Years

Theodore Roosevelt’s Carriage Accident, Pittsfield, Massachusetts

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The scene of an accident involving President Theodore Roosevelt’s horse-drawn carriage and an electric trolley, on South Street near Wampenum Brook, on September 3, 1902. Image courtesy of the Harvard Library, Theodore Roosevelt Collection.

The scene in 2023:

These two photos show the spot in Pittsfield where Theodore Roosevelt was nearly killed when a trolley collided with his carriage while he was traveling through Pittsfield during a speaking tour across New England. Although he survived the accident, his Secret Service bodyguard was killed, making it the first time that a Secret Service agent was killed in the line of duty while protecting the president. Roosevelt himself suffered a leg injury that developed into a life-threatening infection. His leg never fully healed, and the injury may have ultimately been a contributing factor in his death 17 years later.

The accident occurred on the last day of a two-week trip across New England. Roosevelt had been president for just under a year at this point, having become president after William McKinley’s assassination in September 1901. His New England tour involved campaigning for various Republican congressional candidates, in an effort to maintain Republican control of the House and Senate. Over the course of the two weeks, Roosevelt traveled through Connecticut, Rhode Island, eastern Massachusetts, Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont. He spent all day on September 2 traveling throughout central and western Massachusetts, including stops in Millers Falls, Orange, Athol, Fitchburg, Leominster, Worcester, Springfield, and Westfield, before spending the night in Dalton at the home of Governor Winthrop Murray Crane.

The next day, September 3, Roosevelt gave a speech at the town hall in Dalton. He then traveled to Pittsfield, gave a speech at Park Square, and then visited former U.S. Senator Henry L. Dawes at his house on Elm Street. From there, he continued south on his way to Lenox, and the route was to include a brief stop at the Pittsfield Country Club. Roosevelt traveled in a four-horse landau that driven by David J. Pratt, a coachman and livery stable owner from Dalton. Along with the president, the carriage also included Governor Crane, Roosevelt’s aide George Cortelyou, and his Secret Service bodyguard, William Craig.

Also traveling south on South Street was car 29 of the Pittsfield Street Railway, which was being operated despite an earlier agreement with the mayor to suspend trolley service while the president was in Pittsfield. It had a large number of passengers who were apparently hoping to see the president speak at the country club, and its crew consisted of conductor James T. Kelly and motorman Euclid Madden.

About a mile south of Park Square, South Street crosses a bridge over railroad tracks. From there, the road goes downhill for about a quarter mile to a culvert over the Wampenum Brook, before beginning an incline toward the country club. Back in 1902, the trolleys ran on South Street along a single track that was generally in the center of the roadway. However, the roadway narrowed just beyond the culvert, and the tracks shifted over from the center to the west side of the road. This meant that southbound vehicles driving on the right side of the tracks would run out of room once they got across the culvert, and would have to cross over the tracks at an oblique angle in order to continue southward.

This is what David Pratt did as he was driving the president’s carriage along South Street at around 9:45 a.m. However, just as he was starting the turn, trolley car 29 was approaching this same spot. Exactly how fast motorman Madden was traveling was later subject to much debate, but he was unable to stop in time, and struck the front left wheel of the carriage, along with the horse that was directly in front of it. The impact threw both Pratt and Secret Service agent William Craig from their elevated positions on the box, and the trolley dragged the carriage and horses for about 40 feet before it came to a stop.

In a subsequent newspaper article published on September 5, 1902, Governor Crane’s secretary John B. Smith provided a description of the accident. He had been traveling in another carriage behind the president’s, and he observed:

I was riding with my back to the horses. As we moved along the electric car passed, or rather whizzed, by. My judgment was that it went at a speed of about 20 miles an hour. I then made some remark about the speed of the car to those in the carriage with me. Suddenly our carriage came to a halt. The stop was so quick that I thought something was wrong, and I immediately stood in my place and looked ahead. I quickly saw that something had indeed happened.

I have read in some newspapers of shrieks and cries that greeted the collision. As a matter of fact there was not a shriek. On the contrary, the silence was awful and appalling. People looked at one another, but said not a word, nor was a cry raised. The terrible feeling that the president of the nation was in that wreck seemed to silence everybody.

Of course, in less time than it takes to tell it we had left our carriage and gone forward. At first it appeared that there was a perfect mass of men entangled in the wreck. As I approached the scene I saw the governor rise. One look at his face and I knew that he was unhurt. Then the president appeared. He, too, was apparently unscathed, but a bit dazed. For a moment he seemed clearly angry and indignant. He quickly conquered and controled himself. In fact, he acted admirably throughout the whole trying situation and after.

Although Roosevelt and Crane were able to walk away from the accident, William Craig was killed instantly. After being thrown from the carriage, the trolley wheels passed directly over him. Pratt, the carriage driver, was badly hurt when the injured horse fell on top of him. He suffered a dislocated shoulder, a sprained ankle, and cuts to his face, and the initial news reports incorrectly stated that he was not expected to survive. 

As Smith described, Roosevelt’s initial response was anger, upon seeing that Craig had been killed. The two men had been friends, with Craig having served as his bodyguard for a year after Roosevelt became president. He directed his anger toward the motorman, Euclid Madden. According to the next day’s Boston Globe coverage, Roosevelt told him:

This is the most damnable outrage I ever knew. If you lost control of your car, there is some excuse, but if you tried to pass us, disregarding all our warnings, you ought to be punished.

Other accounts add that Roosevelt shook his fist while saying this, and then questioned Madden about why he was operating the trolley in such a manner, to which Madden supposedly protested that he had the right of way.

Following this confrontation, the president and his party went to the home of Maroa Stevens, a 53-year-old widow who lived at 539 South Street, directly across from the scene of the accident. There, Roosevelt’s surgeon Dr. Lung treated his injuries, which included a cut on his lower lip, bruising and swelling on his face, and a black eye. He also bruised his left shin, although it took time to realize the seriousness of this particular injury. Dr. Lung also treated George Cortelyou here, who was hit in the back of the head during the accident. They spent about a half hour resting and recuperating here, and in the meantime Craig’s body was removed, Pratt was transported to the hospital, the injured horse was euthanized, and a new carriage was obtained for the president.

The top photo was taken in the immediate aftermath of the accident, facing north up South Street. On the far left side is the president’s carriage, and in the center of the scene is car 29, the trolley that was involved in the accident. It appears to have been moved backwards away from the site of the accident by the time the photo was taken. Just out of view on the far right side is the Stevens house. It seems unclear whether Roosevelt was still here when the photo was taken, or if he had already continued southward.

Roosevelt made brief appearances at his scheduled stops for the remainder of the day, but these tended to have a somber tone, given the circumstances of Craig’s death. At Lenox he spoke to a crowd in front of the Curtis Hotel, telling them:

We have met with an accident. One of our party, a faithful friend, has been killed. He was the most faithful man I ever knew, and my children fairly worshiped him. Our driver is undoubtedly fatally injured. Under the circumstances, it is, of course, impossible for me to say more to you than that I deeply appreciate your kindly greetings. I ask that you not cheer or applaud.

He made similar stops in Stockbridge and Great Barrington, and then in New Milford and Bridgeport, Connecticut, before boarding his yacht in the evening and sailing back to his home in Oyster Bay. Over the next few weeks, he would downplay the seriousness of his own injuries, including a speech on September 15 when he reassured his listeners that “it takes more than a trolley car accident to knock me out, and more than a crowd to tire me.” However, the reality was that his shin was becoming dangerously infected, leading to an emergency surgery while on the campaign trail in Indianapolis on September 23. The procedure involved draining an abscess, and it was extremely painful for Roosevelt, who chose to not have anesthesia. He made it through, but the infection ended up returning, and he needed a second operation on September 28. This time, Roosevelt’s pain was eased by some whiskey and cocaine.

The president was in a wheelchair for the next few weeks, but the leg never really fully healed, and it would remain a chronic issue for him for the rest of his life. In fact, it may have ended up being a contributing factor in his death in 1919, which is believed to have been from a pulmonary embolism. Given Roosevelt’s adventure-seeking lifestyle and his general disregard for his personal health, it’s obviously hard to pin down exactly what may have led to his relatively early death at the age of 60, but it is certainly plausible that the nagging injury from the trolley accident may have played a role in it.

In the meantime, both the conductor and motorman were arrested after the accident and charged with manslaughter. They would both eventually be indicted and plead guilty, but in the end only Madden was prosecuted and sentenced for it. His statement, which he gave on the day of his arrest, tells his version of the accident:

We were going down the hill not faster than eight miles an hour. I had the power off and the brake was on a bit to hold the car in check, as there were lots of teams and a big crowd at the foot of the hill. I was not watching any particular carriage, but was keeping my eye out for all. When we were about 10 feet behind the president’s carriage, Mr. Pratt suddenly swung his horses across the track. I reversed the power but could not stop the car in time to prevent the accident. When the car struck the wheel horse and the carriage, Mr. Craig fell, right off the seat in front of the car. I did not see David J. Pratt at all, and I do not think that anyone in the carriage fell out, as near as I could see. After the car struck the carriage it was pushed about the length of a car and a half. I have been on the Pittsfield road just a year, and until two weeks ago was on the Pontoosuc division when I was transferred to the Country club route. I have lived in Pittsfield nearly all my life, and my home is now at 117 Alder street, where my wife and five children live.

One of the rumors that soon began circulating was that Madden was being pressured by the people on the trolley to speed up, so that they could arrive at the country club in time for the president’s brief stop. Many witnesses did state that the trolley was going at a high rate of speed, including the governor’s secretary who, as quoted earlier, estimated the speed as 20 miles an hour. But Madden denied hearing anyone instructing him to go faster, and stated that even if he had heard them, he would not have done so.

Interestingly, the street railway company gave their full support to their employees. Their lawyer represented them in court, and neither were terminated. Kelly was back on the job the day after his release, and Madden, who ended up spending six months in jail, received his full salary throughout his incarceration and was subsequently reinstated at the end of his sentence. This, of course, raises questions about why the company was so supportive of them. Were they fiercely loyal to their employees? Or, as the rumors alleged, had he been pressured by company officials on the trolley to travel at an unsafe speed, in order to arrive at the country club before the president? Did they make a deal with Madden to have his back as long as he kept his mouth shut? It’s hard to say for sure, but it certainly seems plausible.

The accident also raises a number of hypothetical what-if scenarios. Had the timing of the accident been off by just a few seconds, or if Roosevelt had been sitting in a different part of the carriage, it is entirely possible that he, rather than Craig, could have been crushed beneath the wheels of the trolley. Likewise, his infected leg could very well have resulted in his death, if not for the two successful operations. Because Roosevelt had been vice president before succeeding to the presidency after McKinley’s assassination, and because there was no method for appointing a new vice president at the time, the next in line for the presidency would have been Secretary of State John Hay. Roosevelt considered this possibility ahead of his first surgery, and spoke to his Secretary of War, Elihu Root about becoming Secretary of State, since he did not think that Hay would be up for the task of the presidency. However, because Root was neither appointed nor confirmed as Secretary of State, it seems unclear how this would have played out if Roosevelt had died on the operating table.

In the long run, an untimely Roosevelt death from this accident would have far-reaching implications throughout the 20th century and beyond. Not only would it have meant a different foreign policy rather than Roosevelt’s imperialism, but it also would have meant that he would not have been around to play the spoiler in the 1912 election, which may have meant no Woodrow Wilson during World War I. This would have meant a different American approach to the war, which in turn would have potentially changed the timing and outcome of the war. Which of course would also affect World War II, the Cold War, and many other aspects of world history.

But, hypothetical scenarios aside, here in Pittsfield the city seems to have been eager to move on and forget about the time that they almost killed the president. But, for Euclid Madden, it was not so easy to escape his notoriety from the accident. He remained in Pittsfield for the rest of his life, working for the street railway and later for General Electric, and he died in 1931 at the age of 69. And, of course, his role in the accident would follow him to the end. His death earned him a lengthy obituary in the Berkshire County Eagle, but almost the entire article was focused on the accident that he had been involved in nearly 30 years earlier.

Here on South Street, there are no historical markers or any other indications of what occurred on this site in 1902, and the street itself looks very different from its appearance in the top photo. The narrowness of the old dirt road had been a contributing factor in the accident, but this is no longer an issue, with two paved travel lanes and a center turn lane. The trolley tracks that once ran down the middle of the road are long gone, and even the culvert, which had played a central role in the accident, is now barely noticeable except for the guardrails on the side of the road. Probably the single most significant surviving landmark from the accident is the Stevens house, where Roosevelt received first aid. It still stands on the right side, although it is not visible from this angle.

The text of this article is based on Episode 9: Damnable Outrage from my Western Mass History podcast. For more information about the accident, check out the episode, or listen to my other episodes about the history of Western Massachusetts.

For more then-and-now images of the accident scene, see the posts here and here.

Town Center, Ashfield, Massachusetts

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The town center in Ashfield, around 1891. Image from Picturesque Franklin (1891).

The scene in 2024:

These two photos show the town center of Ashfield, looking east on Main Street from the corner of Norton Hill Road. In the center of both photos is the town hall, which was formerly the congregational church. It is one of the most architecturally significant early 19th century meetinghouses in Western Massachusetts, with a distinctive ornate steeple, as shown in the top photo. The top of this steeple has been temporarily removed for restoration work, which is why it is missing in the bottom photo.

The meetinghouse was originally built about a half mile south of here on Norton Hill Road, adjacent to the Hill Cemetery. Construction began in 1812, with Colonel John Ames of nearby Buckland as the contractor and presumed architect. Ames had built several other churches prior to this one, including ones in Marlborough and Northborough. However, he did not live to see this one completed, because he committed suicide on September 4, 1813. According to the 1910 book History of the Town of Ashfield, Franklin County, Massachusetts, “the contractor, broken in health by hard labor, heavy responsibility and fear of loss, committed suicide by cutting his throat with a chisel in the back part of what is now the cemetery on the hill.”

The building was eventually completed in 1814, and it stood on its original location until 1856, when it was moved down the hill to its current location on Main Street. The church hired a Mr. Tubbs of Springfield to move the building at a cost of $700. However, this ended up being a challenging task, as described in History of the Town of Ashfield:

The contract with Mr. Tubbs was made about April 1st, but as it was a late spring that year the moving could not begin until May 15. As the house was built facing the east it could be started straight ahead. It proved to be a much heavier building than Mr. Tubbs had supposed, and his apparatus broke several times and had to be replaced. At no time could it be moved without raising up the back end so that the whole house would pitch forward. The house was taken straight across the old road south of John Sears’ bam and into the road again at the turn. As anyone can see, it would take a large amount of blocking here to get the house across the hollow, and the moving committee had to hustle around for more. Here Mr. Tubbs struck and said he would go no further with it unless the committee would furnish a team to move the blocking. This, they had not agreed to do but they finally bought a pair of oxen, Mr. Tubbs agreeing to furnish the driver. The oxen were kept in Mr. Moses Cook’s pasture which then came to the road and included what is now Charles Bassett’s mowing lot. In going down the hill it was found necessary to hitch on a big boat load of stone to keep it from going on too fast. When it had arrived at the place where it was to stand, the contractor was going to leave it on the blocking pitched down hill, and the committee had to give him $80 more to put it on the foundation. People now living who saw the moving think the building inclined three or four degrees from the perpendicular, and was very noticeable.

Here at its new location, the building continued to be used as a church until 1870, when the First Congregational and Second Congregational churches merged and moved into a newer church building across the street. The older building was then sold to the town of Ashfield, and it became the town hall. Over the course of the 19th century, the town made a series of improvements and repairs to the building to make it functional as a town hall, including repairing lightning damage after the front of the building was struck in 1897.

Aside from the town hall, there are two other buildings visible in the top photo. Immediately to the right of the town hall is a Greek Revival style home, which was built in the first half of the 19th century. According to the Massachusetts Cultural Resource Information System (MACRIS) documentation for this house, it was the home of the Knowlton family by the 1850s, and was later owned by Archibald Flower. During the early 20th century, the artist William Curtis lived here, and by 1927 it was the Georgianna Inn, which was run by Georgianna Corbett. The house originally did not have a front porch, but one was added around the 1880s or early 1890s, as shown in the top photo.

Closest to the foreground, on the far right side of the scene, is another 19th century building. According to its MACRIS form, it was built around 1835 by Josephus Crafts as a general store. His brother Albert Crafts Sr. later took over the store, followed by Albert’s sons Albert Jr. and William, and it remained in the family for just under a century, until it was sold in 1934. As built, the store was one and a half stories, as shown in the top photo, but around 1894 it was significantly expanded with a full second floor.

Today, more than 130 years after the top photo was taken, all three buildings are still standing, notwithstanding the significant alterations to the store in the foreground. The historic meetinghouse remains in use as the town hall, although it is currently missing the top of its distinctive steeple due to repair work. There have also been some other changes in the area, including the fire station just beyond the town hall, but overall this scene is still very recognizable from the top photo.

First Church, Mount Washington, Massachusetts

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The First Church of Christ in Mount Washington, Massachusetts, at the corner of East Street and Cross Road around 1893. Image from Picturesque Berkshire (1893).

The scene in 2024:

Throughout its history, the town of Mount Washington has been one of the smallest communities in the state in terms of population. It is located in the midst of the Taconic Mountains in the southwestern corner of the state, with only a few roads leading out of the town. This isolation, combined with its mountainous terrain, limited development in the town, and it never grew much larger than a few hundred residents.

Unusual for Massachusetts communities is the fact that, for many years, the town lacked an organized church. Although settled by colonists around the 1750s, and incorporated as a town in 1779, Mount Washington would not have its own church building until 1869, when this Carpenter Gothic style building was built at the corner of East Street and Cross Road. This site is the de facto town center, since town hall is also located here. The current town hall building was constructed in 1855, and it stands in the distance beyond the church in both photos. Otherwise, though, the development here consists of houses that are scattered along the roads that radiate outward from here.

The church was dedicated on November 24, 1869. The following week’s Pittsfield Sun provided a short description of the event:

The new Union Evangelical Church at Mount Washington, just completed at a cost of $2700, by the efforts of the surrounding churches in the south part of the county, was dedicated on Wednesday of last week. The sermon was preached by Rev. Dr. Gale of Lee, and prayer offered by Rev. Mr. Phelps of Egremont. Nearly the entire population of the town were present, most of them coming in sleighs. The meeting house stands at the base of Taconic Dome, and is a gem among the mountains.

The town’s population stood at about 250 people at the time, and it would see some growth over the next few decades, eventually reaching over 400 by the time the top photo was taken in the early 1890s. However, the town’s population experienced a precipitous decline in the early 20th century. The lowest recorded population in Mount Washington was just 34 people, in both the 1950 and 1960 censuses. Since then, the population has grown, but it remains low compared to its 19th century figures, with 160 residents as of 2020.

Due to the lack of growth in the town, not much has changed in this scene since the top photo was taken more than 130 years ago. The church still stands, and it is home to an active congregation, and the town hall in the distance likewise remains in use.

Town Center, Montgomery, Massachusetts

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The town center on Main Road in Montgomery, Massachusetts, around 1892. Image from Picturesque Hampden (1892).

The scene in 2024:

Throughout its history, Montgomery has been one of the smallest towns in Hampden County, with a population that has never even reached 900 at any point. It is nestled in the hills to the northwest of Westfield, and it was first settled b European colonists around the 1760s, before becoming an incorporated town in 1780. Its population fluctuated during the 19th century, reaching as high as 740 by 1840, before plummeting to 393 a decade later. It steadily diminished in population over the next century, reaching as low as 141 in 1930 before seeing steady population growth during the second half of the 20th century. Nonetheless, the town remains small and rural, as shown in these two photos.

This site is usually referred to as the town center, mainly because it is the site of the meeting house and the town hall. However, this was never a true village or population center, as historically the town’s development consisted primarily of farms that were scattered across the landscape. But, because this spot is near the geographic center of the town, it was a logical place to gather for church services and town meetings

The town center consists of three Greek Revival-style buildings, as shown in the top photo. On the right side is the Montgomery Community Church, which appears to have been built in 1848 on the site of an earlier 1797 meeting house. The property had been owned by the town until 1848, when a new town hall was built immediately to the west of it, as shown in the distance to the left of the church in the top photo. The old meeting house was then sold to the town’s Congregational church, which subsequently built the current Greek Revival structure. A year later, in 1849, the town’s Methodist society constructed their own church building across the street, as shown on the left side of the scene.

Despite this late 1840s construction boom here in the town center, the town’s population was by this point on a downward trend. The 1850 census showed 393 inhabitants, and it would continue to decline for many decades afterwards. Both churches struggled to sustain themselves, with the Methodists only holding services in the summer and fall. The Congregational church eventually closed in the late 1860s, and the building was later used by a Second Adventist group.

By the time the top photo was taken around the early 1890s, the town’s population had dropped to under 300 residents. All three of the buildings from the 1840s were still standing here, and they were joined by a carriage shed, which was built around 1890 in the distant center of the scene.

Today, more than 130 years after the top photo was taken, not much has changed in this scene. The landscape is more forested, making it difficult to get the exact same angle as the top photo. The trees also hide the buildings on the right, but they are still standing, although their uses have changed over time. On the left side, the former Methodist church is now the town hall, and it has been expanded to include space for the town offices, library, and senior center. On the right side, the old town hall is now the historical society, and the former congregational church is now the Montgomery Community Church. The late 19th century carriage shed is also still standing, and collectively these buildings stand as a well-preserved example of a rural town center.

Church and Academy, West Granville, Massachusetts

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The Second Congregational Church and the West Granville Academy at the corner of Main Road and Beech Hill Road in Granville, around 1892. Image from Picturesque Hampden (1892).

The scene in 2024:

These two photos show the church and school in the village of West Granville. The town of Granville was incorporated in 1754, and it originally included the modern-day town of Tolland, which is located immediately to the west. Geographically, it is a large town, and even more so in the 18th century, when the combined area of modern Granville and Tolland was over 70 square miles. It was also one of the largest towns in Western Massachusetts in terms of population; during the first federal census in 1790, it had 1,979 residents, making it the seventh-largest town in the region, ranking higher than places like Springfield and Northampton. A decade later, the population had risen to 2,309, which was the third-highest in Western Massachusetts, behind only West Springfield and Springfield.

Because of the geographic size and population growth of the town, it soon led to the need for more than one meeting house. The original meeting house was located at the main village in the eastern part of the town, but in 1778 a second meeting house was built here in the western part of the town, as shown on the left side of these photos. At the time, it was known as the Middle Parish, because Tolland was at the time the western part of Granville, but it later came to be known as the West Parish after Tolland became a separate town.

The building is perhaps best known for its association with the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, the first ordained black minister in the United States. He was born in 1753 to a white mother and black father, and they were evidently unwilling or unable to raise him, because when he was five months old he was indentured to David Rose, a resident of Granville. Haynes grew up in the town, and he remained here after the end of his term of indenture at the age of 21. He went on to serve in the American Revolution, and he also developed a talent for preaching.

In 1780, Haynes was licensed to preach. Then, when the the church here at Middle Granville was formally organized in 1781, Haynes was invited to serve as the supply pastor, acting in an interim role in the absence of a permanent minister. He remained in this role for four years, until he was formally ordained in 1785. Newspaper accounts of the event indicate that his ordination occurred in Granville, but they do not specify which meeting house, although the event likely occurred here in this building. Haynes subsequently became the pastor of the church in Torrington, Connecticut, before moving to West Rutland, Vermont and then South Granville, New York, where he preached until his death in 1833.

In the meantime, the meeting house here in West Granville underwent some changes during the 19th century. According to the building’s MACRIS inventory form, the projecting front part of the building, with the three doorways, was probably added around 1837, while the Gothic-style details were added later in the 19th century. The Gothic style is evident in the four small spires atop the tower, along with the pilasters on the front corners of the building.

The smaller building just to the right of the meeting house is West Granville Academy, which was built in 1837. At the time, public high schools were rare, and instead many towns had private academies instead. Here at West Granville, tuition cost around $3.00 to $4.00 per term, plus $1.50 per week for board. The school attracted not only students from Granville, but also from other communities in the region. Among the teachers here was Russell H. Conwell from the town of Worthington. He taught here around 1863, and he later went on to become the founder and first president of Temple University. The academy closed later in the 19th century, as public high schools and larger private academies became more prevalent, and the building was subsequently acquired by the church for use as a parish hall.

The top photo was taken around the early 1890s, showing the view of the meeting house and academy building from the south. By this point Granville was, like most of the other rural hilltowns of Western Massachusetts, in the midst of many years of population decline. These towns generally followed a similar trend of rapid population growth in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, followed by a slow but steady decrease in population in the mid to late 19th century, as new generations of residents moved to industrial cities for greater opportunities, or moved westward to more productive farmland. After the separation of Tolland from Granville in 1810, Granville’s population reached as high as 1,649 residents in 1830. However, this number dropped to 1,061 by 1890, and would reach as low as 655 by 1920.

Granville would again see population growth in the post-World War II era, as widespread car ownership made it more practical to live in rural towns and commute to cities for work. However, with 1,538 residents as of 2020, the town is still smaller now than it was two centuries ago.

As a result, Granville retains much of its historic rural character, including the meeting house and old academy building here in West Granville. As shown in the bottom photo, both buildings are still standing. The academy is essentially unchanged on the exterior, while the meeting house has seen only minimal changes, primarily the removal of the Gothic pilasters on the corners, which were evidently taken down around the 1970s or 1980s. It stands as one of the oldest surviving church buildings in Western Massachusetts, and both the meeting house and the academy are part of the West Granville Historic District, which was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1991.

First Congregational Church, Blandford, Massachusetts

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The First Congregational Church on North Street in Blandford, Massachusetts, around 1892. Image from Picturesque Hampden (1892).

The scene in 2024:

These two photos show the First Congregational Church in Blandford. It was built in 1822, and it was designed by Isaac Damon, a prominent local architect who was responsible for designing a number of churches in the area, including similar ones in Springfield and in Southwick. The building here in Blandford is characteristic of his style, which featured a mix of late Federal and early Greek Revival features.

The building replaced an earlier meeting house, which had been slowly constructed over a span of 65 years. Work had begin in 1740, around the time that the town was settled by Scots-Irish colonists, and it was used throughout the 18th century, although it was not finally completed until 1805, less than 20 years before it was replaced by the present-day building. The need for a new building may have been in part due to the significant increase in population in Blandford by the early 19th century. From a population of 406 in 1765, the town had grown to 1,778 by the 1800 census. The population would fluctuate in the subsequent censuses, but it remained above 1,500 people throughout the early 19th century.

However, as was the case throughout the hilltowns of Western Massachusetts, the population declined precipitously in the second half of the 19th century, eventually dropping to under 900 people by the time the top photo was taken in the 1890s. The church building underwent some changes during this time, including a renovation in 1866. This work was primarily on the interior, but it also included some exterior work, such as reducing the size of the second-story windows. At some point during the late 19th century a chapel was added to the rear of the building, but it was removed in 1937.

Today, more than 130 years after the top photo was taken, very little has changed in this scene, aside from the house behind the church. The exterior of the church has remained mostly unaltered, and the interior is also well preserved. It is no longer actively used for church services, but it is owned by the Blandford Historical Society and used as a venue for weddings and other events. It stands as perhaps the most distinctive landmark in the town, and it is one of the most architecturally significant early 19th century church buildings in Western Massachusetts.