1900s

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.

Springfield City Library, Springfield, Massachusetts

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the Springfield City Library, shown from near the intersection of State and Chestnut Streets in Springfield, around 1905. Image from Springfield Present and Prospective (1905).

The scene in 2024:

The origins of the Springfield City Library date back to 1857, when the quasi-public City Library Association was established through the merger of the collections of the Young Men’s Institute and the Young Men’s Literary Association. It was initially funded through private donors, but it was located within city hall starting in 1859, and it began receiving funding from the city starting in 1864. Then, in 1871 its first purpose-built library was constructed here on State Street just east of Chestnut Street on land that had been donated by George Bliss. It was built of brick, and it was designed by New York architect George Hathorne, with a High Victorian Gothic style that was popular for public buildings of this period.

The top photo shows the building viewed from the west, from the corner of State and Chestnut Streets. In the foreground is Merrick Park, and just beyond the library is the steeple of St. Michael’s Cathedral. The library building was only about 20 years old by this point, but its collections had grown significantly larger during this period. When it opened in 1871 it housed about 31,400 books, but by the late 1890s it had around 136,000 books, and the city was in need of a new library.

The new library was constructed starting in 1909, with money that was donated by steel magnate and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie. It was built on the same site as the old building, so to keep the library open during construction the old building was moved about 200 feet northward, onto what is now the Quadrangle. Work on the new building was completed in 1912, and it opened to the public on January 10, 1912. The old library was then demolished a few months later.

Today, the 1912 library is still standing here. Just behind the library is the Quadrangle, a small park that is surrounded by two art museums, a science museum, and the Dr. Seuss Museum. The oldest of these buildings, the George Walter Vincent Smith Art Museum, was built in 1895, only a few years after the top photo was taken. It is partially visible on the far left side of the 2024 photo. Despite these changes, though, the scene is still recognizable from the top photo because of Merrick Park in the foreground, which still features the same granite curbing. On the other side of the library, St. Michael’s Cathedral is still standing, but it is not visible from this particular angle.

John Jack Gravestone, Concord, Massachusetts

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The gravestone of John Jack at Old Hill Burying Ground in Concord, around 1904. Image from The History of Concord, Massachusetts (1904).

The gravestone in 2023:

It is rare to find surviving colonial-era gravestones for African Americans in New England. Although the region had a sizeable population of enslaved and free people of color during this time, most were buried in unmarked graves, often on the far edges of the town burial grounds. The few gravestones that do exist for enslaved people were apparently commissioned by the families that enslaved them, with inscriptions that often describe them as being their “servant.”

In this regard, the gravestone for John Jack is particularly unusual. Rather than simply identifying him as the servant of a master, the inscription tells the story of his enslavement and subsequent freedom, and in the process it delivers a striking rebuke of the institution of slavery. It reads:

God wills us free, man wills us slaves.
I will as God wills Gods will be done.
Here lies the body of
JOHN JACK.
A native of Africa who died
March 1773, aged about 60 years.
Tho’ born in a land of slavery,
He was born free.
Tho’ he lived in a land of liberty,
He lived a slave,
Till by his honest, tho’ stolen labors,
He acquired the source of slavery
Which gave him his freedom,
Tho’ not long before,
Death the grand tyrant
Gave him his final emancipation,
And set him on a footing with kings.
Tho’ a slave to vice,
He practised these virtues
Without which kings are but slaves.

As the epitaph indicates, John Jack was born in Africa, probably sometime around 1713. At some point he was kidnapped and sold into slavery, and by the 1750s he was in Concord, where he was enslaved to Benjamin Barron, a shoemaker. As an enslaved man, he did not have a surname. Instead, he was referred to in many historical records simply as Jack, or as Jack Negro. Barron died in 1754, and the inventory of his property included Jack, who was valued at 120 pounds, along with “One Negro maid named Vilot, being of no vallue.”

Jack later purchased his freedom, and by 1761 he had acquired enough wealth to become a landowner. That year, he purchased four acres from Benjamin’s daughter Susanna Barron, and he also purchased two more acres from another seller around the same time. He later bought another two and  half acres and built his house on it. According to the 1902 essay John Jack, the Slave and Daniel Bliss, the Tory by George Tolman, John Jack did a variety of work for local farmers, including assisting with haying and pig slaughtering, and he also supposed himself by repairing shoes, a skill that he had likely learned during his time in slavery.

He died in March 1773, and in his will he left his entire estate “to Violet, a negro woman, commonly called Violet Barnes, and now dwelling with Susanna Barron of said Concord.” However, it seems unclear whether she actually benefitted from this bequest. Because she was still enslaved, she could not own property on her own, and any property given to her would instead have belonged to her enslaver.

John Jack’s death occurred right around the time that Revolutionary sentiment was rapidly growing in and around Boston. Many prominent figures spoke of ideals such as freedom and liberty, but in many cases they were also slaveowners, including Concord’s own minister, the Rev. William Emerson, who enslaved at least four people. This irony was not lost on some people, including Concord lawyer Daniel Bliss, who held loyalist views despite being the brother in law of Rev. Emerson, who was an outspoken patriot.

Shortly after John Jack’s death, Bliss commissioned this gravestone for him, and likely wrote the famous epitaph himself. The epitaph features a series of antithetical statements that, among other things, declare slavery to be a violation of God’s will and a contradiction to the values that the patriot leaders were expressing. There is a considerable amount of irony, such as how he was born free “in a land of slavery” but lived as a slave “in a land of liberty.” The epitaph also alludes to the “source of slavery,” (i.e. money), and how acquiring it ultimately resulted in gaining his freedom. But, despite his former status as a slave, the epitaph mentions how death is the great equalizer, and how he is now both slaves and kings ultimately share the same fate.

It did not take long for this epitaph to become famous. Supposedly, several British soldiers stopped by the burying ground on a visit to Concord in March 1775, and they copied the epitaph and sent it back across the Atlantic, where it was republished in British newspapers. By the late 18th century, the text of the epitaph was being published on a regular basis in American newspapers, especially after Massachusetts became the first state to abolish slavery in the 1780s. For example, Boston’s Independent Chronicle and the Universal Advertiser published it in 1791 at the request of a customer, who described it as “greatly admired by the curious, for its ingenious and striking antithesis.” This would continue into the 19th century, especially as abolitionist sentiment grew in the north.

The original gravestone stood here for nearly 50 years, but it was destroyed sometime in the late 1810s, evidently in an act of vandalism. The May 27, 1819 issue of the Middlesex Gazette reported that “[t]he following lines were inscribed on a stone, which was in good preservation, about two years since. Some person, or persons, however, from evil disposition, no doubt, have entirely demolished it.” The broken remains of the original stone laid here for about a decade, until lawyer Rufus Hosmer of Stow started an effort to replace it with a new stone. He and other members of the Middlesex County Bar Association collected funds, and around 1830 commissioned a new stone, which bears the same inscription as the original one. This is the stone that stands here today, and it is the one that is also shown in the top photo around the turn of the 20th century.

By the 1830s, the abolitionist movement had grown strong in Concord and in other places throughout New England. The new gravestone became an important symbol for local abolitionists, and the gravesite was maintained by Mary Rice, who planted lilies here, cleaned lichen off the gravestone, and trimmed the grass around the stone. In his 1902 essay, George Tolman described her as:

[A] little old gentlewoman who lived hard by; quaint in dress and blunt of speech, and with the kindest heart that ever beat; eccentric to a marked degree even among the eccentric people that Concord has always been popularly considered to abound in. She was devoted to all the “reform” causes of the day, and particularly to the anti-slavery movement, and was an active and enthusiastic agent of the “Underground Railway,” an institution by the way, of which Concord was one of the principal station. Many a fugitive found refuge, and, if needed, concealment, in her cottage or from her scanty purse was furnished the means to help him onward toward a free country. To her the epitaph of John Jack had a meaning; it was more than a mere series of brilliant antitheses; it was a prophecy and a promise. The humble grave upon the hillside was a holy sepulchre; its nameless tenant was the prophet and Messiah of the gospel of freedom.

Today, nearly 200 years after the replacement stone was installed here, it remains in good condition. It is made of durable slate, and its inscription is still easily legible, although the lighting was not ideal in the bottom photo. It stands as an important reminder of the history of slavery in New England, and of the contradictions that many Americans dealt with in trying to reconcile the revolutionary-era ideals of freedom and liberty with the practice of slavery. At the end of his essay on the gravestone, George Tolman expressed this quite eloquently in contrasting the stone to the other famous monuments here in Concord:

In the public square at Concord stands a monument to the memory of her sons who, in the late civil war, gave up their lives in defence of the principle of national freedom and unity; by the side of her quiet river her noble Minute-man keeps his unceasing watch over the spot where her sons stood to defend the principle of national independence. Both of these monuments are typical of political, and, in a sense, local and restricted ideas, narrow principles touching merely institutions and policies. But earlier than either, over the grave of a nameless slave in her ancient burying ground, stands the plain gray slab of slate that typifies the far higher idea which is of the constitution of humanity itself,—the principle of individual personal liberty.

We look in vain in the writings of speeches of our patriot fathers for any enunciation of this principle, for any condemnation of slavery as a sin against the moral government of the world. That was reserved for the man they called a Tory,—the man who believed that personal freedom was the God-given birthright of humanity, and whose clear and intelligent vision pierced through the mists of future years to the glorious time when that birthright should be everywhere acknowledged.

Ralph Waldo Emerson House, Concord, Massachusetts

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The house at 28 Cambridge Turnpike, near the corner of Lexington Road in Concord, around 1900-1906. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The house in 2023:

This house was built in 1828 by John T. Coolidge for his son, Charles Coolidge. However, it is most famous for having been the longtime home of Ralph Waldo Emerson, who purchased the house from the Coolidge family in 1835. He was in his early 30s at the time, and he lived here for the rest of his life, until his death in 1882.

Ralph Waldo Emerson was born in Boston in 1803, but he had Concord roots. His grandfather, William Emerson, had been the pastor of the church in Concord, and lived in the Old Manse until his death in 1776 while serving in the Continental Army. William’s eldest son, William, also became a pastor, serving at the First Church in Boston, and William Emerson Jr.’s son, Ralph Waldo Emerson, likewise continued the family legacy and entered the ministry. He was ordained as pastor of the Second Church in Boston, but he began to struggle with doubts about his faith, especially after his wife Ellen’s death in 1831. He resigned his position at the church a year later, and then spent the next year overseas in Europe.

In 1834, Emerson moved to Concord, where he lived with his grandmother’s second husband Ezra Ripley at the Old Manse. It was there that he wrote some of his early works, including his philosophical essay “Nature,” which laid out many of the tenets of Transcendentalism. Then, in 1835 he married his second wife Lidian and purchased this property as their home. The house had previously been known as “Coolidge Castle” but Emerson renamed it “Bush.”

Over the next few decades, Emerson rose in prominence as one of the leading American philosophers. He was known for his lectures and essays, the most famous of which included “The American Scholar” and “Self-Reliance.” He influenced many other figures in the Transcendentalist movement, including most notably fellow Concord resident Henry David Thoreau. Lidian was also involved in Transcendentalism, particularly on the more practical political and social side of the movement. Among other causes, she was active in reform movements such as abolitionism, women’s rights, and the humane treatment of animals.

From 1841 to 1843, Henry David Thoreau lived here with the Emersons. He was in his mid-20s, about 15 years younger than the Emersons, but he formed a close friendship with both Ralph Waldo and Lidian. This relationship, particularly between Thoreau and Lidian, has led to recent speculation about whether this was a strictly platonic friendship, or whether Thoreau—a lifelong bachelor with no known romantic partners—harbored romantic feelings for Lidian. Either way, the Emersons had a significant influence on Thoreau’s beliefs and writings. A few years after he moved out of the house, he began his famous two-year-long stay in a cabin at Walden Pond, which he built on land that was owned by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Thoreau stayed at the cabin until September 1847, and he then returned to the Emerson house, where he lived until 1848.

The Emersons lived here for the rest of their lives, and they had four children here, three of whom lived to adulthood. Probably the most significant change to the house during their ownership came in July 1872, when a fire started in the attic. It burned the roof, along with much of the second floor, but the rest of the house was saved and it was soon rebuilt. Ralph Waldo Emerson died in 1882 at the age of 78, and Lidian died 10 years later at the age of 90.

The top photo was taken around the turn of the 20th century, when their oldest surviving child Ellen was still living here. She died in 1909, and her siblings subsequently inherited the house. Today, the house is still owned by descendants of the Emerson family, with few changes since the top photo was taken more than a century ago. It is preserved as a museum, and it is seasonally open to the public for tours.

Pellet-Barrett House, Concord, Massachusetts

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The house at 5 Lexington Road in Concord, around 1895-1905. Image courtesy of the Boston Public Library.

The house in 2023:

The house in these two photos stands on the north side of Lexington Road, just to the east of Monument Square in the center of Concord. The main portion of the house was built around 1728-1729, but according to its MACRIS inventory form, the rear wing of the house is even older, possibly dating to the 1670s. Assuming that date is accurate, the earliest owner of the house appears to have been Mary Dane Pellet, who lived here with her husband Thomas Pellet. The property remained in the Pellet family until 1706, when their son Daniel Pellet sold it to Josiah Blood. By 1728 the house was owned by Edward Flint, and then by the 1730s by Benjamin Barrett.

The main portion of the house, with the gambrel roof, appears to have been built by either Flint or Barrett. Subsequent 18th century owners included Ezekiel Brown Jr., a merchant who fell into debt in the years leading up to the American Revolution. His creditors had him imprisoned in Boston, during which time he studied medicine and later served as a surgeon in the Continental Army during the Revolution. However, after the war his creditors again pursued him, and he landed in jail in the late 1780s and ultimately lost his house.

The next owner was Abel Barrett, who purchased it from Brown’s creditor in 1792. The Barrett family owned it until 1818, and then sold it to Elisha Tolman, a shoemaker and church deacon who lived here until his death in 1858. According to the MACRIS inventory, Tolman likely made shoes in the wing on the west side of the house, in the distance on the left side of this scene. His son Benjamin subsequently acquired the property, and he and his wife Anne continued to own it throughout the rest of the 19th century, although it appears to have been used as a rental property for some of that time.

By the time the top photo was taken at the turn of the 20th century, the house was still owned by the Tolman family. However, the Tolmans sold it in 1908, and then a year later it was purchased by the Old Concord Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR). Under the leadership of Harriet Lothrop, a noted children’s book author and historic preservationist, the DAR restored the house and used it as its headquarters for many years. During this time, the DAR added a wing on the back of the house in 1929. The organization ultimately sold the house in 1951.

Today, more than a century after the top photo was taken, there have not been very many changes to this scene. Both this house and the neighboring house to the left are still standing, as is the Colonial Inn in the distance on the far left side. The house is now apartments, with four units according to the town assessor’s property card. It stands as one of the many surviving 18th century homes that line Lexington Road, and it is a contributing property in the the Concord Monument Square–Lexington Road Historic District, which was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1977.