Boston Boys and their Winter Games - 1850s

For your winter enjoyment: 


A favorite book of mine is Old Boston Boys and the Games They Played, by James D'Wolf Lovvett. Published in 1906, it looked back on childhood (or rather boyhood) during the pre-Civil War years of the 1850s. The boys featured were Beacon Hill boys, although the adventures of West and South End boys enter the story. It's the story of Yankee boys, when there seemed little need yet to discriminate among Boston's ethnic mix. There are 'colored' people present, residents of the back of Beacon Hill, and perhaps the West End, and 'Hibernians' and Italian vendors gain a mention, but to the author, Boston boys are the sons of Yankee Beacon Hill.

 "Just over a low ridge of ground, which is now Arlington street, was the "Back Bay," a sheet of water that extended from the Mill Dam to Boston Neck, and many a time we boys struck straight across upon the ice from the corner of Arlington and Beacon streets, to where Chickering's piano factory now stands." 


I pulled out this single sentence about ice skating on the ice of the Back Bay to feature. The 1852 map above shows the degree to which the South End had already been filled. It also shows the Back Bay before it was filled, with two railroad line criss-crossing it on timber trestles. Note that the Back Bay was not entirely open water - there were apparently low islands of grass. Assuming this map to be correct, I suspect the boys setting off from the corner of Arlington and Beacon streets would have been forced to skate around the large island between there and the later site of Chickering's piano factory. In fact, Chickering's is shown here near the end of a sliver of water, and probably beyond where the boys skated.

Note also that there is no mention in the quote above of skating under the railroad trestles, which would have been required of anyone skating between those two sites. The blue line shows the most likely route followed by the skaters, from the edge of the Public Garden, under the Boston & Providence trestle, and then turning right and running between that trestle and the shore of the South End, under the Boston & Albany trestle, and on as far as open ice allowed. The author comments that to go the other way, towards Gravelly Point and the dam, one would approach fast running water as the tide shifted, which kept the ice thin or entirely open, and thus was a great danger.

And now, from skating to coasting:

Of course, the winter sport par excellence was coasting, and those Boston boys whose boyhood was at the zenith in the fifties include coasting, as it was then practiced, among the lost arts. If any of the youngsters of to-day are inclined to laugh at this statement, let any one of them, athlete though he may be, take a running start of from three to ten yards at full speed with the sled following at the end of its cord, and when sufficient impetus has been acquired, throw it ahead, letting the line fall along the seat, at the same time launching his body, curved bow-wise, forward through the air, alighting breast first, with no apparent effort, jar, or retardment of speed as softly as a falling snowflake, upon the flying sled as it shoots underneath. This would be called pretty, acrobatic feat to-day, but was too common then to attract special notice. That's the difference.

All coasting in those days was racing, pure and simple. Prominent sleds were as well known among the boys as race horses and yachts are today, and on any given Saturday afternoon hundreds of spectators might be seen hedging in the "Long Coast," which ran from the corner of Park and Beason streets to teh West Street entrance and as much farther along Tremont Mall as one's impetus would carry him. A squad of coasters would be bunched together at the top of the coast, holding their sleds like dogs in leash, waiting for some "crack" to lead off. As he straightened himself and started on his run with the cry of "Lullah!" to clear the way, it was the signal for all to follow, and one after another would string out from the bunch after him, in rapid succession, each keen to pass as many of those ahead as possible,the lesser lights being careful not to start until the "heavyweights" had sped on their way.

The walk back uphill was made interesting by discussing the merits, faults, lines, etc., of the noted sleds, and if, as often happened, invidious comparisons were made between a "South End" and a "West End" sled, a lively and not altogether unwelcome scrap, then and there, was usually the logical outcome.

Sleds (the first-class ones) were made with much care and skill, and cost proportionately. Natural black walnut was a favorite material, finished either with a fine dead polish or a bright surface, varnished with as much care as a coach; the name, it it bore one, was usually a fine specimen of lettering in gold or bright colors. The model was carefully planned, and the lines were graceful and a delight to teh eye of a connoisseur. Black enameled leather, bordered by gold or silver headed tacks, made a popular seat, and the "irons," as they were called, were made of the best "silver steel," whatever that meant. They were kept burnished like glass, with constant care and fine emery and oil, and a streak of ashes or a bare spot was avoided as a yacht steers clear of rocks.

The amount of "spring" given to the irons was also a matter of moment, and a nice gradation of the same was thought to have influence on the speed; it certainly added greatly to one's bodily comfort.

"Let's see your irons" was a common request, and the owner thus honored would jerk his sled up on its hind legs, so to speak, wipe ff the steel with mitten or handkerchief, and show off the bright surface with much pride.

The most popular coasts were the "Long Coast' already mentioned, the Joy Street coast, Beacon Street Mall, and the "Big" or "Flagstaff" Hill, the flagstaff standing on the spot now graced by the Soldiers' Monument. The hill was much higher than it is now, the ground around it having been raised in recent years. Many of the boys will recall the evenings spent on Mount Vernon and Chestnut streets and Branch avenue, - the latter known as "Kitchen" street.

Fancy a laughing, shouting crowd, in these days of police surveillance, coasting down public streets until eleven o'clock at night! But the Civil War came and changed many things, coasting among the rest. Most of the laughing, careless crowd enlisted at the first note of the country's call, and their boyhood came to a sudden end as the sound of drum and fife stirred all hearts to sterner things. Some came back, but many, alas, stayed behind with the great silent army, and it is for us who are left to keep their memories green until we too are enlisted in the same ranks.

It will, I am sure, be of some interest to may who remember those days, to see once more the old familiar names of a few of the crack sleds of Boston at that period, and to have recalled to their minds who the owners of them were.

Wivern - Bob Clark
Raven  - Arthur Clark
Brenda - Dan Sargent
Charlotte - Alfred Greenough
Comet - Frank Wells
Southern Cross - Frank Lawrence
Eagle - Jim Lovett
Arrow - John Muliken
Wild Pigeon - Ned Kendall
Tom Heyer - Jack Carroll
Titania - Nate Appleton
Multum in Parvo - Frank Peabody
Cave Adsum - Ned Amory
Dancing Feather - Charlie Greenough
Flying Childers - Frank Wildes
Juniata - Horace Bumstead
Trustee - Charlie Chamberlin
Santiago - Dick Robbins
Whiz - Will Freeman
Flirt - Horace Freeman
Scud - Eben Dale
Flying Cloud - Billy Fay
Cygnet - Jim Chadwick
Alma - Fred Crowninshield
Tuscaloosa - Horatio Curtis
Viking - Edgar Curtis
Moby Dick - Henry Alline


Of course there were many sleds equally fine which bore no name; prominent among this latter class should be mentioned the one owned by Tom Edmands and also one which was made and owned by Charlie Lovvett, both of them beautiful in grace, workmanship, and finish. There was one sled, named the "Edith," which always appealed to me as being more nearly perfect than any that I can remember. I cannot recall the owner's name, but I fear that whenever I saw this sled the tenth commandment was handled pretty roughly. 


I can well imagine the boys and the pride they took in their sleds. The names sound like sailing ships - so romantic. I found a single reference to Tom Heyer as America's first boxing champion, although it will take some off-line digging to verify and elaborate on the fact. The reference to the 'great silent army' put a lump in my throat, and made the entire passage worth reading on its own.

Alger's Gun Works

Cyrus Alger, 1827.


Cyrus Alger was born in West Bridgewater Massachusetts in 1781, and learned metal casting from his father. He set up a foundry in  Easton, and in 1809 moved to South Boston, recently stolen (legally, of course) from Dorchester and annexed to Boston . One source has him supplying cannon balls to the government during the War of 1812.

Cyrus Alger mortar, cast in 1863, currently located on the grounds of the North Carolina State Capitol (Wikimedia Commons).

Alger's Iron Foundry, South Boston, 1852.


In 1816, Alger bought from the South Boston Land Association most of the land west of the Dorchester Turnpike (now Dorchester avenue), and soon began filling in the mudflats of the South Bay. Here, he built his foundry, and made a name for himself as one of the leading metallurgists of his time. Alger developed a process for purifying cast iron, producing a much stronger material, and produced the first rifled gun in the nation. He personally supervised the pouring of the Columbiad, the largest gun to be produced up until that time.


From the Boston Directory, 1848-49. Although now known for his cannons, Alger's company supplied castings for many commercial uses. He had patents for improving both stoves and plows.

The red 'X' marks the 1855 location of the Alger foundry in South Boston, and shows both water and railroad access (BPL map collection). Much of the land at the site marked above was created by Alger.

Closeup map view of Cyrus Algers' Boston Iron Works, Iron (later Foundry) street, South Boston, 1852. The South Boston (Dover street) bridge crosses the South Bay on the left, and the Turnpike to the right.The site had both water and rail access - note Alger's Wharf  and the tracks of the Old Colony railroad.

Alger's gun yard, end of Sixth street, at the outer edge of South Boston (red), United States gun yard (blue) 1852. Cannon were tested by the batch. Samples would be taken from each batch, and fired into earthen walls repeatedly to test for defects. If there were no failures, the batch would be shipped.They also fired guns from Nut island, Quincy towards a target on Peddock's island.


Cyrus Alger was also active in the community. He served on Boston's Common Council and as an Aldermn.  He paid to have sidewalks laid and trees planted along Dorchester avenue. He is said to have kept his workers on half time when they weren't needed, and introduced the 10 hour day to South Boston industry. When he died, stores closed along the route of his funeral, and factories all over South Boston shut down. Today, Alger cannons sit in front of Town Halls and on village greens all over the country, and are bought and sold by collectors as pieces of American history.






Sources: Gaining Ground: A History of Landmaking in Boston, Nancy S. Seasholes.

 A genealogical history of that branch of the Alger family which springs from Thomas Alger of Taunton and Bridgewater, in Massachusetts. 1665-1875

Book Review: Boston's Depots and Terminals

When I set out to cover the old train depots of Boston on this blog, I didn't know that there was a book that covered the same subject.  I recently came across a reference to it online, and was able to access it from within my suburban library network. It is exactly what you'd expect - photos, prints, maps, schedules and posters, along with short histories of each line. There are quite a few images you won't find online, appendices, and a bibliography. Definitely worth a look for anyone interested in 19th (and 20th) century Boston and in the railroads that served it.

The Disappearance of General Joseph Warren

General Joseph Warren statue, 1904, with the Hotel Warren in the background.  (BPL Flickr photo group).

(edited to add a link to a Boston Globe article and contemporary photo of the statue, 1/11/2013)


Staying in Roxbury, we're going to honor the memory of General Joseph Warren, lament the loss of Warren square, and consider the, ahem, relocation of his statue.  Joseph Warren was born in Roxbury in 1741. He became a doctor, and played an active role in events leading up to the American revolution. Warren authored the Suffolk Resolves and served as President of the Massachusetts Provisional Congress. It was Joseph Warren who sent Dawes and Revere to warn John Hancock and Samuel Adams that the British were on their way to Lexington. He was appointed to the rank of Major General (they did things like that in those days), but chose to serve in the front lines at Breeds Hill, where he was killed in the third assault when he was recognized by a British officer and shot in the head. In death, Warren was memorialized as the first martyr of the revolution.

Warren square, Roxbury, 1931.

 The Warren homestead was in Roxbury along what is now Warren street. Warren street is one of the original roads of Roxbury; it shows up in the earliest listing of roads, in 1662. In 1825, during another comprehensive listing of roads, it was renamed Warren street. The Warren house shown in the 1931 map above was built by Joseph Warren's nephew. John C. Warren in 1841. Like both his uncle Joseph and his father John Warren, John C. was a doctor. John Warren was one of the founders of Harvard Medical School, and served on the faculty. His son, John C. Warren, took his father's place on the faculty, and was one of the leading surgeons of his day.

The Warren house, 1850.An omnibus races up Warren street, a man rides on horseback, and dogs wander the street.

Ceremony at Warren square, circa 1940s. Note that a tree has grown up directly in front of the General.


In 1902, a statue of Joseph Warren was placed on an island in what became Warren square, within sight of the old Warren house. The photo above shows the community out to honor General Warren. A schoolboy band, scouts, a military contingent and dignitaries are observed by a small crowd. 

General Warren statue postcard, showing the New Jerusalem church, home to a Swedenborgian congregation. 

During the 1960s, the intersection was reworked, removing the triangular island that once housed the Warren statue. The buildings on the west side of Warren square are all gone, in including the handsome Hotel Warren building and the Swedenborgian New Jerusalem church. And gone, also, is the statue of Joseph Warren. So where did it go?

The story is that on a tour of City of Boston facilities, an alumnus of Roxbury Latin school noticed the statue of Warren in a garage somewhere. As it wasn't being shown, and as Warren was himself an alumnus of the school, the gentleman made inquiries as to whether the statue might temporarily be moved to Roxbury Latin, now located in West Roxbury. As the old home of the statue had disappeared, and as there was no apparent interest by current Roxbury residents in a statue of a dead white guy, the statue was duly sent to West Roxbury, where it sits to this day. There have been calls to bring Joseph Warren's statue  home, but with little community support, he stays at Roxbury Latin, overlooking Centre and Spring streets and St Theresa's church. A Boston Globe article from 2011 discusses the movement of the statue to West Roxbury in 1969, and provides a photo of the statue in its current location.

Thomas F. Galvin Florist Shop.

 Thomas F. Galvin's florist shop, Boylston and Fairfield streets, circa 1900, courtesy of the Library of Congress image collection.

Boylston street, 1902.


Google has made changes to how images are shown in Blogger, but I'll cross my finger and hop you can click on the panoramic photo above and see it at full size. I've been meaning to share this photo for quite a while, but I lost track of where I had seen it. The circa 1900 photograph shows the then-new Thomas F. Galvin florist shop on Boylston street at 9:10 AM one morning.

While the building is a handsome one, I particularly like the image for the number of horse drawn carriages that are shown. You have one and two horse carriages, and drivers on the top and in front. And although there were autombiles on the street at the time, this photo shows none, and gives us an idea of what pre-automobile Boston looked like. The streetcar on Boylston street had been electrified, and an electric street lamp can be seen near the corner of Fairfield street, so times were changing. Before looking down Boylston street, I should mention that as shown on the following map, the streetcar hides our view of the train yards of the Boston and Albany line across the street. The first, tall  building we see looking down the opposite side of Boylston street is the then-new Lenox Hotel. Beyond we seem to see the Public Library, but Harvard Medical College was between the two. The tower of the Old South Church rises opposite the Library.

At this time of this photo, Mr Galvin had another shop at 124 Tremont street, directly opposite Park Street Church, and by 1925 he had moved the business to Federal street.

Roxbury, the Horological Hub

Expert Stephen Fletcher on a Simon Willard Roxbury Tall Clock.


 Simon and Aaron Willard were born in Grafton Massachusetts in the mid 18th century. They apprenticed as clock makers, and in 1780 came to live and work in Roxbury. Within ten years, Aaron would move his shop to Boston, but Simon stayed in Roxbury Simon's shop was on what is now Washington street (then the only road running across Boston Neck to Roxbury) near Eustis street. While Aaron is considered the lesser craftsman, he was the superior businessman, surrounded by a clockmaking colony around his Washington street shop, and retiring a well to do man. 

The Simon Willard Supreme Court Clock.

In Roxbury, Simon Willard's clock-making process also involved farming out work to surrounding shops. Simon himself made the cockworks. There would have been painters and engravers, and cases were made by various local craftsmen For a time after the Revolution when metal was dear, they actually imported British clockworks and put them into their own wood boxes. Simon would make clocks during the winter, and travel up the north shore of Massachusetts to peddle them, sometimes going as far as Maine.

 During their early years, the Willards built the standard tall clock - what we would call a grandfather clock. In 1801, Simon Willard invented the so-called banjo clock. This smaller clock, with its short pendulum, could be hung from a wall or put on a mantle.This made clock-owning available to many more people. The design was patented, with the help of Thomas Jefferson, who Willard met while  working in the capital, but Simon Willard did not fight to protect his patent, and many other clockmakers copied and profited from his design.Willard became Keeper of the Clocks at Harvard, and made clocks for the Old South Church and the Capitol building in Washington D.C., as well as the famous Supreme Court clock shown above. He retired in 1839, and lived with various sons and daughters until he died in 1848 at ninety six years old.




Advertisement for an E. Howard clock. As was traditional for the time, the Roxbury factory address is not given. Most such businesses had sales offices in Boston, and used their downtown address. This can cause confusion for the amateur historian.


 
 E. Howard watch.


Edward Howard, born 1813, apprenticed with Aaron Willard Jr in Roxbury. Starting in 1842 with a partner, the Howard and Davis company built high quality wall clocks, along with precision balances, sewing machines and fire engines(!). A factory was built in Roxbury in 1845. The company evolved over the years, with different partners and various reorganizations. Davis left, Howard Clock and Watch failed and became Howard Watch and Clock. The company had only two standard models, but made many others to order. They made regulator wall clocks and watchman's clocks for business, and tower clocks for buildings. The clock at South Station was made by E.Howard. During the late 19th century, their watches were among the best made in the country.

Howard and Davis Clock and Balance mfg., Hampden (East on this map) and Norfolk streets, Roxbury, 1852. They would later move across Hampden street to where Proctor street is on this map. Howard street would be laid out parallel to Norfolk street and just behind the Howard factory in 1859.



E. Howard Watch and Clock Co. 1884. Eustis, Prescott and Hampden streets, Roxbury (building shown below).

E. Howard Factory, 1888 (Smithsonian Institution Libraries)


Howard watches were among the finest in the nation. Edward Howard developed the stem wind watch, doing away with the need of key winding. Howard retired in 1881, with the business going on under his name. The watch business was sold in the early years of the 20th century, and manufacturing was moved to Waltham. It is claimed that the  Howard company remained in business in Roxbury until the 1930s, but the company was sold to Hamilton Watch company in 1927. The company name does show up on a 1931 map, so someone doing business as the E. Howard Clock Co. on Eustis street at the time.

So for a century, Roxbury was the home to some of the finest horological craftsmen and elite brands in the nation.



E. Howard Watch and Clock Company

The Simon Willard Supreme Court Clock 

The Willards and their Clocks 

Let's Go To The Races!

The trotters run at Readville (BPL Flickr photo group).


It's been a while since I posted. That's because I've suffered from a 'new improved!' version of Google Blogger. As with  other  social media software, Google has managed to scramble what was a perfectly good system, for no benefit that I can see. I won't bore you with the details, but the difficulties of learning the new layout have been great enough to make me walk away from the effort for many weeks. That being said.... back to Boston history.

Many people are familiar with Suffolk Down racetrack in East Boston. Fewer know that there was once a track in Readville at the southern tip of the city. The track, once cite of the civil war training Camp Meigs, famous for its role in the  history of  the black 54^th Massachusetts Regiment. After the war, it became home to an agricultural fairground in the then-new town of Hyde Park. With the fair came horse racing, and the racing stayed after the fairground closed.

Cars racing at Readville (BPL Flickr photo group).

The Readville track, at the Boston/Dedham border, 1918.


. 
In 1896, a new mile-long trotting track opened, with grandstands and a hotel. With a new century came a new form of transportation, and the first thing men did with automobiles was to race them.Trotters and automobiles shared the track. By the early 1930s, a new track had been laid, and cars were king. Nineteen thirty-seven saw the last official race, and during the war years, military pilots used the track to practice landings.

Cars at the starting line (BPL Flickr group).

Cars in the 'pit.'

Stop and Shop built a large distribution warehouse on the site along the railroad tracks, which sits empty today, waiting for redevelopment. As a final, threatened indignity, the town of Dedham once considered their strip of land at the site (much of it wetlands) as a dedicated 'adult' business district. The effort was, of course, an effort to scam their way out of Constitutional requirements, and wiser heads prevailed.

Source: Boston Public Library, Sports Temples of Boston