Josiah Cooley House, Longmeadow, Massachusetts (2)

The house at the northwest corner of Longmeadow Street and Emerson Road in Longmeadow, around the 1910s or 1920s. Image courtesy of the Longmeadow Historical Society, Paesiello Emerson Collection.

The house in 2024:

As explained in more detail in the previous post, this house was built around 1760 as the home of Josiah Cooley (1716-1778), his wife Experience (1714-1798), and their children. It would be owned by their descendants for more than a century, and it was the home of five generations of the family before it was sold in 1869. It was later purchased by the Emerson family in 1872, who would own it until 1943. Residents during this time included town historian Annie Emerson, who wrote a detailed historical account of this house. Her brother Paesiello also lived here in the early 20th century. He was a prolific amateur photographer, and he took many photos of this house, including the first one here in this post.

This house has seen many changes over the years, both before and after the first photo was taken. The house originally had a saltbox-style design, which was common in mid-18th century New England. Such homes generally had two stories in the front part of the house, with a long sloping roof in the back. However, this was altered around the 1820s or 1830s. The roof was raised on the back part of the house to create a full second story, and a wing was added to the north side of the house, as shown on the right side of this scene. The rear addition to the house was also probably built during this time.

Aside from major structural changes, the appearance of the house was also modernized around the 1820s and 1830s. This included installing new 6-over-6 windows in place of the original 12-over-12 ones, which were then reinstalled in less visible locations in the back part of the house. As part of this, the original interior shutters were removed, and were replaced with the exterior ones that are shown in the first photo. The current front doorway was likely also added during this time.

In the century since the first photo was taken, the house has seen further changes, although these have generally been less drastic than the early 19th century changes. Many of these occurred in the late 1940s and 1950s, and included restoring portions of the interior while also modernizing other parts of it. On the exterior, the so-called “coffin door” on the left side of the house was removed, and at some point around this time the shutters were removed. Other changes included a larger window on the ground floor of the north wing, which is now the location of the modern kitchen.

Overall, despite these changes the house retains a high degree of historic integrity, on both the interior and exterior. Most of the windows in the front part of the house date to the early 19th century renovation, and many of the windows in the back are the original 12-over-12 windows from the 1760s. On the interior, most rooms still have their original pine floors, along with original wainscoting and paneling. It stands as a good example of an 18th century New England home, and it is one of the many historic properties that still line Longmeadow Street.

 

Josiah Cooley House, Longmeadow, Massachusetts

The house at the northwest corner of Longmeadow Street and Emerson Road in Longmeadow, in 1924. Image courtesy of the Longmeadow Historical Society, Paesiello Emerson Collection.

The house in 2023:

The exact date of construction for this house is uncertain, but it has been variously estimated as being anywhere from 1755 to 1775, with 1760 being the most commonly cited date. It was built by Josiah Cooley (1716-1778), but a portion of the foundation is believed to be even older, dating back to perhaps the 1710s or 1720s, when Josiah’s father Eliakim (1681-1758) built a house here on this site. The Cooley family was among the first of the European colonists to settle in the land that would become Longmeadow. Like many of these colonists, they initially settled in the meadows near the Connecticut River, but by the early 1700s they had begun to move up the hill, to modern-day Longmeadow Street.

In 1728, Eliakim Cooley’s house on this site gained attention when it was struck by lightning on May 19. Based on an account that was published in the New England Weekly Journal a little over a month later, the lightning caused considerable damage to the house while also injuring Eliakim and his daughter Griswold Cooley (1709-1764). Eliakim’s injuries were relatively minor, but Griswold never fully recovered, despite living another 36 years after the incident. According to family tradition, this long-term disability was the reason why she never married.

It seems unclear as to exactly what happened to the original house. Around 1750, Eliakim Cooley transferred his property here to his sons Josiah and Hezekiah (1720-1796), and they subsequently divided the land. Josiah received the southern part here where their father’s house stood, and Hezekiah received the northern part. According to tradition, the two brothers then built identical homes on their respective properties sometime around 1755-1760, although it does not seem clear whether Josiah’s house was a completely new structure, or whether he incorporated portions of his father’s house into his own home.

Regardless of exactly when it was built, Josiah Cooley’s house looked very different in the 18th century than it does now. It originally had a saltbox-style design, with two stories at the front of the house and one story in the back. The first floor of the house had two rooms in the front and a kitchen in the back, and there were two bedrooms on the second floor. As was often the case for New England homes of this period, it had a large central chimney, which measured about ten feet square at its base.

Josiah Cooley was a prominent local resident. At the time, Longmeadow was still a part of Springfield, but it was governed by a committee of the precinct, which functioned in much the same way as a town board of selectmen. Josiah frequently served on this committee throughout much of the 1750s and early 1760s, and he often served as an assessor as well.

Josiah Cooley had married Experience Hale (1714-1798) in 1739, probably about 20 years before he built this house. Their first child, a daughter who was also named Experience (1739-1771), was born just five months after the wedding, which likely would have raised a few eyebrows here in their small community. They had six more children: Hannah (1742-1820), Eleanor (1745-1777), Sabinah (1747-1823), Josiah (1749-1824), Rebecca (1752-1775), and Simeon (1755-1757). This was an era of large families and also high infant mortality rates, but remarkably all of their children survived to adulthood except for their youngest, Simeon, who died at the age of two.

Assuming that the 1760 date is accurate, Josiah and Experience were in their early to mid-40s when they moved into this house. All of their surviving children were likely still living here with them at the time, although their four older daughters would all get married in the 1760s and presumably left home afterwards. Their daughter Sabinah married John Keep in 1767, and one of her children was the Rev. John Keep, a prominent 19th century pastor and abolitionist who served on the board of trustees of Oberlin College for many years.

Their oldest daughter Experience died in 1771, and the Rev. Stephen Williams mentioned her death in his diary. Williams (1694-1782) served as pastor of the Longmeadow church from 1716 until his death in 1782, and he kept a detailed diary throughout this time. The Cooley family made frequent appearances in the diary, especially in the early years of his ministry, when the Cooleys, including Josiah’s father Eliakim, opposed Williams’s controversial decision to sing Psalms during Sunday worship services. By the time Experience died in 1771, more than a half century had passed since this theological dispute, but it is hard to tell whether there was any lingering animosity between Williams and the Cooleys. Either way, after Experience’s death Williams paid a visit to Josiah Cooley, presumably here at his house. His diary entry for that day, July 3, 1771, states:

this day I visitd Sergt Jos: Cooley & family (yt have lately burrd a daughtr) they appeard to take ye visitt in good part – the Lord Grant me prudence & discretion, & Grant my visitts may be profitable – & oh yt I might mySelf be Sanctifyd thro out in Spirit, Soul & Body -.

Williams would subsequently make more visits to the house in the early 1770s. By that point, both Josiah Cooley and his youngest daughter Rebecca were in declining health. On May 11, 1772, he wrote “this day I visitd Sergt Jos: Cooley, who is very low, & apprehendd to be near his End – ye Lord have mercy on him.” However, two days later Williams was more optimistic, noting that “Sergt J Cooley may yet live.” That proved to be the case, but in the meantime Rebecca fell ill, and Williams visited her on November 15, 1773. She was 21 years old at the time, but was “indeed in a Low & Languishing State (tis feard is consumptive).” His diary recorded at least three other visits, and she ultimately died on January 21, 1775, at the age of 22. In the meantime, Josiah evidently never fully recovered his health, and he died after having “been Languishing Sometime” on September 7, 1778, at the age of 61.

Josiah Cooley had written his will during his health scare back in May 1772. In it, he left one third of his land, buildings, and household furniture to his wife Experience. Most of his remaining property went to their only surviving son, who was also named Josiah. The younger Josiah would go on to live here in this house for the rest of his life, although in 1777 he gave half of his property and half of this house to his only surviving son, Josiah Jr.

Also in 1777, the younger Josiah married Abiel Bliss (1758-1830) of Wilbraham. They had eight children: Rebecca (1778-1833), John Bliss (1781-1786), Sylvia (1785-1834), Lydia (1787-1823), Lucy (1789-1869), John Bliss (1793-1858), Eliza (1799-1851), and Harriet (1802-1880). All of their children survived to adulthood with the exception of the first John Bliss. He died at the age of five, and his name was subsequently given to their other son, who was born seven years later.

Like his father, Josiah Cooley Jr. was a prominent figure in the local community. He served on the committee of the precinct from 1780 to 1783, just before Longmeadow was incorporated as a separate town in 1783. He also held a number of other town offices over the years, including variously serving as a warden, constable, tithingman, fence viewer, surveyor of highways, field howard, field driver, bull committee member, and school committee member. Throughout this time, he also served a mix of different ad hoc committees, often relating to roads, bridges, and other public works projects.

Aside from his roles in the town government, Josiah Cooley Jr. also served as a soldier during the American Revolution. On April 21, 1775, two days after the start of the war, he was a corporal in a company of Longmeadow minutemen that marched in response to the Lexington Alarm. He did not see any combat, and his service on this particular occasion only lasted for three days. However, he subsequently enlisted as a corporal on September 24, 1777 serving for 32 days in Colonel Charles Pynchon’s regiment during the Saratoga campaign.

Josiah Cooley was living here during the first federal census in 1790. However, prior to 1850 the census did not record names or demographic information about individual people within each household. Instead, only the head of the household was identified by name. The rest of the household members were identified only based on the number of people in each age range, gender, and race. In 1790, there were, including Josiah, a total of two free white males aged 16 and older, one free white male under 16, and seven free female residents. At the time, Josiah and Abiel had four daughters and no living sons, which means that there were four other people living here aside from them and their children. This probably included Josiah’s mother Experience, who was still alive in 1790 and was presumably still residing here at this house.

The next three censuses likewise showed more people living here than just Josiah, Abiel, and their children. They may have included extended family members, or perhaps hired farm hands. For example, in 1820 there was one male aged 10-15, and another aged 16-18. Based on their ages and gender, neither of them could have been Josiah and Abiel’s children.

Josiah Cooley Jr. died on February 13, 1824 at the age of 74, and his daughter Lucy subsequently inherited the house. Lucy had married Luther Colton (1787-1857) in 1809, and they had four children: Luther Woolworth (1812-1851), Francis Stebbins (1815-1815), Lucy Ann (1817-1879), and Josiah Cooley Colton (1825-1895). Francis died in infancy, but their other three children were evidently living here with them in 1830, based on the census records. The 1830 census also shows a woman aged 70 to 79 living here, which may have been Lucy’s mother Abiel. She would have been 72 at the time, although she died in July 1830, only a month after the official census enumeration date.

During Lucy and Luther Colton’s ownership, the house underwent its first major renovation. Some sources say that this occurred in 1827, while others say 1835, but given the scope of the work it is possible that it was a long-term project that took several years to complete everything. The renovations included replacing the old saltbox-style roof with a full second story, along with a two-story wing on the right side of the house. This wing is set back from the front of the main part of the house, so it is not visible from this particular angle in these two photos. The house also has a large one-story addition in the back, which may have been added during this 1820s-1830s renovation.

Aside from expanding the living space in the house, this renovation also included stylistic updates. The house was originally built with 12-over-12 windows, which were typical for homes of the colonial period. However, improvements in glassmaking technology in the early 19th century enabled larger panes, the 6-over-6 windows became the predominant style. Here in the front of the house, the original windows were removed and replaced with 6-over-6 ones, as shown in these two photos. But, many of the old windows were saved and reinstalled in the back part of the house. The shutters were also updated, with the old interior shutters being removed and replaced with exterior ones. According to an early 20th century account, some of the old interior shutters were repurposed as a cupboard.

It was also apparently during this renovation that the original front doorway was replaced with the current one. This style, with the windows above and on either side of the door, and the entablature above it, would not have been original to the house. However, it was popular during the Greek Revival era of the 1820s and 1830s, and many 18th century homes in Longmeadow were updated with doorways similar to this one during the 19th century.

The interior of the house was also updated during this time, particularly in the two front rooms. The intent seems to have been to modernize the more public areas of the house, with less of an emphasis placed on the back part of the house and the second floor. This work included removing the original wainscoting from the front rooms, which was then reinstalled in the newly-created second-floor space.

Part of the reason for these renovations was to accommodate the growing Colton family. In 1835, Luther and Lucy’s oldest son, Luther W. Colton, married Abigail R. Morris (1812-1848) of Longmeadow. The couple moved into this house with Luther’s parents, and they lived in the new wing on the north side of the house.

The older Luther Colton served as a captain in the town militia, and he also held a variety of town offices, including tithingman, surveyor of highways, fence viewer, and fire ward. However, his primary occupation appears to have been farming. In the 1850 census, he owned 30 acres of improved land and another 30 acres of unimproved land, which was collectively valued at $3,000. His livestock included 2 horses, 8 milk cows, 5 other cattle, and 3 swine, and during the previous year his farm’s agricultural output consisted of 80 bushels of rye, 150 bushels of Indian corn, 25 bushels of oats, 150 bushels of Irish potatoes, 500 pounds of butter, and 15 tons of hay.

The 1850 census was also the first to list each individual household member. At the time, Luther and Lucy were both in their early 60s, and both of their sons were also still living here. Luther W. Colton’s first wife Abigail died in 1848, and a year later he remarried to Julia Bliss (1811-1897). They were here during the 1850 census, along with his children from his first marriage, Henry (1837-1888) and Emma (1845-1869). Luther and Lucy’s younger son Josiah was also living here at the time, along with his newlywed wife Nancy Burt (1826-1895).

Luther W. Colton died in 1851 at the age of 38, but his widow Julia and his younger child Emma were still living here with Luther and Lucy during the 1855 state census. Other residents included Julia McDermott, a 23-year-old Irish immigrant who was here with two-year-old John M. McDermott, who was presumably her son. The census does not list her occupation, but she may have been a domestic servant. The other two residents in 1855 were 25-year-old Joseph H. Booth and 21-year-old Isaac W. Coomes. They appear to have been boarders, and they both worked as spectacle makers, which was one of the few industries that existed in the primarily farming community.

Just two years after the census, the elder Luther Colton died at the age of 69. Under the terms of his will, his widow Lucy received the south half of the house, along with “one half of the pantry at the north end of the kitchen. She was also granted the right to use the oven as needed, along with the wood house and cellar. Along with this, she received the south half of the house lot, the south half of the wheat field, and all of his household furniture. She was also allotted one cow, of her choosing. Luther also left bequests of $100 each for his grandchildren Henry and Emma, and the rest of his estate, including the remainder of this house, went to his only surviving son, Josiah Cooley Colton.

Josiah was not living here in the 1855 census, but he evidently returned to care for his aging mother after his father’s death. He was here in 1860, along with his wife Nancy and their children: Charles (1851-1917), Harriet (1856-1905), and Lizzie (1859-1913). The household also included his mother Lucy, along with ten-year-old Julia Gargan, whose relationship to the family seems unclear. They also employed 15-year-old Bridget McMamery, an Irish immigrant who worked and lived here as a servant. The last member of the household was 27-year-old Peter Ward, who was also from Ireland. He was listed as a “laborer,” although it does not seem clear as to whether this means he was a laborer who worked for the Colton family, or whether he worked elsewhere but boarded here at the house.

Unlike the previous generations of his family, Josiah Colton was not primarily a farmer. As was the case with many other men of his generation, he was more interested in the opportunities to be found in manufacturing. The 1860 census listed him as a button manufacturer, probably for the Newell Brothers’ Manufacturing Company here in Longmeadow. This company moved to Springfield in 1863, joining a number of other companies in the rapidly industrializing city. Josiah Colton likewise decided to relocated, and in the spring of 1869 he sold the house and 20 acres of land to Bradford W. Palmer for $4,500.

The sale marked the end of more than a century of ownership by the Cooley-Colton family, and at least five generations of the family had lived here during this span of time. The move may have also contributed to the death of Josiah’s mother Lucy, who was reportedly heartbroken about selling the house that she had lived in for nearly her entire life. She died in August 1869 at the age of 79, only a few months after the move to Springfield.

As it turned out, the Palmer family only lived here for three years, before selling it in 1872 to William G. Emerson (1806-1887). He was a carpenter, and he was originally from eastern Massachusetts, but had moved to Holyoke in 1848 to work on the construction of the dam and mills there. He later moved to Springfield, before eventually buying this house in Longmeadow. His first wife Susan had died in 1843, but he subsequently married his second wife, Lovina Fay, in 1847.

By the time Emerson purchased this house, the children from his first marriage had either died or were living on their own. However, he and Lovina had three younger children of their own: William (1849-1930), Annie (1859-1941), and Henry (1865-1943). It does not seem clear whether the younger William lived here in this house with his parents, or if he was already living on his own by 1872, but the two younger children were both living here with William and Lovina during the 1880 census.

Of all the many residents of this house over the years, perhaps none were as instrumental in preserving the house and its history as William’s daughter, Annie Emerson. She was a public school teacher, but she was also the de facto town historian here in Longmeadow, and she did extensive work with the Longmeadow Historical Society. As part of this, she produced a detailed written history of this house, which is now in the archives of the Historical Society. That document was a particularly helpful source for this post, particularly in providing dates and other specific information on major alterations to the house.

Annie’s father William died in 1887, and her mother Lovina died a decade later. By the 1900 census, Annie and her younger brother Henry were the only family members still living her. Neither of them ever married, and they both lived in this house for the rest of their lives. Henry was a farmer, specializing in raspberries and asparagus. According to his obituary, he was one of the largest growers of raspberries in western Massachusetts. Later in life, he shifted his focus to poultry and eggs, and he appears to have been the last of a long line of residents to operate a commercial farm here on the property.

In 1907, Annie and Henry were joined here by their half brother Paesiello Emerson (1832-1927). He was the eldest child from their father’s first marriage, and at the age of 75 he was significantly older than his half siblings. Originally from Hopkinton, Paesiello later lived in Spencer and Ashland. He married Nancy Hartshorn (1828-1891) in 1855, and later served in the Civil War in the 5th Massachusetts Battery, from 1863 to 1865. During this time, he was wounded in action on June 8, 1864, at the Battle of Cold Harbor. An artillery shell injured his hand, and he carried the scar from it for the rest of his life. However, he recovered from his wound, and continued to serve until the end of the war.

Paesiello Emerson’s primary occupation was as a boot maker, but later in life he took up photography as a hobby. He started around 1902, when he was about 70 years old, and by the time he moved to this house he was already an accomplished amateur photographer. Despite his age, he would continue his photography here in Longmeadow for the next two decades, eventually amassing a portfolio of about 1,500 glass plate negatives. The majority of these were taken in Longmeadow, and they are a valuable resource for studying the history of the town and its development at the turn of the 20th century. Because he lived here in this house, it was a frequent subject for his photographs, including the first one here in this post, which he took when he was about 92 years old.

Aside from photography, Paesiello Emerson’s other hobbies included travel. Even when he was well into his 70s and 80s, he was still regularly traveling to far-off destinations, including Bermuda, Panama, and California. He also regularly attended Civil War reunions, including one in Fairhaven, Massachusetts in 1927, when he was 95 years old. His family had been opposed to him attending the previous year’s reunion because of his advanced age, so this year he slipped out of the house without telling anyone, prompting the publication of missing persons articles in several newspapers. His sister Annie eventually tracked him down, leading to a follow-up article in the New Britain Herald that stated he “was well enough to sit down and find pleasure in reading newspaper accounts of his reported disappearance.”

As it turned out, that reunion would be his last, and he died a few months later in December 1927. Annie later donated his entire collection of glass plate negatives to the Longmeadow Historical Society, which has since digitized them and made them available online via the Digital Commonwealth website.

In the meantime, by the 1930 census both Annie and Henry were still living here, as was their older brother William F. Emerson. William does not appear to have moved into this house until relatively late in life. He spent most of his life in Longmeadow, including serving for many years as town clerk, and he also served a term in the Massachusetts House of Representatives in 1912. However, he lived elsewhere in town until sometime around the mid-1920s, when he moved in with his siblings here in this house. He was definitely living here by 1927, and was apparently estranged or divorced from his wife Juliet, who was living in New Jersey by 1930.

William F. Emerson died here at the house in December 1930, at the age of 81. His two younger siblings would continue to live here into the 1940s, until Annie’s death in 1941 at the age of 81, and Henry’s in 1943 at the age of 77. The youngest and last surviving of all his siblings, Henry had been only six years old when he moved into this house, and he had spent the next seven decades of his life living in this house and working in the fields behind it.

The Emerson family does not appear to have made any significant changes to the house during their 71 years of ownership, but the subsequent owners in the 1940s and 1950s both modernized and restored parts of the house. It was during this time that two bathrooms were added to the back part of the second story, and the central heating system may have also been installed around the same time. Other interior work during included restoring the wainscoting to its original location in the front rooms, along with replacing the doorknobs with the older-style door latches and hinges.

These mid-20th century renovations also included exterior work. The 19th century shutters, which appear in the first photo, were evidently removed around this time, as was the “coffin door” on the left side. At some point in the 20th century a two-car garage was built into the wing in the back of the house, in an area that had evidently once been a shed. Other changes, which likely occurred in the late 20th century, included the addition of a sunroom on the back of the house.

However, despite several major renovations in the 19th and 20th centuries, the house is still remarkably well-preserved, with a significant amount of original material. The 6-over-6 windows from the 1820s-30s renovation are still installed here, while the back of the house still has many of the original 18th century 12-over-12 windows. On the interior, the original central chimney still stands, and most of the rooms feature original wide pine boards and wood paneling. Overall, it stands as an excellent example of an 18th century colonial home, and it is one of the many historic properties that still line Longmeadow Street.

Derby House, Salem, Massachusetts

The Derby House on Derby Street in Salem, probably sometime around the 1890-1910. Image courtesy of the Phillips Library at the Peabody Essex Museum, Frank Cousins Glass Plate Negatives Collection.

The house in 2019:

As explained in more detail in an earlier post, this house was built in 1762 by merchant Richard Derby as a home for his son Elias Hasket Derby and his newlywed wife Elizabeth Crowninshield. It has a brick, Georgian-style exterior with a gambrel roof, and it is believed to have been designed and built at least in part by Joseph McIntire, who was paid 40 shillings for work on the house.

The house was located directly across the street from Derby Wharf, where Elias could keep a close eye on the family merchant business. During the American Revolution he invested in a number of privateers that preyed on British shipping, and in peacetime he became one of the first American merchants to trade with China and southeast Asia. His career coincided with Salem’s peak of prosperity as an international port, and he was among the wealthiest merchants in New England at the time, which would later earn him the moniker “King Derby” in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s 1850 novel The Scarlet Letter.

Elias and Elizabeth Derby would live here in this house until the early years of the Revolution, but they apparently moved elsewhere by 1778. In 1782 they moved into a house at the corner of Washington and Lynde Streets, and then to another house in 1799 on the present-day site of the Old Town Hall. In the meantime, this house here on Derby Street was owned by a series of other merchants and sea captains, including Henry Prince and Henry Ropes.

Salem’s status as a major seaport steadily declined in the 19th century, especially after the Embargo Act of 1807 and the subsequent War of 1812. This was reflected in the changing ownership of the Derby House. By the 1870s it was owned by Daniel Leahy, an Irish immigrant who worked as a stevedore. The Leahy family would live here until around the turn of the 20th century, and they subsequently rented it to several different immigrant families. The first photo was taken at some point during this time period, probably around the 1890s or early 1900s.

By the early 20th century the house was recognized for its historical and architectural significance, and it was eventually purchased by the Society for the Preservation of New England Antiquities in 1927 and restored to its original appearance. Then in 1937 it was transferred to the National Park Service, and a year later it became a part of the newly-established Salem Maritime National Historic Site. The house is still a part of the National Historic Site more than 80 years later, and it stands as one of the many well-preserved historic homes from Salem’s heyday as a prosperous seaport.

Carpenters’ Hall, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (2)

Carpenters’ Hall in Philadelphia, around 1900. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The scene in 2019:

As explained in more detail in the previous post, Carpenters’ Hall is an important historic landmark in Philadelphia, having been the meeting place for the First Continental Congress in 1774. Over the ensuing years, it would be used for a variety of other purposes, including as a hospital during the American Revolution, as the offices of Secretary of War Henry Knox during the early 1790s, and as the temporary home of both the First Bank of the United States and the Second Bank of the United States. By the mid-19th century it had become an auction house, a comparatively undignified use that helped to inspire the restoration and preservation of the building in 1857.

By the time the first photo was taken at the turn of the 20th century, Carpenters’ Hall was more than 125 years old, but it still retained its colonial-era exterior appearance. However, by this point the building, which is situated at the end of a narrow alley in the middle of a city block, was hemmed in by much larger buildings. This would remain the case until the mid-century, when the Independence National Historical Park was created. Among the more controversial aspects of the park’s creation was the large-scale demolition of many historic 19th and early 20th century buildings, in order to create a more park-like setting that highlighted only the Revolutionary-era buildings.

Today, Carpenters’ Hall is now twice as old as it had been when the first photo was taken. However, because of the removal of so many surrounding buildings, its exterior setting now more closely resembles what it would have looked like when the delegates to the First Continental Congress arrived here in 1774. It is still owned by its original occupant, the Carpenters’ Company of the City and County of Philadelphia, and it is open to the public as one of the many preserved 18th century buildings here in Philadelphia.

Carpenters’ Hall, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Carpenters’ Hall, seen looking south from Chestnut Street in Philadelphia, in May 1859. Image courtesy of the Library Company of Philadelphia, Frederick De Bourg Richards Photograph Collection.

The scene in 2019:

One of the many important Revolutionary War-era landmarks in Philadelphia is Carpenters’ Hall, shown here in these two photos. Despite its rather unusual location at the end of a narrow alley in the midst of a city block, this building played an important role as the meeting place of the First Continental Congress, which convened here in September and October 1774. This gathering was attended by many of the future Founding Fathers, and it marked the first time that the various American colonies gathered together in response to grievances against the British government.

As is suggested by its name, Carpenters’ Hall was—and still is—owned by the Carpenters’ Company of the City and County of Philadelphia, a craft guild comprised of the city’s architects and builders. The building was designed by one of its members, the prominent architect Robert Smith, and the construction work began in 1770. It was not completed until 1775, but it was finished enough to allow its use as a meeting space as early as 1773. Then, in 1774, when the delegates arrived here in Philadelphia, they selected the building as their meeting space. John Adams described it in his diary on September 5, the first day that the First Continental Congress was in session:

At Ten, The Delegates all met at the City Tavern, and walked to the Carpenters Hall, where they took a View of the Room, and of the Chamber where is an excellent Library. There is also a long Entry, where Gentlemen may walk, and a convenient Chamber opposite to the Library. The General Cry was, that this was a good Room, and the Question was put, whether We were satisfyed with this Room, and it passed in the Affirmative. A very few were for the Negative and they were chiefly from Pensylvania and New York.

The convening of the First Continental Congress was largely motivated by the Intolerable Acts that the British had passed against Massachusetts, in response to the Boston Tea Party of 1773. Although the other colonies were not directly affected by these measures, which included closing the port of Boston and dissolving the colonial legislature, the Intolerable Acts raised fears in other colonies that their liberties could similarly be revoked by Parliament. A total of 12 colonies sent delegates to the Continental Congress, with only Georgia declining to participate.

The delegates who met here at Carpenters’ Hall included many leaders who would subsequently go on to play active roles in the American Revolution. The most notable of these were George Washington of Virginia and John Adams of Massachusetts, but other prominent delegates included Samuel Adams of Massachusetts, Roger Sherman of Connecticut, John Jay of New York, and Patrick Henry. However, despite the presence of radical figures like Samuel Adams and Patrick Henry, the assembly also included many moderates who opposed separation from Britain, including Isaac Low of New York and Joseph Galloway of Pennsylvania, both of whom ultimately became loyalists during the American Revolution.

At this point, few delegates were prepared to embrace political independence from Great Britain, so the First Continental Congress ultimately took a moderate stance. The delegates approved the Declaration and Resolves, which outlined colonial grievances against Britain, and they also created the Continental Association, an agreement that involved boycotting British goods while also threatening to ban exports to Britain if the Intolerable Acts were not repealed by the following September. In addition, they agreed to reconvene on May 10, 1775, as what would become the Second Continental Congress.

The First Continental Congress adjourned on October 26, 1774. When the delegates to the Second Continental Congress arrived here in Philadelphia just over six months later, they met in the Pennsylvania State House, now known as Independence Hall, rather than the much smaller Carpenters’ Hall. Aside from a different physical location, the Second Continental Congress also faced very different circumstances, as the American Revolution had begun just three weeks earlier with the battles of Lexington and Concord. The outbreak of war made it more difficult for the moderate delegates to continue advocating reconciliation, as shown by the harsh British response to the Olive Branch petition, and it would eventually lead to Congress famously declaring independence in 1776.

In the meantime, Carpenters’ Hall continued to be used by the Carpenters’ Company, but it also served a number of other roles during and after the Revolution. The Continental Army used it as a hospital and as storage for military supplies, and the British similarly used it as a hospital during their occupation of the city. Then, in 1790, when Philadelphia temporarily became the national capital, Secretary of War Henry Knox had his offices here in this building. A year later, the Carpenters’ Company built a second building here on this site, known as New Hall. The group moved their headquarters to this building, and Knox likewise moved his offices there. However, the Carpenters’ Company continued to rent out their original building to various tenants.

From 1791 to 1793, Carpenters’ Hall was occupied by the Bank of North America, and it subsequently became the temporary home of the First Bank of the United States from 1794 until 1797, when its permanent facility was completed about 50 yards to the east of here. The building’s next tenant was the Bank of Pennsylvania, and in 1798 it became the site of a major bank heist when thieves stole over $160,000 from the vaults. However, one of the men died just a few days later from yellow fever, and the other one was later arrested after attempting to deposit some of his stolen loot here at the bank that he had robbed.

During the early 19th century, Carpenters’ Hall served as the Philadelphia Custom House, and then from 1816 to 1821 it was the home of the Second Bank of the United States, which was located here during the construction of its own building on Chestnut Street. Several other organizations used the building in the 1820s, including the Philadelphia College of Pharmacy, the Musical Fund Society, and the Franklin Institute. Then, starting in 1828 it was rented by auctioneer C. J. Wolbert & Co., who used the building as his auction hall.

Carpenters’ Hall would remain in use as an auction house for nearly 30 years, but by the mid-19th century some began to lament the fact that such a historic building was being used for such base commercial purposes. In 1848, historian Benson J. Lossing visited the building, which at the time bore a banner on the façade advertising for Wolbert’s company. Lossing subsequently wrote about how the “very Temple of Freedom” was covered in the “placards of grovelling Mammon.” Continuing the biblical imagery, he challenged the people of Philadelphia, asking “[i]s there not patriotism strong enough in Philadelphia to enter the temple, and ‘cast out all them that buy and sell, and overthrow the tables of the money-changers?’”

The Carpenters’ Company ultimately chose to heed his words, and drove out the money-changers, in the metaphorical sense. In 1856, they voted to not renew Wolbert’s lease, and when he left the organization began restoring the building to its original appearance. It was rededicated on September 5, 1857, on the 83rd anniversary of the opening of the First Continental Congress. Reporting on the event the next day, the Sunday Dispatch praised the restoration of the building, writing about how the Carpenters’ Company,

determined that henceforth the old Hall should go into a respectable and dignified retirement, and that for the food it had already done, it should no more be the scene of traffic. The society have fitted the ancient Hall up in handsome style, and, while doing so, they have adhered as closely as practicable to the original plan of the building, and Carpenters’ Hall is now nearly in the same condition it was in when the historical events occurred which gave it importance. 

The first story, in which the first Continental Congress assembled, has been grained in imitation of oak, and such articles of new furniture as it was necessary to procure, have been made in a style to comport with the ancient relics preserved in the building, and which tradition says were used there by Congress in 1774. . . .

The Carpenters’ Society intend keeping the Hall sacred for the future, and citizens and strangers will be afforded an opportunity of visiting and inspecting this relic of the most interesting period of the city’s history.

The upper part of the building has been handsomely fitted up with a library and meeting room for the members of the society, and with rooms for the residence of the janitor and his family. In the library are several of the original fire buckets which belonged to the hall before the introduction of a hose.

Outside the Hall, in front of the building, a neat grass plot and flower beds have been laid out, and handsome lamps occupy the sides of the main entrance. The inside of the building has also been supplied with elegant and appropriate chandeliers, brackets, &c., which were designed purposely by their manufacturers.

The first photo was taken less than two years later by Frederick De Bourg Richards, as part of an effort to document Philadelphia’s historic buildings. It shows the north side of the building, looking down the narrow alley connecting it to Chestnut Street. The buildings in the foreground hide much of Carpenters’ Hall, and the one on the right also blocks the view of New Hall, which stood just to the northwest of Carpenters’ Hall. These modern buildings provide an interesting contrast to the old colonial-era landmark, in particular the advertisements for California-bound steamships, which indicate just how much the nation had changed since the First Continental Congress convened here less than a century earlier.

Today, more than 160 years after the first photo was taken, much of this scene has changed. At some point New Hall was demolished, as were the commercial buildings in the foreground. Some of these may have been demolished as part of the creation of the Independence National Historical Park, which involved the removal of most 19th century buildings across several city blocks. However, Carpenters’ Hall itself is still standing in the distant center of this scene. It is still owned by the Carpenters’ Company, and it is open to the public with free admission. In the present-day scene, it is joined here by a 1960s reconstruction of New Hall on the right, which now serves as the New Hall Military Museum, and on the left by the Pemberton House, a 1960s reconstruction of a colonial-era mansion.

Free Quaker Meetinghouse, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

The Free Quaker Meetinghouse at the corner of Fifth and Arch Streets in Philadelphia, in March 1859. Image courtesy of the Library Company of Philadelphia, Frederick De Bourg Richards Photograph Collection.

The scene in 2019:

Philadelphia was the national capital throughout most of the American Revolution, with the city serving as the meeting place of the Continental Congress. However, it also had a large population of Quakers, whose religious beliefs included a strong emphasis on pacifism. This caused significant tension between the colonial leaders here who favored independence, and the Quakers who opposed fighting the war. Far from simply refusing to serve in the military, many Quakers refused to pay taxes that would fund the military, and some even refused to use the currency issued by the Continental Congress, believing that the currency was also being used to pay for the war.

Even within the Quaker community, though, there was significant dissent regarding the war for independence. Here in Philadelphia, some were ultimately expelled for supporting the Revolution, and in 1781 they formed the Religious Society of Free Quakers. The group collected money to purchase a lot and build a meeting house, and among the contributors were George Washington and Benjamin Franklin. The design and construction of the building was largely done by Samuel Wetherill and Timothy Matlack, who were among the leaders of the Free Quakers. Matlack had been a delegate to the Continental Congress during the Revolution, but he is probably best remembered for his penmanship; he hand-wrote the official engrossed copy of the Declaration of Independence in 1776.

The meeting house was completed in 1783, and the occasion was commemorated by a marble tablet under the gable on the Arch Street side of the building, which reads “By general subscription for the Free Quakers, erected in the Year of our Lord, 1783, of the Empire 8.” The last part of the inscription refers to the fact that it was the eight year of the American “empire,” with 1776 as its starting point. At the time, the term empire was a bit of an overstatement for a loosely-affiliated group of 13 states on the east coast, but it ultimately foreshadowed the country’s future expansion across the continent.

Aside from Matlack, several other notable Philadelphians were involved with the Free Quakers, including Betsy Ross, the heroine of the famous but likely apocryphal story about the first American flag. Another likely attendee was Dolley Payne, whose father appears to have joined the Free Quakers after being expelled from the Pine Street Meeting. However, Dolley herself was later expelled from the faith when, in 1794, she married a non-Quaker: future president James Madison.

The Free Quakers steadily dwindled in number during the early 19th century, as the original members either died or moved elsewhere. During this time, though, the building was used for a number of other purposes aside from religious gatherings. From 1788 to 1791, part of the building was the home of John Poor’s Academy for Young Ladies, and from 1791 to 1799 it was occupied by the Grand Lodge of Pennsylvania. Then, from 1800 to 1836 it housed the Philadelphia Select Academy.

In the meantime, the Free Quakers continued to use the meeting house until the late 1830, and after this it was used purely for secular purposes. The next long-term occupant was the Apprentices’ Library Company, which moved into the building in 1841. The library made some changes to the building, including two additions in the 1850s and 1860s, and the organization remained here until 1897. The first photo was taken during this time, in 1859, and the photo shows signs for the Apprentices’ Library on both sides of the building.

Today, more than 160 years after the first photo was taken, and nearly 240 years after the building opened, the Free Quaker Meeting House still stands here as an important landmark at the corner of Arch and Fifth Streets. All of the other historic buildings nearby were demolished in the mid-20th century in order to create the Independence Mall, but the meeting house survived, likely because of its connection to Revolutionary-era Philadelphia. However, the building was relocated in 1961, in order to accommodate the widening of Fifth Street. It was moved 33 feet west and 8 feet south to its current location, and this project also included removing the 19th century additions and subsequently restoring the building to its 1780s appearance.