Came Over on the Mayflower

Revere & Son Bell Returns Home

Joseph Warren Revere walked across the dusty path that lead from his house to the nearby bell foundry. A pair of drowsy eyed oxen waited hitched to a heavy oak cart. It was a delivery day and a new bell had been cast that would be sent to another faraway place. Revere took a personal interest in each of the bells as they were made. The words “Revere Boston” were cast along the upper part of the bell that left the foundry in Canton.  Paul Revere had taught his son the importance of personally inspecting each and every bell that left the forge. Running his fingers across the family name, Revere then watched the wagon roll out the gates on a 700 mile trip to Cleveland, Ohio. That very same bell is about to return to Canton, tomorrow, after a 3,000 mile trip across America. Tomorrow – the bell comes home. 

 

The Revere family had a long history with church bells. As a boy, Paul Revere signed a contract with Christ Church (the Old North Church) to serve as a bell ringer, even though he attended the New Brick Church of Boston. During the American Revolution, Revere took on the role of his lifetime and is widely hailed as a true founding patriot. After the war, Revere returned to his roots of metallurgy and began casting a number of useful items for the economic growth of the United States, bells among his line of products. 

 

It all started in 1792, when Revere’s congregation of the New Brick Church sought to replace their bell that had cracked. Revere, with the a reputation for taking on impossible tasks, believed he could cast the large bell to replace the one that had been “injured.” The casting of the 912 pound bell was not entirely successful. The bell had visible imperfections and a poor tone quality. Revere persevered and through the iterative process of failures and successes, the bells became better and more refined. Working closely with Joseph Warren, the enterprise flourished and he proclaimed that "we know we can cast as good bells as can be cast in the world, both for goodness and for sound.”

 

Originally located in the North End, Revere’s foundry began by producing materials for shipbuilding, such as nails and fittings, before developing the ability to produce more recognizable items like bells and canons. On October 9, 1804, an unusual late-season storm yielded vast amounts of snow, rain, and powerful winds across the northeastern United States. Known as the Storm of October 1804, it was the first first hurricane in recorded history known to have produced snowfall. The devastation was widespread and included the foundry that was located along the waterfront in Boston. Revere and his son decided to move the entire operation to Canton where the copper rolling mill had been established in 1801. In November 1804, Joseph Warren set off for Europe in order to gain even more technical knowledge of both copper rolling and the production casting large bells. 

 

Upon Paul Revere’s death in 1818, Joseph Warren took on the primary role in the casting of bells and through subsequent corporate name changes continued bell making until 1843. The name “Revere Boston” appeared on bells as early as 1822 through 1843 and the last bell entry in the Revere stockbooks was dated 1828, though bells made after 1824 did not carry a date on them. More than 969 bells were cast with the Revere name, and many were cast right here in Canton in a foundry building that was demolished after 1965. 

 

In Cleveland, Ohio there is a landmark church called the Old Stone Church. The congregation was formed in September 1820. Officially known as The First Presbyterian Church of Cleveland, it was founded at a time when Cleveland was a village of a few hundred people. The first church building was dedicated in 1834. Since it was made of gray sandstone, it became known as “The Stone Church”; as the sandstone darkened, it was later called “The Old Stone Church”. The bell that left Canton was likely the bell that hung in that steeple. A slightly larger structure was constructed in 1853 on the original church site as Cleveland began to grow rapidly. It was about that time that the First Congregational Church in Vermillion, Ohio formed a bell society whose object was to purchase a bell. The bell this society bought had hung in the belfry of the Old Stone Church in Cleveland. 

 

From 1853 to 1954 the bell was in the hands of the Congregational Church. When the building was sold to the Baptist Church, the bell continued to peal on Sundays and special events. In the early 1980’s the church was sold and passed into private hands. The bell was bought by Jeannene and Robert Shanks. Amy Shanks Miller tells the story of the bell. “Mom told us that she was buying a bell, and we all thought she was kidding. But, the way mom saw it, the bell needed a home and for around $1,000 she made the purchase.” In 1958, Jeannene and Robert had relocated to Vermilion, Ohio when Robert took a new position with Ford Motor Co. Jeannene was a housewife and real estate agent in Vermillion. They remained in Ohio until Robert's retirement from Ford in 1983. The bell was purchased near the end of their residency in Ohio, which meant that when she and Robert moved to California, they would move the bell with the Mayflower Moving Company. “Mom would joke that the bell came over on the Mayflower!”  

 

The bell sat in a storage locker for a time, and then between 1990 and 2008 it was at Jeannene’s house in Chino Hills, California. When Jeannene died, the bell moved less than a mile to Amy’s garage where it was rung ceremoniously on July 4^th. “About ten years ago I began to think about a home for the bell,” Amy explained, “a rancher from Texas offered us a lot of money and said that if it didn’t work out he could always melt it down for scrap salvage.” Amy was shocked, and began working to find a suitable home for the bell. 

 

Carl S. Zimmerman is an industrial archeologist and noted campanologist – a person that studies bells. This author first worked with Zimmerman in 2008 when trying to save the Revere Rolling Mill and Joseph Warren Revere Barn. Zimmerman talks of bells – the headstock, the bearing blocks, the clapper, the cannon, retaining yoke and gudgeon. After seeing photos of the Revere bell he marveled, “it is the real deal, and that octagonal wrought iron from which the ball of the clapper hangs is quite interesting.” There is much more to learn about this bell, and we are just getting started. “Revere had the time, opportunity and interest and was one of the earliest men to cast bells in the United States.” Folklore suggests that a tiny bit of silver was the secret ingredient in perfecting the tone of Paul Revere’s bells. 

 

Thirteen years had passed since first meeting Zimmerman and the Revere Heritage Site is a reality. Zimmerman was now helping Amy find a home for what she affectionally called her “younger sibling” – the Revere Bell. One of the first calls was to the Paul Revere House. There is a Revere Bell from 1804 on exhibit in the North End home of Revere in the museum courtyard. They referred Zimmerman to this author. In September 2021, this author began to talk and email extensively with Amy. Of great relief, Amy wrote, “I am interested in knowing the bell would have good purpose and care.”  

 

Thus over the next several months we all worked to have the bell contributed to the Revere & Son Heritage Trust. On January 14, 2022 the bell was donated by Amy Shanks Miller and her brother, Robert Shanks as a gift from the legacy of their parents to the Paul Revere Museum of Discovery and Innovation. Only one problem remained – getting a 2000 pound bell, frame and cribbing home to Canton, Massachusetts. 

 

Through the efforts of several individuals, several thousand dollars was raised to ship the bell back east to Canton. Alan Hines, a Heritage Trust Director, solicited friends and colleagues and raised the money needed to get the bell east. And, once again, Mayflower Moving Company loaded the bell onto a truck for the transcontinental trip to Canton. Tomorrow, if all goes according to plan, the bell cast here in 1834 will arrive back with much fanfare. It will be the second Revere Bell in Canton, as the first hangs in the belfry of the First Parish Church and dates to 1824. To bring this bell home took almost seven months and much planning. 

 

The bell will be in temporary storage while ideas are underway for a permanent public display. Plans are to show the bell at the Canton Heritage Day event on May 14^th.  Cast at the hands of Joseph Warren Revere, this bell took a fascinating trip through history and five trips to come full circle. Welcome Home! 

A long trip for Hank Williams' coat

From a glass plate negative. The Neponset Mills in Canton.
(Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame sits on the shores of Lake Erie in Cleveland, Ohio. My wife and I stopped in while driving to Chicago when we needed a halfway point to rest. The hall of fame is a shrine to rock in all its forms — from jazz to punk and all genres in between. We received our tickets and began our tour through the labyrinth of exhibits.

Within two minutes, we found ourselves in front of a case of items that recognized the contributions of Hiram King Williams — “Hank” — the American singer-songwriter who is considered one of the most important country music artists of all time. In the case were his hat, his boots and a coat he wore. The coat caught my eye — hanging on the hook you could plainly see the label, and it read “designed by Monarch — Neponset Emberglo.” Turning to my wife, I explained that no matter how far we travel, Canton is never far away. In true wife fashion, she rolled her eyes and moved on. I lingered on and thought how far that coat had traveled.

The Emberglo coat was crème colored and a heavy wool dyed with a western pattern, and according to the description was made in 1950. Emberglo was a trademark of the Neponset Woolen Mills, located on Walpole Street. The label had the word Neponset neatly stitched. Hank Williams’ coat started in the hands of factory workers from Canton. The coat tells a rich story that reaches beyond Hank Williams and into American history and the age of our industrial revolution.

The mill on Walpole Street is gone, but only recently. One of the most important mills in America, this site was first developed in 1801. When you stand here, you are on the original site of the second cotton factory in the colonies, the first being the 1799 Samuel Slater Mill in Pawtucket, Rhode Island. Today, a modern condominium complex, built by local developer John Marini, sits on this historic site.

The establishment of the cotton mill in Canton was due to the enterprise of a 22-year-old James Beaumont, a young man who had come from England to America in the spring of 1800. No stranger to manufacturing, Beaumont was born in Denby, a parish between Huddersfield and Sheffield, two important manufacturing towns in Yorkshire, England. Growing up on estates that produced wool and being part of a rather well-off family, Beaumont’s eye was on America. In 1799, Beaumont received a letter from two friends who had left England and settled in Lebanon, New Hampshire. The letter told of the opportunities that could be prospected in this new country. Beaumont sent a return letter with a draft of a spinning machine, which helped his friends begin their business in Lebanon. Soon thereafter, Beaumont decided he “got a hankering to go there and see what they were about.”

To leave England with secrets of manufacturing was risky, and if caught, Beaumont would face the full wrath of the English government. In order to avoid detection, he bought casks of hardware and cutlery along with bolts of cloth, and at the custom house in Liverpool he explained that he was simply a farmer’s son going to America on a trading trip.

Beaumont sailed to America on a trip that would take 56 days and would forever change textile manufacturing in the fledgling country. Landing in Salem, he visited a few factories, and by the winter of 1800 he had settled in Boston. An English acquaintance by the curious name of “Slimsey” (a nickname for sure) informed Beaumont that there was a fine mill-privilege in Canton, on which its two owners wished to set up a cotton factory, and that they were willing to erect a dam and the mill “if they could find somebody who would put in about $400, to pay for the machinery.”

Beaumont visited Canton, where he was so pleased with the mill-privilege that he agreed to furnish the machinery; his partners, Lemuel Bailey and Abel Fisher, would erect a substantial dam and a building for a factory. The construction of the dam and factory progressed during the year of 1801, and the machines were running by 1802. The first work of the factory was the manufacture of wickyarn for candle-makers. Soon thereafter, the mill began to make yarn for warp and filling for domestic fabrics. The first piece of cloth made was for sheeting. Beaumont said of it: “This, in 1802, was the first piece of cotton cloth ever made in America from mule-yarn, either all or in part produced.” Beaumont was mistaken: Cotton cloth had been made in 1794 in a factory in New York, but Beaumont’s mill was nonetheless producing fine cloth that sold for 50 cents a yard.

James Beaumont's House on Neponset Street
 (now demolished). Circa 1900. (Courtesy of the
Canton Historical Society)

Beaumont did very well in this venture, and by 1823 at age 45, he retired from manufacturing and became a gentleman farmer. For a time he had a small mill in what was known as the British Block, not far from his original factory. His innovations continued, and he produced some of the first satin products in America. In 1808 he had erected the second brick house in Canton, the first being the Endicott House on Washington Street. In this handsome house Beaumont spent time with his family and friends and lived an entire life in his adopted home. Beaumont died in Canton in 1868 at age 90 and is buried alongside his wife, Abigail (Gookin), and his children at the Canton Corner Cemetery.
 
On February 18, 1823, the factory on Walpole Street was sold to Joseph W. Revere for $3,500. Within a year, Revere sold the mill to Darius Blake Holbrook, Charles Parker, and Dexter and William Hill, of Boston, for $120,000. These gentlemen, along with others, organized the Boston & Canton Manufacturing Company. The area quickly built up around the massive stone factory and included boarding houses, a school and even medical facilities. In three years the area prospered, and great growth led to the construction of a dirt road across the Fowl Meadows to support shipments to Boston. Quite literally, Canton burst forward under the growth of the mills along this section of town. Unfortunately, the business failed in 1827 and the mill would be vacant for four years.

On April 22, 1831, the Boston & Canton Manufacturing Company conveyed the mill to the Neponset Company. The new officers were well-known philanthropists and politicians from Boston. The certificate of which was recorded July 22, 1832, showing that the capital stock was $200,000, and that the officers were Harrison Gray Otis, president, Caleb Loring, Samuel Fales, and Robert G. Shaw, directors, and John S. Wright, clerk and treasurer.

Worth noting is the fact that this was the same Harrison Gray Otis, the prominent Boston businessman, lawyer and politician and arguably the most important member of the Federalist Party. Otis’ venture also failed, and by 1837 the site was again abandoned. Over the next 66 years many factories operated on this site, including a bleachery in the early 1880s, and by 1903 it was again making cotton and wool products for caskets and other uses under the name Neponset Woolen Mills.

The Neponset Woolen Mills survived into the mid 1950s, and this is where the Emberglo Jacket comes in. Some of the finest wool was manufactured and dyed in Canton in both the Neponset Mill and at Draper Mills. The trademark Emberglo figured prominently in advertisements and in store displays. Rich thick plaids were used for sportsman’s outerwear. The logo proudly proclaimed that the products were “loomed by Neponset craftsmen” since 1824 and featured the signature mill tower and the Canton Viaduct in the background.

A postcard view of the Neponset Woolen Mills

As the textile industry died in Canton, the site became the home of Emerson & Cuming, where they manufactured flotation devices for oilrigs. The early use of dyes and then the subsequent use and storage of advanced polymers on this property allowed the site to become heavily polluted. Eventually, the Emerson & Cuming site earned the dubious distinction of becoming one of Canton’s five hazardous waste “Superfund” sites.

In 2005 the original historic factory was demolished, and the site was remediated to deal with the chemical pollution. To pay tribute to the thousands of men and women who worked on this site for over 200 years, the Canton Historical Commission asked the developer to salvage some of the original stone and to build a replica of the bell tower. The original tower and bell was likely built during the 1800s, and around the turn of the 20^th century it had been rebuilt. Used to mark the passing of the workday, the bell was likely melted down when the tower became unsafe and was removed around 1930.

The new complex, known as Rive­­r Village on Walpole Street at Neponset, is one of our town’s newest architectural landmarks. The focus is an impressive tower and stone lobby that serve as the grand entrance. But, honestly, what could match the original grandeur of the factory that once stood “stone-faced” on this property. And every time I hear an old Hank Williams song and slip on my wool coat on an autumn afternoon, I will think about Emberglo and the history of the Neponset Woolen Mill.

Our river runs through the meadows

The Neponset River as it winds through
the Fowl Meadows circa 1890. (Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

At the edge of my property is a small stream, the Pequit Brook, and its source is the Reservoir Pond past Pequitside Farm. Living on a brook is an amenity that allows for plenty of opportunities to observe wildlife and the marking of seasons. Over time we have come to know the animals that inhabit our small corner of Canton. We have watched muskrats, ancient snapping turtles, the great blue heron, red-tailed hawks, numerous rabbits, fox, and all manner of mallards. The jewelweed and grass is abundant and the meadows are filled with red-winged blackbirds come fall. The winter gives way to woodpeckers and more flocks of waterfowl, even an occasional fisher cat and coyote. So abundant is the wildlife that at times we feel as though we live in a suburban wildlife preserve.

The Pequit Brook winds down through Sherman Street and eventually finds it way to the East Branch of the Neponset River. And the Neponset in turn finds its way to the Massachusetts Bay. Nobel laureate Hermann Hesse wrote: “How he loved this river, how it enchanted him, how grateful he was to it! In his heart he heard the newly awakened voice speak, and it said to him: Love this river, stay by it, learn from it. It seemed to him that whoever understood this river and its secrets, would understand much more, many secret, all secrets.”

So, what secrets does the Neponset River hold for us? To begin with, the name itself is somewhat of a secret. Of course it is an Indian name, and when the famous Algonquin scholar G. Hammond Trumbull was asked, he vainly endeavored to learn the significance of this name. “That word in all its forms of Naponset — Aponset, or Neponset defies analysis.” Many have surmised it means “river that flows through meadows.” This would be a fair description, since it travels through nearly seven miles of beautiful grassy meadows — the Fowl Meadows, in fact. So attractive to the early settlers were these grasses that the seeds were harvested and exported to Europe to produce the same luxurious grasses there.

Overall, the Neponset River travels more than 29 miles, starting at Gillette Stadium and ending near the gas tanks along the Southeast Expressway. The historical significance reaches back more than 10,000 years. Imagine the scene as Paleolithic man camps near the river right here in what would become Canton. Archeologists, both amateur and professional, have recovered over 2,600 Clovis spear points as well as mastodon tusks and caribou bones. The site, called Wamsutta, has been studied for more than 20 years. What were once the shores of a Pleistocene Lake seems to have been an important workshop of sorts where tools were made and wildlife harvested.

The recorded history of the Neponset starts around 1619, when Native Americans would use the river as a route to trade furs, largely muskrat and beaver. The wildlife was amazing. An apt description of what the Neponset River must have been like is found in a quote in a book written by Edward Johnson in 1628, entitled Wonder Working Providence: “The cod-fish, holybut and bass, do sport the rivers in, and alewives with their crowding sholes in every creek do swim.” The alewives in particular caused major legal battles in colonial Massachusetts, and the early records record heated arguments between mill owners who would dam and control the river and the fishermen whose livelihood was constantly in jeopardy as industry advanced. The argument to restore the fish and breach the dams still continues today.

The industrial growth as a result of this power source is nothing short of amazing. The second dam in the new world was constructed by Israel Stoughton, who was given permission to build a grist mill in what was known as Dorchester Plantation in 1634. What came next was a series of “firsts.” In 1640 shipbuilding began at what was known as Gulliver’s Creek (yes, there is a connection to Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels). Soon sawmills, a snuff mill, powder mills, tanneries, slitting mills, and fulling mills began to rise near the banks of the Neponset.

Several of the most famous mills in America were started along the Neponset. In 1728, the first paper mill was erected. In 1765, Dr. James Baker founded a chocolate mill in Milton, which would become the world-famous Baker’s Chocolate Company. Closer to home, the Canton River, which fed the east branch of the Neponset, was home to James Beaumont’s Neponset Mills, where arguably the first piece of cotton cloth in America was made in 1802. In 1801, Paul Revere made his home here in Canton and erected his copper rolling mill (another first in the nation) along the tributary branch of the Neponset.

To get the best view of the Neponset River in Canton, take a drive down Dedham Street, and as you pass the old Cumberland Farm Complex take a left onto the property owned by George and Nancy Bates. The Bates still own a small portion, but the largest is now owned by the Trustees of Reservations (TTOR). When you come here you are visiting Signal Hill. This is perhaps an oft-overlooked location from where you can “overlook” the Neponset Valley. The hike is easy and the views are entirely rewarding. The boundary line between Canton and Norwood follows the center of the river.

In 2002, George and Nancy Bates sold the development rights of 135 acres of upland and swamp to the then MDC. Signal Hill is the result of a 111-acre gift given to TTOR in 2005 by the Bates. While it is called Signal Hill because it once held signals to assist in the navigation of planes to the Norwood Airport, it might have been more historically named.

Historically speaking, this area was generally known as Taunt’s Farm. At one time there were two prominent hills here, each about 120 feet high. Turtle Hill (now known as Signal Hill) and Pillion Hill, which was removed for fill used in Boston’s Back Bay. What is left, the single hill, affords an easily accessible view of Boston. The first settlers here were John and Hepsibah Taunt. Likely settled in 1758, this land was rich with nutrients and made the perfect home for this private in the Stoughton Militia. Three generations of Taunts would live on this land until around 1844. Eventually Elisha White would buy the property, and by the 1930s the land would become part of the land acquisition program for the Canton Airport.

Dredging of the Neponset River in Canton, 1913.
 (Photo by I. Chester Horton, courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

The river we see today is not the same river that was used by the prehistoric or colonial people. In 1911, the legislature was pressed to act by allowing the dredging and straightening of the river. The Fowl Meadows had become “foul.” The stench and disease (most notably malaria) was dreadful. The legislature ordered the river to be repaired of these nuisances. The dredging operation began in 1913 and would widen and deepen the river. The refuse from the muck was merely deposited on the banks, and by 1923 complaints abounded from the landowners whose once fertile fields would now no longer drain properly. The straightening also bypassed the “horseshoe” curve in the river, which abutted Horseshoe Swamp. Even today the boundary line with Norwood follows the old course of the river and Horseshoe Meadow remains in Canton.

Dredging of the Neponset River in Canton, 1913.
(Photo by I. Chester Horton, courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

In the 1960s the river was once again polluted and described as a “noxious mess.” A canoe trip in August 1966 from Canton was described in the Patriot Ledger as follows: “The moment we set our canoes into the putrid, murky water on Neponset Street we were overwhelmed by the noxious odor caused by the industrial waste dumped into the river by the various firms along its banks. Globs of sludge floated past us in the water.” So polluted was the trip that day, the canoes were forced to turn back — great globs of paper and raw sewage made the trip unbearable. This was a turning point for the Neponset. Once again the legislature took up the reclaiming of the Neponset River. In 1974, a bond bill was filed to begin the process of creating improvements to the damaged waterway.

Construction of the bridge over the
Neponset River to Norwood, April 1915.
(Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

At the lead of the conservation efforts was the Neponset Conservation Association. Founded in 1965, their mission continues today as the Neponset River Watershed Association. With over 700 members, hundreds of volunteers and a staff of three full-time and four part-time employees, this is the future of the Neponset River. For over 45 years this group has been responsible for raising the public awareness of our great river. The advocacy continues — just last week the legislature’s Environment Committee held a hearing on the Sustainable Water Resources Act. This act will hopefully set the process by which the Department of Environmental Protection, with the cooperation of the Department of Fish and Game, will set the definition for the amount of water that makes rivers sustainable.

In 2008 a member of the Massachusett-Ponkapoag Tribal Council testified at a public meeting organized to discuss the future of the Neponset River. I leave you with his sage words: “The Neponset people, and there were Neponset people, were forced to leave the Neponset River because those persons who came later decided there was a better use for the Neponset River than our use, which contributed to the well-being of our universe and yours for centuries. Now I’m going to speak for the elders — I’m going to speak for the finned, the furred, the winged, and the ancestors, mine and yours. These are the voices you are not listening to. Put the river back the way it was. Allow the herring to come back and sing their song.”

To visit Signal Hill, take Dedham Street and immediately after crossing I-95 and railroad bridges, take a left on University Road. Proceed through the office park. Parking is on the right just before the last building, also on the right. Free and open year-round, sunrise to sunset. Allow a minimum of one hour.

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. 

Canton's Christmastide Traditions

James Dunbar's Poem "Santa Claus" in the collection 

of the Canton Historical Society (photo by George T. Comeau)

Samuel B. Noyes sat down to write his weekly column for the Norfolk County Gazette. It was Christmas week in 1887, and he thought back at how quickly the year had slipped by. This had been a pretty industrious year for the town of Canton. Our small community was a boomtown; the factories had been going full tilt and Elijah Morse had broken ground on his new factory on Washington Street. Kinsley Iron Works was enlarging their shop, new safety tracks were placed on the Viaduct, a new almshouse was built for the poor, and a new Episcopal Church was being built. All in all, it was a very busy year in a bustling town.

Samuel B. Noyes, prominent Canton attorney
and local historian. (Courtesy of the Canton
Historical Society)

Noyes, a prominent lawyer, saw himself as a historian. In fact, Noyes was descended from the Noyes’ that had settled Newbury, Massachusetts, and he reveled in knowing that the family home in the small town of Newbury was one of the oldest in the state, having been built in 1646. The family connections meant that Noyes knew everyone and in fact was part of a prominent Canton delegation that attended Daniel Webster’s funeral in October 1852.

Noyes enjoyed all things Canton and was a friend of Daniel Huntoon, the town’s preeminent historian. Huntoon had died just over a year ago (almost to the day), and now Noyes felt as though it was his duty to adopt local history and stories that his dear friend was so well known for. Noyes’ intensive research, recollections and accounts would be accurate for history’s sake.

Christmas was the topic at hand, and he decided he would dedicate his column to the various celebrations across the community. The holiday began on Friday afternoon as the children opened their schoolrooms to public exhibitions fitting the holiday. The children would sing songs, have small plays, and generally celebrate the season with music and poetry. Santa Claus exchanged his reindeer and sleigh for horse and carriage. Each school was a stop on Santa’s rounds where he distributed confections and fruit to all the children.

The children also had gifts to present, and in the Eliot school, Miss Capen and Miss Sumner were given thoughtful little gifts — perhaps a silk handkerchief or a small, ivory-handled fan purchased in one of the many shops along Washington Street. Teachers, in turn, exchanged smiles knowing that the holiday would bring a welcomed break from the routine of the winter lessons.

It was that handwritten poem by James Dunbar that reminded Noyes of the joy and spirit of Christmas: “I have come, little friends, I have come at your call, A right Merry Christmas, man woman and child. I have just left the top of Blue Hill you must know, where I spied you all out, peering over the snow. I spied out the roof with my double lens glass. I could see through the windows each laddie and lass. I have popguns and whistles and tops for the boys, I have knickknacks and notions and holiday toys. I go my rounds over mountain and hill; no stockings I find which I do not well fill. Three cheers, Mr. Draper, three cheers for this day! Distribute these presents, begin right away!”

At each church there were festivities and celebration. At the “old church” at Canton Corner the organist began services with Mozart’s Gloria, and the choir rose to meet the drone of the pipes with “Exulting Angels.” The heavy fragrance of evergreen and mountain laurel filled the air, and Noyes was enchanted by a large basket of scarlet geraniums that he described as blazing like “the star” itself before the altar.

The large Roman Catholic Church on Washington Street was overfilled to capacity. This was the sixth mass of the day, and Noyes felt the spirit of the season overwhelm the wooden building. This denomination had grown steadily from five men working for Joseph Warren Revere in the 1830s to now the largest part of the community. These were the Irish: the workers, immigrants, and the poor. Yet their church steeple dominated the skyline as if reaching for heaven itself. As poor as these working families were, they were extremely devout and attentive to their spiritual needs. Noyes peeked inside the double doors and was met with the heavy smell of wet wool mixed with pine boughs. The inside of this church was magnificent and ablaze with light.

Interior view of St. John the Evangelist Church in 1912.
(Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

Catholics had been in Canton since 1814, regular masses had been said here since 1831 at least once a month and sometimes even more often. In short, this was a significant foothold in a largely Protestant town. Noyes wondered if it would continue to grow and how it might change to accommodate this growing movement in Canton.

Father Flatley was the head of the Catholics in Canton, and he had been in Canton before there was even a parish here. Flatley’s early ministrations were in a small church, almost a barn, on what would become known as Chapel Hill. In 1850 the small building served as the Church of St. Mary. Noyes marveled at how far the ministry had developed in 26 years. There were hundreds of Catholic families in Canton, and they had their own cemetery at Canton Corner, one of the earliest in the state. In fact, by 1861, they were an independent parish with a second mission in Stoughton.

In a few short years, Father Flatley was able to raise enough money, more than $4,000, to buy land and build an impressive wooden church with enough lumber left over for a small chapel in the adjoining town of Sharon. Noyes looked up in wonder at the high tapering tower; inside the church there were magnificent frescoes of archangels on bended knee. Valuable candelabras blazed on the altar, and a second altar was dedicated to the Sacred Heart. In the center rear wall of the church were three enormous stained glass windows that flooded the church with light. The Blessed Virgin Mary and St. John the Evangelist in superb details watched over the entire congregation as they sang their Christmas hymns.

An early 20th century Christmas Card from
L.L. Billings, Canton, MA. (Courtesy
of the Canton Historical Society)

As Noyes turned to walk back toward Washington Street, he walked down an avenue of pine trees, laden with snow, and he could hear the brogues of the families singing clear and loud in the early evening services. Over $600 was raised that year as a Christmas offering by these worshippers.

Noyes never imagined that St. John’s wooden church would one day be replaced with a modern, steel and brick building after nearly 100 years of service to Canton’s Roman Catholics. The old Unitarian Church at Canton Corner has stood for over 187 years and the echoes of Christmas’ past still resound from the pulpit.

The thoughts and prayers of Christmas were felt throughout the Canton of 1887. The focus on simple gifts, fellowship of neighbors, and Christian charity were well understood. Among Noyes’ final thoughts in that column were dedicated toward “useful and beautiful gifts that love and friendship bestowed upon himself.” Canton is as it was over a hundred years ago — a town of love and friendship.


This story ran in the Canton Citizen on December 23, 2010.

School No. 6

Schoolhouse Number 6 - The Revere School

Just as you are about to leave Canton, heading for Norwood, you will pass Chapman Street on your right. To gain your bearings, today there is a traffic light at the intersection of Neponset and Chapman streets; a slight hill to your right in front of you is a small service station, and the scene in this photograph is the original Revere School, or Schoolhouse Number 6. Built in 1827 at a cost of $600, it would serve Canton children for over 87 years.

This building is lost to time. The photograph is taken from a glass plate that I recently found in a box in the basement of the Canton Historical Society. I have long had a keen interest in the Revere School, and finding this relic of a previous incarnation of the original Revere School proved useful material for this lesson. The photograph is almost 125 years old and looks as crisp as the day it was taken. Behind this photo is a story that perhaps could be told by many of the early schoolhouses in Canton. 

The construction of School No. 6 coincided with the establishment of the Boston Manufacturing Company, a large, sprawling complex that was begun in 1824. Three entrepreneurs erected a stone mill that would stand on the corner of Walpole and Neponset streets for 183 years. This area came to be known as the Stone Factory section of Canton. The young owners knew that in order to be successful, labor and amenities that supported labor had to be close by. 

The town of Canton opened up a road across Fowl Meadows in order to shorten the route for teams of horses to reach Boston. As part of the neighborhood, the industrialists built a small chapel, comfortable boarding houses, large barns, and this one-room schoolhouse. The population exploded around the Stone Factory District, and so successful were the early company days that the monthly payroll exceeded more than $7,000. Unfortunately, many of the workers in the mill were children.

Along with boom came bust, and the attendance at School No. 6 would rise and fall with the fortunes of the company. An early report on the school laments the fact that “a great evil in this school is the irregularity of attendance. Children who are in school to-day, and in the Mill at work to-morrow, cannot, in the nature of the case, make any progress in their studies.” Along with tardiness was an issue with retaining adequate teachers. In one year the school reported “energetic and persevering” teachers, and in the next a new teacher was described as “deficient in energy, decision and firmness.” As the school committee saw it, the old settlers sent their children with regularity, and the “floating population” — those who worked in the mill — would ebb and flow. 

The public descriptions of the teachers who taught in the summer and winter terms at School No. 6 were often quite severe. In 1847, describing the teaching style of Mr. Isaac A. Parsons of Maine, the school board writes, “There was a want of dignity in manner, of correctness of language which should characterize a teacher of youth. Children cannot be expected to have good manners and refinement unless they witness them in example and copy they are taught to imitate in school.” Parsons was also marked down for his lack of keeping the register and “exhibiting a culpable deficiency of neatness and accuracy.”

The payroll for School No. 6 also reveals issues that marked the time. In 1857, for example, the salary for a female teacher was $18 per month and for her male counterpart $34. The school at that time was called backward and difficult to govern, and given that on one week 50 to 60 children would attend, and then the next 20 to 30 would be in their seats, there is no question that challenges abounded. 

In 1854 the small building was enlarged, but problems persisted. Again, parents needed children in the mill to assist with the labor pool. In fact, most children would leave this school by the time they reached age 11 or 12, as a job working in the mill or laboring in a field would be their lot in life. 

By 1865 the stream of immigrants brought new challenges to School No. 6: “The foreign population for the most part are ill educated, or not educated at all. Some pretend to speak the English language; others do not; and some speak vulgar, local dialects.” Joseph Wattles, who wrote the school report that year, ended his missive with a quote by Alexander Pope: “Words are like leaves, and where they most abound, much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.”

By 1870, the schoolhouse became known as Neponset School in recognition that the Neponset Woolen Mills had taken over the old stone factory. Harrison Gray Otis had taken over the mill, and measured success returned to the area. Finally, in 1881 the school was officially named the Revere School in honor of the close connections in the general area to the patriot Paul Revere.

Things gradually improved at the Old Revere School. The general observation in 1886 was that the superintendent of schools met with “cheerful faces, clean hands, clear voices, bright smiles,” all of which went along with “swept floors, well dusted desks and clean windows.” Within 30 years a new modern school on Chapman Street would replace this building. Until that time, however, the two-room schoolhouse would continue to serve Canton until 1914.

This story appeared in the Canton Citizen on November 4, 2010.