Moses Day - New and Improved

Through the generosity of Day descendant Glen Wallace, I've been able to improve on the Moses Day article, including a very nice etching of the man himself. Anyone interested in the article can see it here.

Ice Cream Cone Holocaust.

This 1924 map shows the Cone factory in the small brick (red) building along Union ave. The next, angled brick buildings housed an automotive factory, and the larger brick row housed Farrington manufacturing, makers of jewelery boxes. Those buildings had once housed the Sturtevant blower works, which burned in an earlier and larger fire, before moving to Readville. Note the dotted line running between the two long rows of brick buildings on the left - the space between the buildings represents the path of the Stony Brook conduit, which had been built earlier in the century. The Burnett & Sherman automotive plant is new to me. The complex had housed a series of automotive concerns in the early years of the century, assembling and modifying cars. Burnett & Sherman was a Ford dealer, located on Commonwealth avenue in Allston, and they are listed in the 1925 Boston Directory as manufacturing auto bodies at Union avenue. Farrington lasted into the 1950s - I've written about them here. One section of the old Sturtevant/Farrington factory complex still stands along what is now Amory street extension.



Boston Daily Globe March 28, 1925


WALL CRUSHES FIREMEN; ONE DYING.

Trapped in Alleyway Fighting Four-Alarm $150,000 Spectacular Blaze in Cone Factory in Jamaica Plain -- Four Overcome in Building.

Thousands at Scene; Commissioner Glynn Hurt, Aids Rescues.


Trapped in an alleyway, with a smouldering tenement behind them and a tottering, roaring factory in front of them, four Boston firemen stood by their guns to the end last evening, and went down, crushed under a 60-foot brick wall. The fire was at Union av, Jamaica Plain.

No firemen were killed, but four of them were dug out of the blazing debris and sent to the City Hospital.

The injured are:

Lieut George Hennessey, Engine 12, of 38 Lindsey st. Dorchester, multiple contusions and abrasions of the body.

George A. Stuart, Engine 45, 567 South St, Roslindale, compound fracture of the left leg. Probably fatally hurt.

Albert F. Single, Engine 45, 16 Murray Hill Rd, Roslindale, compound fracture of the left ankle.

Lieut Bartholomew J. Dowd, Engine 45, 15 Johnswood road, Roslindale, multiple contusions and abrasions of the head and body.

George A. Stuart’s left leg was crushed in two places by the wall, and he was badly injured internally. Early this morning his name was on the dangerous list at the hospital and he was “very low.” The attendants said he would probably die.

The other three are expected to live. Two of them are officers of the department who clung to lines while sending their men back from the scene on errands.

Fire Very Spectacular

The fire was very spectacular, and because of the situation, was perhaps seen by more spectators than any Boston fire in years. Thousands saw the wall topple on the daredevils who fought to the last inch. A great human cry of horror went up.

The fire was in the Atlantic Ice Cream Cone Company factory, a three story brick structure 40 feet by 100 feet, fronting on Union av and with one side on an alley leading from Union ave to a second alley which runs alongside the railroad tracks at the point.

The factory is located between two railroads, The Providence division of the New York, New Haven & Hartford Railroad and the elevated railway of the Boston Elevated. It is a short distance beyond the Green-st station of the Elevated. The box which was rung is located at the corner of Green and Amory sts. Four alarms were sounded.

Repeatedly Warned

The firemen who were hurt had repeatedly been warned that they were in danger in the alleyway. The brick factory was in all respects like a blast furnace. The roof had fallen in, carrying floors with it, and from the cellar the entire contents of the building was pouring in a forced draft straight up through the roof and 50 feet in the air.

On the other side of the 15-foot alley, a two and a half story wooden dwelling house, vacated under peremptory order of the Police Department, was smouldering at the roof and sides. Intermittently, flames broke out, covering the roof, and running down the front of the structure, almost scorching the backs of the rubber-coated “gunmen.”

Two of them hanging to each gun, the firemen delayed withdrawing until too late. They hoped by their streams to keep enough of the blaze back into the factory so that the dwelling would be saved. Other engine companies, from outside, were spraying them and the dwellings with a dozen streams.

At 10:30 the roof fell with a terrifying roar. The firemen clung closer to their nozzles. Twenty minutes later, at 10 before 11, the 60 foot wall folded up like a jackknife, swayed in midair, and dropped on the four valiant hosemen.

The blaze was abandoned as the firemen on the other wagons leaped to safety. But it was only for a moment. In a trice the men of Engine 12 had leaped back on their wagon and were searching the blazing debris with frantic streams to keep the wreckage from becoming a funeral pyre.

Rescued From Smoking Ruins

Other companies, not in a position to render this humane service, dropped their task of property saving, and, risking the imminent fall of the other walls and remaining spire of the broken wall, pawed through the smoking ruins of brick and wood until they got their comrades out.

Stretchers arrived quickly. Everybody gave way to let the doctors and firemen work. A Catholic priest started posthaste for the hospital. Fire Commissioner Theodore A. Glynn, himself bruised by the tumbling brick, took command of the rescue work, assisted by Deputy Foley. Chief of Department Sennott, who had been attacking the blaze from another angle, was on the scene within two minutes.

After the unconscious men had been carried to ambulances, the work of extinguishing the blaze went on. A second wall was in danger of collapsing on the Union-st side and crushing another home. This did not happen, however, and all the dwellings were saved from serious damage. Firemen estimated the loss at $150,000.

Four Overcome in Building

Twenty men were at the work in the cone factory when the fire started, and so quickly did it shoot through the building that at least four men were overcome before they could reach the street. No one seemed to know how the fire started, but it was agreed there was a rush of flame from the vicinity of the gas meter. By 10 o’clock a crew from the gas company had shut off the gas main at Green and Washington sts.

James Kelley of 49 Union av. next door to the factory, heard there were men still in the building as other workmen rushed out. He plunged into the smoke-filled doorway, closely followed by patrolman John Kilduff of Station 13.

Between them they half-carried half-supported four men out of the building. Then patrolman Kilduff found the alarm had not been sounded. He ran to the corner of Green and Amory sts and sent in an alarm at 9:35.

By the time the apparatus arrived the flames were bursting through the upper-story windows and tinting the sky. A second alarm was sounded at once and it had scarcely ceased ringing when a third was ordered. Chief Sennott came on the third and when he got to the scene, at 10 o’clock, a forth alarm went banging over the wires.

Shortly after Chief Sennott’s wagon got to the fire, he was followed by Henry A. Fox, assistant chief of department, who took up the work of directing operations from the railroad side. Commissioner Glynn arrived and got immediately where the fight was the thickest.

Thousands of Spectators

Probably no Fourth of July bonfire has ever been witnessed by such a crowd, not has any Fourth of July bonfire been as spectacular. The factory is situated in a hollow, surrounded by vacant lots which form a natural amphitheatre. On two sides the railway structures furnished ideal grandstands. Ignoring instructions of police, thousands made their way to the railroad right of way.

On the other side, passengers on Elevated trains gazed from the windows at the blazing ruin. Motormen slowed down their trains. Sheds, precariously built, bore hundreds of spectators who risked their necks for a view. Every knoll in the vacant lots held spectators who elbowed and scrambled for position.

The streets on the way to the fire looked like the Larz Anderson Bridge after a Yale game. For miles the streets were lined with automobiles filled with spectators, so that a special traffic detail had to be sent from Station 13. Even at that the task was almost hopeless.

Before the traffic men arrived, and while route policemen were establishing fire lines, a fireman stationed himself under the Elevated structure at Green and Washington sts, clearing the way for apparatus, which was arriving momentarily.

The factory is at No. 47 Union av. On one side of it, separated by only two feet, and dwarfed into insignificance, is the little single dwelling of James Kelley, No. 49. Flames swept and mushroomed out over the roof of this little house for hours, from the second story windows of the factory, but firemen took a stand behind the protection of the gable roof and sent streams into the building. They themselves and the roof were kept dripping by other companies. The roof was somewhat damaged, however.

Spectators marveled that this little house and that of Anna Kelley, on the other side of the alleyway, were not destroyed. Again and again the houses seemed to have been raised bodily to the kindling point, and again and again they smouldered and licked into flame. At such times the spectators would shout “The roof, the roof,” and streams would be switched from the doomed building to these dwellings.

Directly opposite the factory, on the other side of Union av, is another dwelling. This had the protection of the 30-foot width of Union av, but was endangered by the precarious, toppling Union-av wall of the factory. From its front dooryard streams were tossed into the windows of the blazing structure. This dooryard is 10 feet above the street level, which gave the firemen an added advantage. Those streams were manipulated by the crews of Engines 33, 17 and 26. Each had a man watching the toppling wall, ready to order them back.

All of these houses were ordered emptied by the police, who refused to let the occupants stay long enough to take out anything but the most easily portable valuables. A dozen children were taken out of the house of Anna Kelley unhurt.

Another Plant Takes Fire.

In back of the fire, toward the steam railroad, are more wooden structures which would have been easy to kindle. These were kept safely wet down. Also, there are the brick factories and shops of Burnett & Sherman, an automobile company; a wet wash, and a manufacturer of jeweler’s specialties. Burnett & Sherman’s plant caught for a few minutes, but was soon drowned out. Ladder 1 worked over the Sherman plant.

Engine 13 had the post of honor and danger, under the wall, which finally fell. Four hosemen, Arthur J. Belaskyh, Frank J. Scott, Edward Brickley and P.F. Hegerty were on the wagon, working a gun and a line. They were silhouetted against the sheets of flame sweeping up from the building.

The crowd saw the wall crumple, without any noise or other warning. The firemen didn’t see it until it had fallen half-way down, like an avalanche of snow from a sloping roof.

Then they looked up, hesitated for what seemed minutes, and jumped. They jumped on the lee side of the wagon, which saved them from death. They were pelted with fragment, buffeted by bricks, but the wagon took the brunt, and they escaped.

The groan of horror went p from the crowd, which had seen the four firemen go down. In a trice the Engine 13 men were back on their wagon, striving desperately to extinguish the blazing timbers which formed a bonfire about the place where their comrades lay, under a ton of bricks.

A pathetic incident was furnished by the streams which the unfortunate heroes had held, bubbling like streams through the blazing debris. The wires of the neighborhood had long since gone, and were lying about crackling where they touched metal. That put the neighborhood street lights out, and only the glaze of the blaze furnished light for the rescue squads, which blistered their hands, tossing aside burning embers and red-hot bricks, until they made a hole in the ground, where lay their broken and bruised comrades.

Glynn Hurt, Aids Rescues

It was the work of but a few minutes to send stretchers scurrying in four directions. Commissioner Glynn, brushing from his civilian clothes the mortar from the brick which struck him and the mire from the ground where he had been brought to his knees by the crash, plunged into the work.

At his side, and similarly injured, were his aid, Lieut John J. Crehan; Chief Sennott’s aid, Lieut John Goode; Lieut Haleyh of Engine 12 and Hoseman Buckley.

The crash shook the ground for blocks. Rev William P. O’Connor of the Church of Our Lady of Lourdes hastened to the hospital to administer the last rites of the Catholic church if necessary.

When the injured men had gone to the hospital, and it was feared some would die, the firemen went back to their work with set faces. For hours the fire blazed but it did no further substantial damage. The factory was at that time a hopeless ruin.

Charles T. Kerwin, 40, of 1475 Columbus av, a “spark” who had been standing beside the firemen when the wall went, and who escaped, was thrown into slight hysterics. He went about pointing to the spot, saying “Four of them. In there. Four of them. In there.”

Commissioner Glynn said his men were handicapped by lack of pressure. The difference between the streams from the six-inch mains in the vicinity of Union av and those from the 16-inch mains of Washington st was noticeable.

Michael Harney, Civil War Veteran

Three years after David S. Greenough laid out Keyes (McBride), Lee, and part of Call streets and began selling small lots to mostly Irish buyers (read about it here), Michael Harney bought lot 5 for two hundred and sixty-five dollars. Harney was seventh to buy a lot, one of eighty in the development, and he would live on the same street for the rest of his life. While many Irish show up in the 1850 Federal Census, they are mostly domestics, laborers and gardeners living in the houses of Yankee natives. Keyes street was the original low income district of Jamaica Plain, with house lots fronting with 50 feet, rather than the more standard 90 feet at a minimum. Since there was little multi-family housing in Jamaica Plain at the time, these small lots allowed Irish working men the opportunity to buy and build houses in the community for the first time.

I've often wondered who was the last surviving Jamaica Plain Civil War veteran. While the country's last Civil War vets lived into the 1950s, at age 86 in 1925 Harney is a good candidate to start with.




Boston Daily Globe May 2, 1925.

Military Funeral Of Michael Harney

Jamaica Plain Services for Civil War Vet

Michael Harney, 86, Civil War veteran, a native of Jamaica Plain, was buried with military honors this morning. A requiem mass was celebrated in the Church of St Thomas Aquinas, South st, by Rev William P. McNamara.

The flag-draped casket was borne by Deputy Sheriff Thomas F. Lally, Martin Godvin, Anthony Monahan and Thomas McLaughlin. Four members of the G.A.R. were honorary bearers. The Grand Army ritual was read at the house and at the grave in Calvary Cemetery.

There were delegations from St Thomas Aquinas Holy Name Society and Erin Court, M.C.O.F.*

Mr Harney resided on McBride st, formerly Keyes st, for 70 years. He was on the flagship under Farragut at the capture of Mobile, and was one of four volunteers who rowed Farragut in a boat while he inspected the works. He also served in the army during the Civil War. He was present at the surrender at Appomattox Courthouse.

*Note: the M.C.O.F. was the Massachusetts Catholic Order of Forresters, which was a life insurance group for Irish immigrants. At a time before life insurance was available to the working man, many such groups arose to provide for the families of breadwinners who had passed away. Many were more pass-the-hat organizations than proper insurers, but at a time when there was no government-provided social net, such groups were often all that stood between a widow and her children and the streets.

So Near (Beer), But So Far Away

Boston Daily Globe May 2, 1924


JAMAICA PLAIN MADE REAL DRY

Near-Beer Saloons Shut for License Hearings


Yesterday was dry day in Jamaica Plain. Not one near-beer saloon was open, pending the issuing of licenses by the Licensing Board. Saloonkeepers, doctors, lawyers and others pleaded with Capt Harriman to allow the saloons to open, pending the hearings on the applications for renewal of licenses.

But it was Capt Harriman’s day. He and Sergt Michael Healy have long wished to see the day when they would not have to be troubled with complaints regarding saloons. So Capt Harriman stood pat and wouldn’t budge an inch.

Today only two places were allowed to open, one on Amory st and the other at Boylston Station, both being in the good graces of the Licensing Board. All others will have to remain shut until the results of the hearings have been disclosed.

Sergt Michael Healy has worked incessantly in the Jamaica Plain section and his efforts, also those of Sergt Fitzpatrick and liquor officer Gaw, have brought good results.

Fifty Thousand on Jamaica Pond Ice? Wow!

Imagine a winter carnival on Jamaica Pond today? No, you can't. Between litigious citizens and CYA politicians, it could never happen, even assuming you could get past the "Save the Pond" types and the NIMBY neighbors. Today's Jamaica Pond in the winter is for looking, not touching.




Boston Daily Globe January 9, 1925.


Herd 50,000 Ashore Fearing a Disaster.

Police Clear Jamaica Pond of Merry Makers When Mayor Sees Ice Threatens to Give Way.

Warning Given by Water Abrupt End to City’s Annual Carnival

Firemen Help to Draw Crowd Skating Races Provide Good Sport


More than 50,000 young people were in the midst of a perfect evening of skating on Jamaica Pond last night, at the annual ice carnival of the city of Boston, when, suddenly, about 9:30 o’clock, nearly 50 policemen appeared and ordered everyone off the ice. Mayor Curley, who had just arrived at the carnival to give out the prizes in the various contests, quickly noticed that large, black patches of water had appeared about the pond. Fearing that the ice, softened by the warmth of the last few days, was about to collapse under the weight of humanity it was bearing and precipitate the merry thousands to their deaths, he ordered the police to clear the pond.

Orders were rushed to the Jamaica Plain station for all men available and in a short time a long thin line of uniformed men was formed on the dark shore opposite the boathouse, the center of of carnival activities.

Big Rush to Shore

The policemen went about their work quietly and then at a given signal the line advanced across the pond, ordering all the skaters to make for the shore. Every precaution was taken not to alarm the merrymakers, but suddenly hundreds seemed to notice the ominous spreading of the black water across the ice and a great rush for the shore followed

But the rush, big as it was, only included a small proportion of the vast throng and the long, thin line of the police quietly continued its advance across the pond, sweeping up the skaters before it like a net clearing a stream of fish.

Mayor Curley was accompanied by Fire Commissioner Theodore A Glynn. When the Mayor ordered the police to work, Commissioner Glynn ordered his aide John Crehan, to go over to Engine 28 nearby and call out several pieces of apparatus for, in case the ice should break, the firemen could save a great many lives with their ropes and ladders.

The apparatus responded quickly and, as the danger appeared to be no more threatening than at first, the Commissioner ordered the apparatus to drive about the shores of the pond, blowing horns and whirling sirens in hopes that numbers of skaters would think that a big fire was going on, and thus leave the ice of their own free will and without being alarmed.

The maneuver was very successful and drew hundreds of boys and young men, and not a few young women.

Great Crowd on Ice

So large was the crowd that it was almost an hour before the ice was finally cleared.

A large number of the skaters, for everyone who attended the carnival seems to be wearing skates, made for the shores of the pond, where their belongings had been left, but, at least 25,000 had parked their shoes and belongings at the places provided about the boathouse, and toward the narrow gangway leading up to the building from the ice, the horde converged.

Fully a dozen policemen had been stationed there to handle the expected jam and they discharged their task admirably but the congestion was tremendous. It was like Revere beach on the Forth. The line of persons waiting their turn to reach the checking room where their shoes had been stored was long, winding about through the crowd for more than 100 yards.

The whole space within the boathouse courtyard was packed with humanity and seats upon which to effect the change from skates to shoes were at a premium.

Hundreds of seats there were, but there were thousands of applicants for them.

Skating carnivals are, as a rule, slow to break up, and the sudden swarming of the thousands of refugees upon the streets of Jamaica Plain attracted great attention and hundreds and hundreds of persons rushed down from their homes to the pond, either fearing or having heard reports that a great disaster had taken place.

Many of the carnival makers had come from out of the district and the sudden rush to the street cars paralyzed traffic for some time. Not only were the cars forced off their schedules but it was almost impossible to find a seat so crowded were the cars.

Crowd Set New Record


One police sergeant declared that he had seen crowds on the pond for more than 29 years, but he never saw so large a host there before.

Before the firing off of the bombs to announce the opening of the carnival, the ice seemed to be in good shape. As the first race started, however, sounds of cracking ice were heard and water started to flow over the track near the starting point. Patrolman Leo Masare of Station 19 and officers Walsh and Noonan of Station 17, on duty at this point, at once moved all persons in the vicinity a few hundred yards back.

The first race was won by Andrew Moore, it being a one-mile event for boys under 18 years of age. He was followed by O. Laguenesse, with Teddy Combs, third.

In the girls’ event in this class, Helen Maloney was the victor with Mary Boucher, second and Genevieve Weikesser, third.

The mile open went to Cecil Atkins and H. McCarthy took second place. James Cadek was third.

At the close of this event, the water was above the soles of the shoes of the skaters so Park Commissioner Myron B. Lewis and other officials decided to call off the racing events.

Fancy skating exhibitions however were given in another section of the pond, featuring Willie Frick and Bill Fleming.

The costumes awards were also made. Miss Corrine Dasey of Dorchester took the first prize for costumes. She is a widely known skater and a member of the Boston Swimming Club. Second prize went to Helen Brady and Mary Dover took third.

The hockey game had just started when Mayor Curley arrived on the scene with his daughters, Mary and Dorothy, and his son James M, Jr. The Mayor was escorted to the raft by Sergt John Fitzpatrick of the police and when he saw the conditions of the ice, notified Park Commissioner Lewis and the sergeant to order the pond closed to skaters, as it was deemed unsafe.

Mayor Acts Quickly

“The lives of our citizens is our first thought,” said the Mayor, “and we must take no chances with them.”

Sergt Fitzpatrick summoned Sergts Holstein, Dennis Kerrigan and Timothy Ferris and under the direction of Lieut George Guard, they with special officer Stanley A. O(?)w notified all the officers on duty of the order, and the police at once began to enforce it.

Fire Commissioner Theodore A. Glynn then said that he would send for his apparatus so as to have the fireman ready if any rescue work was needed. John Crehan, his aid, went for engine 28 and its response was almost instantaneous.

The officials in charge of the carnival included the Park Commissioners, James B. Shea, Myron P. Lewis, and Charles A. Coolidge, John A. Lane, Alfred Geiger of the B.A.A., Hugh C. McGrath, George V. Brown, Ernest Henry, Dick Adler, L.H. Connors, Ross Hoag, Dr. Allan Rowe, and Dr. William P. Kenney.

After his orders had been carried out, Mayor Curley awarded the prizes to the winners on the land near the boathouse.

Christmas Replay #2 - Caroling in JP.

Christmas carols at Curtis Hall - 1913.

Christmas Replay #1 - The Disappearing Pine

I'm linking to a few old posts this Christmas week.

The mystery of the disappeared pine tree.

Elizabeth Bethune Campbell - Socialite, Minister's Wife and Legal Pioneer

St John's Rectory, Alveston street.



Twenty-four Alveston street is a rather architecturally busy, if not particularly notable house on Jamaica Plain’s Sumner hill. It was not present in 1884, but shows up on an 1896 property map. It was apparently built as, and today remains, the rectory of St John’s Episcopal church, which sits around the corner at the intersection of Roanoke avenue and Revere and Elm streets. While the ministers who lived in the parsonage over the years may be the subject of future articles, this on will focus on one minister’s wife - Mrs. Elizabeth Bethune Campbell.


Elizabeth Bethune Campbell - wedding picture.


Elizabeth Louisa Bethune was born in Toronto in 1880. Elizabeth’s father was a successful politician and barrister, and her mother was a popular society hostess. When Elizabeth was just four years old, her father suddenly died, leaving her mother an estate of between $40,000 and $60,000. This the widow Bethune left to the management of her brother-in-law, lawyer William Drummond Hogg. Mrs. Bethune later remarried and separated, but her inherited property was kept in trust through this temporary relationship.

Reverend Thomas Campbell - in military Chaplain's uniform.

Young Elizabeth traveled through Europe, spent time in a French convent school, and was introduced, as befitted her social standing, as a “debutante” in her late teens. After receiving the attentions of William Lyon Mackenzie King, a future prime minister of Canada, Elizabeth married Reverend Thomas Clyman Campbell, an American Episcopalian minister, in 1907. After the Toronto society wedding, the couple moved to the United States, where Reverend Campbell took a position at St John’s church in Jamaica Plain. The Campbells lived in the rectory on Alveston street for the next thirty years, raising two children, James Bethune and Elizabeth Thomasine.

At right - the Campbell children --->


During the First World War, Reverend Campbell served as a chaplain in England. The children were sent to exclusive boarding schools, with parishioner Susan Revere Chapin (great grand-daughter of Paul Revere) apparently contributing towards their tuition. James went on to earn a medical degree from Harvard, and Thomasine (as she was known) attended Barnard College and studied in Vienna.

Described as a tall, striking figure, Mrs. Campbell did not take part in the affairs of the parish, nor did she join in the local women’s clubs of the time. She spent much time in Toronto and London, England, and that brings us to her claim to fame.

In 1922, at age eighty-two, Elizabeth’s mother had deteriorated sufficiently that control of her estate was put in the hands of the Toronto General Trusts Corporation, with Elizabeth’s two older sisters appointed “committee” - guardians of a sort. When she died two years later, Elizabeth’s mother’s estate was valued at $17,450, much less than Elizabeth believed proper.

Here, Elizabeth Campbell began a long, dramatic battle to learn what had happened to her mother’s estate. Out of it came a book, Where Angels Fear to Tread, her story of her travails, and of the people she dealt with along the way. She was represented my multiple lawyers. At the time, this meant travel across the Atlantic to London, as Canada had not yet made its peaceful break with the United Kingdom as a subject state and join the British Commonwealth of Nations.

Mrs. Campbell’s two main opponents were William Drummond Hogg, her uncle and the manager of her mother’s estate following her father’s death, and the Toronto General Trusts Corporation. Hogg was a major figure in the legal world of Ontario - a world in which it seems social and familial connections lent an almost aristocratic air. Toronto General Trusts Corporation was founded by men of similar social and professional standing, pillars of the establishment of the time.

So far, we have the story of a woman of moneyed background and born into social position battling men taken from that same class. What makes Mrs. Campbell notable is that in 1930, she went before the Privy Court in London to argue her own case, and she won. Without being a barrister, and without even attending college, Mrs. Campbell became the first woman to argue a case before the Privy Court.

So Jamaica Plain has still another trailblazing woman to claim. Her trail took her out of Jamaica Plain, and indeed clear out of the United States, but she seems like a remarkable woman in any case. Whether she was uncovering and battling an injustice, or a money-driven monomaniac, is impossible to tell, but she was a trailblazer nonetheless. And all the while, her husband continued tending his flock at St. John‘s. Which just goes to show that not all the fascinating stories on Sumner Hill are found in the most architecturally impressive houses.


Resources:

Backhouse, Constance. "The Heiress versus the Establishment: The First Female Litigator Before the Privy Council."

William D. Ticknor - Publisher

Offices of Ticknor and Fields (Old Corner Book Store).





William D. Ticknor was born in Lebanon New Hampshire August 6, 1810 on the family farm. In 1827 he left for Boston to work in the brokerage house of his uncle Benjamin. By 1832, he had partnered with John Allen to form the publishing company Allen and Ticknor, which was housed in the now-famous Old Corner Book Store building.

As partners came and went, the company named changed, with Ticknor and Fields being perhaps the best remembered. From the Old Corner Book Store, they published many of the leading literary lights of New England, such as Emerson, Hawthorne, Thoreau, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., as well as Mark Twain, Harriet Beecher Stowe and Horatio Alger. At a time when international copyright was not upheld, in 1842 they paid Alfred, Lord Tennyson a royalty for publishing his work, an early act of fair play in a business in which pirating of books was a common complaint on both sides of the Atlantic. While at the Old Corner Book Store, they also published the Atlantic Monthly. (For an extra credit nugget, I found a single sentence 1841 newspaper advertisement for De Quincey's Confessions of an Opium Addict). Eventually, the outgrew the location and moved to Tremont street. Over time, partners and name changes came and went, and the company eventually became part of Houghton, Osgood and Company, which later became Houghton Mifflin.

Burroughs street, 1874.


Ticknor house, Burroughs street.


In 1854, Ticknor bought land between Pond and Burroughs streets in Jamaica Plain, and built a house on the Burroughs street side. We can imagine friends like Hawthorne traveling out of the city and visiting the Ticknor home over the next decade. When Dickens came to America for a speaking tour, Ticknor was his host, and perhaps he might have visited Burroughs street as well.

[Note: I've just learned that Caroline Ticknor related a story of Dickens visiting the Ticknor house in Jamaica Plain. After the great man left the house, a shy relative followed him outside, and made a copy of the impression his foot left in the soft gravel.]

In 1862, William Ticknor journeyed south to Washington D.C. with his friend Nathaniel Hawthorne, where they met President Lincoln. In March of 1864, they set out to Washington again, in hopes that the milder weather would aid Hawthorne’s poor health. During the trip, it was Ticknor’s health that took a turn for the worse, and he died at the Continental Hotel in Philadelphia with his friend by his side. Hawthorne returned to Concord, but in a month he would be dead as well.

Ticknor and his wife, Emeline Staniford Holt had five surviving children, including three sons who went to Harvard. Howard Malcolm, Benjamin Holt and Thomas Baldwin Ticknor all went into the business. Before joining the firm, Benjamin first enlisted in the army during the Civil war, and at one time was in charge of recruiting at the Readville training camp.

Howard Ticknor lived in the family house through at least the 1880s . The 1874 map above shows the house still owned by the estate of William D. Ticknor. Son Benjamin stayed in Jamaica Plain as well, buying a lot on Harris avenue from Captain Charles Brewer. The 1874 map shows Benjamin H. Ticknor at 13 Harris avenue. Unlike his father’s house, Benjamin’s home still stands today as number 15. The small, twentieth century house that sits to the right of it was added to the same property, and now carries the address 13A.

Harris avenue, 1874.

Benjamin’s household was in interesting one. The 1880 census lists his wife, Caroline daughters Caroline, aged 13, and Edith, aged 11, as well has sister Elinor, aged 35 and brother Thomas, aged 30. To that, we can add four female domestics and one coachman. Although only two of five servants were Irish-born, two others had Irish parents, the other woman being from Newfoundland. So four women to care for six people, including the woman of the house. I think we can say that the Irish were nineteenth-century Jamaica Plain’s version of labor-saving devices.

Benjamin's daughter Caroline went on to have a career as a writer and editor. She wrote Hawthorne and His Friend (the friend being her grandfather William D. Ticknor), May Alcott, A Memoir, and Glimpses of Authors (cited above), and edited Holmes's Boston, with Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., and numerous books. In 1925, Caroline and sister Edith were still living at the house on Harris avenue.

Thanksgiving At The Zoo

Boston Daily Globe November 30, 1923


Animals in Zoo Given Thanksgiving Dinner

Codliver oil and garlic may not sound like the average person’s idea of a real Thanksgiving dinner, but they were two of the most popular dishes at the Franklin Park Zoo yesterday. Deputy Park Commissioner William P. Long, following the custom of some years, ordered a Thanksgiving dinner for the birds and beasts at the Jamaica Plain institution, and last night every one was happy, even Mutt, the hyena.

The codliver oil was for the two Polar bears, Pasha and Fatima, and the big beasts lapped the dishes dry and begged for more. As for the garlic it is Tony’s, the youngest elephant’s idea of white meat and fixin’s. Curiously enough Waddy, the other elephant, will not touch garlic, but ate the regular dinner of hay, bread and carrots with relish.

The other inmates received the “eats” which they love best. There was fruit of various sorts for the monkeys, mutton for the brown, black and grizzly bears, and so on down the long list.