The Samuel Hartwell House, in Lincoln, Mass, in 1961. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Historic American Buildings Survey Collection.
The scene in 2013:
Located along the Battle Road in the Minuteman National Historical Park, the Samuel Hartwell House was built around 1695, and was occupied by Samuel Hartwell during the battles of Lexington and Concord, when the British forces marched to and from Concord past the house. The house was used as a restaurant from 1929 until 1968, when it burned. All that remained was the central chimney and the cellarhole; the National Park Service later built the frame and roof in the style of the original building.
I was living with my folks at Hanscom. I was 13 when I saw the flames shooting up from over the hill. The next morning, I hiked over the hill and all was charred, but covered with a layer of ice. The trees, too, were covered in an icy shell.
We were vacationing in the Boston area this week and saw the house. My grandfather was Ralph Hartwell, a lawyer in Indiana. This is the first Hartwell we have come across. I guess I need to do some research now.
Hi Brian. I am a descendant of Quartermaster William Hartwell b.1613 in England. Also related to Samuel and Ephraim. We have a great history. Not only Mary Hartwell who warned Captain Smith and didn’t get publicity nationally all these years. We also have Sarah Hartwell Shattuck who was Lieutenant in the Groton woman’s Army. I’m on Facebook if you want to connect. I have traced the family to 1050ad. Cameron Hartwell
Tried to fin you on FaceBook but there were 7 Cameron Hartwell s. My Grandfather was Harlow Harold Hartwell an attorney in Waterloo NY (18?? – 1967), as he only had 2 daughters I am the youngest from his line.
In the 1950s, I spent my elementary school years growing up in Belmont, Ma. where for a special treat, my parents would load all five of into a blue Ford station wagon and drive us out to dinner at Hartwell Farm on Route 2A in Lincoln. As a young adult in the 1970s and again in the area, I vainly went looking for the restaurant without luck. Several more times over the years, I would casually go looking and each time would come to roughly the same place. One day, arriving there I saw a new small primitive clearing on the right into which I managed to maneuver my car and park. Just to the right of this clearing stood the remains of an old central chimney which I had seen several times before. Getting out of my car, I surveyed the small clearing and the chimney toward which I began to walk. As I came closer I examined it in detail stopping about four feet in front. As I looked, a spark of recognition suddenly grew in my mind. Stepping back, the entire restaurant as I last remembered it in the 1950s magically formed around me, so that I now stood in the center entry area of Heartwell Farm before the hearth with its burning fire, smell of smoke and the small hostess table to the left where one of the sisters who owned it always stood, ready to take us through the far left door into the dining area. This magical moment has stayed with me now for more than forty years.
My Grandmother was born in this house. In May of 1942,
my parents had their wedding reception there.
Growing up in Lexington, MA., in the 1950’s, Hartwell Farm Restaurant was one of our family’s favourite. Even after all these years, I still remember the parrot in the front area, and the fabulous food, specifically their charcoal-broiled lamb chops. And didn’t they have “to die for” cream of mushroom soup? We also loved the 1775 house. Miss my home town.
Dr Prescott will come to life someday-there is buried treasure dating back to the revolution there-maybe the Park will come knocking to find out-Lived down the road about 1/4 mile-Bloody Triangle–Mrs Fitch was a wonderful lady-Halloweens, she’d treat vanilla ice cream with fudge sauce-the 2 cooks would come out from Harvard Square via the bus- Then one time-Their Damn Butts- Everything changed then-
I worked part time as a dishwasher at Hartwell Inn when I was 16. Mrs Fitch was owner and managed the Restaurant. She hired an interesting group of kitchen staff during my time at the Inn. I worked there when the fire destroyed the historic structure. I believe someone forgot to turn off the ovens the night of the fire. It was such a loss to the town of Lincoln and our Country’s heritage.
We lived in Wellesley Hills until 1955. Now and then we went over to the Hartwell Farm restaurant. I have fond memories, especially of their unique chicken soup. Like Geoffrey Taylor, I searched vainly for it when I was staying Lexington in the 90’s for an Air Force conference on the Modtran atmospheric transmission code. Just now, with more and better information posted on the web, i was able to finally see where it stood.
My Grand Father name was Samuel Hartwell Tarver. I wonder if their is any relation