1900s

Fort Griswold, Groton, Connecticut

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The view of Fort Griswold from the top of the Groton Monument in Groton, around 1900. Image from The Battle of Groton Heights (1903).

The scene in 2022:

These two photos show Fort Griswold, which was built during the American Revolution on the east side of New London Harbor. Most significantly, the fort was the site of the Battle of Groton Heights on September 6, 1781. This battle is often overlooked, perhaps because it was a British victory that ultimately had little bearing on the outcome of the war. However, it was the largest battle to be fought in Connecticut during the Revolution, and it was also the last major battle in the northern states.

Fort Griswold was built between 1775 and 1778 on Groton Heights, a hill immediately to the east of New London Harbor. The site is less than a thousand feet from the water, yet it rises to about 125 feet in elevation, making it an ideal place for a fort to defend New London, which is located directly across the harbor. It was named in honor of Matthew Griswold, who was at the time the lieutenant governor and would eventually become governor of Connecticut. Aside from this fort, the harbor defenses also included Fort Trumbull in New London, which was named for Jonathan Trumbull, who served as governor from 1769 to 1784. Fort Trumbull is visible in the distance of both of these photos, across the harbor on the far right side of the scene.

Fort Griswold was laid out as a star fort, roughly pentagonal in shape, with bastions projecting outward to enable enfilading fire against attackers. The walls, which were made of stone topped with earth, were thick and relatively low, in order to protect against enemy artillery, and it was surrounded by a ditch to make it more difficult for the enemy to scale the walls. This was a typical fort design for the 18th century, although much smaller in scale than more notable ones of the era, such as Fort Ticonderoga and Fort Crown Point. The main entrance was on the north side, as shown here in the foreground of these two photos, but there was also a sally port on the south side of the fort that led to ditch connecting the fort to the lower battery. On the inside of the fort were the barracks, which were located on the east side, on the spot now marked by a large rectangular outline in the second photo.

Stephen Hempstead, who was one of the fort’s defenders during the battle, provided the following description of Fort Griswold in his subsequent account of the battle:

The fort was an oblong square, with bastions at opposite angles, its longest side fronting the river in a northwest and southeast direction. Its walls were of stone, and were ten or twelve feet high on the lower side, and surrounded by a ditch. On the wall were pickets, projecting over twelve feet; above this was a parapet with embrasures, and within a platform for the cannon, and a step to mount upon to shoot over the parapet with small arms. In the southwest bastion was a flag-staff, and in the side, near the opposite angle, was the gate, in front of which was a triangular breast-work to protect the gate; and to the right of this was a redoubt, with a three-pounder in it, which was about 120 yards from the gate. Between the fort and the river was another battery, with a covered way, but which could not be used in this attack, as the enemy appeared in a different quarter.

These defenses would be put to the test on September 6, 1781, when Benedict Arnold landed around 1,700 British soldiers here in the New London area. By this point the war in the north was winding down, and most of the focus had shifted south, where Lord Cornwallis had taken up a vulnerable position on a peninsula in Virginia. George Washington and Rochambeau had begun marching their army south in the summer of 1781, but Arnold hoped that a raid on New London would distract Washington and take pressure off of Cornwallis.

In conducting the raid, Arnold divided his force of about 1,700 men into two groups of roughly equal numbers. One group, commanded by Arnold himself, landed on the west side of the Thames River in New London. They met with minimal resistance at Fort Trumbull, which had been lightly garrisoned, and the 23 defenders who had been positioned there abandoned the fort after spiking the guns. Those defenders then crossed the harbor to join the American soldiers at Fort Griswold, which was a much more substantial fortification. In the meantime, Arnold had free reign of New London, and he burned a significant portion of it, including over 140 buildings. Adding insult to this injury was the fact that Arnold was a local, having been born and raised in nearby Norwich.

While Arnold was burning New London, the other group of about 800 British soldiers landed in Groton, on the east side of the Thames River. They were commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Edmund Eyre, who had been given the task of capturing Fort Griswold. Rather than attempting a frontal assault directly from the river, Eyre instead landed his men further to the south, at the entrance to the harbor in the distant left side of these two photos. This spot is marked by a small “4” in the first photo. This route of attack enabled him to approach the fort from the southeast, which, as noted in Stephen Hempstead’s account, rendered the lower battery ineffective against them.

According to Arnold’s post-battle report, his orders to Eyre were at least partially based on information that he had received from a Loyalist resident of New London, who informed him that the fort was only partially complete and was only defended by 20 or 30 men. However, in reality the fort had about 160 defenders, and Arnold would soon discover that it was definitely not incomplete. From a vantage point at the old burial ground in New London, Arnold surveyed the fort’s defenses, and subsequently wrote in his report that he “found it much more formidable than I expected, or than I had formed an idea of, from the information I had before received.” This led him to countermand his original orders to Eyre, but the message arrived after the battle had already started.

Prior to the battle, Eyre had demanded the unconditional surrender of the fort. With about 800 soldiers, he had a significant numerical advantage, but the fort’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel William Ledyard, refused to surrender. Throughout the war, the British tended to avoid assaulting fortified, elevated American positions, likely in part because of their experiences early in the war at Bunker Hill. Ledyard may have had Bunker Hill in mind on this day, but he also believed that there were reinforcements who would arrive momentarily, so he held his position.

After the rejected surrender demand, Colonel Eyre concentrated his attack on the southwest bastion of the fort, located in the far right-hand side of the fort from the perspective of these two photos. They suffered heavy casualties in the process, including Major William Montgomery, who was impaled with a pike by Jordan Freeman, a formerly enslaved man who was subsequently killed in the battle.

According to Stephen Hempstead’s account, at one point in the battle the fort’s flagpole was shot down. The flag was quickly raised on a pike, but Hempstead believed that the British had interpreted the initial falling of the flag as a sign of surrender. This, he asserted, had given them the added motivation to get over the walls because they believed victory was at hand. It is also possible that the British may have seen the action as a feigned surrender designed to draw them into a vulnerable position. If that was the case, it may explain their subsequent actions once they breached the fort.

Regardless of exactly how the fallen flag may have influenced the British, they managed to get some of their soldiers over the walls. They then opened the gate from the inside, allowing the rest of the soldiers to enter the fort. It was at this point that Colonel Ledyard recognized that the battle was lost. Stephen Hempstead, who had been wounded by a musket ball in his left arm in the fighting right before this, described the ensuing events in his narrative:

Colonel Ledyard, seeing the enemy within the fort, gave orders to cease firing, and to throw down our arms, as the fort had surrendered. We did so, but they continued firing upon us, crossed the fort and opened the gate, when they marched in, firing in platoons upon those who were retreating to the magazine and barrack-rooms for safety. At this moment the renegade Colonel Beckwith commanding, cried out “Who commands this garrison?” Colonel Ledyard, who was standing near me, answered “I did, sir, but you do now,” at the same time stepping forward, handed him his sword with the point towards himself. At this instant I perceived a soldier in the act of bayonetting me from behind. I turned suddenly round and grasped his bayonet, endeavoring to unship it, and knock off the thrust, but in vain. Having but one hand, he succeeded in forcing it into my right hip, above the joint, and just below the abdomen, and crushed me to the ground. The first person I saw afterwards was my brave commander, a corpse by my side, having been run through the body with his own sword, by the savage renegade.

Over the years there has been debate and speculation about exactly who killed Colonel Ledyard, but American accounts of the battle generally agree on what happened next. Up to this point, only about six or seven Americans had been killed in the battle, according to Hempstead’s estimate. However, many more would be killed here in the fort after this attempted surrender. Hempstead continued by writing:

Never was a scene of more brutal wanton carnage witnessed than now took place. The enemy were still firing upon us in platoons, and in the barrack-rooms, which were continued for some minutes, when they discovered they were in danger of being blown up, by communicating fire to the powder scattered at the mouth of the magazine while delivering out cartridges; nor did it then cease in the rooms for some minutes longer. All this time the bayonet was “freely used,” even on those who were helplessly wounded and in the agonies of death. I recollect Captain William Seymour, a volunteer from Hartford, had thirteen bayonet wounds, although his knee had previously been shattered by a ball, so much so, that it was obliged to be amputated the next day. But I need not mention particular cases. I have already said that we had six killed and eighteen wounded previous to their storming our lines; eighty-five were killed in all, thirty-five mortally and dangerously wounded, and forty taken prisoners to New York, most of them slightly hurt.

Another American soldier, Rufus Avery, gave a similar account in his own description of the battle:

They killed and wounded nearly every man in the fort as quick as they could, which was done in about one minute. I expected my time to come with the rest. One mad-looking fellow put his bayonet to my side, and swore, “bejasus, he would skipper me.” I looked him very earnestly in the face and eyes, and asked for mercy and to spare my life. He attempted three times to put the bayonet in me, but I must say I believe God forbade him, for I was completely in his power, as well as others that was present with the enemy. The enemy at the same time massacred Lieut. Enoch Stanton within four or five feet of me. A platoon of about ten men marched up near where I stood, where two large outer doors to the magazine made a space wide enough for ten men to stand in one rank. They discharged their guns into the magazine among the dead and wounded, and some well ones, and some they killed and wounded.

Like Hempstead, Avery also commented on how the British became concerned that they would ignite the powder magazine. He wrote:

That platoon fell back, and another platoon came forward to discharge their guns into the outer part of the magazine, where the others did. As they made ready to fire, Capt. Bloomfield came suddenly round the corner of the magazine, and very quickly raised his sword, exclaiming, “Stop firing! You’ll send us all to hell together ! ” Their language was bad as well as their conduct. I was near him when he spoke. Bloomfield knew there must be, of course, much powder scattered about the magazine, and a great quantity deposited there, but I expect the reason it did not take fire was that there was so much human blood to put it out. They did not bayonet many after they ceased firing their guns. I was amongst them all the time, and they very soon left off killing, and then went stripping and robbing the dead and wounded, and also those that were not wounded.

As the battle came to an end, the British began taking prisoners. They also attempted to destroy the fort itself, but they were not successful. In his official report to his commanding officer, Sir Henry Clinton, Arnold described how:

A very considerable Magazine of Powder, and Barracks to contain 300 men, were found in Fort Griswold, which Captain Lemoine, of the Royal Artillery, had my positive directions to destroy. An attempt was made by him, but unfortunately failed. He had my orders to make a second attempt. The reason why it was not done Captain Lemoine will have the honor to explain to your Excellency.

Arnold’s report did not specify exactly why the first attempt failed, or why the second one was not carried out, although his tone clearly indicated frustration with Lemoine’s inaction. However, Lemoine did subsequently offer his explanation to Clinton, who indicated that he was satisfied with the reason.

Based on other accounts, the reason for the failure of the first attempt appears to have been due to interference by Americans who disrupted the trail of powder that was supposed to ignite the magazine. Another American who was present at the battle, John Hempsted, described the incident in a narrative that was somewhat less polished than Arnold’s report:

But the Enemy Intended to blow up the fort for they Stroed a train of powder from the gate to the magesean & itt burnt from the gate about half way to the magesean, and the Comunication was cut of by a mans fingers which Sean in the durt.

The Americans ultimately managed to save the fort itself, but overall they had sustained heavy losses in the battle. Different sources give somewhat different figures for the total number killed, wounded, and captured, but Stephen Hempstead’s estimates, which were quoted earlier, seem to be reasonably correct, with about 85 killed, 35 wounded, and 40 taken prisoner. The wounded figure included those who would subsequently die of their wounds, along with those who were deemed to be too injured to be taken prisoner, including Stephen Hempstead. Among the prisoners was Rufus Avery, who was subsequently transported to New York.

In his report, Benedict Arnold also stated that 85 Americans had been killed, although he also estimated that 60 were wounded (“most of them mortally”), and 70 captured. These latter two figures are likely inflated, since that would put the total number killed, wounded, and captured at 215, which was significantly higher than the total number of defenders who were present in the fort. As for the British, Arnold reported 48 killed and 145 wounded, and also noted that three of the wounded officers had since died. Other wounded British soldiers appear to have died of their wounds while making the voyage back across the Atlantic.

Based on these numbers, both sides had similar numbers of casualties, although for the Americans these represented a much higher percentage of their total force. With at least 85 dead in the battle, plus others who were mortally wounded, it meant that well over half of the fort’s defenders died during or soon after the battle. And, with nearly all of the remaining American soldiers either wounded or taken prisoner, it meant that they had a casualty rate of nearly 100%. Because of this, and because so many of the Americans were killed after they attempted to surrender, the battle is sometimes referred to as the Fort Griswold Massacre. At least one modern historian, Jerald P. Hurwitz, has even taken this a step further, declaring it to be the “Alamo of the Revolution” in his 2020 book of the same name.

For the British, the battle probably brought back memories of the Battle of Bunker Hill, which had been fought six years earlier at the start of the Revolution. Like Fort Griswold, it was a battle that they technically won, but it was largely a pyrrhic victory that involved heavy losses without gaining any significant strategic advantage. It would also prove to be their last major victory of the war. The goal of distracting Washington’s army did not succeed, and they continued on their way to Virginia despite the raid on New London and Groton.

Just 22 days after the battle here in Groton, the combined French and American armies began laying siege to General Cornwallis on the Yorktown Peninsula. This ultimately led to his surrender on October 19, 1781, which effectively ended the American Revolution. Interestingly, the total number of American and French soldiers killed in the three-week siege was about 88, which was approximately the same number who were killed here in Fort Griswold in the span of 40 minutes.

Following the was, Fort Griswold would continue to be used as a harbor defense fort for many years, although primarily in a supporting role, with Fort Trumbull becoming the main fort here in New London. Fort Griswold saw use during the War of 1812, and then in the early 1840s the lower batter was rebuilt, as shown on the right side of these photos. This work included emplacements for 20 guns, along with a powder magazine and a shot furnace. The latter was used to heat cannonballs before firing them, in order to start fires when they struck wooden warships. Both structures were built in 1843, and they are still standing today, with the magazine visible on the far right and the furnace a little to the left of it.

In the meantime, the battlefield also became the site of one of the earliest large-scale monuments to the American Revolution. In 1825, work began on a 127-foot monument just to the north of the fort. The cornerstone was laid on September 6, 1781, on the 44th anniversary of the battle, and approximately 8,000-10,000 people attended the ceremony, including 18 survivors of the battle. One of them even wore the same vest that he had worn during the battle, complete with a musket ball hole and other damage from the battle.

This event occurred less than three months after the cornerstone was laid for the more famous Bunker Hill Monument in Charlestown, Massachusetts. It had a design that was similar to the Bunker Hill Monument, although it was topped with a cupola rather than a traditional obelisk point. It was much shorter than Bunker Hill, standing at 127 feet compared to 221 feet. However, it also took much less time to build; it was completed in 1830, compared to 1843 for the Bunker Hill Monument.

The design of the Groton Monument was later modified for the centennial of the battle in 1881. The original cupola was removed, and the top of the monument was reconstructed to make it a true obelisk. This project added eight feet to the monument’s height, which now rises 135 feet above the battlefield.

The interior of the monument has a spiral staircase that leads to an observation platform with one window on each side of the monument. These windows provide expansive views of New London, the harbor, and the surrounding countryside, along with a birds-eye view of Fort Griswold, as shown in these two photos. From here, it is easy to get a sense of the layout of the fort and the topography around it, and also to visualize how the battle unfolded.

Even after the completion of the monument, the fort itself would remain an active military installation for many years. The lower battery, which had been reconstructed in the 1840s, was upgraded again around the time of the Civil War, including the installation of Rodman guns. It would ultimately continue to be used until after World War II, although for most of this time it was only lightly garrisoned, and never saw any other combat.

The site of the fort was subsequently transferred to the state, which established the Fort Griswold State Park here in 1953. Today, the park includes the fort itself, along with the monument and a small museum adjacent to it in the Monument House. Visitors can climb up the 166 steps to the top of the monument, and they can also explore the fort, which is open for self-guided tours.

Overall, the battlefield has not changed much in the 120 years or so since the first photo was taken. Although the battle is often overlooked when compared to the other major battles of the war, the site here has remained well-preserved, even as the surrounding area has been extensively developed over the years. There are now far more houses on the other side of the battlefield than there were in the first photo, and probably the most significant change is the large General Dynamics Electric Boat shipyard in the distance. This facility specializes in building nuclear-powered submarines for the U.S. Navy, so its proximity to Fort Griswold provides for an interesting contrast to the Revolutionary-era fort in the foreground.

Derby House, Salem, Massachusetts

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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.

Eagle Hotel, Concord, New Hampshire

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The Eagle Hotel on North Main Street in Concord, around 1907. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The scene in 2022:

The Eagle Hotel, shown here in these two photos, is part of a well-preserved group of historic buildings that line the east side of North Main Street, directly across from the New Hampshire State House. This had previously been the site of the Eagle Coffee House, which opened in 1827. However, that building was destroyed by a fire in 1851, and it was subsequently replaced by the present-day building. It has undergone several major renovations since then, but it still stands as an important landmark in downtown Concord.

The new hotel was completed in November 1852, and it was featured in a November 10, 1852 article in the New Hampshire Patriot and State Gazette. The article included the following description:

The main edifice occupies 115 feet front by 40 in width, four stories high. The roof is nearly flat, and tinned. The front of the lower story is of handsomely dressed Rattle Snake granite. The superstructure is of elegant pressed brick. It is ornamented with a handsome façade, embracing two piazzas, each forty feet in length, over the main entrance to the hotel. The windows are covered with green Venetian blinds. On the first story of the main building are the office of the hotel, with two spacious stores on either side. There is also an ell of brick, with tinned roof, in the rear of the main building, in which are the kitchen, gentlemen’s ordinary, and two stories containing sleeping chambers. The whole building contains about 100 rooms.

In the front of the second story of the main building are a pair of public parlors to be used for gentlemen, a large saloon, 40 by 30 feet, and another pair of parlors for ladies. The floors of the former are covered with elegant Brussels carpeting, and the latter with tapestry carpeting. The furniture is of the most elegant description. The windows are handsomely curtained, and the rooms filled with sofas, lounges and chairs, of every variety of shape, covered with brocades and velvets, mirrors, &c. The ladies’ parlors contain two new and superior pianos, one of Boston and the other of New York manufacture. The suits of parlors are connected by folding doors. The main entries run lengthwise of the building, and separate these parlors from the sleeping chambers in the rear, and a ladies’ ordinary on the same floor in which tables may be laid for 70 persons. The latter is so arranged that, by means of folding doors, it may be converted into two or three spacious parlors with bed-chambers adjoining.

The third and fourth stories are conveniently divided into parlors and sleeping rooms.—Some of the former are arranged with one or two bed-rooms adjoining, for the use of families.

In the first story, as we have already remarked, is the Office of the Hotel. The main entrance to it is from Main street; and one door north there is a private entrance for ladies to the parlors and rooms above. The Office is about 40 feet square. From this room, flights of winding stairs communicate with the stories above, leaving an oval space through which light is admitted from a sky-light of stained glass in the roof. The Reading-room is in the rear of these stairs, on the same floor and connected with the Office by arches. Both rooms, including the entries above, are warmed by a large furnace in the basement. Adjoining the Office, is a barber’s shop and wash-room, furnished with warm and cold water from a cistern below. These rooms, as well as all the dining-halls, parlors, entries, kitchen, &c. are to be lighted with gas as soon as the new gas works go into operation. In the Office, there are 70 bells connecting the various rooms; also speaking tubes connecting with the entries above, kitchen, &c.

The large kitchen in the basement of the ell is the great curiosity of the establishment. It is about forty feet square, and fitted up with a superior cooking-range, furnaces, ovens, sinks and other apparatus of the most modern improvements for promoting culinary operations. Adjacent to the kitchen, is the meat-room, pastry-room, a baking-room containing an extensive oven of the latest improvement, a wash-room with furnace, boilers and patent drying-rack, the ironing room, shed, &c.

The gentlemen’s ordinary is in the ell, immediately over the kitchen, and on the same floor with the Office. It has an entrance from the latter, and also by a wide stair-case from the parlors on the second floor. It is a spacious hall, 70 feet by 40, handsomely finished and will be lighted by three chandeliers. In it tables may be laid for about 180 persons. It is to be warmed by a large furnace below. The sleeping rooms are large and airy. The whole building is ventilated from the roof, and each of the rooms have an opening, which may be closed at pleasure, over the doors. The windows, also, throughout the house, are made to open at both top and bottom. There is a large water cistern in the attic by which water is to be supplied to all the rooms below.

The opening of the hotel came at an auspicious time in Concord’s history. Early in November 1852, Concord resident Franklin Pierce had been elected president, and he subsequently moved into a suite here in the Eagle Hotel prior to his inauguration. It was during this time that the Pierce family suffered a tragedy that would set the tone for a very difficult presidency. On January 6, 1853, Franklin Pierce, his wife Jane, and their only surviving child Benjamin were returning to Concord from Andover, Massachusetts, when their train derailed. Franklin and Jane escaped serious injury, but 11-year-old Benjamin’s skull was crushed in the accident, with the president-elect being the one to discover his son’s lifeless body in the wreckage. Pierce continued to live here in the Eagle Hotel until his departure for Washington ahead of his March 4, 1853, although Jane did not accompany him to the inauguration. Both would suffer severe depression from the tragedy, and it likely contributed to Pierce’s largely ineffective presidency.

Aside from Franklin Pierce, the Eagle Hotel had a number of other prominent visitors during its heyday. Because of its central location in the city and proximity to the state house, it played an important role in the political, social, and economic life of the city. Several other 19th century presidents would visit the hotel, including Rutherford B. Hayes, who stayed here on August 22, 1877 during a trip through New Hampshire, accompanied by his wife Lucy, Vice President William A. Wheeler, and several of his cabinet secretaries. Twelve years later, on August 15, 1889, President Benjamin Harrison would also visit the hotel, where he had lunch during a brief stop in Concord.

In the meantime, the hotel building underwent several changes during the 19th century. It was expanded in 1872, and then in 1890 it underwent another renovation, which included both internal and external improvements. The Eagle Hotel became the first building in the city to have a central heating plant, as well as the first to have an elevator. On the exterior, the most noticeable change was the addition of a fifth story, which replaced the original gable roof. As shown in these two photos, the fifth story has a different window configuration from the lower floors, and there is also a horizontal band of bricks beneath the windows, where the old cornice used to be. The two piazzas, which were mentioned in the 1852 article, were also removed at some point in the 19th century, as were the window shutters that had once been installed on the front façade of the building.

The renovated hotel continued to play an important role in New Hampshire politics throughout the first half of the 20th century. Many state legislators stayed here while the General Court was in session, and they often held meetings here. Among those legislators was Winston Churchill, an American novelist who was, at the time, the best-known Winston Churchill in the world. Aside from his literary career, he was elected to the state legislature in 1903 and 1905, and in 1906 he published Coniston, which became the best-selling American novel of the year. It was a novel about New Hampshire politics, and it included a number of fictional places that were obvious stand-ins for real locations. These included the Pelican Hotel, which represented the Eagle Hotel. It was there that the fictional political boss Jethro Bass ruled the state from his “Throne Room” in the hotel.

Also in 1906, Churchill sought the Republican nomination for governor as an underdog candidate. Ahead of the party convention, he booked rooms here at the Eagle Hotel to use as his campaign headquarters. He ended up performing surprisingly well at the convention for an inexperienced politician, but narrowly lost the party nomination. Churchill would try again in 1912, this time as the Progressive Party candidate, but he finished third in the general election. He subsequently retired from politics, and later gave up on writing novels. And, as it turned out, his fame would be dramatically eclipsed by a different Winston Churchill on the other side of the Atlantic, who was also a politician and writer.

Even into the 1950s, the Eagle Hotel would continue to be a focal point for New Hampshire politics. Richard Nixon—who was vice president at the time—made at least two visits to the hotel. The first was on September 29, 1954, when he came to Concord to participate in the Republican state convention in advance of the midterm elections. He returned here five years later, on October 3, 1959, when he was in the midst of his own presidential campaign ahead of the 1960 election. He attended a reception here at the Eagle Hotel, and he earned the endorsements of both of the state’s U.S. senators. By the time New Hampshire’s primary election kicked off the election season five months later, Nixon was essentially unopposed and carried nearly 90% of the state’s vote, although he would ultimately lose the general election to John F. Kennedy.

Nixon’s political career would rise and fall a few more times in the coming years, but his visit to Concord proved to be the last hurrah for the Eagle Hotel. By this point automobile travel had made it easier for legislators to commute to Concord during legislative sessions, so there was less demand for long-term lodging here at the Eagle. The hotel also fell out of favor among the general public, which was a common trend for historic downtown hotels throughout the region. With interstate highways and other road improvements, it was now easier for travelers to bypass busy city centers. And, when they did need a place to stay, they tended to prefer convenient modern motels, which were right off the highway and had ample parking, rather than aging hotels in crowded downtown locations.

The Eagle Hotel closed in February 1961, and it was subsequently converted into a nursing home. However, it did not have much success either, and it closed in 1976. This was a time when many cities were demolishing their old downtown hotels and other historic landmarks as part of urban renewal projects, but the Eagle Hotel managed to avoid such a fate. Instead it was preserved, and today its exterior does not look significantly different from its appearance in the first photo, aside from alterations to the ground floor. The building was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1978, and it is also a contributing property in the Downtown Concord Historic District, which was added to the National Register in 2000.

Fort Rodman, New Bedford, Massachusetts

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Fort Rodman on Clark’s Point in New Bedford, around 1906. Photographed by Blanchard, Young & Co., courtesy of the Library of Congress.

The scene in 2022:

These two photos show the old stone fort at Ford Rodman, located on Clark’s Point at the entrance to New Bedford Harbor. Construction of the fort began in 1857, using granite from nearby Fall River and also from Sullivan, Maine, but it was still incomplete in 1861, at the outbreak of the Civil War. Concerned about the threat of marauding Confederate ships attacking the city’s whaling fleet, local officials took it upon themselves to build a small earthwork fort, which they named Fort Taber in honor of the current mayor. It was located directly to the west of the stone fort, in the distance on the left side of this scene. Fort Taber remained in use for about two years, until the stone fort was was completed enough to be usable.

As it turned out, the fort was never needed to fend off Confederate raiders, and the construction work was not completely finished before the end of the war. The work was halted, but then in the late 1800s the Army began to expand the facility by adding newer artillery batteries on the grounds near the stone fort, along with additional buildings. Although the stone fort did not officially have a name, it was often referred to as Fort Taber, since that name had been assigned to the earlier earthwork fort. However, in 1899 the entire facility was named Fort Rodman in honor of Lieutenant Colonel William Logan Rodman, the highest-ranking New Bedford native who was killed in the Civil War.

The first photo was taken soon after this, around 1906, and it shows the view of the fort from the south, facing toward the entrance to New Bedford Harbor. On the right side of the first photo is the old Clarks Point Light, a stone lighthouse tower that had been built more than a century later in 1804. It had been use until 1869, when a new lighthouse was constructed directly atop the walls of the fort. By the time the first photo was taken the lantern at the top of the tower had been removed, but the tower itself stood here until it was demolished in 1906, probably soon after the photo was taken.

Fort Rodman never saw any combat, but it remained in use as a coastal defense facility throughout World War I and World War II. It was later used as an Army Reserve site, before eventually being sold to the city of New Bedford in the 1970s. Many of the old fort buildings are gone now, and a wastewater treatment plant now occupies a portion of the grounds, but the original stone fort is still standing here. The area around it is now a public park, known as Fort Taber Park.

Peter Tufts House, Medford, Massachusetts (2)

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The Peter Tufts House at 350 Riverside Avenue in Medford, around 1895-1905. Image courtesy of the Boston Public Library.

The house in 2021:

As explained in more detail in the previous post, this house was built around 1677-1680 as the home of Peter Tufts Jr. and his wife Elizabeth. It has an unusual style for 17th century New England homes, as it is built of brick rather than wood, and it has features such as a gambrel roof and end chimneys that did not become common in the region until the 1700s. It was later altered with the addition of dormer windows, and the interior was extensively renovated in 1890, leaving very little original material aside from the frame and the staircase.

The first photo shows the appearance of the house around the turn of the 20th century. Since then, it has undergone a few other changes, most significantly the addition of a small porch at the front door, as shown in the second photo. Overall, though, the house stands as an important colonial-era landmark. It is one of the oldest surviving brick houses in the United States, along with being one of the earliest known examples of a gambrel roof. For many years it was owned by several different preservation organizations, including the Society for the Preservation of New England Antiquities and the Medford Historical Society & Museum. It is now privately owned, although it continues to be subject to deed restrictions that protect its exterior and interior appearances.

Peter Tufts House, Medford, Massachusetts

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The Peter Tufts House at 350 Riverside Avenue in Medford, around 1895-1905. Image courtesy of the Boston Public Library.

The house in 2021:

When the first photo was taken at the turn of the 20th century, this house was mistakenly identified as the Cradock House, based on the belief that it had been built in 1634 by Matthew Cradock, one of the founders of the Massachusetts Bay Company. This would have made it one of the oldest surviving houses in New England, but subsequent research showed that it was actually built several decades later, around 1677-1680. Although not as old as it was once assumed to be, it is nonetheless a very early New England house, and it stands as one of the oldest surviving brick houses in the United States and one of the earliest examples of a gambrel roof.

This house was built by Peter Tufts Sr. (c.1617-1700) for his son, Peter Tufts Jr. (1648-1721). At the time, the younger Peter was married to his first wife Elizabeth (1650-1684), and they had several young children. They would have a total of five children together before Elizabeth’s death in 1684, and he remarried six months later to Mercy Cotton (1666-1715). She was from a prominent family; her paternal grandfather was the famous Boston minister John Mather, and her cousin was Cotton Mather. On her mother’s side, her grandfather was Governor Simon Bradstreet, and her grandmother was Anne Bradstreet, the first published poet in British North America. Mercy and Peter had 13 children who were born between 1686 and 1709, although seven of them died in infancy.

The architecture of this house is unusual for 17th century New England. Houses of this period tended to be built of wood, and typically had central chimneys rather than the chimneys on either end of the house. The gambrel roof was also unusual for this time period, and would not become common in New England until the rise of Georgian architecture in the mid-1700s. Another distinctive feature of the house is its window arrangement, which includes small oval windows here on the front facade and also on the sides of the house.

By the time the first photo was taken, the house was over 200 years old, and it had undergone some exterior changes, including the addition of dormer windows. However, there were even more drastic changes on the interior, which occurred after an 1890 renovation. In the process, almost the entire interior was gutted, leaving only the beams and the staircase from the original structure. Another change, which occurred shortly after the first photo was taken, was the addition of a small porch at the front door, as shown in the second photo.

In the years since the first photo was taken, the city of Medford has grown up around the house. When the first photo was taken, the house was situated on a fairly large lot at the corner of Riverside Avenue and Spring Street. However, most of this property was later subdivided, leaving just a small parcel for the old house. Because it was built long before the modern street network was laid out, the house sits at an odd angle relative to the street and the adjacent houses. Its front facade faces due south, while its neighbors generally face south-southwest.

During the 20th century, the Peter Tufts House was owned by several different preservation organizations. In 1930 it was acquired by the Society for the Preservation of New England Antiquities, which later became Historic New England. The house was designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1968, and then in 1982 it was purchased by the Medford Historical Society & Museum, which rented it to resident caretakers. However, by the early 2000s it was in need of significant work that was beyond the capacity of the historical society. As a result, in 2017 it was sold to a private owner, although it continues to be protected by deed restrictions placed on it by Historic New England, which limit the kinds of exterior and interior changes that can be made to the house.