one might say, "In America, we're great for observing anniversaries," for marking in some fashion or other the recurrence of dates distinguished by events of the past. Despite the fact that this nation has much time to go before reaching its four century milestone, hardly a year comes to pass when the chrono- logical record of important events up to now does not reveal a centennial worthy of more than passing notice. Even the days as they come and go become re-
minders of people, places and happenings of particular significance once upon a time. And there's great value in this popular practice of observing anniver- saries of this and that if our observances become something more than mere notings of the passage of units of time. If retro- spection, periodically enlivened by holi- days and the formalities of commemora- tion, serves, through example, tostrengthen our abilities in distinguishing values, to heighten our respect for the good works
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Courtesy, Butler Hospital
HOME OF COLONEL RICHARD BROWN, BUILT ABOUT 1731, ONE OF THE OLDEST DWELLINGS STANDING IN PROVIDENCE AND FIRST ONE BUILT OF BRICK OF WHICH THERE IS ANY RECORD. HOUSE AND FARM, LATER KNOWN AS THE GROTTO FARM (114 ACRES) WAS PURCHASED BY BUTLER HOSPITAL IN 1845.
of others who are no more, to inspire renewed determination to labor for the greatest good for the greatest number, then the past becomes something more than a record of how we came to be what we are, and of how we came to receive what we have.
From the beginning of time, as we choose to measure it, human beings have been privileged to enjoy, from birth to death, varying degrees of soundness of health, both in body and in mind. As far as we know, most people have come into this world with a reasonably and rela- tively good prospect of normal survival, and this observation seems to be borne out by what little we know of the com- plete history of man. Despite, however,
the average individual's bold and hopeful emergence into the sunshine of living, he has, from all we know, been eternally faced with constant threats to his physical well-being. From the first to the last gasp in the life span of every individual, dis- ease, inherited or contracted, neglect, abuse and accidents have continuously threatened the soundness of body and of mind. We do not need to go beyond aboriginal life here in America to discover how, perhaps by instinct, the earliest of human beings found effective cures for their common bodily ills without benefit of science. From the trees, the shrubs, the roots, from the hillsides and the swamp- lands, the Indian who lived in these parts, at least, found what was good for him,
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when the boiled mackerel and unripe corn did not digest as usual, when a toe had been cut on a clam-shell, or a skull cracked by a Pequot battle-axe. And so it has been with bodily ills down through the ages of man from the Garden of Eden and doubtless before; from the prehistoric mud-pack to the sulpha drug magic of these hours, man, from nature remedies to and through science, has progressively advanced in therapeutics however slowly, as he gradually acquired more and more knowledge of his human frame and of what was good for it when harmed, or when not functioning normally.
But, for diseases and deficiencies of the mind, history fails to reveal any long, gradually evolving, comprehension of remedial ministrations. What we have come to know of mental ills and of their ·cure is of comparatively recent discovery, in fact, the history of scientific or remedial treatment of insanity goes back not much more than a century or so. Except for a few short periods, and in a few rare in- stances in ancient history, up to a rela- tively few generations ago, little attention was paid to the care or cure of the men- tally ill. Psychiatry, and with it humane, sympathetic and understanding treat- ment of the affected in mind, came into this world suddenly, and not so long ago, as we shall see.
Within the memory of our great grand- parents, surely of our great great grand- parents in America, a demented person was treated as a wild beast. From darkened attics, walled-up dungeons, unheated barns and from behind locked doors, here and there in Rhode Island as well as else- where, among the secure retreats of the wealthy and among the cluttered habita- tions of have-nots often came delirious shrieks of sick people. Private homes and almshouses and jails, where the insane and the sane were quartered under the same roof, were shunned as places of de- moniacal terror. Having a "teched" person in the family was a disgrace, a curse upon those who brought the miser- able sufferer into the world. Since dis- orders of the mind spare none, or know no barriers of wealth or position, it was pitiable enough for a person of means to be "put away," as they said, for an in-
firmity of the faculties, but it became nothing more than a tragedy when a poor person, a pauper or a town charge was disposed of in the customary manner. Some unfortunates were farmed out to the lowest bidders, others were thrown among the beggars, the criminals, and the sexually abnormal, while not a few were clapped into irons, not for their own pro- tection but for the safety of others. No efforts were made to determine the causes of the disease, and few gave a thought to designing or applying means and methods of curing the well-to-do sufferers, much less the poor and the homeless.
Naturally, in most cases friends and near relatives did as well as they knew how to do, and as their circumstances permitted, and the same may be said of the mentally ill who were confined in the almshouses. But their proper treatment was not understood, and, if understood, there existed no place in Rhode Island where psychiatric treatment in its ele- mentary form, might be offered. Here was no such thing as a hospital for the insane.
At this writing there is much talk about a fast spreading social cancer - juvenile delinquency. We are appalled at the racing rate of crime increase among our young people, and we frantically reach for this and that theory and proposal in hopes that the proper remedial measures may be determined upon and put into operation at the earliest possible moment. As observed, we are talking, leaving it to a few to do anything about the common problem. It has always been thus, where the public interest is concerned, and, no question, early in the last century, it was common corner and back-fence talk here- abouts concerning the steadily increasing number of deranged persons, the disposi- tion of which presented such a community responsibility and public annoyance. And no one did anything about the problem, either privately or publicly, until one of the most distinguished and benevolent of all Rhode Islanders, Nicholas Brown, who died in 1841, left in his will a bequest of $30,000 towards the erection and en- dowment of a retreat for the insane. Mr. Brown was not entirely alone in his hu- mane sympathy, foresight and public
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THE ORIGINAL BUILDINGS OF BUTLER HOSPITAL - FROM AN OLD ENGRAVING.
spirit, for by petition of a group of leading citizens of Providence known as the "In- corporating Committee," a charter was granted by the General Assembly, at the January 1844 session, for the establish- ment of the "Rhode Island Asylum for the Insane." Shortly thereafter, a promi- nent merchant of Providence, the Honor- able Cyrus Butler, about whom we have read considerable of late in connection with his part in the building of the Arcade, agreed to give the sum of $40,000 toward the establishment of such an institution and in the creation of a suitable building, providing an equal amount be raised by subscriptions, in order that an amount of $50,000 could be set aside as a permanent endowment fund. These conditions were fully complied with, and on October 19, 1844, a tract of land, once known as the "Brick House Farm," embracing many acres of land on the banks of the Seekonk River, was acquired. On November 8, 1844, the Trustees voted to name the new institution "The Butler Hospital for the Insane" in honor of its most generous benefactor. Thus Butler Hospital became not only the first mental hospital in Rhode
Island but, as well, the first hospital of any kind in the State. With the establish- ment of Butler Hospital in Providence, long a leader among institutions of its kind throughout the world, Rhode Island immediately provided for those afflicted at the beginning of the third epoch in the history of the treament of insanity, which epochs are generally classified as barbaric, humane and remedial. Never a private hospital in the sense that only paying patients might be accepted for treatment, never a rich man's private sanitorium or tuck-away, and never a place of confine- ment for incurables, Butler Hospital has now completed its first one hundred years as a privately endowed, publicly assisted institution designed to cure and return to normal human relationships, men and women from all walks of life, and whether or not they have been able to pay in full for the best that could be provided, in both care and cure.
The first trustees engaged the consult- ing services of Dr. Luther V. Bell, superin- tendent of the McLean Asylum near Boston, and who spent several months abroad studying the most up-to-date
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ideas of construction and function of mental institutions, returning in 1845 with plans and recommendations. Together with Dr. Isaac Ray of Maine, whom the Trustees engaged as first superintendent of Butler Hospital, Dr. Bell designed the original buildings which still comprise the nucleus of the present-day vastly expanded and modernized institution providing accommodations for one hun- dred and seventy-five patients together with the clinical and laboratory facilities of a modern hospital.
On Wednesday May 10, 1944 began the formal observance of the centennial of Butler Hospital with eminent psychia- trists, associated physicians, both men and women nurses who have received their training there, members of the board of trustees, representatives of social service agencies and others, assembled in Ray Hall to hear addresses by distinguished authorities. Later on in the year, there were other gatherings in honor of the anniversary, but why was so much em- phasis placed upon this particular cen- tennial? In brief, because this century- old institution memorializes an abrupt transition, in our own history, from stub- born ignorance to richly rewarding benevo-
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