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.

The Fowl Meadows: For Peat's Sake

The Fowl Meadows at the Neponset River circa 1890.
(photo by L.C. Horton, courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

There is an ancient map from 1794 inscribed with the names of the selectmen of Stoughton — Elijah Crane, Jabez Talbot and Nathan Crane — and on this map there are more than six bridges that cross the Neponset River in what is now Canton. Today, we mostly cross the Neponset River along Neponset Street, yet this road is among the newer roads, historically speaking. When we drive past the old Canton Airport, we see wetland and what we now consider “open space.” To the early settlers, this land was well supplied for access to food and valuable pastures.

The early bridges were used to access land in the Fowl Meadows, our western boundary. The first mention of this land dates to 1646, and much of this area was granted to Dedham in grants of 1653. As the train to Boston runs through these meadows, you can see luxurious grasses, and in late fall the meadows turn almost reddish in color. The grass here is actually called “fowl meadow” and is also known as “false redtop” (Poa serotina). This grass is typical of New England and “makes a soft and pliable hay, of excellent quality.” It could be mowed late in the season and made nutritious hay that was used as winter fodder.

The bridges that were used to access these meadows for grazing were named for the men who built them and owned grants to the meadows. Holmses Bridge, Thorp’s Bridge, Woodards Bridge, Fishers Bridge, and Majors Bridge — all ancient owners of meadows across the Neponset River. Vestiges of these structures are long lost. I know of a small arched double row of stones that is almost hidden by time and quite near the railroad tracks off University Avenue that I believe once played a part in the loading of carts filled with hay, but for the most part these crossings have been long lost.

What lies below the soft fields of grass is a thick, rich soil abundant with nutrients enriched by the river and thick with peat. After the retreat of the last ice age, the peat formed as the grasses decayed and were compressed by time. The peat is quite thick and Daniel Huntoon (History of Canton) observed, “Should our supply of coal ever become exhausted, fuel can here be obtained in an unlimited abundance.”

The peat is dense, and because of a lack of oxygen it inhibits the decay of archeological artifacts. In fact, some of the oldest artifacts in New England have been discovered along the Neponset River. Spots along the Fowl Meadows have served professional and amateur archeologists with a view that spans almost 18,000 years of human occupation. Amazing stories tied to the worksites, campsites, and migration of humans through this land will be shared in future articles.

The peat bogs gave rise to a little known and hardly mentioned industry in Canton. In 1908, J. Harry Hartley purchased 100 acres of land in Canton and Norwood. Hartley was the military editor of the Boston Globe and an esteemed member of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company of Massachusetts. This “newspaper man” had a vision that peat would become a new “cheap and inexhaustible fuel” for Boston.

Various attempts at harvesting peat had already been tried in New England. Peat, known as “bog fuel,” is the earliest stage of the creation of coal. The Boston and Maine Railroad tested this fuel in 1904. A large supply of peat was harvested in Lexington, and the railroad experimented over the winter of 1905 and found the fuel burned exceptionally well, but faster than coal. Also, in 1907, Mathew C. Sharpneck of Boston patented a new machine and assigned his patent to the American Peat Machinery Company of Portland, Maine. The machine used a series of blades to chop the peat and mix it such that it forms “ribbons of dark mud” that would be dried on a rack and cured with a current of air.

Hartley, the newspaper man, was well aware of the use of peat fuel in Europe and purchased one of Mr. Sharpneck’s machines. A plan was conceived along with Hartley’s son, Charles H. Hartley. Together these two men began the process of harvesting peat in the Fowl Meadows. In June 1908, all preparations were placed into operation. A small railroad track was laid deep into the Fowl Meadows and carts were connected via a steel cable to a series of sheds at the edge of the bog. A 100-foot-long building contained an engine house and the peat machine. Workers shoveled the heavy, wet peat into the hopper cars, and a winch pulled the cars along the rail to the main factory building. The contents were dumped onto a conveyor belt and processed through the peat machine. Drying sheds were also built on the property and the finished product was bagged for sale. This pioneering operation left little record. We would imagine that it soon thereafter failed, for no records exist that show otherwise.

The other reminder of the peat in the Fowl Meadows is the enormous fires that have historically consumed this land. Many times summer lightning storms would strike the ground, and the ensuing blaze would be all consuming. In 1923, a stubborn bog fire burned for several months. Norwood became “Smokytown” as the subterranean inferno blazed through the fall. This had been a year in which drought conditions had raised the alert to fire marshals throughout the commonwealth. More than 2,344 fires burned over 46,646 acres of fields and woodland, causing extensive damage.

In Canton, the summer of 1923 was particularly bad, and by all accounts the worst that had been seen in more than 40 years. Several tons of hay owned by Elijah White was destroyed in mid October by a fire that was set by two boys. That same day three tons of hay was burnt at William Murphy’s house on Bailey Street. In one day alone, fires were reported on Everett, Turnpike, Pecunit and Walpole streets, as well as Spring Lane and six other locations. In all, more than 13 fires burned on Friday, October 12, 1923. This set a record for the most working fires in one day in the Canton Fire Department’s history.

The bog fires burned for nine weeks. The smoke was excessive and more than 1,700 acres were ablaze through 1923. Hiking deep into the underbrush, firemen cut a four-mile-long ditch through the meadows and kept water pumping through the cut to create a fire line. The fire burned five to six feet underground, fueled by the never-ending supply of peat. Firemen on horseback worked their way into the deepest reaches of the meadows to access the edges of the fire and reported hellish scenes where the fire undercut root systems such that trees would collapse. “Through the smoke wreaths the bare branches of the trees showed gaunt and spectral … tongues of yellow flames were burning briskly amidst the tangle … rain was ineffective, breathing was difficult, eyes smarted and shed involuntary tears, and the heat of the ground felt hot through the sole of one’s boots.” The smoke from these fires caused such darkness that auto accidents became commonplace. After nightfall, travel became treacherous; you “literally could not see your hand in front of your face.”

The fires, although less frequent, are still a problem today. If you talk with Jim Fitzpatrick, our former fire chief, he can tell many stories of the meadow fires that were started by lighting or train sparks or errant cigarettes thrown from moving cars. More than 170 brush burn permits have been issued this year, so as you smell the wafting smoke from the spring burning season, recall the stories of the great fires in the Fowl Meadows and think about our history for peat’s sake.

This story ran in the Canton Citizen on March 24, 2011

Trespassing: A Bridge to the Past

Stone Bridge over Ponkapoag Brook

 (photo by George T. Comeau)

You really should not trespass. And yet, while it is indeed risky to admit to this fact, sometimes the prize is worth the risk. Let me place by way of disclaimer the fact that you should in no way follow in my footsteps; let this be fair warning. You should leave the trespassing to well qualified Canton historians who are happy to tramp through backyards, fields and swamps in search of historic sites and long lost cellar holes. In fact, that is what we will do this week. Let’s take a virtual tramp through Canton and discover a hidden artifact that is still intact and pretty much inaccessible to all but the trespasser.

There are some wonderfully hidden sites in Canton that have been lost to both time and memories. I have always been fascinated with the old stonewalls that crisscross throughout the town. Many of these walls served as both boundary lines and pens for livestock. As you ride the train to Boston from Canton Junction you will see plenty of old stonewalls in the swamps heading toward the Fowl Meadows. As you drive down York Street or meander down Chapman Street, look between the old house lots and see the ancient walls that are reminders of an agricultural Canton when the stonewall was a staple of a small farm and garden.

Take Elm Street for instance — a perfect example of one of our most beautiful streets in Canton. Go slow, not only for the curves, but to take in the splendor of this colonial roadway. As for trespassing, that is just what I did recently when I parked my truck along the intersection of Greenlodge and Elm and took off on foot after the recent snowstorm. I was looking for a very old bridge that crosses Ponkapoag Brook on what was originally Back Street — the “back” road to Dedham Street.

 On my right, climbing a gentle hill, were the remnants of the old country road disappearing even deeper into private property. This road dates to 1738 and follows the layout of an earlier road called the Packeen Path. If you bought your Christmas tree at the Pakeen Farm on Elm Street, this is the same property that was part of the original 12 Divisions shown on the 1696 map of what would become Stoughton and Canton.

Situated well above the marshes of the Fowl Meadow, this path was used extensively as a native trail and later became a colonial cart path. By 1798, the old road was discontinued and in the process created a time capsule of sorts as it has been largely untouched for over 200 years. The pathway is bordered by stonewalls that measure one rod wide (16 ½ feet) and a deep upland of white pine. I decided it would not be proper to travel further than necessary onto private property and instead sought after the stone bridge spanning the Ponkapoag Brook.

I had been to this bridge a few times before, but only in the summer when it was hardly possible to see the structure due to the overgrowth. As I tramped further and the snow got a bit deeper, and the afternoon light got dimmer, I was almost forced to give up for the day. The fresh snow was only marked by the occasional rabbit track and now my footfalls. The only sound was the running of the stream — pure, clean and cold — a layer of ice running up the side of the banks. This trespass was made easier by the fact that the path I was on was the new interceptor project for the Greenlodge Street sewer project.

Ancient Stoughton Record of 1744 in the collection of
the Canton Historical Society (photo by George T. Comeau)

About half a mile up on the left was the old stone bridge — hidden in the woods in an improbable place, since any use for this structure ended in 1798 when the old Country Road was abandoned. The bridge was as wonderful as I recalled. Dating to between 1738 and 1744, this is a quintessential cart bridge over a babbling brook. It is hard to imagine, but this bridge was the highway between the iron forge, built in 1717 on Walpole Street, and the Blue Hills. There is a series of huge volumes of Ancient Stoughton Records in the Canton Historical Society and within a dusty tome is an obscure reference to the bridge in 1744. The brittle paper details the laying out of the road by the selectmen of Stoughton and has a single line that reads in part “from thence to Puncapogg Brook where ye Bridge now is & over ye Brook Marked a large Maple tree by ye Brook.” Our bridge is more than 266 years old and may in fact be approaching 275 years old.

Dropping down the icy bank of “ye Brook” to take a photo for our non-trespassing readers, it was a joy to see this relic in such wonderful condition. The deck is a series of four stone slabs of Dedham granite, each measuring three feet in width and eight feet in length. Although covered in snow, I recall that there are no quarrying marks and they are likely natural in form. The abutments built on the north and south banks of the brook are dry fieldstone. This is a superbly crafted bridge and would have had to support the weight of animals and carts loaded with iron destined for Boston. The abutments are built up of five courses of rough stone and were likely completed by skilled masons in the “traditional English form.”

In 1875, the Canton Historical Society organized its annual Fast Day Walk (Patriots Day) and described their “trespass” to this site thus: “turned abruptly down a neglected lane, along the line that once divided Lot No. 5 of the Twelve Divisions from the Indian land. We examined with care an old stone bridge, which has stood, where it now stands, long anterior to the memory of those now living. It is remarkable for the size of the top stones, the largest measuring eight feet by seven and nine inches. These stones were selected in the adjoining fields and have never been touched by chisel, wedge or hammer.”

So little is written about this bridge that it is hard to even know if there was an earlier bridge at this spot. What we do know is that this is one of the few remaining examples of a mid-18^th century slab stone Colonial period bridge in eastern Massachusetts. Dr. Arthur Krim, who has researched Canton for the Historical Commission, believes that this bridge is worthy of inclusion on the National Register of Historic Places; it is just that important.


This story ran in the Canton Citizen on January 6, 2011.