Massachusetts

Longmeadow Street and Bliss Road, Longmeadow, Massachusetts

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The view looking east toward the corner of Longmeadow Street and Bliss Road in Longmeadow, around 1910. Image photographed by Paesiello Emerson, courtesy of the Longmeadow Historical Society.

The same view in 2024:

These two photos show a view from the same vantage point as the ones in the previous post, just angled farther to the right. The photographer of the 1910 image, Paesiello Emerson, took the photo from the second-floor bedroom on the southeast corner of his house, at the corner of Longmeadow Street and Emerson Road. His image shows a changing landscape in Longmeadow, with an older farmhouse in the foreground and newer suburban homes in the background.

The house in the center of the top photo was apparently built sometime around the late 18th or early 19th centuries. It stood at the northeast corner of Longmeadow Street and Bliss Road, and the 1830 town map shows that it was owned by Samuel Stebbins. By the 1850s, it was owned by Sylvester Bliss, a farmer who lived here with his wife Nancy. They had four children: Hannah, Marilla, James, and Harriet. All four were living here with their parents during the 1880 census, and Bliss also employed two boys who lived and worked here. His property included about 30 acres that extended westward along the north side of Bliss Road as far as modern-day Laurel Street.

Sylvester Bliss died in 1887, and Nancy died a decade later. The top photo was taken around 1910, and the Bliss family still owned the property at this time, although they rented it to Clifford S. Kempton, a poultry farmer who was originally from Pennsylvania. During the 1910 census he was 53 years old, and he was living here with his wife Clara, their three children, and Clara’s brother Charles Breck. Their household also included 16-year-old Pearl Murphy, a Black domestic servant who was from North Carolina.

In 1913, the Bliss family sold this property to real estate developer Edwin H. Robbins. The land was then subdivided and new streets were laid out, including Belleclaire Avenue and Westmoreland Avenue. Most of the land was redeveloped with new single-family homes, but the spot here at the corner of Longmeadow Street and Bliss Road became the site of a commercial building known as the Colonnade. Rather than demolishing the old Bliss house, it was moved around the corner to a new lot on Bliss Road around 1914. However, it was destroyed by a fire just two years later. According to contemporary newspaper accounts, the fire was probably caused by defective wiring.

The Colonnade featured a variety of businesses, and early tenants included a drugstore, a grocery store, a meat market, a tailor, a shoemaker, and an automobile garage. It is still standing today, and it is visible in the center of the second photo, although its exterior has been heavily altered over the years. Aside from the construction of the Colonnade, other changes from the top photo include the demolition of the houses on the right side of Bliss Road, which can be seen in the distance on the right side of the top photo. This area on Bliss Road is now occupied by St. Mary’s Church and St. Mary’s Academy, which is partially visible on the far right side.

Longmeadow Street and Belleclaire Avenue, Longmeadow, Massachusetts

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The view looking east toward the corner of Longmeadow Street and Belleclaire Avenue in Longmeadow, in January 1916. Image photographed by Paesiello Emerson, courtesy of the Longmeadow Historical Society.

The scene in 2024:

These two photos were taken from the southeast bedroom on the second floor of the Josiah Cooley House. Built around 1760, this house stands at the corner of Longmeadow Street and Emerson Road, and during the early 20th century it was the home of Paesiello Emerson, an amateur photographer who used his camera to document life in Longmeadow.

The top photo shows some of the changes that were happening here in Longmeadow during this period. For much of its history, the town was relatively small. Most of the homes were located along Longmeadow Street, with long house lots that extended to the east and west of the street. There was minimal commercial or industrial development, and the town’s economy relied primarily on farming.

By 1900, the town had a population of just 811, but this would soon change due to the growth of Springfield, which is directly to the north of Longmeadow. A trolley line was built through the town, linking it to Springfield and also to Hartford, and it made it easy for residents to live in the town and commute into the city for work.

Over the next few decades, many of the old house lots were subdivided and developed with single-family homes. This included the land at the northeast corner of Longmeadow Street and Bliss Road, which had long been owned by the Bliss family. Around 1913, the Bliss family sold this land to Edwin H. Robbins, a real estate developer who named the subdivision “Brookline.” This was part of a strategy to market Longmeadow as Springfield’s equivalent to Brookline, which is an affluent suburb of Boston.

The Brookline subdivision consisted of homes along the north side of Bliss Road and east side of Longmeadow Street, along with the development of several new streets. Belleclaire Avenue and Westmoreland Avenue were laid out east to west, running parallel to Bliss Road. These streets were intersected by Dayton Street (later named Cross Street), Rosemore Street, and Lorenz Street, which ran north to south. From this view, Belleclaire Avenue is near the center of the photo, with Westmoreland Avenue farther in the distance on the left side.

Aside from naming it “Brookline,” Robbins also promoted this subdivision through regular advertisements in local newspapers. One such advertisement, published in the May 4, 1913 Springfield Republican, encouraged Springfield residents to move to Longmeadow, specifically to Brookline. He wrote:

You have thought that you would like to live in Longmeadow.

The reasons you had were these:

You would have every advantage you have in Springfield. Emphasis on the “every.”

You would have, in addition, all the delights of the country. These are:

  1. The pure country air, perfumed by the flowers and made vocal by the birds. Did you ever hear the birds’ May Festival?
  2. The absence of the many hideous sights and smells of the city, as well as the profanities and vulgarities you cannot help hearing.
  3. The closeness of the ties of friendships impossible anywhere but in a small community of congenial people. This is not obvious to a city dweller, but is a very real fact to the resident of a village community.

Think what these three advantages mean to growing children. You bring them up physically and morally clean, and you store their hearts with happy memories they will cherish in the strenuous days to come.

Your desire to live in Longmeadow is a true instinct. Follow it.

As to what “Brookline” is and will be, I want to say:—

1st. It has a beautiful location at the corner of Bliss Road, with a frontage of over 700 feet on Longmeadow Street, down to the Town House. It is level and high and perfectly dry, with a fine sand subsoil, and in no part underlaid with clay.

I am going to put in water, sewer, gas, electric lights. Trees now set out in the tree belts, and adequate cement sidewalks. The houses will be 100 feet apart across the streets, and I have restricted it so highly that I GUARANTEE YOU DESIRABLE NEIGHBORS, no matter how high your station in life may be.

I pledge my word to make “Brookline” the highest class development in Longmeadow. My word is good, and has been proved in my former developments, which I invite you to inspect.

Not only do I pledge my word, but I am hard at work to show the goods.

Come down and see what I am doing, as an indication of what I shall do.

BROOKLINE is where you bought melons of Mr. Kempton last year.

As indicated in the advertisement, Robbins placed deed restrictions on the lots, which were set to terminate in 1935. Some of these restrictions were fairly standard physical requirements, including setting standards for setbacks, minimum construction costs, and exterior materials. However, as implied by his guarantee of “desirable neighbors,” he also included racial and ethnic restrictions on the lots that he sold. These deeds stated that “said lot shall not be resold to a colored person a Polander or an Italian.” This was not an uncommon practice during the early 20th century, and it contributed to racial disparities between the predominantly white, high-income suburbs and the much more diverse, lower-income cities. The deed restrictions for this particular subdivision expired in 1935, but racially-based restrictions continued to be used elsewhere until 1948, when the Shelley v. Kraemer Supreme Court case ruled that they were unenforceable.

The top photo was taken in January 1916, during the early years of the subdivision’s development. Some of the houses were already built, and at least one or two on Westmoreland Avenue were under construction at the time. The photo was taken by Paesiello Emerson, from a second-floor bedroom at his house. This was one of the many photos that he took in Longmeadow during the first few decades of the 20th century, many of which showed the evolving landscape as the town evolved from an agricultural community to an affluent residential suburb.

Today, more than a century after Paesiello Emerson took the top photo, the view from the bedroom window shows a scene that is more developed, yet still recognizable from the top photo. The subdivision has long since been built out, and Belleclaire and Westmoreland Avenues are lined with early 20th century homes. Other than these houses, the only significant change in this scene is on the right side, where a small commercial property now stands at the corner of Longmeadow Street and Bliss Road. This was also constructed during the early 20th century development of the area, and it now includes a variety of commercial tenants, including a gas station and auto repair shop.

USS Constitution, Boston (2)

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The USS Constitution at Charlestown Navy Yard in Boston, around 1905. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The Constitution at the same dock in 2022:

As explained in more detail in the previous post, the frigate USS Constitution has a long history with Boston, dating back to its construction in the North End in 1797. The ship served with distinction in many American conflicts, most notably in the War of 1812, when it captured or sank five British warships and earned the nickname “Old Ironsides.”

The Constitution remained in active service for nearly a century, but by the end of the 19th century it had been converted into a receiving ship, with a large barracks structure that was constructed atop its deck, as shown in the top photo. In this role, the ship served as temporary housing for new recruits and other sailors who were not currently assigned to a crew. It was in use as a receiving ship at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard in the late 19th century, before being moved to the Charlestown Navy Yard in Boston in time for its centennial in 1897.

When the top photo was taken, its future was uncertain. it was in need of major repairs, and there was a possibility that the navy might choose to sink it for target practice. However, it was ultimately restored, including the removal of the barracks, and it became a museum ship. It underwent several other major restorations over the course of the 20th century, and also embarked on a three-year tour of the country, including visiting ports along the Atlantic, Gulf, and Pacific coasts.

Another ship is also visible in the top photo, on the right side. It is the passenger liner SS Arabic of the White Star Line, the same company that would later construct the Titanic. The Arabic was built in 1903, so it was only a few years old in the top photo, providing a dramatic contrast to the Constitution. Ironically, though, despite being more than a century older, the Constitution would outlive the Arabic by more than a century. The Arabic was ultimately torpedoed and sunk by a German submarine in 1915 during World War I, in an incident that caused a diplomatic crisis similar to the sinking of the Lusitania several months earlier.

Today, the Constitution is still moored at the same dock in Charlestown Navy Yard, although it now much more closely resembles its appearance in its fighting days, when compared to its appearance in the top photo. It remains a commissioned United States warship with its own officers and crew, and it is the oldest commissioned warship afloat in the world. Only Britain’s HMS Victory is older, although it has been in drydock since 1922.

USS Constitution, Boston

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The USS Constitution at the Charlestown Navy Yard in Boston, around 1905. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The Constitution at the same dock in 2022:

These two photos show the USS Constitution, the oldest commissioned warship afloat in the world. Constructed across the harbor in Boston at Edmund Hartt’s shipyard, the Constitution was one of six frigates that were authorized by the Naval Act of 1794. Prior to this act, the United States did not have a standing navy, with the earlier Continental Navy having been disbanded after the end of the American Revolution. The initial motivation for constructing these ships was to protect American shipping from Barbary pirates in North Africa, but they would also see extensive service in the Quasi War against France and in the War of 1812 against Britain.

The Constitution was launched in 1797 and departed on its first patrol in 1798, during the Quasi War. It later served in the First Barbary War, but the Constitution would earn its fame for its role in the War of 1812. Over the course of the war, it sank or captured five British warships, and it earned the nickname of “Old Ironsides” after its August 19, 1812 defeat of the HMS Guerriere. The ship was later further immortalized by Oliver Wendell Holmes’s 1830 poem “Old Ironsides,” which was written in response to a news article that the navy was planning to scrap the Constitution.

The ship would remain in active service throughout most of the 19th century, including being used as a training ship during and after the Civil War. However, by 1881 it was in poor condition, and it was brought to Portsmouth Naval Shipyard and converted into a receiving ship for housing sailors who were not currently assigned to a crew. This conversion included the construction of barracks on the deck of the ship, as shown in the top photo.

In 1897, the Constitution was moved back to Boston, just in time for the centennial of its launch. The top photo was taken about 8 years later, showing the ship moored on the western side of the Charlestown Navy Yard. At this point, the fate of the famous ship was still very uncertain. That year, the secretary of the navy proposed sinking it as a target ship, but it prompted an outcry similar to that which had prompted Holmes’s poem some 75 years earlier.

This sentiment led to the restoration of the ship, including removal of the barracks structure, and it was subsequently opened to the public as a museum ship. However, within a few decades it once again needed significant repairs due to rot. This prompted a campaign in which schoolchildren across the country contributed pennies to raise money to save the ship. The restoration work began in 1927, and it took nearly three years to complete. During this time, about 85% of the ship’s wood was replaced. The Constitution then embarked on a three-year tour of the country, including transiting the Panama Canal and visiting ports on the Pacific coast. However, while the ship was seaworthy enough to make the voyage, it did not actually sail, but was instead towed from port to port.

The Constitution ended up needing additional repairs in the 1970s, and then another major overhaul in the mid-1990s. The latter was completed in time for the ship’s 200th anniversary, which was celebrated with a trip from Boston to Marblehead. Along the way, the Constitution sailed unassisted for part of the voyage, marking the first time that it had done so since before it was retired from active duty in 1881.

Today, more than a century after the top photo was taken, the Constitution is still moored at the same wharf at the former Charlestown Navy Yard, which is now part of the Boston National Historical Park. The ship is still a commissioned warship of the United States Navy, with officers and crew members who are assigned to it. Thanks to the many restorations over the years, the ship now looks much more like its historic appearance than it did when the first photo was taken. The Constitution is one of the many famous historic landmarks along Boston’s Freedom Trail, and it is open to the public for tours.

Boston Skyline from Boston Harbor

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The view of Boston from Boston Harbor, around 1928-1938. Image photographed by Samuel Chamberlain; courtesy of the Phillips Library at the Peabody Essex Museum.

The same scene in 2021:

These two photos show the view of Boston from the northeast, from near the waterfront of the North End. The most visible landmark in the top photo is the Custom House Tower, which was completed in 1915. It was the tallest building in the city by a considerable margin, with a height of 496 feet. At the time, the city had a height limit of 125 feet for buildings, but as a federal building the Custom House was exempt from the limit. This restriction was eventually lifted, but the Custom House Tower would dominate the city’s skyline throughout much of the 20th century, and it remained the tallest building in the city until the construction of the Prudential Tower in 1964.

Today, the Custom House Tower is still here, although it is a much less prominent part of the skyline, due to the many other tall buildings in and around the Financial District. Aside from the skyline, other major changes to this scene include the waterfront, which was primarily comprised of commercial wharves in the top photo. Over the years, the port facilities in Boston have moved out of the North End area, and most of the wharves have been redeveloped with hotels, condominiums, and marinas, as shown in the 2021 photo.

76 Greenwood Street, Springfield, Massachusetts

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The house at 76 Greenwood Street in Springfield, around 1938-1939. Image courtesy of the Springfield Preservation Trust.

The scene in 2024:

This house stood directly to the east of the one in the previous post, and it was likely built around the same time, probably in the 1860s or 1870s. It was definitely here by 1880, when it was owned by Charles D. Ufford. He was 43 at the time, with his occupation listed as working for the railroad. He lived here with his wife Fidelia, who was 37.

The Uffords later moved to a house on State Street, and by 1900 this house on Greenwood Street was the home of Jennie Aronson, along with Abram and Ida Lewis and their three young children. The children were born in the United States, but the adults in the household were born in Russia. They were part of a large Jewish community that had begun to form here in this part of Springfield, many of whom had immigrated to the United States to escape persecution in the Russian pogroms.

By 1920, two different immigrant families were living here in this house. In one part of the house was Patrick Moran, a 55-year-old machinist who was born in Ireland. His wife Bessie was born in the United States, but her parents were likewise from Ireland. The other part of this house was the home of Anthony and Martha Chmielewski, along with Martha’s mother Teofila Roztiboske. All three were immigrants from Poland.

The top photo was taken in the late 1930s. By this point it was still a two-family property, with Charles and Doris Faughman and their children in one unit, and Charles and Josephine Barker in the other unit, according to the 1940 census. They each paid $18 per month in rent, and Charles Faughman was employed as a painter, earning $400 per year.

The house was still standing here until at least the 1950s, but it was ultimately demolished by the early 1960s as part of a large-scale urban renewal project that involved the demolition of nearly every building between the railroad tracks and Memorial Square along the Main Street and Chestnut Street corridors. Some of the land was redeveloped for commercial properties, but the project also included the construction of Interstate 291, which has its interchange with Interstate 91 just to the west of here. The second photo shows the modern-day view, including the embankment for Interstate 291 where it crosses Dwight Street. The spot where the house once stood is just a little to the left of the willow tree.