USA > Rhode Island > The "Old Stone Bank" history of Rhode Island, Vol. IV > Part 7
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THE DAILY TOIL
N TATURALLY, the first-comers to these shores were farmers, if not, they soon learned the art of wresting sustenance from the soil. And the pioneers were not long in teaching themselves how to make things from wood, stone and animal
skins, for all they had to live in, they made with their own hands, with or with- out tools and from what was found here when they came. As time went on and ordered living began to take shape in the midst of a wilderness, men gradually
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assumed their respective places in society according to their special talents, inclina- tions and abilities.
Sons usually followed the calling of their father and they began their apprentice- ship at an early age. Benjamin Waterman was a mason, and so were his sons and grandsons. In the family of John Smith, the mason, called thus to distinguish him from the numerous John Smiths in the Colony, three generations were masons, while a grandson also had the trade of joiner. A joiner is one who finishes the inside woodwork of a house or who makes furniture and wooden fixtures. James Babcock of Westerly, the first of the Bab- cock family in Rhode Island, was a black- smith, and so also were two of his sons. Pardon Tillinghast combined the voca- tions of shopkeeper and cooper, and his son John was a cooper. This division of occupations was quite common. Shoe- maker and physician were sometimes combined, and so were stationer, preacher and printer. The Rodmans were physi- cians, father, two sons and two grandsons. Benjamin Church, famed as a soldier in King Philip's War, was a carpenter, and so was his son Thomas. Stephen Harding of Providence, his two sons and a grand- son were blacksmiths. Peter Busecot of Warwick was a blacksmith and also a tinker, or mender of pots and kettles. Eleazer Whipple was a housewright and William Hawkins, as early as 1648, was a lime burner. Soon after the settlement of the northern portion of the Colony, the townsmen had discovered the great ledges of lime rocks that lay within the boundary of their purchase. Lime was a most neces- sary article for their use and contributed much to their comfort, without which they were under the necessity of preparing lime from the shell along the shore. In 1661, one Hackleton was granted liberty to burn lime upon the common and to take stone and wood for this purpose. Ap- parently, from the references on record, Hackleton's lime kiln was in the neighbor- hood of Sockanosset.
In 1656, William White of Boston, a bricklayer, was in Providence, and by order of the town was to be accommo- dated with a house lot; two years later a share of meadow was granted to him. He
doubtless found little opportunity to fol- low his trade in Providence Plantations, for it was not until 1698 that bricks are mentioned in Providence. Others in the early days learned and practised the art of a cordwainer (cobbler), the mysteries of distilling and the tricks of crosswork coop- ering. Women are not mentioned at all in the trades and professions, since their services were confined to the duties of house-keeping and farming, both indoors and out, although somewhere in the record of the first years hereabouts, it is noted that females were expected to master the trade or mystery of "spin- ster," or housewife. In respect to house- keeping, in the days of the early settlers, it is interesting to learn that the floors of the dwelling houses were sanded; carpets were not floor coverings; they were for a more dignified purpose and reposed as ornaments on tables and chests. The action of the sand on the originally rough but hardwood floors, with its constant grinding by many feet and frequent sweepings by the proverbially neat colonial housewife, soon made the floors smooth, a result which the early builders with the tools at hand failed to produce. There was little furniture to be found in the early Rhode Island colonial homes, and it was not until some time after the de- velopment of transportation that the townsmen began to add such to their domestic comforts.
The working tools of the early crafts- men were of a much greater variety than might be expected. Nearly all of the colonists had in their possession the in- strument or tool called the "fro" ("froe"). It was used in making staves, shingles and clapboards, and it is now generally classed as a cooper's tool. Some years ago the Historian was engaged in historical re- search in that part of New Jersey known as Cape May County. From that section came the shingles for the original roof of Independence Hall in Philadelphia. They were known as dug shingles, since the cedar logs from which they were cut were dug from swampy areas where they had rested submerged, probably for centuries. After viewing the spot from which the Independence Hall shingles were dug, he examined, at the Cape May Historical
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Society, some of the crude tools used in the operation, now a lost art, or discarded practise. One of these rare shingle cutting tools was a froe. It was a very simple instrument. By placing its keen edge upon the end of a section of a log and striking upon the back of the blade with a mallet, the froe cut with the grain such widths and lengths as their necessities required.
John Whipple, Sr., 1685, had a Rye Bitt and an iron square, besides other carpen- ter's tools. Benjamin Beers had a lathing hammer - that was in 1714, which re- veals that the period of daubed walls had passed, and that the interiors of the houses were lathed and naturally plas- tered. There was no end of material for plaster, both from the lime rocks and from shell, quantities of which were easily and cheaply obtainable. Isaac Bull, in 1716, had an assortment of glass and a set of cordwainer's tools. Epenetus Olney, in 1698, had a great variety of carpenter's tools - a saw, small joynter, a carving tool, small froe, iron square, axe, clearing plane, whetting steel, wimble stock and bits (a wimble was a gimlet or auger, a tool for boring holes) and quoting: "a 'Soding iron,' pair of compasses, and a brass rule for a chalk line."
William Harris, at his death in 1681, had the largest assortment of instruments and tools of any of his contemporaries. Besides carpenter's, blacksmith's, cooper's and shoemaker's tools, he had surveying instruments, brass compasses, sights for surveying, a brass table and a brass pen, and other long-forgotten devices for cal- culation and craftsmanship.
If we ever come to some form of univer- sal service in the country for the sake of the successful prosecution of some emer- gency effort, if all of us are literally forced to work where and at what we are ordered by the authorities, it will be well to re- member that, under no conditions, shall
we be restricted in our daily toil to the degree once experienced by youthful Rhode Islanders, and not so very long ago. The conditions of the old colonial ap- prentice system were as rigid as the Mosaic Law. Once bound out, usually without any choice in the matter, appren- tices were required to serve their masters or his executors or administrators, from the day of their indenture until they ar- rived at their majority. During such terms of years the apprentice was bound under the law, to keep his master's secrets and obey his commands, not to waste his master's goods or play at games of cards or dice. He could not marry, nor could he absent himself day or night without permission. He was forbidden to haunt ale houses or taverns. In return for which, an apprentice was taught a trade, more often than not given simple schooling in English and ciphering. He was clothed, fed, housed and provided with laundry service, befitting an apprentice. Some- times in the articles of indenture, the master agreed to "learn the apprentice to read a chapter in the Bible if he shall be capable of learning."
Modern youth would certainly rebel at any revival of the customs of our ances- tors, whereby they created generations of ingenious craftsmen, who in turn built well the foundations of all that we have, and now to hold. And, doubtless, the present generation of young and old will resist any form of universal conscription of American skill and brawn, but, no matter what the conditions under which the tasks ahead may be undertaken, Rhode Island, at least, can look with pride upon its heritage of mechanical skill, inventive genius and honest labor.
"For the structure that we raise, Time is with materials filled. Our todays and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build."
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THE GREAT TRAIL
TF time might be rolled back, say, for three centuries, and all things restored to the state in which they existed then, in this part of the world, suppose, for ex- ample, that you lived in the place called Providence and had good reason to make a journey to Plymouth, to Boston, or to some spot located on the banks of the Connecticut River. You might eventually reach Plymouth or Boston by water, if a sailing ship offered passage down Narra- gansett Bay, offshore for a few hazardous miles, and around the tip of Cape Cod, but you probably would never get there if you started out in a canoe. You might even go by water to most any point along the Connecticut River, but few did three hundred years ago, because of the scarcity of boats of any kind, and besides, the waters just off old Point "Jude" were just as dangerous then as they are to-day.
Naturally, then, you would make your journey by land, and, of course, by the most direct and convenient route. Armed with some type of firearms, since travelers
in those days provided the bulk of the commissary en route, and provisioned with a light supply of something made from corn meal, and with a hatchet or small axe in your belt, you would start walking, unless you happened to be one of these rare and extremely wealthy Rhode Islanders of the seventeenth century own- ing a horse. You could make your trip astride a bull. William Blackstone did that when he came down here from Boston, in 1635, but he came to stay, and he prob- ably figured as long as the bull was coming too, the beast might as well make himself useful on the way.
Let's assume then, that we are thinking of the very early days, when there was not a single horse at the headwaters of Narra- gansett Bay. This journey is to be on foot, and there isn't a road in sight, hardly an opening through the waterside barri- cade of tall trees, growing out of a century- old accumulation of tangled underbrush tightly interlaced with vines and thorny bushes, as formidable as an ingenious pat-
MAIN BANKING ROOMS OF THE EMPIRE-ABORN BRANCH OF THE PROVIDENCE INSTITUTION FOR SAVINGS.
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tern of barbed wire entanglements ever crawled and ripped through by a G.I. Joe. That is how the beginning of a journey from Providence to Boston, Plymouth or to the Connecticut River would have ap- peared to you, three hundred years ago, had you set out, depending upon the good nature of those whom you were about to encounter on the way, upon a natural sense of direction, and upon information passed on by others who had been there before.
But, the great unknown, unbroken wil- derness that closed in tightly around the tiny cluster of simple shelters at the place called Providence, had long before been traversed surely, and in a comparatively safe manner, by human beings who found it necessary to go from place to place.
From the cluster of log huts and lean- tos called Providence by the white men, oft-traveled ways led directly to the place the Indians called Sowams, we call it Warren, to Cocumcussoc, near what we call Wickford, to the good fishing places down the Bay, and on the ocean front, to the favorite hunting places to the north, to the south, to the east and to the west, to the quiet valleys where the wild tur- keys were roasted at twilight, to the soap- stone ledges, to the hardstone quarries, to villages, to strongholds, and to hid- ing places. Some of these ways through the wilderness covered only short dis- tances, from a wigwam, or long house, to a trickling spring, or to a birch tree, while others stretched for miles and miles, from a bay to a mountain, from a beach to a lake, from Providence to Boston or to Plymouth, from Providence to the Con- necticut River and far beyond and from Providence northward to the great Indian trail that stretched east and west across New England.
Along one of these well-defined, well- marked (if you knew your markings), ancient paths or trails you would journey, but, you would not cover the required dis- tance "as the crow flies," as we say. For, the old Indian trails followed by our an- cestors for many generations were, liter- ally, paths of least resistance. High rocks, dense thickets, swampy gullies were avoided as were ponds, hills, heavily- wooded ravines; 'round and 'round, up
and down, back-tracking, detouring, and short-cutting rolled on the ancient path- ways of the Indians who not always de- pended entirely upon their memories or their knowledge of the country, or upon the visibility of foot-prints, for they marked their trails with hatchet gashes upon the bark of trees bordering the trails or pathways, and if you kept a sharp look- out and understood the system, you would eventually arrive somewhere, because every trail led somewhere.
.
Undoubtedly one of the best studies ever made of the Indian trails of these parts has been completed by Harral Ayres, whose entertaining volume "The Great Trail of New England" has been pub- lished. At one time, Mr. Ayres was living near Webster, Massachusetts, and, for a pastime, he made careful inquiry into the historical background of the nearby lake famous for the long name, "Chargogga- goggmanchauggagoggchaubunagunga- maugg." He probably spent the first year learning how to spell it, and two more mastering the pronunciation. This pas- time inquiry led to the discovery that the lake appeared to be an important link in a great Indian trail stretching from Boston to Windsor, Hartford, and Wethersfield, and Mr. Ayres finally concluded that this trail was the great path that led to the founding of Connecticut. With this con- clusion fairly well substantiated, the author proceeded to seek out every last bit of historical evidence relating to the wilderness trunkline that helped keep the little colony seats of Boston, Hartford, New Haven and New York in touch with one another through turbulent empire- building years. The evidence produced, carefully edited and published in a vol- ume of nearly five hundred pages, should leave no doubt in anyone's mind. Once upon a time there was a great, well-beaten path stretching from Cambridge south- west to Framingham, swinging a little more to the south as far as the lake with the long name, then it dipped across the Connecticut-Massachusetts border, mov- ing due west to what is now Tolland. The trail crossed the river at Windsor taking · a right angle south to Hartford, from that point an extension appears to reach south- west to New Haven.
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The reader has probably noted that "The Great Trail" by-passed any part of Rhode Island, although it did come rather close to the northern border of the State when it approached the lake at Webster. But, Rhode Island was not actually cut off from this very early colonial super- highway, for the rare maps brought to light by Mr. Ayres reveal that there were several tributaries or associated paths linked with the main trunkline stem, and these included a Providence to Boston trail, a Providence to Windsor and Hart- ford trail, and the latter passed through Killingly and joined the main artery a short distance to the southeast of Stafford Springs. There was also a Providence, New London, New York trail that un- doubtedly tied in with the system at New Haven.
In 1642, Nathaniel Woodward and Solomon Saffrey were appointed to survey and establish the Massachusetts-Con- necticut boundary and the maps they submitted following their explorations contain most valuable information con- cerning the trails that extended in and out of Providence. According to the records, those commissioners explored overland from Boston to Providence and between Providence and Windsor, Con- necticut. On their maps which included Providence are certain field-notes and landmark symbols that leave no doubt of their having passed through territory familiar to Rhode Islanders. At the point marked Providence, Woodward and Saf- frey noted a confluence of two bodies of water, the Providence River and the See- konk River, and they properly indicated "Seaconk Plaine" to the east of Provi- dence. The trail they followed and ac-
curately recorded on the map extended due west for twenty-two miles, and at that milestone, a wigwam was observed and sketched in, according to seventeenth century map-making conventional signs. So, your overland journey would have been made by way of a trail, and now that at least one reliable study has been com- pleted, and the remarkable results of this study have been put down in print in fascinating narrative style, the exact route of your journey, to one point or another in New England, has been ac- curately recorded.
It remained for Mr. Ayres to recon- struct the roadmap of pioneer New Eng- land, but, for a poetic description of a trail that blazed its way through the epoch- making events that transpired upon Rhode Island soil, spanning the years, crossing the stream of causes and effects which made us what we are, and gave us what we have, stretching from the Falls of Water to the northeast, down through the heart of the country called "Narragansett," to the fording place in the river that marked the western limits of the hunting places of the warlike Pequots, nothing yet written can compare with the short and inspiring essay titled "The Pequot Trail."
This original gem of local literature was composed some years ago by a well-known Providence resident, Mr. Alonzo R. Wil- liams, and many times has he been called upon to recite what he was inspired to write of "a phantom Horseman of Glo- rious Memory, sitting astride his steed on Prospect Hill, - poised for a speedy dash along a sacred trail, coursing to the south- west 'neath the shadows of those beckon- ing shrines, where heroic mothers gave this colony its heroic sons."
KEEPING THE PEACE
T THINK twice before criticizing a police officer for enforcing the law, or for not being Johnny-on-the-spot when the law should be enforced, because maintain- ing the public peace always has been, and always will be, a thankless but altogether necessary responsibility for someone. In
these days, most of us run afoul of the law, as they say, in connection with our highly- improved means of transportation, and, although few will deny the wisdom and necessity of auto traffic laws, the moment an officer holds up a warning hand, reaches for a ticket, or sounds that long shrill
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signal to stop and pull over to the side, we instantly start blaming, not ourselves naturally, nor the law which appears to have been broken, but the one whose pro- fession it is to see that laws are not broken. Relatively speaking, we of this generation who are peaceable, law-abiding citizens, have little or no reason to complain of what the law-makers have decreed to main- tain peace and order, nor have we any justification for "cop-hating," but that does not go, we hope, for the small minor- ity of law-breakers from murderers down to shop-lifters. Therefore, what would we think of police officers and their superiors, if talking about the neighbors might lead to a public dousing in the Seekonk River, or if a refusal to give one's name to an officer on the streets of Providence after 11 P.M. carried the penalty of an overnight stay in the jail, or if smoking a cigar on the public highways was a cause for arrest and fine?
The original community of first settlers appears to have managed to get along with- out any provision for a police force during the first years, although not all of the associates of Roger Williams were peace- ably inclined. One of the original settlers has been described as a "boisterous and desperate character." One Joshua Verin came under public discipline, shortly after 1636, for interfering with his wife's at- tendance upon the preaching of Mr. Wil- liams. He finally left Providence, and, after living for a time in Salem, emigrated to the Barbados. The will of the towns- men, as expressed in their public meetings, sufficed to deal with cases like that of Verin, and while the growing colony of Newport, in 1638, was erecting the stocks and the whipping post, Providence, more secluded from the highways of the sea and its human jetsam and flotsam, managed to maintain the peace and vindicate local authority without public display of of- fenders, floggings, ear-snipping and other punitive practices common to the seven- teenth century.
In 1640, however, the people of Provi- dence found it necessary to deputize to certain of their members the power and duty of looking after offenders and of en- forcing the simple laws. Those selected for the responsibility of dividing among
the settlers the lands acquired from the Indians, as well as of settling all disputes arising among the landholders and others, were known as disposers, and these dis- posers, who promptly ran into all kinds of difficulties, can properly be looked upon as the pioneers of our judicial and law enforcement systems. Up to the time of the appointment of the disposers, public behavior in Providence was' a matter of choice - an honor system that soon be- came ineffective, once certain rights had been established and strangers began to arrive from far and near. After the first Rhode Island charter was secured, in 1644, and laws were adopted three years later, the authority of government in Rhode Island came to be respected and obeyed, and from those days to these someone has been held responsible for law enforcement. At this point, it might be interesting to note that under the code of laws adopted by our forefathers, in 1647, a person who dealt in false weights and measures was to sit, for the third offense, in the pillory, and a pillory is best described as a wooden frame supported by an upright post, having holes through which the head and hands are secured. It was reported that the pillory was no fun, especially on a hot day in fly time, or when ripe fruit was within easy reach of small boys. A common scold was punished with the ducking stool, and that was amusement for everyone except the scold. Thieves around these parts were severely whipped, branded in the hand for the second offense, and death was the pen- alty for the third. If a man-servant killed his master, or if a man or boy killed one of his parents, he was drawn and hanged; if a woman committed the same crime, she was burned alive. Forgery, punished by hanging in England, was not a capital crime under the original Rhode Island code.
The original Providence police officer was known as the Town Sergeant, and the first to hold that office was Hugh Bewitt, who received his appointment in 1651. He took his compensation in the form of fees for services rendered, and sometimes he accepted a bushel of oats, a fat turkey, or a quart of opened quahaugs in payment for time spent chasing thieves, preserving
MEETING STREET JAIL ERECTED IN 1733. FROM PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN 1865.
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TT
Courtesy, Rhode Island Historical Society
THE OLD COVE BASIN AND RHODE ISLAND STATE PRISON ABOUT 1866. PRISON BUILDING STOOD NEAR SITE OF RHODE ISLAND COLLEGE OF EDUCATION. .
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order at town meetings, or holding and feeding prisoners. The Sergeant was assisted in his duties by constables who were either elected in town meeting or by the council and could be removed by the latter at will.
In May, 1775, a night watch was estab- lished. It consisted of four men who traveled each night in pairs, the pairs watching in rotation. There are no records of the first night watch except that it did not exist for very long. Then, in Decem- ber, 1796, another night watch was estab- lished consisting of six men who began · their rounds at ten o'clock each night, and patrolled until "bell ringing," or sunrise. Each man who watched was allowed one dollar per night. Thomas P. Ives, first president of the Providence Institution for Savings, served on the committee that recommended improvements in the night watch system late in the eighteenth cen- tury, and at the turn of the century, the watch was increased to two companies of six men, each of which comprised the watch for an entire night, on duty every other night.
The northward watch patrolled the streets as far as Benjamin Cozzen's resi- dence on North Main Street, while the westward patrol traveled all the streets as far as Hoyle's Tavern. The southward watch patrolled all the streets down to India Point. These night patrolmen were under the direction of Captains and were under orders to inspect the houses, stores and workshops they passed, in order to prevent fires gaining headway. They were also charged with the duty of suppressing all riotous conduct in the streets, and were directed to commit all refractory persons to the bridewell, an old name for jail. The
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