The National Register of Historic Places

If you followed the 2013 Annual Town Meeting, you probably remember Article 20 that asked for funds to restore the chimney and northeastern wall of the Wellesley Hills Branch Library. Although the Article passed, there had been some heated debate in the weeks leading up to Town Meeting. In particular, people wanted to know whether it was necessary to spend $250,000 to fix the structure. Why not find a cheaper restoration option or even remove the chimney altogether?

Well, the simple answer to that question is that the Branch Library is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, which means that it is deemed historically significant by the United States Department of the Interior — one of only seven such historic sites in Wellesley. If the Town voted to reconstruct the chimney/wall in any way other than to its original appearance and/or use construction methods that were not sensitive to the historic nature of the building, it could result in the delisting of the Branch Library from the National Register. Fortunately, enough Town Meeting members understood this and voted in support of the Article. But it wasn’t close to unanimous.

I would like, therefore, to spend this post educating those who didn’t support the Article about what it means if a building or structure is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, as well as familiarizing everyone with the sites in Wellesley that are on the list.

Simply put, the National Register of Historic Places (NRHP) is the official list of buildings, structures, sites, districts, and objects deemed worthy of preservation by the Federal Government (in conjunction with state and local governments), as authorized by the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966. It is administered by the National Park Service, which operates under the umbrella of the Department of the Interior.

So why was this government program created? I think the following excerpt from a brochure produced by — not surprisingly — the National Park Service best answers this question:

“America’s historic places embody our unique spirit, character and identity. Representing important historical trends and events, reflecting the lives of significant persons, illustrating distinctive architectural, engineering, and artistic design achievement, and imparting information about America’s past, historic places tell compelling stories of the Nation, and of the States and communities throughout the country. The National Register helps preserve these significant historic places by recognizing this irreplaceable heritage. Its primary goals are to foster a national preservation ethic; promote a greater appreciation of America’s heritage; and increase and broaden the public’s understanding and appreciation of historic places.”

And now, without further ado, here are the seven NRHP listings in Wellesley (all photographs taken by Joshua Dorin in May 2013):

Eaton-Moulton Mill — built circa 1853

Wellesley Farms Railroad Station — built in 1890

Wellesley Hills Branch Library — built in 1927

Isaac Sprague Memorial Clock Tower — built in 1928

Old Wellesley High School / Intermediate Building (now Phillips Park) — built in 1894

Wellesley Town Hall — built in 1881-85

The seventh listing is actually a district — the Hunnewell Estates Historic District — that includes a large number of mansions and other buildings. Below are just two of them:

‘Wellesley’ (Estate of Horatio H. Hunnewell) — built in 1851

‘The Pines’ (Estate of Isabella Pratt Hunnewell) — originally built in 1871 but burned down and rebuilt in 1894

There are actually two more listings — the Cochituate and Sudbury Aqueducts — but I didn’t include those above because they are both part of multi-town historic districts.

Waban Arches (Sudbury Aqueduct) — built in 1873-75

Rosemary Brook Siphon Chamber Building (Sudbury Aqueduct) — built circa 1877

Waste Weir (Cochituate Aqueduct) near Croton Road — built circa 1847

Now tell me. If you had to guess these seven (well…nine) listings, how many would you have gotten? Three? Four? Maybe if you’re a real Wellesley history junkie, you got more than that. But if you’re like the average Wellesley resident, you probably didn’t name that many. And that pretty much explains why there was a debate over the restoration of the Hills Branch Library. Many Wellesley residents are apathetic towards or unaware of the history of their town.

Why is that? Just look at the following list of cities and towns, ranked in order by the number of NRHP listings:

Boston: 314
Cambridge: 228
Newton: 190
Waltham: 113
Brookline: 100
Arlington: 63
Bedford: 56
Concord: 31
Milton: 27
Sherborn: 24
Lexington: 18
Marlborough: 18
Framingham: 15
Weston: 14
Needham: 12
Lincoln: 11
Natick: 10
Acton: 8
Watertown: 8
Dedham: 7
Medfield: 7
Wellesley: 7
Belmont: 6
Sudbury: 6
Holliston: 5
Burlington: 4
Millis: 4
Ashland: 3
Wayland: 3
Carlisle: 2
Dover: 2
Hopkinton: 2
Westwood: 2

As you can see, Wellesley is in the lower half of the list. Although it’s not surprising that our town is far below the likes of Boston, Newton, and Concord — cities and towns with extremely rich histories — I find it ridiculous that we have fewer NRHP listings than Needham and Weston, two neighboring towns that have similar histories.

Part of the reason that Wellesley ranks so low is that there have been a few buildings that should have been listed on the National Register but were razed in recent years: the 1938 High School, the Wellesley Inn, and the clubhouse of the Wellesley Country Club (the former Needham Town Hall). There is also the Wellesley Hills Railroad Station, built in 1885 by Henry Hobson Richardson (architect of Trinity Church in Copley Square) with the assistance of landscape architect, Frederick Law Olmsted (designer of Boston’s Emerald Necklace and New York City’s Central Park). Unfortunately, the station was converted to retail stores a half century ago and the landscaping was removed in order to create the parking lot that stretches almost all the way to the Rockland Street bridge. The Wellesley Square Railroad Station would have also qualified had it not been razed in 1962 and replaced with the Wellesley Post Office.

We also were unlucky when College Hall at Wellesley College and the third edifice of the Wellesley Village Congregational Church burned down in 1914 and 1916, respectively. (College Hall would most certainly have qualified for National Historic Landmark status, an especially selective designation for sites that “possess exceptional values or qualities in illustrating or interpreting the heritage of the United States.” There are only 186 National Historic Landmarks in all of Massachusetts, 57 of them in Boston. Wellesley has none.)

If you’re counting, had those buildings and structures not been razed or bastardized beyond recognition, Wellesley could have had 14 listings on the National Register. There are also several other houses and buildings currently standing in Wellesley that should be on the list but for some reason are not. It could be that the owner doesn’t want it listed. Or that no one has bothered to do the necessary work to secure a nomination (which I’ll admit is not a simple process and takes several years to complete).

Furthermore, I think there is a perception among property owners that having one’s house or building listed on the NRHP will diminish its marketability. Perhaps potential buyers would be turned off by restrictions placed on the property. But what restrictions are they worried about? Owners of private properties that have a NRHP designation can do whatever they want to them. They can even raze them if they so desire. The only restrictions arise when Federal funding is involved — most often in the form of tax credits and preservation grants. In those cases, any renovation or restoration must follow certain standards that are set by the Department of the Interior.

So, I’d therefore like to encourage owners of historic properties in Wellesley to consider a National Register designation. Although not every old house or building qualifies for NRHP status, I know of at least a handful that certainly deserve such a recognition. Isn’t it about time that Wellesley’s rich history gets the spotlight it truly deserves?

Sources:

• Wellesley Historical Commission files: Elm Park and Sprague Memorial Clock Tower; Intermediate Building; Rosemary Brook Siphon Chamber Building; Waban Bridge; Wellesley Farms Railroad Station; Wellesley Hills Branch Library; Wellesley Hills Railroad Station; Wellesley Town Hall; 35 Walnut Street; 828 Washington Street; 845 Washington Street;
• The National Register of Historic Places Brochure
• The National Register of Historic Places Database
• Report of the Cochituate Water Board to the City Council of Boston (1852)
• Wellesley Townsman: 20 March 1914; 5 January 1917; 21 August 1958; 28 June 1962
• Wikipedia.org [National Historic Landmark]

William Morton and Etherization (Part 2)

(Apologies for not posting recently. Life intervened.)

After reading the first part of my profile on Dr. William T.G. Morton (click here if you haven’t read it), you may be wondering what more I could write about. After all, I’ve already discussed the pinnacle of his professional career — his public demonstration of etherization. But there’s actually a second chapter to this story involving the acceptance of ether as a general anesthetic and Morton’s quest for fame and fortune. I know that might not sound very exciting, but it brings up the development of ‘Etherton,’ Morton’s estate that occupied the current site of Town Hall near Wellesley Square. And isn’t that all anyone reading this blog really cares about?

So let’s begin in the days and weeks following Morton’s successful demonstration at Massachusetts General Hospital on October 16th of 1846. As one can imagine, there was a large response from the medical community. Much of it, however, wasn’t positive. Most doctors and surgeons unaffiliated with MGH doubted Morton’s success. Others denounced the use of ether as a general anesthetic, claiming it was dangerous and that the current methods to alleviate pain worked just fine. But these sentiments would fade quickly as etherization took root in hospitals throughout the United States and Europe. Even the US Army began using ether to treat wounded soldiers during the Mexican-American War of 1846-48.

Morton knew then that he had revolutionized modern medicine and therefore felt that he should be rewarded handsomely for his discovery. But the prizes that arrived disappointed him. Although Great Britain recognized his success — it gave him two separate awards totaling £25,000 (the equivalent of more than $3,000,000 in 2013 dollars) — others were not as generous. The only additional prizes Morton received were a bunch of medals from France, Norway, Sweden, and the Russian Empire. Much to his dismay, the United States government would not award him a dime despite four petitions to Congress.

Part of the reason that these attempts for a monetary award were fruitless was that several prominent doctors and surgeons also claimed credit for the discovery of etherization. One of those included his colleague, Dr. Charles T. Jackson, who had unknowingly inspired Morton to consider the use of ether as well as provided him supplies for his experiments. Now Jackson wanted some of the credit. To complicate matters even further, it turned out that Morton wasn’t even the first person to use ether as a general anesthetic. That distinction would go to Crawford Long, a surgeon in Georgia whose discovery of etherization predated that of Morton by four years but was unknown to the medical community until 1849. (Nevertheless, Morton is still credited with the discovery of ether as a general anesthetic.)

Why Morton fought so hard for an award is a crucial part of this story. Quite simply, he had been extremely financially irresponsible over the years (even after receiving £25,000 from the British government) and needed money to pay off his creditors. Initiated when Morton quit his job in 1845 in order to devote all of his time to experimenting with ether, these financial problems were made worse when, that same year, he bought property on the current site of Town Hall in Wellesley. And then, the following year — perhaps in anticipation of the success he would have with ether — Morton began spending even more money that he didn’t have to develop this property into one of the finest estates in all of Wellesley.

Source: Godey’s Lady’s Book, Volume 46 (1853)

The following passage from Hale (1853) provides a brief description of his estate — which he dubbed ‘Etherton’ — along with the area around Wellesley Square:

“The grounds embrace about six acres, in a natural basin surrounded by an amphitheatre of forest-clad hills, dotted with residences. From the centre of this hollow rises a knoll, and on it stands the cottage — a picturesque building of the English style of rural architecture. The prospect from its every window is, of course, superb. In the foregrounds are the serpentine walks, rustic summer-houses, flower-beds, young trees, sparkling streams, and other appurtenances of the mansion itself. Beyond, we see the village church, the farm-houses of the industrious yeomanry, and the other quiet beauties of a country landscape, while an occasional train sweeps along the adjacent railway like a fiery dragon, a type of the nervous, go-ahead spirit of this utilitarian age.”

Source: McClure’s Magazine, Volume 7 (1896)

What’s missing from that description is any mention of the farm that covered much of the estate, which is a bit surprising given how important farming was to Morton. After years and years of fighting for fame and fortune, he was drained physically and emotionally. Farming was one of the few activities in life that provided Morton happiness. This was no doubt a result of the successes he had in crop cultivation and animal husbandry (receiving prizes for his horses, cattle, pigs, turkeys, and chickens), applying the same creative genius to farming that he used while experimenting with ether.

In addition to these more standard farm animals, Morton also raised a number of different breeds of waterfowl, as described in this wonderfully entertaining passage from Rice (1859):

“We stood in the main floor, near the southern or back door of the barn, which overlooked the green field; the little gate opened, and such a screaming, crowing, gabbling ensued, and such a flutter of wings, that for a few minutes it was nearly deafening. A pair of Chinese geese led the way of this feathered community. These geese, a present from the late statesman, Daniel Webster, to Dr. Morton, who prized them accordingly, were entirely brown, of large size, carrying their heads very high, and walking nearly upright; they sent forth shouts that made the air ring. They seemed to consider themselves the Celestials, and all beside inferiors. Next, came a pair of wild geese; one wing cut, and thus obliged to remain in the yard, they had become quite tame; but still, their trumpet call seemed to tell their love of freedom. These, too, were brown, with black heads, and long lithe necks, that undulated like the motions of a snake, with every movement. Very unlike these were the next pair of snow-white Bremen geese, stout, fat, contented-looking creatures, only making the usual gabbling of geese which are well to do in the world. Among the varieties of the duck genus were several of the Poland species; snowy white, except the vermilion-colored spots on the head, that look like red sealing-wax plasters round the eyes. These ducks made a terrible quackery. But the domestic fowl was the multitude; there appeared to be all kinds of species, from the tall Shanghais, that seemed to stalk on stilts, to the little boat-like creepers that move as if on castors. It was a queer sight, such an army of hens and chickens, rushing hither and thither, to pick up the gain scattered for their supper. And then the pride of the old peacock; he just entered with the rest, then spread his heavy wings and flew up to the ridgepole of the barn, where he sat alone in his glory. It was, altogether, a pleasant sight.”

This shouldn’t, however, give you the impression that Morton was no longer actively involved in dentistry. In fact, he made quite a name for himself manufacturing artificial teeth in the years following his discovery of etherization. He even built an enormous ‘tooth factory’ on Etherton, located conveniently near the railroad yard where quartz and feldspar — the primary materials of the fake teeth — were delivered from New Jersey. And ‘factory’ really is an appropriate description of the building. On its first floor, burly workmen operated large machines that crushed these rocks into a fine powder that was then incorporated into a liquid paste. And upstairs, fourteen young women sat in a single room manufacturing the teeth, first pouring the paste into teeth molds, then placing them in a large furnace, and finally scraping away any imperfections. This operation was so successful that Morton was able to sell these artificial teeth to dentists throughout the world.

But despite the income generated from the ‘tooth mill’ and his award from Great Britain, Morton would still struggle financially. He certainly didn’t improve the situation when he bought another large piece of property in Wellesley — on Grove Street on the site of the current Dana Hall campus — and built a mansion that rivaled Etherton Cottage in its extravagance. (He wouldn’t, however, move into the house, which would later become the longtime home of Charles B. Dana, the namesake of Dana Hall.)

Things got so bad for Morton that around 1860, he was hanged in effigy on a mammoth Buttonwood tree that stood in Wellesley Square. Although it has been reported over the years that this act was carried about by local citizens upset by Morton’s unsettled debts, in reality, it was probably instigated by Morton’s creditors from Boston. Nevertheless, Wellesley citizens let the effigy hang for an entire week before it was (supposedly) burned at the stake. (The Buttonwood tree was removed in 1904 for the construction of the Taylor Block, the large brick building on the south side of Washington Street where White Mountain Creamery is currently located.)

Note that the map does not show the location of the Etherton farm buildings or Morton’s artificial tooth factory.

Unfortunately, there’s no happy ending to this story. After spending the years during the Civil War administering ether to wounded soldiers, Morton found himself living in poverty. He was even forced to pawn the medals he had won for his discovery two decades earlier. In 1868, Morton died of rheumatism while in New York City where he was responding publicly to an article supporting Dr. Jackson’s claim to the discovery of etherization.

It was soon thereafter that the Etherton estate fell into disrepair. In 1878, Horatio H. Hunnewell — the town’s greatest benefactor — bought the entire property and, three years later, began construction on the Town Hall building that currently occupies the former site of Etherton Cottage, which was moved to the eastern edge of the property on the site of Morton Field adjacent to the police station (almost opposite Morton Street). Another structure — a small dwelling lived in by Morton’s parents and located near the current driveway of Town Hall on Washington Street (adjacent to the duck pond) — was moved to 33 Cottage Street. The rest of the buildings on the Etherton estate were razed, leaving little, if any, evidence that Morton lived there at all. In 1919, Etherton Cottage was torn down.

The house of Morton’s parents
Built in 1853 and moved to 33 Cottage Street in 1880
(Photo taken by Joshua Dorin in April 2013)

So why do I feel like Wellesley doesn’t appreciate Dr. William T.G. Morton enough? Although the town already has a few reminders of Morton’s presence in Wellesley — Morton Field, Morton Street/Circle, and a stone plaque at Town Hall — I think it can do more. Perhaps we could declare a ‘William Morton Day’ just as the Commonwealth did for Katharine Lee Bates — another famous Wellesley resident — on August 12, 1976. We’ve got six years until Morton’s 200th birthday. Let’s make it happen.

Sources:

•  Wellesley Historical Commission files: 33 Cottage Street; Wellesley Town Hall
• “An Artificial Tooth Factory” in The Family Economist, Volume 4 (1851)
• “Etherton Cottage, and the Discoverer of Etherization” by Sarah Josepha Hale in Godey’s Lady’s Book (1853)
• “Morton’s Piggery, Etherton Farm, West Needham, Mass.” in The Pennsylvania Farm Journal Devoted to Agriculture, Volume 3-4 (1853)
• Trials of a Public Benefactor by Nathan Rice (1859)
• “Dr. Morton’s Discovery of Anesthesia” by E.L. Snell in Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, Volume 48 (1894)
• “The Discovery of Anaesthesia” by Elizabeth Whitman Morton in McClure’s Magazine, Volume 7 (1896)
• Wellesley Townsman: 21 March 1919; 26 December 1919; 3 May 1929; 24 May 1929; 17 October 1946; 12 August 1976; 19 November 1981

William Morton and Etherization (Part 1)

According to a survey conducted by the American Association of Endodontists, more than 80% of adults fear going to the dentist. I don’t blame them. No one enjoys having his or her teeth and gums scraped at with razor-sharp instruments. And God forbid, if you need a root canal or a tooth extracted. But at least we have novocain and nitrous oxide. For thousands of years, people had to suffer through medical procedures without any anesthesia at all. So you can imagine the relief when the first anesthetic that safely rendered patients unconscious before surgery was discovered in the mid-19th Century. Pain had finally been conquered.

So what does any of this have to do with Wellesley? A lot, in fact. The first person to demonstrate publicly the use of a general anesthetic — specifically, ether — was Dr. William T.G. Morton, a dentist who lived in Wellesley at the time of this discovery. The following post, however, mentions Wellesley only briefly and instead focuses almost exclusively on his discovery of ether as a general anesthetic. My next post will detail Morton’s subsequent pursuit of fame and recognition, of which an important theme is the development of his large Wellesley estate known as ‘Etherton’ on the current site of Town Hall.

Dr. William T.G. Morton
Source: Bolton (1885)

But before we delve into the story about William Morton, let’s take a closer look at surgery before the existence of general anesthesia. Although various methods to alleviate pain existed — copious amounts of alcohol, large doses of laudanum (alcohol mixed with opium), a fist or blunt object to the head, and even hypnosis — many patients simply bit a stick or were held down by a group of men during operations, amputations, and dental work. Needless to say, each of these methods had either limited success or terrible side effects (or both).

Below is a passage that gives a good picture of what a typical surgery was like before the discovery of etherization [from Rice (1859)]:

“With a meek, imploring look, and the startled air of a fawn, as her modest gaze meets the bold eyes fixed upon her, she is brought into the amphitheatre crowded with men anxious to see the shedding of her blood, and laid upon the table. With a knowledge and merciful regard to the intensity of the agony which she is to suffer, opiates and stimulants have been freely given her, which, perhaps, at this last stage, are again repeated. She is cheered by kind words, and the information that it will soon be over, and she freed forever from what now afflicts her; she is enjoined to be calm, and to keep quiet and still, and with assistance at hand to hold her struggling form, the operation is commenced.

But of what avail are all her attempts at fortitude. At the first clear crisp cut of the scalpel, agonizing screams burst from her and with convulsive struggles, she endeavors to leap from the table. But the force is nigh. Strong men throw themselves upon her, and pinion her limbs. Shrieks upon shrieks make their horrible way into the stillness of the room, until the heart of the boldest sinks in his bosom like a lump of lead.

At length it is finished, and, prostrated with pain, weak from her exertions, and bruised by the violence used, she is borne from the amphitheatre to her bed in the wards, to recover from the shock by slow degrees.”

It’s no wonder there was great interest in finding a safe anesthetic that would result in the loss of consciousness. But centuries of experimentation had yielded no such substance — everything from hemlock to marijuana to chloroform failed. It wasn’t until William Morton arrived on the scene in the 1840s that the focus shifted to ether.

How Morton came up with the idea to use ether is a critical part of this story (and will be revisited in my next post). To make a long story short, Morton heard from a colleague — Dr. Charles T. Jackson — that liquid ether could be used as a local anesthetic by applying it topically to the teeth and gums. Jackson also mentioned that Harvard students had been inhaling ether-soaked handkerchiefs to get lightheaded. Putting two and two together, Morton then hypothesized that ether could be inhaled in large enough quantities to cause unconsciousness. (Why Jackson didn’t draw the same conclusion is puzzling. One can only assume that, unlike Morton, he wasn’t thinking about general anesthesia.)

For the next two years, Morton devoted his life to proving this hypothesis true. He even sold his dental practice in Boston so that he could experiment with ether full-time at his Wellesley workshop. At first, Morton conducted his tests solely on small animals — green worms, goldfish, and chickens, to name a few — but in most of these trials the subjects died. His first great success came when he experimented on his dog, but that was accompanied by a brief moment of terror. After inserting his water spaniel’s head into a jar filled with ether, the poor dog went limp, causing Morton to think he had killed his four-legged friend. For three minutes, Morton was overcome with grief. But then, the dog suddenly regained consciousness (but understandably would balk at all future experiments).

With this encouraging result, Morton then took a rather extreme next step — he began experimenting on himself. His first experiments, however, only resulted in drowsiness and terrible headaches. Morton guessed that the weak effect was probably because he had been using sulfuric ether. Perhaps pure ether would produce a stronger effect. He was right. After laying a handkerchief saturated with pure ether over his face and inhaling deeply for a few minutes, Morton lost consciousness. When he awoke several minutes later, despite having a mild paralysis that took some time to wear off, Morton appeared to be okay.

Now all he needed was a willing patient on which to try out this new anesthetic. Quite serendipitously, a young man named Eben H. Frost soon arrived at Morton’s office complaining of a toothache. Unable to handle the pain associated with the necessary tooth extraction, Frost consented to Morton’s suggestion to try ether. Just as he did to himself, Morton held a saturated handkerchief over the patient’s mouth and nose and waited for him to lose consciousness. Once Frost appeared to be asleep, Morton took his forceps, grabbed hold of the deeply-rooted bicuspid, applied some force and torque, and yanked the tooth out of its socket. The patient didn’t move or make a sound throughout the procedure. But he also didn’t awaken immediately once it was complete. Thinking that he may have killed a man, Morton splashed a glass of water onto Frost’s face. The patient then awoke, completely unable to recall the tooth extraction.

Morton anesthetizing Eben H. Frost
Source: Wellcome Images

The final step was to show off this discovery to the world. Two weeks later, on October 16, 1846, Morton assisted with a surgery in an amphitheater (later renamed Ether Dome) at Massachusetts General Hospital as dozens of prominent doctors and surgeons observed. The surgery — the removal of a tumor on the patient’s jaw — was a success. At the young age of 27 years, Morton had become the first person to demonstrate the successful use of ether as a general anesthetic.

The first public demonstration of ether as a general anesthetic
Source: McCrillis (1908)

This concludes the first post on Dr. William T.G. Morton. In the second post, I will discuss the aftermath of his discovery of etherization and his estate, Etherton. 

Sources:

• “Etherton Cottage, and the Discoverer of Etherization” by Sarah Josepha Hale in Godey’s Lady’s Book (1853)
• Trials of a Public Benefactor by Nathan Rice (1859)
• A Catalogue of Artificial Teeth, Dental Materials, Instruments, Tools, Furntiure, etc. by Claudius Ash & Sons (1880)
• How Success is Won by Sarah Knowles Bolton (1885)
• ‘The Discovery of Anaesthesia’ by Elizabeth Whitman Morton in McClure’s Magazine, Volume 7 (1896)
• The Conquest of Pain by Herbert O. McCrillis (1908)
• Wellesley Townsman: 17 October 1946
• American Association of Endodontists Website — Root Canal Awareness Week 2009 Press Release [accessed March 2013]

Ruins of the Waterway

The Parthenon. Machu Picchu. The Pyramids of Giza. There’s a reason why these sites are among the most popular tourist attractions in the world. People love ruins, perhaps more so than well-preserved buildings and structures. There’s more mystique and ambiguity. We don’t see their original appearance so our imaginations must take over. And it’s this creative process that emotionally binds us to the past.

So what could be more fun than discussing ruins in Wellesley? If you didn’t know, there are actually a number of such sites in town. In this post, I’d like to focus on just one: the Waterway, a derelict canal and overgrown parkland that once made up the heart of Indian Springs Park, an ambitious — but unsuccessful — subdivision in Wellesley Farms at the turn of the 20th Century.

But before I discuss the history of Indian Springs Park, let me start by showing some photographs of the ruins of the Waterway (all taken by Joshua Dorin in March 2013).

Note the abandoned road (now a wooded path) on the left

I also made a movie of the ruins. Just a warning…I’ve heard from a few people that this video can be a bit dizzying. Unfortunately, I can’t alter the movie without compromising its quality.)

So what are the origins of the Waterway and why did it fall into ruins? As I mentioned, the Waterway was the centerpiece of the Indian Springs Park subdivision. It was the creation of Harry J. Jaquith, who in 1894-95 began to develop his 80-acre property that stretched from Washington Street to the Wellesley Farms railroad station between the Cochituate Aqueduct and Glen Road. (His large estate house, built in 1875 out of hollow concrete blocks and known as Heckle’s Castle after its original owner, William C. Heckle, was located on Washington Street to the northeast of where Hillside Road is today. It burned down in 1909.)

Eastern half of Indian Spring Park
(Source: Norfolk County Registry of Deeds)

Western half of Indian Springs Park
(Source: Norfolk County Registry of Deeds)

As you can see in the subdivision plans, the property was broken up into 73 lots and the following streets were laid out:

• Hillside Road
• Orchard Street
• Sylvan Road (originally known as Montvale Road)
• Springdale Avenue
• Indian Springs Way (originally part of Hillside Road)
• Glen Cross Road (originally part of Croton Street)
• The Waterway

It’s this last street — the Waterway — that led from Glen Road to the canal and a basin that funneled water from Indian Springs Brook. The canal was a brick-lined channel that divided the road for about 300 feet. On the other side of Hillside Road, there was the basin — a more elaborate brick structure designed to direct the flow of the water. Steps led down from Hillside Road to a semi-circular walkway around the basin and there seems to have been a footbridge over the brook. Adjacent to this structure was a large grassy park that backed up to the aqueduct. In addition, there was a lake between the canal and Glen Road that collected the water flowing from the canal. Not much is known about either the construction or the use of the Waterway. Local lore suggests that residents may have taken Sunday strolls around the canal in their horse-drawn carriages.

The Waterway
(Source: Wellesley Atlas of 1897)

Unfortunately, the Waterway fell into poor condition soon after its construction, as it was reportedly in ruins by 1906. This was no doubt a result of the failure of Indian Springs Park — only a small handful of lots were sold within the first decade.

Today, the Waterway is in complete ruins. The brick-lined canal is falling apart. Much of the basin is either missing or buried under layers of leaves and dirt. And the entire area is overgrown with trees and weeds. In fact, the road on one side of the canal is now a wooded path. This post, therefore, serves an additional purpose beyond discussing Wellesley’s history. I propose calling for the restoration (or at least the stabilization) of the Waterway. It’s a unique piece of history.

I’d also like to inquire about other abandoned or ruined historical structures in Wellesley. Here are a few that come to my mind:

• The Wellesley Farms railroad station
• The railroad bridge that crosses the Charles River behind Waterstone (the former Grossman’s site) in Lower Falls — although it was recently paved over to serve as a walkway across the river.
• Remnants of the mill/dam and the ice house at the north end of Longfellow Pond. I also believe that part of the foundation of the Hastings farmhouse that stood to the east of the pond may still exist, but I’m not 100% sure.
• The Sudbury and Cochituate Aqueducts and their associated structures: the Rosemary Brook siphon chamber building on Wellesley Avenue, the Waban Arches, and two waste weirs and gatehouses located just north of Morses Pond and on the Crosstown Trail near Woodlawn Avenue.
• The Ellis stone barn just south of Route 9 adjacent to the Charles River near the Newton line.
• There may be a few relicts left from Ridge Hill Farms on the former Baker Estate on Grove Street near the Needham line. I’m pretty sure any ruins that still exist are on the eastern side of Sabrina Lake on private property.

If you know of any others, please leave a comment. I promise not to go snooping, but it would be of huge historical value to have an inventory of the ruins in Wellesley.

Sources:

• Norfolk County Registry of Deeds
• 1897 Atlas of Wellesley
• Wellesley Townsman: 15 June 1906; 10 December 1909; 24 May 1956

Rock Ridge Hall

The development of the Cliff Estates is a subject that’s been written about many times over the years. And in each of these narratives, there’s only a brief mention, if any, of Rock Ridge Hall, a private school located on Cliff Road during the early 1900s. That, of course, made me curious. Were details about the school lost to history? Or was it too insignificant to write about? Turns out, much of the school’s history wasn’t lost. It was just scattered and difficult to piece together. But that doesn’t mean that the school wasn’t an important part of the story.

Before I try to reconstruct the history of Rock Ridge Hall, I need to give a brief overview of the earliest development of the Cliff Estates so that you have a good understanding of the geography of the area at the time that the school opened. So let’s start with Albion Robert Clapp — the “Father of the Cliff Estates.” When Clapp bought the 15-acre Ayling farm (now known as 11 Cliff Road) in 1867, the street extended only as far as the current location of Garden Road. All the land north to the Weston town line and west to Weston Road was part of the Hundreds Woods. Over the next decade, Clapp began acquiring some of this land, but it wasn’t until the late 1870s that he began developing part of it. The first houses built were on the east side of Chestnut Street (which was the original name of the lower stretch of Cliff Road). This was in part to avoid building on the steep hill that gives Cliff Road its name. Clapp soon, however, carved into that hill and extended Cliff Road further north. By 1897, he had built nearly twenty houses in the vicinity of Cliff Road:

Source: Wellesley Atlas of 1897

It was at the northern edge of this development that George Rantoul White established Rock Ridge Hall. An 1886 Harvard graduate and former chemistry teacher at Phillips Exeter, White had long dreamed of running his own school. But the opportunity didn’t present itself until 1899 when he married Albion Clapp’s daughter, Irma May Clapp, and was given five acres of land on Cliff Road on the day of their wedding. Although the details regarding the construction of the school’s campus are a bit unclear, it seems most likely that the main building (known as Rock Ridge Hall) was built that fall or the following spring. During that time, White actually was on an extended honeymoon in Europe where he was able to study several prominent English preparatory schools as he laid the groundwork for Rock Ridge.

Rock Ridge Hall
(With permission from cardcow.com)

The year 1899 was also when White’s father died and that may have given him another reason to start his own school in Wellesley. At the time, his parents were in the process of constructing their own house at 41 Chestnut Street across from the home of their daughter and George’s sister, Mary Hawthorne (White) Bunker, at 46 Chestnut Street. It seems probable then that White would have relocated there as well to care for his mother and younger brother, Edward, who was still a student and who would later prepare for Harvard at Rock Ridge under his older brother’s tutelage.

Rock Ridge Hall opened in October of 1900. Although the first class had only eight students, the school’s enrollment quickly grew to seven-five by 1906. This increase was no doubt a testament to White’s strong abilities as headmaster. He had created an elite private school that was extremely successful preparing students for college — in particular, Harvard — but also provided the education needed to enter a scientific school or business career. It’s no surprise then that Rock Ridge attracted students from throughout the United States as well as foreign countries such as China and Japan. Even Booker T. Washington, a leading proponent of education, sent his own son there. (Booker Jr., however, was quite a troublemaker and not interested in academics, and soon transferred to the Wellesley School for Boys on Linden Street.)

In addition to the high school, a small preparatory program for boys of grammar school age, known as the Hawthorne School, was added in 1904. These younger students were housed across the street from Rock Ridge Hall in a large dormitory known as Hawthorne House. Collectively, the two schools were known as the Rock Ridge School.

The Rock Ridge campus also included an industrial arts shop, a large gymnasium, a swimming pool, bowling alleys, tennis courts, a baseball field and, of course, Rockridge Pond. An additional dormitory, Gray House, was added around 1912. The following map shows the extent of the Rock Ridge campus in relation to the modern geography. Note that Hawthorne House and Gray House still stand at 54 Cliff Road and 25 Hawthorne Road, respectively.

Map of the Rock Ridge Campus

Unfortunately, this map doesn’t give you an appreciation for the imposing presence of Rock Ridge Hall. As its name suggests, the main building sat on top of a rocky precipice. This, of course, was the perfect location for the centerpiece of the campus. However, this site would be problematic when a fire (caused by a defective flue) broke out on the top floor of the main building in 1911. Initially, Wellesley’s firefighters were unable to fight the flames because the water pressure was too low at the top of the hill. It wasn’t until the arrival of the Newton Fire Department — which was far better equipped — that the fire was extinguished and Rock Ridge Hall was saved from total destruction. Fortunately, nobody was injured. But the students, whose living quarters were on the upper floors, lost most of their personal possessions. The damaged portion of Rock Ridge Hall was quickly rebuilt and the school soon reopened.

Despite the rebuilding of Rock Ridge Hall, the school did not stay open very much longer. In 1915, White retired and sold the entire campus to Mary S. Nichols, who used the former school as a seasonal resort and boarding house. Unfortunately, it must not have been profitable because she was foreclosed upon in 1925. The property was then broken up and sold the following year. Although Hawthorne House and Gray House were converted into single family residences, the rest of the school’s buildings, including Rock Ridge Hall, were torn down. Over a dozen large dwellings were built in their place, which included the Rockridge Road development.

Left: The former Hawthorne House at 54 Cliff Road
Right: The former Gray House at 25 Hawthorne Road
(Photos taken by Joshua Dorin in March of 2013)

So even though there are very few visual reminders of the Rock Ridge School, its brief history is an important part of the story about the development of the Cliff Estates. It is also another example of the high value that Wellesley places on education. Schools like Rock Ridge, Dana Hall, Wellesley College, the Babson Institute, and even the early public schools made Wellesley into the desirable community that still exists today. Why Rock Ridge School was forgotten about for so long is beyond me.

Sources:

• Norfolk County Registry of Deeds
• Wellesley Historical Commission files: #15-17 Chestnut Street; #21 Chestnut Street; #41 Chestnut Street; #46 Chestnut Street; #5 Cliff Road; #11 Cliff Road; #34 Cliff Road
• Needham Map of 1876
• Wellesley Atlas of 1897
• Wellesley Townsman: 11 May 1906; 5 October 1906; 31 March 1911; 26 November 1915; 30 April 1926; 14 May 1926; 11 June 1926; 22 July 1948; 19 August 1954; 24 May 1956; 4 June 1981
• Boston Evening Transcript: 15 September 1906
• Secretary’s Report by Harvard College, Class of 1886 (1907)
• The Harvard Graduates’ Magazine, Volume 16 (1908)
• Munsey’s Magazine, Volume 39 (1908)
• Who’s Who in New England, Volume 1 by Albert Nelson Marquis (1909)
• New York Times: 26 March 1911
• Cosmopolitan, Volume 53 by Schlicht & Field (1912)
• Secretary’s Third Report by Harvard College, Class of 1908 (1920)
• My Valuable Time: The Story of Paul Bridgman Boyd by Amy Sherman Bridgman (1938)
• Booker T. Washington: The Wizard of Tuskegee, 1901-1915 by Louis R. Harlan (1983):
• Find a Grave: George Rantoul White

Additional images which might be of interest — from The Country Calendar, Volume 1 (1905):

Brown Elementary School

(Apologies for not posting recently. I was working on five different posts, none of which came together easily. If you’d like to be notified by email when I write a new post, enter your email address into the widget to the right.)

Just a few weeks ago, the School Committee approved a plan proposed by the new Wellesley Superintendent of Schools to suspend K-3 enrollment at Hardy Elementary School through the end of the school year. Overcrowding at Hardy had become too much of a problem. And now, as the School Committee tries to figure out a solution — most likely, redistricting — I’m sure that the Town is regretting closing and selling several elementary school buildings during the 1970s and 1980s. At its peak, there were twelve elementary schools in Wellesley: Bates, Fiske, Hardy, Hunnewell, Schofield, Sprague, Upham, Brown, Kingsbury, Perrin, Phillips, and Warren. The first seven are the only schools still open. Perrin and Phillips no longer stand, Brown and Kingsbury are condos, and Warren is occupied by the Recreation and Health Departments.

So what better time to bring the history of one of these closed schools back into the limelight? Remind the Town exactly what it lost over three decades ago. Let’s start with the Seldon L. Brown Elementary School, a charming little schoolhouse on Garden Road that opened in 1924.

The former Brown Elementary School – built 1924
(Photo taken by Joshua Dorin in March 2013)

Brown School was one of four elementary schools that opened in a span of only fourteen months between September 1923 and October 1924. At the time, Wellesley was in the midst of the largest population boom in the town’s history — from 1920 to 1930, Wellesley’s population grew from 6,000 to 11,000, a near doubling in only one decade. The five existing elementary schools (Hunnewell, Phillips, North, Fiske, and the Fells School) were bursting at their seams. Forty students in each class was not uncommon. In a remarkable feat of efficiency, the Town was able to develop and approve plans for the four new school buildings within months of taking up the issue. Construction began immediately. The first school to open was Hardy in September 1923, followed by Kingsbury in January 1924, Sprague in September 1924, and Brown in October 1924.

For the first six weeks of the 1924-25 school year, before construction of the Brown schoolhouse was complete, ninety students attended class in the gymnasium of Rock Ridge Hall, a former private school on the site of Rockridge Road. These students had been kicked out of their old classrooms at Phillips School in order to accommodate the growing junior high school population (who shared the same building). Although the temporary facilities were adequate at first, the old gym failed to keep the children warm as the temperature dropped. Even the installation of a new electric heating system didn’t help. Finally, when Brown School was completed in late October, the students and their teachers left their makeshift classrooms with their books and personal belongings and marched along a wooded path (that would become Lanark Road) to their new school.

The new schoolhouse must have been a sight for sore eyes. And what a sight, indeed. Brown more closely resembled a mansion than an elementary school, its design inspired by English manors constructed during the late Elizabethan and early Jacobean periods. This unique schoolhouse — with its multi-gabled roof, decorative finials, stone mullion windows, and tall chimneys — was designed by noted architect and Wellesley resident, William Hungerford Brainerd, who (unlike most builders in Wellesley today) appreciated the value that a beautiful building adds to a neighborhood and community.

Source: Our Town of November 1903

So who was Seldon L. Brown? Better known as “Pa” Brown by the entire Wellesley community, Seldon Lester Brown was the principal of Wellesley High School from 1886 to 1916, as well as the Latin teacher (and occasionally math and civics teacher). A gifted and passionate instructor, Brown had a habit of flipping the switch that controlled the school’s clocks in order to prolong the school day a few extra minutes. He was also deeply invested in the success of the high school’s athletic teams and was one of their greatest supporters. Outside of school, Brown was active in town government, served as president of the Wellesley Club, and was a trustee of the Wellesley Free Library for twenty years. It is, therefore, no surprise that the new elementary school was named for Brown. Attaching his name to the Garden Road schoolhouse was also fitting because Brown resided nearby at 22 Colburn Road and even owned land that became part of the school grounds.

The Seldon L. Brown House at 22 Colburn Road — built 1914
(Photo taken by Joshua Dorin in March 2013)

Brown School was K-6 until 1975 when it became one of three grade 5-6 schools. In 1981, fifty-seven years after first opening its doors, Brown closed as a result of declining enrollment and Proposition 2 ½. The schoolhouse was sold by the Town two years later to a developer (for only $350,000!) and converted into the Garden Close condominiums.

Now, in 2013, as Wellesley struggles with overcrowded elementary schools, I’m sure the School Committee wishes it had more vacant schools to help alleviate the problem. Perhaps the Town should have realized thirty years ago that some cost-cutting decisions can’t be undone.

Sources:

• Norfolk County Registry of Deeds
• Our Town: November 1903
• Who’s Who in Pennsylvania: A Biographical Dictionary of Contemporaries, Volume 1 (1909)
• Town Annual Report: 1913, 1914
• Wellesley Townsman: 21 July 1922; 23 March 1923; 15 June 1923; 7 September 1923; 23 November 1923; 25 January 1924; 20 June 1924; 12 September 1924; 3 October 1924; 10 October 1924; 24 October 1924; 31 October 1924; 4 May 1934; 18 February 1943; 17 November 1949; 28 August 1975; 29 January 1981; 3 September 1981; 14 April 1983; 21 February 2013

Booker T. Washington

I’m not just a Wellesley history junkie. I also love pretty much anything having to do with American history. So it’s especially fascinating to me when both subjects come together, as is the case in this post. It concerns Booker T. Washington, one of the foremost leaders of the African-American community during the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. Well, to be specific, this post actually focuses on two of his children who attended school in Wellesley. But it still sheds light on Washington, not just as a parent, but also as a proponent of education. He was, after all, one of the founders of the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama. So it shouldn’t be surprising that he took every effort to make sure that his children received the best possible education.

Booker T. Washington with his wife and three children
Portia and Booker Jr. are on the right
(With permission from the Tuskegee University Archives)

The first of his children to attend school in Wellesley was his daughter, Portia, who enrolled at Wellesley College in the fall of 1901. She had been attending the Tuskegee Institute, but felt unchallenged by its curriculum. So her father arranged for her to take three classes at Wellesley: music theory, piano, and German. Unfortunately, Portia struggled in these courses and also suffered from severe loneliness. As a special student, she wasn’t allowed to live on campus and roomed instead in a house on Howe Street and ate her meals with several college professors, including Katharine Lee Bates, Katharine Coman, and Emily Greene Balch. And although race was not the reason that Portia lived off campus — at the time, there were a few black students who lived in the dormitories — it is believed that she may have been subject to racism by some of the many southern white students at the school. Portia, therefore, found it difficult to make friends with her classmates. There is no doubt that this social discomfort was detrimental to her academic performance and resulted in the failure of one of her music classes, a subject at which she normally excelled.

The ordeal was only made worse for Portia when newspapers across the country reported that the college did not allow her to return the following year because of her failing grades. In addition, the media spread rumors that the faculty pressed for Portia’s dismissal in order to end the “race war” between the students. These reports, however, were untrue. In actuality, she had planned to spend only one year at Wellesley. Portia enrolled the following fall at Bradford Academy in Haverhill, where she would graduate three years later and go on to become a successful concert pianist and music teacher.

The second part of this post involves Portia’s brother, Booker Jr., who arrived in Wellesley in early 1902. Unlike his sister, Booker Jr. was a bit of a troublemaker and not at all interested in academics. So perhaps Washington sent his son to Wellesley not just to help alleviate Portia’s homesickness, but also to provide a change of scenery for Booker Jr. After briefly attending Rock Ridge Hall, a private school located on the current site of Rockridge Road in the Cliff Estates, Booker Jr. transferred to the Wellesley School for Boys at 24 Linden Street (the former parsonage of the Village Congregational Church). It was a small school run by Rev. Edward A. Benner and could provide the attention needed to help Booker Jr. succeed. Unfortunately, Benner was unsuccessful at first. Booker Jr. continued to neglect his studies, and was also caught smoking in his room, sneaking out after dark, and even ditching class to visit his sister. It was only after some stern parenting from his father that Booker Jr. improved both his behavior and his grades. He stayed at the school for two more years and then returned to Tuskegee to finish his education.

The Wellesley School for Boys at 24 Linden Street
Left photograph taken from Benner (1904)
Right photograph taken by Joshua Dorin in March 2013

On a separate note, it was during the time that Booker Jr. was in Wellesley that his father gave a lecture in town. Speaking at the Maugus Club on Abbott Road in November 1903, Washington described the struggles that the black population faced nearly forty years after the end of slavery. One might wonder why he would give such a lecture to an almost exclusively white audience. But these speeches were an important component of the early Civil Rights movement: the speakers served as examples of the educational progress made by the African-American community. Washington, in particular, was a powerful orator, able to inspire and rally citizens behind his cause. The following excerpt from his Wellesley lecture, describing what African-Americans have already accomplished, shows this ability: “…they came to this country with chain on wrist and ankle — were freed with hoe and spade in hand: — they came pagans — were freed Christians with Bible and spelling book at command: — they came without a language — were freed speaking the proud Anglo-Saxon tongue.” Few speeches in the history of this town were as significant or eloquent.

Let me conclude by adding that even though this post is about Booker T. Washington and his family, I think it also says a lot about the town of Wellesley. Just as Washington believed that education was the gateway to success, the town has invested much of its resources into developing and maintaining a strong public school system. In addition, there has been a countless number of private schools in Wellesley over the last century and a half. It is no wonder that Booker T. Washington sent his children to school in a town that places such a heavy emphasis on education.

Sources:

• Wellesley Historical Commission files – #24 Linden Street
• Tuskegee University Archives Online Repository
• New York Times: 2 November 1902; 15 November 1902
• Our Town: December 1903
• Glimpses of Wellesley by E.H. Benner (1904)
• The Booker T. Washington Papers, Volume 6: 1901-2 by Louis R. Harlan (1977)
• The Afro American: 11 March 1978
• Booker T. Washington: The Wizard of Tuskegee, 1901-1915 by Louis R. Harlan (1983)
• Guest of Honor by Deborah Davis (2013)

Katharine Coman

While I was attending the Wellesley public schools, pretty much our only lessons on the history of the town involved Katharine Lee Bates. Don’t get me wrong — I think her story as a Wellesley College professor and author of the patriotic hymn, America the Beautiful, is extremely interesting and quite inspirational. Furthermore, Bates provides an example of an independent woman who achieved professional success within a society that limited the opportunities for women. The lesson, therefore, serves as an important supplement to our regular androcentric history curriculum. But is she the only such example from Wellesley? Absolutely not. And we don’t need to stray too far from Bates to find a second woman. Just consider her closest friend and fellow Wellesley College professor, Katharine Coman.

Don’t worry if you haven’t heard of Coman. Unfortunately, she never received strong name recognition outside of academia. But within the fields of economics and history, Coman is well-known for her pioneering research. Deeply concerned about the working and living conditions of immigrants, women, and the poor, she traveled far and wide to study firsthand the problems that confronted these groups. It was this personal approach combined with rigorous analytics that helped give rise to the field of sociology. In fact, Coman became the first chair of the department of economics and sociology at Wellesley College in 1901. Through this position, she was able to make a significant impact on her colleagues and students. The most notable example is Emily Greene Balch, a fellow economics professor and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1946 for her work with the International Women’s Congress for Peace and Freedom.

Katharine Coman in 1899
(With permission from the Wellesley College Archives)

And Coman’s efforts to seek social change extended far beyond the ivory tower. One of her greatest achievements was helping to organize the Chicago Garment Workers’ Strike of 1910-11 where 40,000 factory laborers — mostly female immigrants — protested wage cuts and poor working conditions. Coman was also an ardent supporter of insurance for the elderly and unemployed, with much of her efforts occurring during the last few years of her life as she struggled with an illness that forced her retirement in 1913. It was also during this time that she established the first free kindergarten in Wellesley, an idea that came to her while on bed rest at home and unable to ignore the sounds of unsupervised young children playing in the streets. And when the kindergarten outgrew its classroom in the current Odd Fellows Building on Central Street, Coman secured a donation to construct the Anne L. Page Memorial Building at the corner of Weston Road and Central Street. The program she helped develop, now known as the Child Study Center and run by the Department of Psychology at Wellesley College, has been operational for 101 years.

Anne L. Page Memorial Building — built 1913
Source: Forum (1915)

Of course, it would be remiss of me not to discuss Coman’s connection to Katharine Lee Bates. After all, she was more than just a roommate and companion to Bates. She was a mentor and inspiration. When Bates arrived at Wellesley College to teach English, she viewed the job as merely a way to earn enough money so that she could write poetry during the rest of the year. But Coman’s intelligence and determination gave Bates reason to view her career “as a woman professor and scholar, pulling her up several levels, modeling serious vocational and professional commitment to her teaching, and introducing her to the wider world of social, economic, cultural, gender, and spiritual issues [Mahoney, 1998].”

Home of Katharine Lee Bates & Katharine Coman
70 Curve Street — built 1907
(Photo taken by Joshua Dorin in Februrary of 2013)

So why not include a lesson on Coman in our public schools? If it weren’t for her, Wellesley might not have had the outstanding contributions of Katharine Lee Bates, nor would the nation have America the Beautiful. On its own, Coman’s story might just inspire a few of our young children just as so many others were a century ago.

Sources:

• Wellesley Historical Commission files – #70 Curve Street
• Wellesley Townsman: 23 October 1908; 15 January 1915; 17 August 1923; 12 August 1976;
• Forum: 1915, Volume 24 by Time, Inc. (1915)
• Notable American Women, 1607-1950: A Biographical Dictionary, Volume 2 by Edward T. James et al. (1971)
• Seeing into the Life of Things by John L. Mahoney (1998)
• Wellesley College Archives

Cyrus Washburn: The Namesake of Washburn Avenue

I always thought that Washburn Avenue was named for some literary figure. After all, the road is part of the Poets’ Corner neighborhood that includes streets named after Alfred Lord Tennyson, John Greenleaf Whittier, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. But it turns out that the namesake of Washburn Avenue — Cyrus Washburn — wasn’t a writer or poet. Rather, he was a carpenter and developer who built at least ten houses during the late 19th Century that still stand on Washburn Avenue, Walnut Street, and Longfellow Road.

Source: Talbot (1897)

The story of Cyrus Washburn and the development of this section of Wellesley is pretty simple. Let me start by showing you a map of the region in 1856, long before Washburn Avenue and Longfellow Road were laid out:

Florence Grove — site of the Poets’ Corner neighborhood
(Source: 1856 Map of Needham)

Although the roads are unlabeled, you should be able to see how ‘Florence Grove’ is bounded by Worcester, Oakland, Washington, Walnut, and Cedar Streets (starting at the bottom and going clockwise). In addition to these woodlands, there was a large stretch of farmland south of Walnut Street at the current location of Poets’ Corner.

This area stayed largely undeveloped until 1880, when the subject of this post, Cyrus Washburn, arrived in Wellesley and purchased part of the western edge of this farmland. A carpenter by trade, he had spent decades building houses and renting them in his hometown of East Weymouth. The only reason he left there and moved to Wellesley was that East Weymouth cut down the beautiful trees in front of his mansion.

The first house that Washburn built in Wellesley was for himself and his wife, Elizabeth, on the recently laid out Florence Avenue (which, in 1914, was renamed Longfellow Road after the Longfellow family, who had owned property along Worcester Street since the 1840s). He would then go on to build nine more large houses: two on Florence Avenue, two on Walnut Street, and five on Washburn Avenue (laying out the road in the process). The majority of these homes were kept by Washburn and rented out to families. A notable exception was 35 Washburn Avenue, which is believed to have been the home of his gardener or housekeeper — the house was built perpendicular to Washburn Avenue along a now-extinct path that led to the Washburn estate house on Florence Avenue. Below is an 1897 map of the area:

Source: Wellesley Atlas of 1897

And here are photographs of the ten houses that Cyrus Washburn built, as well his barn, which was converted into a residence around 1954. (All photographs were taken by Joshua Dorin in February of 2013.)

22 Longfellow Road – built in 1880
Cyrus Washburn House

26 Longfellow Road – built in 1880
Cyrus Washburn Barn (converted around 1954)

15 Longfellow Road – built in 1888

7 Longfellow Road – built in 1888

354 Walnut Street – built in 1883

350 Walnut Street – built in 1883

9 Washburn Avenue – built in 1884

11 Washburn Avenue – built in 1884

13-15 Washburn Avenue – built in 1886

25-27 Washburn Avenue – built in 1899

35 Washburn Avenue – built in 1890
Believed to be the house of Washburn’s gardener or housekeeper

When Cyrus Washburn died in 1899, most of these properties were sold. The rest of the estate was held until his wife’s death in 1906. (The Washburns did not have any children.)

The development of the rest of the Poets’ Corner neighborhood did not begin until 1919. Although it’s not exactly clear why the streets were named after literary figures, it is probable that the developer noticed that Longfellow was also the name of a famous poet. Unfortunately, only a few lots close to Walnut Street were sold before the developer was foreclosed upon in 1920. It wasn’t until the late 1920s that construction began again.

Today, over eighty years later, the Poets’ Corner is arguably one of the more desirable and charming neighborhoods in all of Wellesley. And to that, I’d like to add ‘historical’ — at least for its western edge along Washburn Avenue, Walnut Street, and Longfellow Road. Such a large cluster of pre-1900 dwellings all built by one person is rare in Wellesley. Unfortunately for Cyrus Washburn, his legacy has been forgotten, probably in large part because everyone assumes that Washburn Avenue was named for some obscure poet. Well, now that I’ve written this post, hopefully that will soon change.

Sources:

• Norfolk County Registry of Deeds
• Wellesley Historical Commission files: #22 Longfellow Road; #26 Longfellow Road; #350 Walnut Street; #354 Walnut Street; #9 Washburn Avenue; #11 Washburn Avenue; #13-15 Washburn Avenue; #25-27 Washburn Avenue; #35 Washburn Avenue; #303 Worcester Street
• 1856 Map of Needham
• 1876 Map of Needham
• 1888 Atlas of Norfolk County
• 1897 Atlas of Wellesley
• Souvenir History of the New England Southern Conference by Micah Jones Talbot (1897)
• Boston Herald: 23 September 1897
• Obituary Record of the Graduates of Bowdoin College and the Medical School of Maine (1899)
• The Wellesley Review: 17 February 1899
• Wellesley Townsman: 13 July 1906; 6 March 1914; 25 June 1920
• History of the Town of Wellesley, Massachusetts by Joseph E. Fiske (1917)

George Holmes Howison

Writing this particular post makes me regret not having taken philosophy in college. It just seemed like a whole bunch of gobbledygook. So it’s probably not surprising that I’m struggling to write about George Holmes Howison, a Wellesley resident during the 1870s and early 1880s and one of America’s preeminent philosophers. I just can’t seem to explain his significance to the American philosophical movement during the late 19th Century. Maybe Howison’s writing would make more sense to me if I had studied Kant or Hegel, two philosophers who greatly influenced him. Fortunately, I’ve figured out a way to avoid all that philosophy mumbo jumbo. According to Friedrich Nietzsche, “philosophy is the biography of a philosopher.” So instead of trying to understand esoteric philosophies, all I need to do is focus on Howison’s life story.

Source: Jones (1895)

And really, we only need to examine one event from his life to understand his philosophical views. This event occurred in 1838 when Howison was only four years old and living in Maryland. Rather abruptly, his slave-owning parents denounced slavery, freed their slaves, and relocated to the free soil of Marietta, Ohio. Such a profound statement must have made quite an impression on their young son. So much so that the decades Howison spent as a philosopher were focused almost exclusively on the idea of personalism, a concept dealing with the uniqueness and value of an individual.

It wasn’t until much later, however, that Howison would begin writing about personalism. In fact, he was not even exposed to the influential works of Kant and Hegel until the mid-1860s when he was a professor at Washington University in St. Louis where he taught mechanics, astronomy, political economy, and even Latin. At the invitation from a friend, he had joined a small group that read and discussed the writing of German philosophers of the late 18th and early 19th Centuries. It was also in this discussion group where he would meet such notable American thinkers as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Amos Bronson Alcott. In addition to inspiring Howison to deepen and formalize his own thoughts, Emerson and Alcott made him long for New England where intellectuals seemed to flourish and prosper.

Howison got his wish in 1871 when M.I.T. offered him a position as Professor of Logic and Philosophy of Science. And thus began his connection to Wellesley. In 1874, Howison purchased a small tract of land along Worcester Street (across from Rockland Street) and built a stately Queen Anne Victorian for himself and his wife, Lois.

The Howison house at 507 Worcester Street
(Photo taken by Joshua Dorin – February 2013)

Howison’s presence in Wellesley, however, didn’t last very long. In 1878, M.I.T. terminated his position due to the poor financial state of the university. It was during this period of relative unemployment that Howison began to write and develop his philosophical ideas. He even traveled to Europe and enrolled in a philosophy class at the University of Berlin where he was exposed to even more Kant and Hegel. This experience inspired Howison to pursue a career in philosophy. However, he nearly lost that ambition when he was denied a coveted philosophy professorship at Harvard in 1882. Feeling dispirited and rejected, he strongly considered leaving academia. After all, Howison was almost fifty years old and felt that there wasn’t enough time left to accomplish much.

Nevertheless, Howison kept searching and finally found success in 1884 when he was selected as the first philosophy professor at the University of California in Berkeley. Over the next two decades, he helped the philosophy department at Berkeley become one of the leading programs in the nation. As the department chair, he hired professors that shared his Hegelian view of personalism. In addition, Howison was a masterful teacher whose students attained positions at some of the most highly regarded institutions throughout the world. By the time he finally retired in 1904, his philosophies were well ingrained within American thought. Howison died twelve years later at the age of 82.

So that’s the best I can do to explain why George Holmes Howison was such an important figure to the development of American philosophy. I can’t say that I really understand that much about what he wrote, but at least I know a little bit about his life story. And according to Nietzsche, that’s worth something.

(A post script: Howison sold his Worcester Street house in 1887 to Warren Sawyer, a prominent Boston businessman who worked in the leather trade. The Sawyer family resided there until 1943. Sawyer Road, located to the north of the property, takes its name from that family.)

Sources:

• Wellesley Historical Commission files: #507 Worcester Street
• Schools and Schoolboys of Old Boston by Arthur Wellington Brayley (1894)
• Illustrated History of the University of California by William Carey Jones (1895)
• The Spokesman-Review: 1 January 1917
• Berkeley Daily Gazette: 16 November 1934
• The Dictionary of Modern American Philosophers, Volume 1 by John R. Shook (2005)