Mile by Mile

You probably drive by them all the time without noticing. They sit by the side of the road, silent necessities of our Colonial era that are no longer needed in a modern age. The small stone mile markers, milestones, have been marking the distance from Boston since the early 1700s.

Today, with our satellite-guided navigation systems and global positioning devices, we are hard-pressed to get lost in our modern age. Our milestones are wonderful reminders of a distant age; they require no winding or batteries, and their warranties have long run out, but they still tell the distance to Boston and can be counted on in all types of weather.

The milestones in Canton are part of a network of stones that all lead the way to Boston. Five roads connected Boston with neighboring towns and were collectively called the Bay Roads, since they ultimately led to the Massachusetts Bay at Boston Harbor. Likely these began as Native American paths to the shore, and over time became developed cart paths and ultimately roads and highways. Our “bay road,” the Old Bay Road from Boston Bay to Taunton, extended from the earliest of settlements at Providence, Rhode Island, and the Narragansett Bay. This path was used for more than a century prior to the American Revolution and for more than 50 years thereafter. It would be the “turnpike” systems that would replace this road in the mid 1800s, but until then Bay Road was the route most preferred.

What began as a bridle path and then a cart path would become our main thoroughfare. Laid out by the selectmen of Dorchester in 1700 and again in 1712, it has had many names. In 1703 it was called the road leading to Billings’ in Sharon. In 1707 this was called the road leading to Rehoboth. Other names over the years included “Road to Rhode Island,” “The King’s Highway,” and “the great road from Boston to Taunton.” In 1840, that portion that travels through Canton between Milton and Sharon became known as Washington Street.

As the early colonists began building and improving roads, they erected mile markers to measure the distances between taverns, churches, meetinghouses, schoolhouses and blacksmiths. It was Paul Dudley, a Roxbury native educated at Harvard (class of 1690), who left an enduring legacy of milestones throughout greater Boston. From 1729 onward, Dudley erected stones measuring the distance to the then Boston Town House, now the Old State House. All of the distances on the stones, including Canton, assume a route along Washington Street in Roxbury to Eliot Square. In reality, the distances between each stone are wonderfully accurate.

At Roxbury, the town center was located at John Eliot Square, where a meetinghouse had been built in 1632. And at the fork of Roxbury and Centre streets can be found the “Parting Stone,” the terminus between the roads that lead to Boston.

For our purposes, let’s start our journey at the Milton line as we cross in front of the Blue Hills. It is here, just slightly over the Canton and Milton boundary line, that milestone 12 sits. Actually, as I began writing this story, it occurred to me that I had never actually seen this milestone. A quick detour away from the computer and out across Canton was in order.

The missing 12th milestone that was
removed from Route 138 sometime
 in the early 1970s
(Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

Milestone 12 was last recorded in 1950 when 22 milestone markers were carefully located and mapped after 200 years with the hope that “these milestones may still so repose after 200 more.” Locating these markers was a passion of Channing Howard, a founder of the Boston engineering firm of Whitman & Howard and an avid historian. Mr. Howard lived in Winthrop and meticulously plotted the routes and locations of the stones leading to Boston. Several letters on the topic of milestones can be found in the Canton Historical Society between Charlotte Endicott Wilde, an avid local historian, and Mr. Howard. Included in the society file are several maps showing the locations as they were found in the 1950s.

Driving over Route 128, and to your left, heading towards Blue Hill, is Milestone 13. In the cloverleaf between the exits there is a “Welcome to Canton” sign, and just next to it is the 13^th mile marker placed by John Spare in 1786. Exactly one mile to the north on Route 138 should be the 12^th milestone. I pulled off the road at a safe spot and walked in both directions north and south. No stone to be found. The 12^th marker should be on the westerly side of the road, just at the line. Plenty of poison ivy can be found, and two private driveways. The marker is lost. Even a “trespass” behind a high stockade fence failed to yield the whereabouts of the marker. Placed here by Lemuel Davenport, this granite monument read “12 miles to Boston, 1774, L.D.” Stoughton historian Howard Hansen recalls seeing the milestone in the early 1960s; by the early 1970s the road was leveled, a hill removed and the stone disappeared. Likely this relic adorns a garden or has become a backyard conversation piece.

Turning south and continuing back into Canton, just over the bridge that crosses Route 128 (now I-93), you will again pass the John Spare milestone. Spare was the son of Samuel Spare, an early settler, who came to Stoughton in 1738. The marker was placed quite near the family home on what was known as Cherry Hill. John Spare was a member of the Stoughton Minutemen and served in the Revolutionary War.

Another mile south should yield milestone 14, and the odometer places this spot directly at the Old English Burying Ground. In front of the burying ground are two large stones with historical inscriptions detailing this site. In 1952, Mrs. Wilde, in a letter to Mr. Howard, writes, “I could not help wondering if the opposite side of [these] stones, which is wholly covered by banking and turf, might not have been the old 14 mile stone.” It may be the case that the milestone was reused in this wall, for in 1843, after many years of complaint and controversy, a new wall was erected. Granite posts, which had adorned the mansion of Gardiner Greene in Boston, were reset and iron gates were installed. Alas, the gates and any trace of milestone 14 are lost.

Further south we come to milestone 15, simply marked “B 15 M” and leaning into Washington Street in front of the earliest section of St. Mary’s Cemetery. This grey ghost is easy to find and almost as easy to hit with an ill intentioned driver. Milestone 16 is reported to have been approximately where the old Endicott house stands, just before the high school. It has long been believed that this stone may very well be buried in one of the old walls that grace this section of Washington Street.

The 17th Mile Stone. Relocated from the original
location (shown here) and now at the waterfall on
Pond & Washington Streets. (Courtesy of the
Canton Historical Society.)

Measuring another mile, the final stone along Washington Street should by all accounts be located near the present-day Dockray and Thomas Funeral Home. Many residents, however, know that the 17^th milestone is located near the falls at Shepard’s Pond in the “Hardware” section of Canton. This is our oldest stone, set here in 1736 by Nathaniel Leonard. Leonard, born in 1717, was active in the early iron business. This stone originally sat across the street and had been saved after being buried in the roadway, reset in place, and in more modern times moved by the town of Canton across the street in the small park near Pond Street. Interestingly enough, this milestone is more than three-eighths of a mile away from where a measured mile should place it. At 275 years old, it can sit wherever it wants, even if it no longer accurately measures the distance to the Old State House.

A youthful Ed Galvin, member of the
Canton Historical Society, repaints the 17th milestone
on Pleasant Street on Memorial Day 1965.
(Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

One final note to share on Canton milestones: There are three more stones that are quite curious. There is a stone at Canton Center railroad crossing measuring the distance to Providence, Rhode Island. And on Pleasant Street there are two more Boston milestones marked “B 17 M – 1773” and “B 16 M – 1773.” So, curious reader, you may be thinking, “Ah, these are the missing stones on Washington Street. Not the case, the 17^th stone is Nathaniel Leonard’s near Pond Street, and no explanation has surfaced as to why the markers that follow the “Bay Road” depart up through Pleasant Street.

Channing Howard wrote in 1939 that it was his work to “rescue from threatened oblivion and preserve the story of this noble road — great in both history and romance — for those who come after. May its glory not grow dim.” To this end, every few years I go out and repaint the letters and dates on these markers. If you are so inclined to join me, I’ll have a brush and paint ready. We can all preserve our town’s history, mile by mile.

The author plans on visiting each stone on Memorial Day weekend and repainting these relics. If you would like to come along, drop an email to geocomeau@gmail.com.

Remembering the Civil War

Company A, the Canton men who were the first to leave Massachusetts
in the Civil War, shown here at a reunion on September 17, 1898.
(Photo by J. W. Wattles, Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

It may be cliché to say that you can touch history, but in all honesty, our history is made up of the places, artifacts and stories that we preserve for future generations to “touch.” Nowhere is this more evident than in the new exhibit at the Canton Historical Society that lays bare the artifacts brought back by Canton soldiers from the American Civil War.

Affectionately, I have always called the “Histy” Canton’s Attic. The building itself was completed 100 years ago and the Classical Revival building with a modest exterior holds thousands of photographs, artifacts and stories that create a link to our place here in Canton. The Historical Society has been collecting and preserving our history since 1871, when it was founded by a group of men to “obtain and preserve all material that would throw light upon the history of the town.” Many of these men fought in the Civil War, and they carefully placed their artifacts into the building for safekeeping.

It must have been with great pride in Canton and in our military role in the Civil War that prompted Wally Gibbs, the president of the society, to begin work on the current exhibit focusing on the Civil War. As Mr. Gibbs examined the holdings in the vault, and in musty drawers and boxes, he put together the story of war that is poignant and memorable. Each object selected is a direct connection to the intense hardship of battle and the bloody trials endured by our boys as they fought a war on home soil.

The history of Canton is intertwined with the Civil War. More than 600,000 men died in battle and even more would return home with disfiguring wounds on both their bodies and minds. Canton’s resident historian, James Roache, recounted the heavy loss of life from Canton: “In a town of almost 3,500 inhabitants, Canton would suffer the loss of 30 men in battle.”

The names of our lost men are inscribed on the memorial tablets that flank the interior at Memorial Hall. Our town hall is in fact a memorial to those who lost their lives in giving the ultimate sacrifice for freedom. The soldier who once stood outside Memorial Hall, and now is in a corner of the interior, was a tribute to the soldiers of Canton. Today, observe the patina of the statue, weathered and beaten, silently watching the tax collections and dog licenses.

A Union soldier's cartridge case.

In the Canton Historical Society it is in the ordinary that we touch the extraordinary. There is the pewter plate used by Larra E. Wentworth in 1863. The Union canteen carried by Captain John Hall. And most touching is the simple tin plate that was picked up at Wilderness, Virginia, along the rebel lines. Buttons, belt buckles, and dress swords fill a case where time stands still and the battles have ended.

There are Union guns and Confederate rifles. The most interesting of these guns is the Confederate single-shot rifled musket that was taken from the battlefield at Bull Run. The rich, dark wood, smoothed by time, bears a rip from a Union bullet that tore the gun “from the hands of a South Carolinian rebel.” The force of the direct hit on the gun sent the weapon flying and wounded the rebel soldier. Attesting to the force of the shells are two bullets that met midair, united by the impact. The ammunition quieted but still telling tales.

The Civil War bugle owned by Wallace McKendry
from Ponkapoag (Photo by George T. Comeau)

Also long quieted is the bugle that belonged to Wallace McKendry. The son of Captain William McKendry and Harriet Billings, McKendry was born in Ponkapoag and enlisted in Company D 22^nd Regiment and served as a sergeant in the Peninsular Campaign. The cloth cord and tassels are intact, and the owner’s name is simply engraved.

Most remarkably, the Histy owns the two dress swords worn by the grandsons of the patriot Paul Revere. These two men, Paul Joseph and Edward Hutchinson Robbins Revere, were heroes in the truest sense. Upon the call of duty, Paul Joseph Revere would leave a wife and two children. A dear friend urged him not to leave home, to which Revere remarked, “I have weighed it all, and there is something higher still. The institutions of the country — indeed free institutions throughout the world — hang on this moment.”

The war stories surrounding the two Revere men from Canton are the stuff of movies, and sadly of life during war. Space precludes sharing the list of heroics as well as the tribulations. Suffice it to say that imprisonment, torture, hostage exchanges, glorious battles and, ultimately, sacrifice and death, paint a vivid portrait of the lives of these Cantonians. Both of these men represent the covenant with the Union and freedom, offering their lives to consummate the ideals of the United States of America.

The Revere men stand elegant in a large framed portrait above the door to the society vault that contains their military dress swords. Ask Wally Gibbs to see the swords, and touch a rare piece of Revere family history. Edward Revere’s sword is simple and tells the story of the surgeon who died heroically on the battlefield of Antietam on September 17, 1862. Colonel Paul Joseph Revere’s sword is engraved with the names of the battles in which he took part. Ball’s Bluff, Yorktown, West Point, Seven Pines, Fair Oaks, Peach Orchard, Savages Station, White Oak Swamp, Glendale, Malvern Hill, Antietam, and his final battle, Gettysburg. The names chill the air, and each battle brought him closer to death and into history for the name of his family and country. Mortally wounded on July 2, Paul Joseph Revere died at Gettysburg on July 4, 1863.

Detail from a captured Confederate Flag on display at
the Canton Historical Society

As if to punctuate the battles, there is the captured battle flag of the Confederate Army. In a hand-painted case the flag lies under glass. The 12 stars are faded, and the leather eagle slightly worn. The story behind this flag is found in a handwritten affidavit that reads: “This flag was captured by First Sergeant Edwin West of Wallace’s Zouaves 11^th Indiana Regiment at the 3^rd day fight — Battle of Shiloh.” The flag was claimed by West as to have been captured from the First Texas Calvary, taken from the hands of Colonel John O’Neil. In a letter of inquiry dated 1899, the last surviving Civil War veteran from Canton, John D. Billings, wrote to United Confederate Veterans and inquired as to Colonel John O’Neil’s whereabouts. The answer back was that O’Neil was not connected to the First Texas Calvary, but rather was a major, lt. colonel and colonel of the 10^th Tennessee Infantry. O’Neil died in St. Louis, and perhaps along with him was the story behind the capturing of this flag. No matter, the flag is preserved and is a beautiful piece of our history.

Colonel John D. Billings

Many of the items at the society, hundreds in fact, were collected by Colonel Billings. The notes that accompany the fragments of war indicate a man who was thorough and direct. Of the multitude of fragments from the war collected by Billings, we find such items as a piece of a scabbard picked up at Appomattox Courthouse, fragments of a shell found at Cold Harbor, and a tin cartridge case from Antietam. Billings lived until 1933, dying at age 91, and his passion for the war is evident by the breadth of his collection.

Sometimes the stories and connections to our nation’s past can be found in our own hometown, and the items on display are superb connecting points. 

Balancing history at Pulpit Rock

Balancing Rock, Canton, Massachusetts
(Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

By now you have no doubt created a short list of sites to visit in Canton that demonstrate some of the local curiosities of history and geology.  Many people have followed my recent columns and report trips to the Stone Bridge or the Indian Cave. This week we plan another “trespass” to our neighbors up on York Street.

A visit to Balancing Rock, also known as Pulpit Rock.
Photo by Eliot C. French, 1912.
(Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

By many names, the site is the same — Pulpit Rock, Balancing Rock, or Indian Council Rock. The subject of Indian lore, local history and today controversy, this site is among our most famous geological wonders. Located on a trail within 50 yards of the cul-de-sac at the end of Village Gate Road, the rock sits on a 60-acre parcel slated for development. Actually, not just sitting; balancing. The local developer plans to preserve the site with a small park and hopes that in doing so he will encourage the support of local opposition groups to the subsequent development of the remaining parcel. Rather than wade into the controversy, let’s focus on the rock.

Not to be taken for granite, um granted, Pulpit Rock is quite large, and was placed by the retreating glaciers atop bedrock that sits as a stone promontory 100 feet above hilly land and glacial till. The exact coordinates on the GPS place us at 71d26m W, 42d10m N. The land was part of the Colonial era site known as the “Great Sheep Pasture Lot.” But, in terms of time, the significance extends back to 14,000 years ago when the Neponset River Valley was formed by the waters of glacial melt. It may be hard to imagine today, but the Neponset River was more than a mile wide and swelled to a lake wider than five miles in the Neponset Basin.

Enormous significance is given to our area by professional and amateur archaeologists. Paleoamerican artifacts that date to 10,000-12,000 BP (years before the present) have been discovered in Canton, and in one site more than 2,600 tools and projectile points have been unearthed. Canton was rich in the tools and food needed by early man to survive in a hostile and harsh New England environment. There is little doubt that prehistoric man in New England called Canton home.

Pulpit Rock serves as a superb reminder of the people that inhabited this area thousands of years before the “contact period,” that time of European contact with native populations. There is, however, no person with greater curiosity in the history of this site than the owner and developer, Patrick Considine. Many stories abound as to the importance of Pulpit Rock, and recently new and exciting theories of use and significance have emerged.

To understand the new theories about Pulpit Rock you have to understand its owner, Pat Considine. Growing up on the family farm in North Clare, Ireland, Mr. Considine was familiar with ancient stone ring forts, dolmens and megaliths. As a boy he learned that “stone formations are an important part of the history of man.” And so when he began purchasing the land off York Street that contained Pulpit Rock, he was constantly trying to square off between folklore and history. Sometimes both are so intertwined it is impossible to separate the two.

Over the past five years as Mr. Considine amassed the 60-acre parcel, he was on a continuous path to learn more about Pulpit Rock. There is little written about this site. Some theories suggest that the Puritan missionary John Eliot used Pulpit Rock as his “pulpit” to preach his cross-cultural mission of converting the native population to Christianity. The area now known as Canton was once part of Eliot’s second so-called Praying Towns — a place where the Native Americans could live apart from the English and rule themselves as a Christian society. Eliot writes “though our poore Indians are much molested in most places in their meetings in way of civilities, yet the Lord hath put it into your hearts to suffer us to meet quietly at Ponkipog for which I thank God, and am thankful to yourself and all the good people of Dorchester.”

Katherine Sullivan, then president of the
Canton Historical Society,and Edward Bolster
 lead a visit to Balancing Rock in 1972.
 (Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

The Indians that settled on the 6,000 acres of the Ponkapoag Plantation certainly would have been familiar with Pulpit Rock. It is a commanding site across the land and a promontory from which folklore claims smoke signals could be seen in Sharon. But folklore was not enough for Mr. Considine, who felt the site had more significance than what had been handed down through local stories. He asked himself how he would “approach an investigation” that linked the site to pre-historic times — something that seemed elusive. On a beautiful autumn day Mr. Considine traveled to Exeter, New Hampshire and visited the New Hampshire Technical Institute and began researching standing stone sites in New England.

The seminal work on standing stones is titledManitou and tells the story of ancient Native American ritual sites across New England. The book was written by two established scientists who researched archaeoastronomy. This was the first book to examine a class of data that was ordinarily overlooked by prehistorians and is widely described as “a new research paradigm.” In Europe, especially Ireland and Britain, stone circles and megalith sites have been studied extensively for almost 50 years. In the United States, the SunWatch site near Dayton, Ohio, may date to the 1100s.

In December, Mr. Considine invited several individuals from the New England Antiquities Research Association (NEARA) to learn more about the prehistoric nature of Pulpit Rock. NEARA was founded in 1964 and has had plenty of experience supporting and debunking stone sites. Along on that day was Dr. Frederick Martin from Dedham. Dr. Martin is a research physicist who graduated from Yale and is active in the field of ion optics. Near the end of the day, almost as the group was leaving the site, Mr. Considine pointed out a row of stones ten feet from an ancient stone wall. These stones had been a curiosity to Mr. Considine, and the folks from NEARA became excited when they placed them in context with Pulpit Rock.

The row of stones, six feet in dimension, was aligned in the same direction and moved by humans. The second stone was what they termed a Manitou. Manitou is a word that is used by Algonquin speaking people to mean “spirit,” and these stones have been discovered across the New England landscape. The Manitou is similar in shape to a Colonial headstone and placed in places of great spiritual power. At Pulpit Rock the series of stones is aligned with magnetic north, and the theories that are emerging include the fact that this site may have been used to keep track of the passage of a year and possibly in connection with ceremony.

“There is a stone on which you can stand and see the Winter Solstice sun set over Pulpit Rock,” Dr. Martin said. “There is another stone that allows you to see the moon set at predictable intervals.” In essence, a straight line of monuments in which there are several unequivocal sightlines for annual and lunar timekeeping. A ceremonial stone clock, if you will allow the description.

What excites Mr. Considine is the fact that Pulpit Rock is quite similar and in his words “preeminent” to other sites with almost identical features. By mid-winter at the period of solstice late in the day, a deep shadow crosses the Manitou at Pulpit Rock and marks the darkest part of the year. Amazingly, the stones may line up to true north as it was over 10,000 years ago while today it sits off-axis by less than a few degrees.

Dr. Martin is working on publishing his findings in the journal Time and Mind, which specializes in archeoastronomy and prehistoric symbolic landscapes. He terms the site as fascinating and says that “since agriculture on bedrock is impossible, and colonial farmers are not known to be interested in the moon, it may be concluded that the stone row was constructed before the arrival of Europeans in New England.” The discovery in Canton is exhilarating in that it helps explain the long tradition of folklore and sacredness of a site long held so by modern people. The connections of Pulpit Rock to ancient people who were aligned by lunar and seasonal calendars is emerging as a very important reason for the site to be preserved.

This story originally appeared in the Canton Citizen on April 7, 2011.

A Ring of the Son of Thunder

Memento Mori ring cast as a memorial to
Rev. Samuel Dunbar, 1783. (Courtesy of Eldred’s Auction)

The simple inscription on the inside of a small gold ring tells an amazing story that reaches back over 300 years to the birth of Samuel Dunbar. The inside of the ring in a colonial script reads: “Rev’d Saml. Dunbar June 15, 1783 AE 78” and a makers mark “PR.”


For all purposes, know that when I write of Canton, I write of the place that began as Dorchester, became Stoughton, was divided into parishes, and ultimately became what we know as Canton in 1797.

A receipt from 1777 signed by Samuel Dunbar
in the collection of the Canton Historical Society

As this town grew, the need for ministerial guidance was at the forefront of this community. The town minister was as important, and perhaps even of greater importance as that of the town doctor or miller. Samuel Dunbar was born in Boston on October 2, 1704, and when he was 4, his father died. At a very early age he attracted the attention of the Reverend Cotton Mather. Mather held the strictest of religious doctrines, best exhibited by his views on witchcraft and the subsequent hangings at Salem. Under Mather’s guidance, Dunbar attended Boston Latin School and Harvard College. By 1727, the people of Canton reached out and sent letters of inquiry asking that the 23 year old accept a ministry over the Church of Christ in Stoughton.


Through the years in Canton, a handsome house was built on what is now Chapman Street. A family grew and the reverend became extremely influential in all things religious and politic. The image of the man in a “long black gown, his snow white bands, his flowing gray wig, his black short-clothes, his knee and shoe buckles” stir a very proper picture of a righteous man. Upon the death of a resident who had not been an attendant at church, Dunbar stood at the head of the coffin and turned to the surviving relatives and proclaimed that “his body was before them, but his soul was in hell.”


In his early ministry in Canton he was a staunch supporter of the Crown, as all were in the middle of the 18th century. Dunbar was of the highest moral character and most esteemed by the entire community. When the call of duty was made by the king in 1755, Dunbar, as chaplain, accompanied Richard Gridley and Paul Revere (then 21) to fight against the French at Crown Point.

The Doty Tavern depicted in an 1876
drawing for Potter’s American
Magazine (Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

Over the years, as discontent grew among the people of the colonies, the fiery reverend changed sides and vociferously supported the patriots’ cause. In fact, in 1774 Dunbar bore witness to the birth of liberty. On Tuesday, August 16, 1774, delegates from around the surrounding towns gathered at Doty Tavern, at the foot of the Blue Hill, to hold a “Congress.” This meeting would bring about the emancipation from the tyrannous hands of the king. What would become known as the Suffolk Resolves was first discussed at this meeting. Dunbar, against the advice of family, friends and fellow ministers, attended the meeting and opened with a prayer that was described as “the most extraordinary liberty prayer” ever heard. It would not be hard to imagine coming from a person who once prayed that God would “put a bit in their mouths and jerk them about, send a strong northeast gale, and dash them [the British fleet] to pieces on Cohasset Rock.”


Dunbar was an amazing man, and in the truest sense a patriot, alongside Adams, Hancock, Revere, and Warren. He was known alternatively as a “Son of Thunder” and a “Son of Consolation.” As the “eldest Son of Liberty,” Dunbar bore witness to an extraordinary time in our history, giving comfort during times of distress and thanks during times of triumph. Samuel Dunbar lived long enough to see victory and the birth of our nation.


The first minister to publicly read the Declaration of Independence from the pulpit died on June 15, 1783. It would take 13 days for the great man to die, in excruciating pain, yet surrounded by family and friends at his home in the Old Parsonage. Huntoon describes the scene: “As the shades of evening approached, his pulse became slower and his breath shorter…” An affectionate friend kneels and inquires upon the old man’s pain, to which the response is, “I have served a good Master, and he has not forsaken me.”

Samuel Dunbar’s Parsonage which once
stood on Chapman Street. (Courtesy of the
Canton Historical Society)

Dunbar’s obituary ran in the Independent Chronicle and the Universal Advertiser on July 3, 1783. “They gather’d together, and with a generofity and tendernefs chearfully agreed to inter him at their common expence” continuing “the congregation, form’d in two ranks, proceeded from the dwelling houfe of the deceafed firft, the church next, then the deceafed borne by twelve principal men of the parifh, and the pall fupported by eight of the neighboring minifters.” Once committed to the grave, the obituary concluded, “The sweet remembrance of the just, Shall flourish when he sleeps in dust.”


And now to the ring. A recent caller from Cape Cod inquired as to what I knew of Dunbar, all of which I have related in this story. The initials “PR” intrigued me. Could this be … Paul Revere? In fact, this gold ring was most likely cast by the hands of the patriot and friend of Dunbar. As was the custom for the wealthy, a provision was made to quickly gather up gold and silver and have it cast into rings as a Memento Mori. These rings would be given as gifts to those closest friends as a way of signifying the importance of the man and as a literal reminder that you too shall “remember your mortality.”


A call to my friend, Nina Zannieri, the executive director of the Paul Revere House, confirmed, “It looks pretty good to us.” But, how does “pretty good” stack up? Digging further we found that in 1783 Paul Revere wrote in his day book that he cast eight rings for a single client, Capt. James Indicot. Zannieri writes, “It seems unlikely that is related to the one in your picture.”


What Zannieri did not immediately connect was the fact that Indicot was actually James Endicott — of Canton. James Endicott served as a captain in the Revolution at Lexington, Dorchester Heights, Cambridge, and Ticonderoga. Endicott was a friend of Revere; in fact, when Endicott’s house burned to the ground in 1806, it was Paul Revere who led the public financial campaign to rebuild the house against the impending winter. The brick house still stands on Washington Street, just past the high school.


Endicott, at 44 years old, was a rising and prominent citizen. A representative to the General Court, justice of the peace appointed by John Hancock, member of the committee that separated Canton from Stoughton, and the town treasurer, it was Endicott that placed an order for eight gold rings with Paul Revere. The daybook entry is made after May but before July 1783, and reads, in part, “to 8 Gold morn’g ring, weight 15.8 – 4 pounds, 4 shilling, 4 pence. Making ——- 1 pound, 6 shilling, 8 pence – Paid.” So, eight rings were cast about the same time as the death of Samuel Dunbar; one has survived.


On April 9 at Eldred’s Auction Gallery in East Dennis, we will see Paul Revere’s memorial gold ring cast for our second minister, Samuel Dunbar, hit the auction block. Presale estimates for this piece of our town’s history are between $4,000 and $8,000. History is alive and well — but at the right price.

A Cave to Remember

Fairbanks Ledge on Standish Way
 (photo by George T. Comeau)

I was intrigued the day I opened the email from my good friend and fellow historian Dave Lambert. Lambert is one of the town of Stoughton’s preeminent local historians, and since Canton was once part of Stoughton, he shares my passion for all things related to the history of our two sibling communities.

The email arrived in early January 2009. The body of the email was simple and read: “Here are the images of Fairbanks Cave in 1908, and the location in 2009. Want to go on an adventure; let me know!”

An adventure? “Yes” always was my answer. After all, I assume, dear reader, that you saw my last installment on the subject of trespassing. The very idea of a “cave” in Canton was more than I could hope for. The email contained the map illustrated with this story.

Old maps are not new to Canton. The “Histy” has dozens upon dozens. Nestled in banker’s boxes, on the shelf above the vault door, hanging on walls, in flat files, and just about everywhere throughout the building. In fact, several similar maps to the one that Lambert sent me are in a small metal drawer just inside the Historical Society vault. Some of the maps are so old and creased that great care must be taken with simply unrolling the vellum.

It turns out that actually finding this cave would be harder than it seemed. Canton has changed so much in a hundred years. The landscape has been bulldozed, filled, excavated, and man has dominated the natural form such that little unprotected and untouched open space remains. A cave might surely be lost to growth and expansion of subdivisions and modern construction.

That said, the accompanying map that came with Lambert’s email had a few tantalizing clues. It was amazingly detailed and accurate in measure and scale. The map was sketched en route to accompany an outing of the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC). The trip of 44 persons came to Canton on April 11, 1908, and “hiked” from Canton Junction to the Wetherbee Pasture and onto the Fairbanks Cave. The total hike was 4.5 miles and took a few hours to complete.  Today, actually finding this cave would take me several days of research and driving around town.

The Wetherbee Pasture in 1918 Now the
Blue Hill Country Club
(courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

The map was drawn by E.G. Chamberlain. Chamberlain had written the guide on the Blue Hills for Appalachia, the Journal of the AMC, in 1883 and likely led the club’s excursion to Canton and Milton in 1883. Chamberlain’s map of the Blue Hill Range is highly detailed and superbly drawn. By 1904, Chamberlain’s Blue Hill Panorama had been carelessly copied by so many people that he had an original copy lithographed, and it became standard issue for all day hikers from the AMC.

It was the practice of the AMC to bring along a mapmaker on outings to draw details of the trip and publish these as small “blue prints” to be distributed to members. The map that Lambert had emailed me was a small blueprint that captured small details in the paths and landscape perfectly. It should prove easy to find the cave’s location simply looking at old maps and overlaying Google Maps with the 1908 drawing.

The puzzle on the Fairbanks Cave Map is that I could find no local reference to Fairbanks. It was Chamberlain’s practice to name objects discovered by the club during their outings. For instance, Chamberlain writes of a trip to Amesbury, Massachusetts: “After visiting Powder House Hill we crossed a deep valley and ascended a higher hill, which diligent search shows has never appeared on any map. Even the recent state topographic map omits it. So I called it ‘Lost Hill’ on my outing map.” This was a clue that perhaps Chamberlain had simply named the cave on whim.

It turns out that in the Canton Historical Society a small map drawn to accompany the 1887 Fast Day Walk to the same spot described the topography, 21 years earlier, as Fairbanks Ledge. The historian Daniel Huntoon walked with the society members that day and told the story: “A huge mass of cold gray granite rises abruptly in the midst of the woods and underbrush. On the westerly side is an opening where six or eight men might easily find shelter. Here tradition asserts that one Fairbanks, ages ago, was obliged to secrete himself for a long time in order to avoid the officers of justice. It would appear that an Indian made some offensive gesture, accompanied with an insulting remark to Fairbanks; whereupon the latter, upon the impulse of the moment, fired a charge of buckshot into the Indian, from the effects of which he died.”

The AMC Outing to Fairbanks Cave
(courtesy of David Lambert)
Click to enlarge details

The map is very technically drawn and is very similar to several other hand-drawn maps of the same period. Canton had plenty of connections in the AMC. Frederic Endicott, a prominent Canton resident and superb surveyor and cartographer, served as a councilor to the AMC. Many of Endicott’s maps survive in the Canton Historical Society and are superbly drawn and highly accurate. Endicott drew the 1887 Fast Day Walk map that identifies this site as Fairbanks Ledge.

The overlays of historic maps, the AMC Map, and our new age Google Maps – complete with satellite imagery – do not solve the question. After unsuccessfully locating the cave using our modern technology, it was time to talk to people in the area.

I called Mrs. Meadow, who lives on the west side of Elm Street and whose property I guessed the cave would be located on. Meadow came to Canton in 1956 and had purchased the Draper property on Elm Street. The original tract of land totaled almost 75 acres, and when Route 95 cut through the property it was reduced to the present 40 acres. This large property is largely intact and could be a breakthrough in this research. Mrs. Meadow, however, did not think the cave was on her property, but a return call from her son, Richard, confirmed both the existence and the location.

Richard Meadow, a prominent archeologist at Harvard University, had indeed recalled what he described as the “Indian Cave.” In reality, it was a large rocky outcropping with a deep hole that he would explore with other friends while hiking his own property and the neighboring Fish property. A small opening in the fence gave access to the area where the “cave” was situated.

And so the mystery is solved; you too can visit the Indian Cave. It turns out that the “cave” was never really lost and never really a cave in the truest sense. Fairbanks Ledge is readily accessible if you drive to the very end of Standish Way. The rock is, as Huntoon described it, “immense,” and well worth the drive by. Finding an old map and discovering our rich local history is as impressive as the journey itself.

This story originally appeared in the Canton Citizen on February 3, 2011.