Carr-Osborne House

Lizzie Borden would have loved to have lived in this one:   The Carr-Osborne House at 456 Rock St., across the street from the Fall River Historical Society, is a Greek Revival, built by Joseph Durfee in 1843.  It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1980 and underwent an extensive renovation when Bob Karam of Karam Financial Group bought the property in 1985. It is also known as the Durfee-Carr-Osborne House.

From Fall River – A Pictorial History, Judith A. Boss, 1982.  (Right click for better image)

Frederico Santi & John Gacher bought the property from the Presbyterian Church for an incredible bargain at $28,000 back in November of 1977.  Having exquisite taste and a Newport business in antiques, these two gentlemen renovated the house and equipped it with the finest of furnishings. Some interiors can be viewed HERE.

When they decided to sell in 1985, it sold the very day the “For Sale” sign went up.  It was purchased by Karam Financial Group and converted into offices for Karam Financial Services.   The Karam Brothers, politically and socially connected, are a bit notorious in Fall River and own extensive properties from shopping malls to WSAR Radio and oodles in between.  These are the kind of guys who can pick up a phone and make things happen – or not.  It’s curious to ponder who may have tipped them off as soon as that “For Sale” sign went up….

The earliest pictures in Karam’s office of the house show cows grazing on the front lawn.

$28,000 in 1977.  Imagine that.  

Fall River’s Friends Cemetery

Lizzie Borden’s burial site at Oak Grove Cemetery is the most visited gravesite on the entire grounds.

Lizzie’s headstone center, right

But Fall River has many other cemeteries.  Seldom visited is the Friends Cemetery at the foot of Hood Street.  Lizzie Borden descended from a line of Quakers.

The Quakers buried here are vitually unknown for not many of the headstones (of those that *did* have headstones), remain today.

Quakers, known for their modesty, believed having headstones was a sign of vanity.

Residential structures were built right over the graves so this cemetery was actually larger than it appears.

This is one of the very few markers that has legible writing on it.

This view shows part of the original stone wall.  Hardly a space getting respect and reverence, the Friends Cemetery is often used as a “relieving” area for those walking their dogs.

From the Fall River Library website, here is a listing of all the cemeteries in Fall River.

Cemeteries in Fall River

Agudath Achim Jewish Cemetery Newhall Street Contact: Adas Israel Synagogue 508-674-9761	Beth El Cemetery N. Main St. Fall River, Mass. 02722 Contact: Temple Beth El (508) 674-3529
Hebrew Cemetery McMahon St. Contact: Adas Israel Synagogue 508-674-9761	North Burial Ground 1360 N. Main St. Fall River, Mass. 02722 (508) 672-3041 Established 1810
Notre Dame Cemetery 1540 Stafford Rd. Fall River, Mass. 02721 (508) 673-1561 Established 1883	Oak Grove Cemetery 765 Prospect St. Fall River MA 02720 508-324-2750 Established c. 1873 Historical Note: burial place of Lizzie Borden (1860-1927), acquitted of murdering her father and stepmother in 1892.
Our Lady of Light Cemetery Fall River, Mass. 02722 (508) 672-1207 Contact: Notre Dame Cemetery	St. John’s Cemetery 258 Brightman St. Fall River, Mass. 02722 (508) 679-2535 Burials: 1858-1891
St. Mary’s Cemetery Amity St. Fall River, Mass. 02722 (508) 679-2535 Burials: 1875-1891	St. Patrick’s Cemetery 2233 Robeson St. Fall River, Mass. 02720 (508) 679-2535 Established 1876

St. Anne’s Church & It’s Notable Shrine

Located on South Main Street, across from Kennedy Park in Lizzie’s Borden’s Fall River, is this magnificent Catholic Church built by French Canadian immigrants in the early 1900’s.  It is one of the iconic skyline structures immediately recognizable upon the Braga Bridge approach to Fall River.

This structure was put on the National Historic Register of buildings in 1983.

St. Anne’s Parish was founded in 1869 when there were about 500-600 French families in the city.  The Church was founded in 1894.  In 1900, Fall River had a population of slightly more than 100,000 people, of which nearly 40,000 were French.  The surge of French Canadian immigrants at the turn of the Century came from the agricultural crisis in Quebec.  They had a profound influence in the labor, language and culture.  Even by the 1930’s, Fall River still kept sort of a French flavor, and even today one comes across more French and Portuguese names in its local politics, legal profession, and many of the middle class businesses.

French Canadians rose to prominence in Fall River, including Edmund P. Talbot, Fall River’s Mayor from 1923-1926 and again from 1929-1930.   Past Mayor Edward M. Lambert, Jr. is Franco-American.  Ties to church and community is what kept the former mill workers (including the Portuguese and Irish) to remain in Fall River while most of the founding families split when the hard times hit.   Now the French Canadians and those from the Azores are the weavers of a restored tapestry to Fall River’s rich history.  Their hands are no longer on levers and pulleys and spindles,  but their fingerprints are all over what is left and plans for what will be.

Little known to tourists and passing visitors (mostly because it’s not advertised in city brochures) is the below ground level Shrine to St. Anne within the Church.  One has to know where to enter:  an unmarked outside door on the north side.  According to Fall River “Officer Dave” whom I met at the Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast, the Church at one time opened up this space for the homeless.  In short order there were thefts, vandalism and even a death.  The space had also become a safe haven for illicit drug use.  So the parishioners had to re-think that whole be-kind-to-those-less-fortunate thing when it came to free and easy 24/7 access to the Shrine of St. Anne.

The subterranean Shrine is open most all hours to the general public.   It is spacious with a number of “exhibits, as I prefer to call them.  The Shrine of Mother Theresa is astonishingly realistic from all angles.

I forgot what or who this was supposed to be.  I just remember it striking me as rather creepy.

St. Anne was Jesus’ maternal grandmother – although you won’t find that in the bible.

Candles for prayer.

After you delight in the “Shrine Exhibit”, just down the road at Globe Four (really Five) corners, at Globe and South Main is one of the best secrets in town.  You can get the best soft serve ice cream anywhere, right here, in this little French Canadian nieghborhood.

Some Glimpses of Lizzie’s View of The 1900’s

Here’s the painting “The Village Elms” which I believe is hanging over the sofa in the picture postcard below of “Mrs. Borden’s” home in the Highlands.

In the famous crime scene photo of the deceased Andrew on the sofa, note the painting above.  It was the due diligence of Leonard Rebello and Bill Pavao that identified the photo and had the print made that now all visitors to 92 Second Street can see.  Here it is below.

Lizzie Borden was fond of shopping and the theater in New York City. If she was on Twenty-Third Street in August of 1901, the video below is typical of what she would have seen. With the advent of Edison’s “moving pictures” films such as these were taken at many thoroughfares in popular cities throughout the U.S. and Europe. Queen Victoria had died in January of 1901 and only two weeks after this film, President William McKinley would be shot at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York.

Marc Dimon of the Fall River Herald News wrote a cute piece today regarding downtown Fall River. I liked his idea of “preserving” it as it is now. LOL! But it did bring me to mind of what Fall River was like “in Lizzie’s day” as illustrated by these postcards.

Working girls in the mill.

A family takes time out for some fun in their store.

A fancy hearse.

1918 Mary Whittum, 106 Hunter St. Fall River, Mass.” Shelves at left are cans of corn, salmon, Van Camps Evaporated Milk, boxes of Ideal Not-A-Seed Raisins, Zinc covered jars of Heideman Pickles and containers of Euclid Brand Sardines. Signs in the upper right are hanging boxes labeled ‘Ice Cream’ and ‘Nabisco Crackers’ with another sign saying in part- ‘Serve with ice cream.’

1914 Burritt & Chamberlin Drugs Store- 623 Locust St.

1914 – Peckham Dairy 104 Barrett Street at the corner of Peckham Street. Milk bottles can be seen in numbered compartments on the left. There appears to be metal pans, pails and dippers on the right. On the middle shelf is a framed certificate with the heading ‘Dairy & Food Department’ which was likely issued either by the City of Fall River or the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. The circular symbol on the certificate may well be the city’s motto- ‘We’ll Try.’

Gifford’s Jewelry Store – note clerk at left eyeballing shopper.

Rioux Tailors, 85 Purchase St. Fall River, Mass. 1912.

Popular custom of the times was to have a postcard made of your home. This one on Rock Street shows the Central Congregational Church in the background.

1906 “Mrs. “Borden’s home Highland Ave. F.R.,” it shows, we sitting on her sofa in the parlor of her home. There were quite a few Borden families residing in the Highlands. This is definitely not Lizzie. But take note of the painting over the sofa. Another popular print of “The Village Elms” which is the picture above the sofa at 92 Second Street in the crime scene photos.

4th of July Parade – 1918

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1913 – Mr. Hawkins Grocery Store on South Main

And of course the alluring Nance O’Neil

Lizzie Borden’s Grand Tour Money Shortage

On June 21, 1890 Lizzie Borden embarked on a 19 week Grand Tour of Europe. A month and two days later, she would celebrate her 30th birthday while on that Tour. It must have been her best birthday ever. However, according to reports, she would also have to wire home for additional funds, a necessary appeal that must have been a source of great embarrassment to her considering her travel companions.

(Could this be the trunk or one of the trunks Lizzie took on the Tour? Note that no port labels are visible. -from The Spectator, January 22, 1997)

Lizzie was enjoying the thrilling sights of England, Scotland, France, and Italy with sisters Carrie Lindley Borden and Anna Howland Borden, daughters of Colonel Thomas J. Borden (of the “Greater Bordens” and related to Lizzie, albeit somewhat distantly); Elizabeth Hitchcock Brayton, daughter of David Anthony Brayton, (and who later owned and resided in the structure which is now the Fall River Historical Society); Sarah Brayton; Ellen “Nellie” Shove, whose father was President of the Shove Mill; and a chapperone, Miss Cox. Lizzie was truly emershed with the upper crust, i.e., “the cultured girls” who lived on the coveted “Hill”, i.e, the Highlands of Fall River’s elite.

Lizzie certainly didn’t have the cash on hand her companions did for purchasing souveniers. It has been reported she brought home common reprints of cathedrals and famous paintings, but its likely Carrie, Anna, Sarah and Elizabeth bought more expensive items such as fine lace, small sculptures, perhaps even designer clothing. So when Lizzie, who always had a keen eye for quality and exquisite taste found herself cash strapped, it has been reported she wired home for more.

Below is a page from the September 17, 1892 The Illustrated American telling us something a little different and who actually sent her the money needed for her return passage. (Right click image for easier reading and note yellow highlight). I have several issues of The Illustrated American from this era and have found their reporting to be remarkably accurate. However, I find it curious that her passage would not have been booked as “round trip” in the first place. Perhaps the ladies had not booked return passage when they arranged to begin their journey. After all, crossings were frequent and if they decided to return “sometime in November”, there would be plenty of time (and for most of them, plenty of cash) to purchase the return fare.

This issue was released after the Coroner’s Inquest (August 9-11) and the Preliminary Hearing (August 25-31), and Borden scholars will recognize precise testimony from those proceedings.

It is my long time personal belief that it was this trip – the first abroad for Lizzie – that changed her forever. She was transformed during those four months into a woman who, having lived the life of what money could bring – i.e., fine food in restaurants, hot running water, luxurious bathtubs, culture – became steeled in her determination to “have more.” (See my essay in Jules Rychebusch’s Proceedings book of the 1992 Lizzie Borden Conference, “Why We Don’t Know Lizzie”). Less than a year after her return to her unstylish home below “the Hill” in Fall River, the Borden house was burglarized in broad daylight. Shortly after that, Emma “offered” Lizzie her larger bedroom. A year after that Andrew and Abby were murdered. And a year after that – Lizzie, indeed, got “more”.

ÓÓ

In the same issue, which is extensive about the Borden case up to that date, are the following images we have become familiar with. The top photo shows the Borden house and part of the Churchill house to the left. This photo was used for the cover of Marie Belloc Lowndes book: Lizzie Borden – A Study in Conjecture.

What has always puzzled me is what exactly is that thing outside the fence in front of Mrs. Churchill’s house? This is the clearest photograph I have seen and I still can’t figure it out. Couldn’t be a resting spot to tie up a carriage because it is set too far back on the sidewalk. Anyway, it’s driven me nuts for years so if anybody knows, please enlighten me.

 

The Cotton Web: Barnabas Olney & M.C.D. Borden – Fiction Based on Fact?

Back from 4 days in San Francisco where I joined the couple I met at a Raytheon conference last year. They have a little villa in Florence, Italy where I’ll be staying next month with my son, his fiance and my girlfriend who lives in Quincy, MA. They will stay in my home in Payson enroute to the Grand Canyon. We exchanged info on the houses between jaunts of site-seeing and stuffing ourselves with great seafood! San Francisco was cold, cold, cold!!!

Too lazy to create something new just yet so here’s a recycled post.

 

No, it’s not Elizabeth Taylor in this 1960 jacket cover designed by Ray Pollak, but it could have been since Liz looked like that in 1960. Rather the cover depicts the main character, Kitty McCarran, in Barbara Hunt’s 1958, 350 page fictional story centered in Fall River and based on historical fact. It’s basically the story of a poor, 20 year old Irish immigrant beauty who arrives on the steamship Priscilla the day before Christmas in 1901, to stay with relatives.

From the book jacket: “Barnabas Olney, the leading mill owner in Fall River, was a man of deep compassion with a rigid New England conscience that set him apart from the turbulent, grasping commercial world around him. But to Olney’s son, Lucian, sensual and cushioned from the realities of life by his father’s wealth and position, nothing mattered except money and his own pleasure. It was Lucian that Kitty determined to marry. Before long, she discovered that even her iron will was powerless against a code that regarded as unthinkable marriage between an Irish immigrant mill worker and the aristocratic son of a leading mill owning family.”

There are few fiction books on Fall River or the Lizzie Borden case that I would recommend, but I recommend this one. The Cotton Web is a good read because of its basis in fact and the sharp clarity with which Barbara contrasts the lives and lifestyles of these two classes. Anyone who has ever visited Fall River and gazed upon those 5-story granite or red brick mills with their towering chimineys and bell towers, or driven down Main Street, or seen the tenement houses and imagined the weary walk back from a 12 hour work day, cannot help but to relate to the accurate descriptions she so beautifully pens within its pages.

Miss Hunt goes to the heart of the difference between the mill owners/managers and the mill workers in the second and third paragraphs below.

I can’t help but be intrigued by Miss Hunt’s notation preceding the Contents page of her book: “Although the historical events used as the background of this novel are accurate and true, the characters, the plot, and the cotton mills principally concerned in the story are all fictitious. I’m deeply indebted to my Fall River friends for their long memories, their books which they lent me so freely, and their patience in answering my many questions.”

I find it intriguing because of the similarity to a true life scandal involving Matthew Chaloner Durfee Borden’s third son, Matthew S. Borden whose life ended tragically, and the fictional Barnabas Olney’s son Lucian, whose life ended…..well, you’ll have to read the book. But it occurred to me in reading that notation that perhaps Miss Hunt’s “friends”, with their long memories, told her the true story of another of Fall River’s private disgraces concerning a Borden.

MCD Borden was born July 18, 1842 in Fall River. He had one of the best pedigree’s of all Bordens. A contemporary of Andrew Borden (Lizzie’s father), MCD was the 6th of 7 children born to Colonel Richard Borden (1785-1874) and Abby W. Durfee. He married Harriet M. Durfee in 1865 and they had 7 children, including 3 sons. MCD was the driving force that set Fall River back on a path of upward expansion. He represented the Borden-Durfee interests in New York. With the Braytons he founded the BMC Durfee Trust Company, converted the Iron Works completely to textiles and built the largest textile corporation in the United States. He was a compassionate man regarding his employees and his mills were not struck by the labor unions when his relatives’ mills were. He died May 27, 1912 in Rumson, Monmouth, New Jersey.

But he had his own scandal. His son, Matthew, had fallen in love with the daughter of a Jewish tailor, one Mildred Negbauer. Not having the kind of pedigree for a Borden to marry into, this incurred MCD’s wrath. It turned into a scandal when it was found out the impetuous Matthew had actually secretly married the “low class” Mildred. MCD stepped in and persuaded her to accept payment to have the marriage dissolved. She accepted the payment, and the young Matthew went on to graduate from his father’s alma mater, Yale University. Matthew then went on to medical school and became a doctor. However, after which, he and Mildred renewed their torrid romance. About 4 years later, they re-wed, again without his father’s blessings and the angered MCD Borden actually disinherited this youngest son. In fact, it was reported that Matthew asccepted a million dollars not to contest his father’s will. In the summer of 1914, Dr. Matthew S. Borden, while driving in Cape May County, New Jersey, was racing a locomotive to a grade crossing. The train won. Matthew lost his life, taking the lives of three others with him.

So, did the parallels in The Cotton Web find some inspiration from the tragic true life events? Was MCD Borden Barbara Hunt’s inspiration for the character of Barnabas Olney? Were some of the characteristics and experiences of Lucian Olney meant to be partially based on Matthew S. Borden? Maybe. Maybe not. But the similarities are striking.

Sources:

Rumson, Shaping a Superlative Suburb (The Making of America Series), Randall Gabrielan, Arcadia Press, p41.

The Durfee-Borden Connection, Men in Business, Robert K. Lamb essay, edited by William Miller.

 

The Dinner Pail

Fall River’s industrial greatness was once measured by the total number of spindles it had, and was known as the “Spindle City”. It was also known as the “City of the Dinner Pail”, the title of Jonathan Thayer Lincoln’s 1909 book exploring the dichotomy of mill owners and mill workers and the need for management and labor to better understand each other. If the towering smokestacks were the iconic symbol of the power and prosperity of their owners, the dinner pail was the iconic symbol of that class of poor men, women, and children who labored long and hard within those mills. What follows beautifully captures the era and importance of “the dinner pail”. Kudos to you, Alice. :)

THE DINNER PAIL —Alice Grinnell Killam (American Heritage Magazine)

“In the years since I have had to use the services of a baby-sitter, inflation has hit this little business. I was amazed to find that the rate per hour has more than doubled. My grandchildren are baby-sitters, and they make a lot of money. Listening to one of their conversations, I discovered that accompanying fringe benefits are important to them and are carefully considered before they accept jobs: large color televisions, for instance, and families that leave out lots of snacks.

I couldn’t resist a lecture on how tough things were when I was young and how lucky they were to be able to earn money so easily. I had a different way of earning money, and memory came flooding back as I described it.

I was born in Fall River, Massachusetts, a hilltop city overlooking Mount Hope Bay, an arm of Narragansett Bay. These deep blue waterways were carved out by the same glacial activity that forged a chain of long, narrow lakes east of the hill, which funnel into the Quequechan River. With the force of the lakes behind it, the river descends rapidly with a fall of 130 feet in one half mile before it joins the waters of the bay.

As early as 1700, gristmills and iron-works were standing along its banks, and when a few decades later the spinning jenny made such improvements in the weaving of cloth that what had been a cottage industry moved into mills, the swift Quequechan proved an ideal site for them. Eleven mills were strung along the banks of the lakes in 1872, and there were forty-three by 1876. By 1900 Fall River was largely given over to the weaving of cotton cloth.

The mills were enormous affairs, three stories high, built of the granite that was abundant in the area. They were insatiable in their demand for workers. Sometimes whole families labored in them, and what long hours they worked! The starting whistle summoned them to the job at seven o’clock and, except for a toot at noon, didn’t blow again until five-thirty, with no coffee breaks and only a half-hour for lunch. The short lunch break posed a problem in getting these hardworking people fed. It was before the days of company cafeterias, and there wasn’t time enough to go home. This is how my friends and I earned our spending money. We carried dinners to the mills, either for our parents and relatives or for families whose children were grown.

Fall River has been called the City of the Dinner Pail. Although I haven’t seen a dinner pail in many years, I remember it well. It was made of galvanized tin, had three nesting compartments, and a bail handle. A hot drink in the bottom compartment kept meat and potatoes warm in the smaller compartment above. A still smaller compartment on top held dessert, and a tight-fitting lid covered the whole thing. Thus this ingenious pail carried a whole dinner. The meals were prepared at home and carried by us children to the mills. The school day was broken up into two sessions, with a two-hour break in between, so at eleven-thirty hundreds of school children poured out of my school, rushed home to pick up the dinners, then set off for the mills, hurrying to get there before the noon whistle blew. There was no lingering to talk with friends on the way, but coming back I could saunter along if it was warm. If it was cold, I wasted no time getting back to my own warm dinner. I remember walking through snow up to my hips and through drenching rainstorms that made it feel as though my journey was a long one. But it couldn’t have been very far if I walked to the mill and back, ate my own dinner, and got back to school by one-thirty.

So it was that I began my working life at the age of seven. We were very poor but weren’t aware of it since all the families we knew were poor too. There was nothing unusual in women going to work as soon as the youngest child was in school. So when my younger sister started school, my mother went back to her old job as a weaver, and I was considered old enough to bring her lunch. After all, my grandmother, who had been born during the Industrial Revolution in England, had actually worked in a mill from dawn to dusk when she was just a year older than I. All I was asked to do was carry a pail. I felt capable of it and proud to be “carrying dinners” along with my friends.

The weavers worked in a downstairs room. To get to it, I opened a heavy door at the top of a flight of brass-bound stairs that led to another heavy door at the bottom. I was so short that the bottom of the pail bumped on the steps as I went down. The handle was not rigid, and the pail tipped perilously at each bump. The brass bindings were loose, and I was terrified that I would trip on the step and spill the dinner pail’s contents. Each trip down was a nightmare as I made my way, step by step, until I reached the bottom and struggled to open the other heavy door. Only then could I relax my viselike grip on the pail and breathe a little more easily as I crossed the spinning room: rows and rows of spindles where that marvelous spinning jenny quietly twisted the yarn into thread.

On the other side of this room was the door to the weaving room. I always hesitated before opening this door; the noise from the clattering looms, combined with the hot, oily smell, was a blow in the face, and I hated to go in. Hundreds of looms were lined up here, each working away with a life of its own. I would watch fascinated as the shuttle carrying the warp flew back and forth between the two rows of thread, while the heavy harness banged each row taut. It always looked as though the harness was trying to catch the shuttle in mid-flight, and I would wait nervously for the disaster to happen. But in spite of appearances, the looms were well under the control of the workers, who paced back and forth between the rows, changing bobbins and watching for imperfections in the woven cloth, each one tending from two to six looms. Spoken communication was impossible, but the workers became adept at carrying on long conversations in sign language. I couldn’t understand all of it, but I watched with admiration as they talked. A woman told my mother of a telephone call she had had, and the motions of her hands described the conversation perfectly.

The end of my journey came as I delivered the pail to my mother, its contents intact. At twelve o’clock the looms stopped, and the weavers were free to enjoy their lunches in the deafening silence.

We were paid twenty-five cents a week for this work. It doesn’t sound like a demanding job; the pain was in the doing of it every day. Many children carried two pails in each hand, and I remember one enterprising boy who used to load six or eight pails into a wagon. For a while I carried dinner to a supervisor who thought it beneath his dignity to be seen carrying a pail home at night. He paid me an extra ten cents a week to carry the pail home for him.

The job began to seem to be beneath my dignity, too, as I neared the end of grammar school. After struggling through a particularly heavy snow-storm, I told my employer not to expect me if we had another one. My days as a dinner carrier came to an inglorious end when I didn’t appear after the next storm and was abruptly dismissed. I can’t believe my own callousness in not thinking of the poor soul who missed his dinner!

Naturally, my grandchildren thought this was a pretty hard way to earn twenty-five cents. Looking back on it now, I can see benefits other than the money. The walk to the mills in all kinds of weather strengthened our legs, and the fresh air sharpened our appetites. It isn’t the long walk that I remember most when I think of those days. Rather, it is the rattling of loose brass as I crept down the steps toward the pandemonium and my mother’s smiling face.”

Maplecroft Neighbors: Lizzie on French Street

(Recycled post)

Here’s a question I’ve pondered from time to time: Of those French Street and nearby neighbors, who might have visited Lizzie Borden that last year of her life? Weak and not recovered from her gall bladder operation, who went a-calling? No mystery in finding out who lived nearby; more difficult is assessing which neighbors would have visited her. One can only speculate. Here’s a scan from my 1926 and 1927 Fall River City Directories. Let’s take a peek at a sampling of those neighbors

.

 

Directly across the street from Lizzie at 309 French was Mrs. Emma Lake. Her son, Arthur Lake praised Lizzie in Joyce Williams’ Casebook, but there had been a property dispute between Lizzie and Mrs. Lake after Lizzie acquired half a lot adjacent and wanting it for an open park. It would seem Lizzie and Mrs. Lake ended their friendship on ugly terms. Perhaps Arthur was never made aware of that dispute.

Lizzie’s nearest neighbor to the east would be at 328 French Street, shown above. The 1926 Directory shows this house as apartments with Edwin Belcher a tenant and school teacher Harriet E. Henry (listed in the Directory as “Hervey”). By the time of printing of the 1927 Directory, Edwin Belcher is no longer a tenant. This property was purchased in 1925 by Harriet and then sold to Charles C. Cook, Lizzie’s business manager, in trust for Lizzie about 7 months before Lizzie’s death. That particular transaction would end up being reviewed by the State Supreme Court, but we’ll skip the details for now. This property is alternately referred to as the Henry House or the Davenport House (a previous owner and relation to Harriet). Note: The rod iron spiked fencing separating the properties was installed by Lizzie.

Lizzie’s nearest neighbor to the west, 324 French, would be John T. Swift. Swift was the lawyer Alice Russell, her conscious weighing heavily, first told of the dress burning incident. Had Swift not advised Alice to tell it to District Attorney Hosea Knowlton, we would not even know who Lizzie Borden was 115 years later. Shown here left to right is the Swift house, Maplecroft, and the Henry/Davenport house. Photo taken in 1998.

 

The next house east is 344 French where the widow Mrs. Isabella Hooper lived. Perhaps she and Lizzie visited? Exterior re-hab has been going on for years with this house and it looks much better in 2007. This photo was taken in 2005.

 

Across the street and slightly east from Maplecroft, this structure existed in 1926 but I’m unable to locate the number from the 1926 or 1927 Directory. It is now a commercial property and often referred to as the “Baker” lot. Lizzie bequeathed to Charles Cook “my so-called Baker lot on French Street across from where I live.” I took this photo in 1999.

At the southeast corner of French and Belmont was John Summerfield Brayton, Jr., a BC&C (Big Cheese & Connected) whose crowing bird annoyed Lizzie and made her nervous over a quarter century before she died. Did John and Mary Brayton visit Lizzie? I don’t think so.

At 257 French was Everett M. Cook, Vice President of BMC Durfee Trust Company. Another BC&C, like so many on French Street.

At 243 French was Elizabeth J. McWhirr, widow of Robert A. McWhirr, who may have been related to the great McWhirr department store. Did she go a-calling on Lizzie? I don’t think so.

 

At the southeast corner of French & June at 421 June was Marion Jennings – the daughter of attorney Andrew Jennings. It’s safe to say she did not call upon Lizzie. It’s further safe to say Marion had no knowledge of what lay inside an old hip bath covered with a tarp up in the attic of this house. Most likely, neither did Lizzie.

ON ROCK STREET:

Carrie L. Borden is listed in 1926 at 492 Rock Street, but in 1927, only her sister Anna H. Borden. These ladies went on the Grand Tour with Lizzie in 1890. It is my educated guess that they were the two sisters that spoke in confidence to author Edmund Pearson when he was writing his long, first essay on the Borden case in Studies in Murder. It’s highly doubtful these ladies went a-calling to Miss Lizbeth of Maplecroft.

At 618 Rock was Jerome C. Borden, son of Cook Borden and Grace Hartley Howe’s uncle, and strong supporter of Lizzie in 1892-93. Jerome succeeded Andrew as President of Union Bank, but it’s doubtful Jerome ever presented his calling card at Maplecroft during Lizzie’s last year. While most genetic threads were woven tightly, some weaves became irreparably tattered.

At 451 Rock Street was the formidable Elizabeth Hitchcock Brayton, whose nephew, having inherited this stately granite beauty, donated it to the Fall River Historical Society in 1935.

Actually, the 400 thru 700 blocks of Rock Street in 1927 reads like a Who’s Who of Fall River. However, after Lizzie died, Fall River had about one good year remaining before its economy and stratified society would fade and dissolve like so much smoke drift from the iconic mill chimineys that marked its once great prominence and vitality.

BACK TO FRENCH STREET

The interesting thing about French Street is that at #96 French Street, just west of Rock Street, we find Gertrude M. Baker, long time English teacher at BMC Durfee High School. (The 1927 Fall River High School Yearbook, “The Durfee Record”, is dedicated to Gertrude Baker). Gertrude owned a summer house on the beach in Linekin, East Boothbay, Maine. She was a friend of a later friend of Lizzie’s, Miss Helen Leighton (we’ll get to her in a moment) but the important thing is through this thread that bound, Miss Baker was a founder and Treasurer of the Fall River Animal Rescue League from 1914-1930. It seems more a gratuitous gesture for service rendered than one steeped in a personal friendship that Lizzie left Gertrude $1,000 in her Will. Miss Baker never married and when she died she left her money to her close friend, Helen Leighton, along with her beach house in Linekin. Lucky Helen.

Helen Leighton struck half of the mother lode upon Lizzie’s death being one of two primary legatees. Seven years younger than Lizzie, Miss Leighton graduated from nursing school in Fall River a month before Lizzie went to Trial for the double hatchet homicide. Helen had been nurse and companion to Eudora Borden Dean, daughter of that very wealthy Captain of Fall River Industry, Jefferson Borden. Smart Helen. In 1913, she had successfully solicited money from Lizzie to start the Fall River Animal Rescue League of which she became its President. Clever Helen. She moved to Boston in 1919 and Lizzie visited her there, taking in galleries and the theatre. She moved to Brookline, MA. in 1924, and when she died in 1947, newspapers reporting on the Borden case were found stuffed inside the walls of the Linekin beach house.

So there they are: Gertrude, Helen, and Lizzie – they could have all three been sisters judging by how they looked in these photographs. It’s anyone’s guess as to who introduced who to whom in this three-some, a constellation in orbit around Lizzie’s moon. These dames were really out of the same mold. Same hair styles, same glasses, same kind of dresses. I can almost visualize them at the Animal Rescue League Board of Directors meeting or even taking their time walking through some museum in Boston or New York. Not exactly your party-hardy type broads. Uh uh. But oh so very proper, yes indeed. Decorum, decorum, decorum. All were proper spinsters who loved animals. None ever married or had children of their own to enrich their lives, to nurture, to enjoy, to love, and who would return that love.

Grace Hartley Howe hit the other half of the mother lode, inheriting half of Lizzie’s half of Maplecroft, furniture, jewelry, books, carpets, personal effects, etc. Grace’s grandfather was Cook Borden, a brother of Abraham, Andrew’s father. In 1926, Grace and her husband Louis are in the 1926 Directory as having a residence at 636 Rock Street, but in 1927 Grace is living at 464 Locust. Louis McHenry Howe was chief advisor and political strategist to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt but lived in the White House, visiting his family at their Westport residence in Horseneck Beach. (Louis would die in 10 years and be buried at Oak Grove with FDR attending his funeral.) But here we see Grace was literally in walking distance to Lizzie in 1926 and 1927, and surely she must have visited her. I have long believed Grace was called by the Reverend Cleveland of the Church of Ascension and was at Maplecroft when Lizzie died. She would have been, after Emma, the next and, literally, nearest of kin. Ten years after Lizzie’s death, two years after the final probate of Lizzie’s Will, and one year after her husband died, Grace was appointed Postmistress of Fall River by President Roosevelt.

Of these three women, Gertrude, Helen and Grace, two (Helen and Grace) gave newspaper interviews in the week after Lizzie died. One other woman, definitely not neighbor nor friend of Lizzie’s when she died, also gave an interview – Nance O’Neil. Nance met Lizzie in 1904. By 1927, Nance had successfully transitioned from the stage to motion pictures. In the newspaper interview she remarked on Lizzie’s kindness, refinement, and intelligence, downplaying their relationship and characterizing it as “ships passing in the night.” She was not named in Lizzie’s Will. Nance lived long enough to have read several books on Lizzie published prior to 1965. Her ashes are entombed with her husband, Alfred Hickman at Forest Lawn cemetery in Glendale, California.

I think Lizzie was probably always ladylike and refined and masked her inner angst and depression when in public. We know she let that mask down with Miss Leighton, who, after Lizzie’s death, commented so definitively on Lizzie’s loneliness and depression in her later years. The Roaring Twenties, shorter skirts, bobbed hair, Lindberg racing across the Atlantic through the skies while she, Lizzie never did anything in a hurry. The “Flapper Age” must have come on like gangbusters and not suited her at all, much like the sexual liberation of the 1970’s to the Born Again Christians. No, I don’t think Lizzie liked the changing times. She was nervous and depressed enough and now all this fast living. (Mammy to Scarlett: “It ain’t fittin’, it just ain’t fittin’).

I can envision her, in her last year of life, sitting on her window box seat in her summer bedroom in Maplecroft. More alone and isolated than ever with only a tiny few who ever came a-calling. Dressed in a stylish lounging gown, too weak to go up and down the stairs every day, she would have spent much time wistfully looking at the houses below and at the young people coming and going. Perhaps a young man honking the horn of his tricked out Model T Ford for his girlfriend to come out. Twenty Three Skid-doo. I envision one of Lizzie’s dogs in her lap feeling the gentle strokes of her hand as she remembers a quieter time of proper deportment. The era of when ladies were ladies and conducted themselves accordingly was gone forever. Stroke…….Sigh……Stroke.

No wonder our “Lizbeth of Maplecroft” preferred Dickens and Trollup over F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Sources:

1926 & 1927 Fall River City Directory

Unveiled: Miss Helen Leighton by Leonard Rebello, Lizzie Borden Quarterly, October 2000, Vol VII, #4.

1927 BMC Durfee H.S. Yearbook.

Last Will and Testament of Lizzie Andrew Borden.

Knowlton-Pearson Correspondence, Fall River Historical Society.

Famous Actors and Actresses on the American Stage, vol. 2, by William C. Young, 1975.

Lizzie Borden- Past and Present, Leonard Rebello, Alzack Press, 1999.

Conversations with Robert Dube, owner, at 306 French Street, August 3 & 5, 2007.

 

ANOTHER TATTERED TALE ON THE FABRIC OF FALL RIVER

Jul. 7th, 2007

Deja vu. And yet another mill closes in Fall River. Since 1945 Quaker Fabric has been in business in Fall River, and more than one generation has worked in its many plants. But today it announced its closing in the Fall River Herald News. http://www.heraldnews.com/homepage/x268217792

It’s so sad to me that the once vibrant city of Fall River, which had its true glorious decade in the 1870’s but still kept a pulsebeat by the many looms and other machinery clickety clacking, clickety clacking every day. As the spindles diminished so did the sound, until only a faint echo of what was once the lifeblood of Fall River could be heard.

I feel for those workers. I feel for the town. Fall River has never really fully recovered from the 1928 fire and subsequent Great Depression. It’s vitality and importance to the nation in its production of cloth are memories and entries in history books. What remains is the spirit of the working class of Fall River…they remained when the “Hill notables” sold and moved out. They stayed on, generation after generation. The lifeblood of Fall River. They had community through their neighborhoods and their churches and their mom and pop businesses. Some prospered and bought those homes on “the Hill” but many more of the poor continued their blue collar work. There were still some mills left where factory work could still be found and a living could be made. And there also remained the empty five story brick and granite structures reminding all of what once was. But Quaker Fabric provided work and the true “fabric of Fall River”, like their parents and grandparents and great grandparents before them, continued to work.

And now another closes. Sad. So terribly sad in so many ways. Gone are the glory days of Quaker Fabric in Fall River. Deja vu.

From it’s website: http://www.quakerfabric.com/aboutus.htm

 

Tags: fall river, fall river herald news, quaker fabric