This breezy, multi-image article by Lisa DeJong of The Plain Dealer (Ohio’s largest newspaper) is about a few different out of state visitors to the B&B.
Aside from her repeated references of the murder weapon being an axe instead of a hatchet, it’s a delightful digital tour inclusive of the grave site, the New Bedford courthouse and Maplecroft. And a special featurette – that cutie pie, Alex Woods. Enjoy!
It’s been a harsh winter for Fall River. Severe snow storms have prevented new owner, Donald Woods (also owns the Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast) from proceeding with electrical and plumbing repairs and upgrades for an early April opening.
Read HERE.
Be sure to click thru the many interior photos by Dave Souza of the Fall River Herald News and previous articles written by that intrepid “all things Lizzie,” reporter, Deborah Allard – all of which will bring you up to date.
2006
2016
This image shows a side view of “Maplecroft’s” garage, not often seen.
The property next door to “Maplecroft” (as shown above) owned by Michael Brimbaugh, has been on the market for over two months. Brimbaugh and girlfriend, Stefani Koorey, have moved out after making improvements and prepping the property. Brimbaugh is building a new home in Westport.
Read Herald News article HERE with photos of interior.
This house was once owned by Lizzie Borden, indirectly. She had
instructed her business manager, Charles Cook, to purchase the home in
his name in 1926 the year before she died. When she passed away in
1927, this house was part of her estate.
“According to Len Rebello, in Lizzie Borden Past & Present (1999), “Charles Cook
sold the Henry property (house and land next to Maplecroft) to Mary K.
Buxton on March 14, 1928, for $10,000 but did not record the sale to
Lizzie’s estate. The property was purchased in December 1926, for
$12,000 with Lizzie’s money. However, the deed was in Mr. Cook’s name.
Lizzie had purchased other property and deeded it with Mr. Cook’s name
as trustee for her. This was a practice to avoid publicity. Lizzie paid the
taxes on the property and all repairs. Mr. Cook claimed it was Lizzie’s
intent that he have the Henry property when she died. Grace Howe and
Helen Leighton contested. They wanted the proceeds back in Lizzie’s
estate. The Probate Court ruled in their favor. The proceeds were placed
in Lizzie’s estate at a 6% interest rate. The decision of Probate Court was
appealed and heard at the state Supreme Court in Boston in 1932. Mr.
Cook claimed that the “Bristol Court had no right, while considering his
accounts as executor, to hear evidence as to the ownership of the
property.” (“Borden Case Before the Full Bench,” Taunton Daily Gazette,
April 8, 1932: 2) The Supreme Court agreed with the ruling of Probate
Court.” from Every House Has a Story
Meanwhile, “Maplecroft” owner, Kristee Bates, still struggles with bringing her property up to compliance with various codes in accordance with permit processing and issuance – a costly endeavor. Also, the once announced Leonard Rebello and Bill Pavao as co-curators have long disappeared from the scene due to differences of opinion in the renovations (more on that later). But at least Kristee will no longer have that invasive “hawkeye” peering from her now vacated neighbor.
Time to revisit Maplecrof – Lizzie Borden’s home for the entire second half of her life. She had great pride in this house which she nurtured, maintained, and coveted as if it were the child she never had.
Former owner, Bob Dube and current owner Kristee Bates – Fall River Herald News photo
House was purchased on November 21, 2014 by Twilight Enterprises (actually Howard and Kristee).
While its been written and often stated that Lizzie and her sister moved into a mansion on The Hill, the Charles M. Allen house was not a mansion. Newport had mansions – Fall River had stately Victorian homes. “Maplecroft” was purchased in November 2014.
The house even has its own Facebook Page. (A webpage by the new owner is being developed and you can set up a Google alert to stay current. It’s aptly named “Lizzie Borden’s Maplecroft.”)
The Fall River Herald News ran this article on early discoveries Kristee made of her renovation endeavors.
Last year, Kristee sent me fragments of the original wall paper and drapes from Lizzie’s front bedroom which I framed and show here:
Lizzie seems to have favored the darker colors, unlike her dining room paper shown below.
There are attempts to identify and acquire books Lizzie owned which, when signed by her, can cost several thousand dollars. Copies on display in Maplecroft would most certainly lack the “oooohh” and “aaahhh” factor as only things that really belonged to her will deliver satisfaction to visitors. For example, having a tour guide correctly state: “And this is the bed that Lizzie Borden died in.”
The house – as a tourist attraction – will have to be furnished with exquisite and tasteful furniture, fixtures, and other appointments that Lizzie herself would have purchased. Such acquisitions will be costly and difficult to find or otherwise acquire, however, will grant great credit to the new owners if achieved. I wish them the best of success in these endeavors and look forward to their progress.
NOTE: I HAD THE ORIGINAL LETTER IMAGED BELOW IN MY ‘LIZZIE BORDEN ” COLLECTION FOR YEARS. I TOOK IT ON ONE OF MY TRIPS TO FALL RIVER AND HAD THE FALL RIVER HISTORICAL SOCIETY PHOTOCOPY EACH PAGE FOR THEIR COLLECTION. EXCERPTS OF THIS LETTER NOW APPEAR IN THE FALL RIVER HISTORICAL SOCIETY’S BOOK, PARALLEL LIVES – A SOCIAL HISTORY OF LIZZIE A. BORDEN AND HER FALL RIVER.
LATER, I SOLD THE ORIGINAL LETTER ON EBAY (AND I’M STILL SMILING).
(THIS POST WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THIS BLOG PAGE OVER A DECADE AGO BUT WARRANTS A NEW ISSUE).
When Lizzie Borden was in her teens and early 20′s she did attend parties with her contemporaries. She may have attended a party not unlike the one described in the handwritten letter below by Florence Borden, daughter of Spencer Borden. Flushed with the excitement of the evening’s events, the 15 year old Florence wrote “November 30, 1896″ at the top of the letter, but the postmark shows when it was mailed the next day, “December 1, 1895″.
Shortly after acquiring this letter for my collection, I took it with me on my next visit to Fall River and left a photocopy for Fall River Historical Society Curator Michael Martins to help me identify those named within the letter. He wrote a 9-page response and I include the first two pages here to save me time (and space) in providing background and identification particulars of a few mentioned: (Click on all images for larger view)
Note: Parker Hooper (born 1877) was the son of William S. and Isabella Hooper who resided on French Street, three houses east from Lizzie.
Bertha Borden (born 1882) was the 15 year old daughter of Jerome Cook Borden & Emma Borden. Jerome was Lizzie’s cousin who supported her during her Trial.
Young Florence is clearly thrilled with the costumes and those attending. Her letter reflects an almost giddiness in her descriptions. She lived in one of the two grandest homes in Fall River: Interlachen
……and she spent that night with Marion Osborne at the other grand house: the Carr-Osborne House
One generation behind Lizzie, these young ladies and gentlemen were the sons and daughters of Fall River’s elite society on “The Hill”. And while they were only around 8-12 years old when the Borden murder case exploded upon the Fall River scene, they would know of Lizzie all their lives. (Most would live long enough to have read Edmund Pearson, Edward Radin and even a fellow B.M.C. Durfee High School graduate, Victoria Lincoln.)
It would be less than two years after this party that Lizzie would be trumpeted again on the front pages: the Tilden-Thurber shoplifting incident. An oh, how these fine, cultured young people must have gossiped about that at other parties.
Note: Florence doesn’t tell us if any of the ladies came dressed as Lizzie Borden with a hatchet sewed onto their skirt. That would have been shockingly inappropriate. Never would have happened. But today? Hell yes.
(Recycled post – originally published in July, 2008)
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.
(Recycled post)
It’s a brand new year, so I’ve changed up my WordPress theme. I may change it again. 🙂
(Originally posted on 2/26/2008)
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.
NOTE: THIS LETTER WILL APPEAR IN THE FALL RIVER HISTORICAL SOCIETY’S BOOK, PARALLEL LIVES):
When Lizzie Borden was in her teens and early 20′s she did attend parties with her contemporaries. She may have attended a party not unlike the one described in the handwritten letter below by Florence Borden, daughter of Spencer Borden. Flushed with the excitement of the evening’s events, the 15 year old Florence wrote “November 30, 1896″ at the top of the letter, but the postmark shows when it was mailed the next day, “December 1, 1895″.
Shortly after acquiring this letter for my collection, I took it with me on my next visit to Fall River and left a photocopy for Fall River Historical Society Curator Michael Martins to help me identify those named within the letter. He wrote a 9-page response and I include the first two pages here to save me time (and space) in providing background and identification particulars of a few mentioned: (Click on all images for larger view)
Note: Parker Hooper (born 1877) was the son of William S. and Isabella Hooper who resided on French Street, three houses east from Lizzie.
Bertha Borden (born 1882) was the 15 year old daughter of Jerome Cook Borden & Emma Borden. Jerome was Lizzie’s cousin who supported her during her Trial.
Young Florence is clearly thrilled with the costumes and those attending. Her letter reflects an almost giddiness in her descriptions. She lived in one of the two grandest homes in Fall River: Interlachen
……and she spent that night with Marion Osborne at the other grand house: the Carr-Osborne House
One generation behind Lizzie, these young ladies and gentlemen were the sons and daughters of Fall River’s elite society on “The Hill”. And while they were only around 8-12 years old when the Borden murder case exploded upon the Fall River scene, they would know of Lizzie all their lives. (Most would live long enough to have read Edmund Pearson, Edward Radin and even a fellow B.M.C. Durfee High School graduate, Victoria Lincoln.)
It would be less than two years after this party that Lizzie would be trumpeted again on the front pages: the Tilden-Thurber shoplifting incident. An oh, how these fine, cultured young people must have gossiped about that at other parties.
Note: Florence doesn’t tell us if any of the ladies came dressed as Lizzie Borden with a hatchet sewed onto their skirt. That would have been shockingly inappropriate. Never would have happened. But today? Hell yes.
(Recycled from July 21, 2008)
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
4t
1913 – Mr. Hawkins Grocery Store on South Main
And of course the alluring Nance O’Neil
Recycled Post – Another trunk – this one owned by Lizzie. Maybe the hand of Helen Leighton once touched it. 😉
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.
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.
(Recycled from 2007)
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.”
The following interview with film maker Ric Rebelo was conducted in the parlor of the Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast, 92 Second Street, Fall River, in November of 2009. Click the “Click to Play” and after the advertisement ends there will be about a 10 second pause and then the video will begin. You can also click the monitor icon for full screen view. It runs about 16 minutes. Enjoy.
Although Lizzie Borden never attended BMC Durfee High School (built when she was 27 years old), we can search through the yearbooks and find plenty of contemporaries and decendents of those who factored in her life.
The original structure of BMC Durfee High School was built as a donation from Mrs. Mary B. Young to the people of the City of Fall River, in memory of her son Bradford Matthew Chaloner Durfee, who had died at a young age in 1872.
Image by Marcfoto on Flicker
The Yearbooks of BMC Durfee H.S. can be found online through the Ambrose F. Keeley library. I’ve been to this library (and online site) many times over the years and it’s resources are wonderful for studying the history of Fall River.
Ambrose F. Keeley Library at BMC Durfee
If, like me, you enjoy looking over very old yearbooks you will love looking at the ones for BMC Durfee.
The 1922 Yearbook had Victoria Endicott Lincoln Lowe as
it’s editor. “Vicky” was the author of A Private Disgrace, Lizzie Borden by Daylight. Her father was Jonathan Thayer Lincoln who wrote City of the Dinner Pail, and her grandfather was Leontine Lincoln, a very prominent member of the Fall River community.
Leontine Lincoln
The 1927 Yearbook was dedicated to teacher Gertrude Baker. It was probably in the hands of the graduating students before they (and Gertrude) learned Lizzie Borden had died on June 1, 1927. A founding member of the fall River Animal Rescue League, Gertrude received $1,000 in Lizzie’s Will.
A listing of the yearbooks can be found HERE. But the most interesting one is this one 1914 Durfee Record.
Several pages have newspaper clippings of the obituaries of these graduates. From those we learn who their parents were, what they pursued as a career, where they may have moved to, how they died and where they are buried. Obits are always facinating and a great research resource, but you don’t often find them inside a Yearbook. Here, one moment you are reading a high school blurb written of those born in the Edwardian age and the next moment you’re reading of their death in the 1970’s and 80’s.
In this yearbook we find Dr. William Dolan’s daughter, Mary, and 3rd generation funeral director James Edward Sullivan, Delmar Alexander Milne, grandson of the publishing magnate, etc. etc. And of course a Durfee was class President.
It’s a fun trip so enjoy!
Shout out to Roy Nickerson: Check out page 40.
(NOTE: THIS LETTER WILL APPEAR IN THE FALL RIVER HISTORICAL SOCIETY’S BOOK, PARALLEL LIVES):
When Lizzie Borden was in her teens and early 20’s she did attend parties with her contemporaries. She may have attended a party not unlike the one described in the handwritten letter below by Florence Borden, daughter of Spencer Borden. Flushed with the excitement of the evening’s events, the 15 year old Florence wrote “November 30, 1896” at the top of the letter, but the postmark shows when it was mailed the next day, “December 1, 1895”.
Shortly after acquiring this letter for my collection, I took it with me on my next visit to Fall River and left a photocopy for Fall River Historical Society Curator Michael Martins to help me identify those named within the letter. He wrote a 9-page response and I include the first two pages here to save me time (and space) in providing background and identification particulars of a few mentioned: (Click on all images for larger view)
Note: Parker Hooper (born 1877) was the son of William S. and Isabella Hooper who resided on French Street, three houses east from Lizzie.
Bertha Borden (born 1882) was the 15 year old daughter of Jerome Cook Borden & Emma Borden. Jerome was Lizzie’s cousin who supported her during her Trial.
Young Florence is clearly thrilled with the costumes and those attending. Her letter reflects an almost giddiness in her descriptions. She lived in one of the two grandest homes in Fall River: Interlachen
……and she spent that night with Marion Osborne at the other grand house: the Carr-Osborne House
One generation behind Lizzie, these young ladies and gentlemen were the sons and daughters of Fall River’s elite society on “The Hill”. And while they were only around 8-12 years old when the Borden murder case exploded upon the Fall River scene, they would know of Lizzie all their lives. (Most would live long enough to have read Edmund Pearson, Edward Radin and even a fellow B.M.C. Durfee High School graduate, Victoria Lincoln.)
It would be less than two years after this party that Lizzie would be trumpeted again on the front pages: the Tilden-Thurber shoplifting incident. An oh, how these fine, cultured young people must have gossiped about that at other parties.
Note: Florence doesn’t tell us if any of the ladies came dressed as Lizzie Borden with a hatchet sewed onto their skirt. That would have been shockingly inappropriate. Never would have happened. But today? Hell yes.
UPDATE/ADD-ON:
In celebration of Fall River’s Cotton Bicentennial, The Fall River Historical Society hosts a lecture series on Fall River’s textile industry. The location is Bristol Community College, Building B, Room 201.
June 15, 6:30 pm, The Story of Fall River’s 1811 Mill,
Jay J. Lambert.
June 22, 6:30 pm, Terrorism Rides The Rails Into Fall River, Philip T. Silvia Jr., PhD.
June 29, 6:30 pm, The Cotton Centennial: The Biggest Party That Fall River Ever Threw, Robert Kitchen.
*************
In 1911, Lizzie Borden, a half century old, had been separated from her sister, Emma, for five years. They never reconciled and Lizzie lived with her servants the remainder of her life up on “The Hill”. She had the money to buy the things that allowed her to live in total comfort, if not to buy herself into the society to which she had once so much wanted to belong.
It was in 1911 that Lizzie had an elaborate garage built with a “turntable” platform for her car, its own gas pump, and quarters for her chauffeur. It was the year Irving Berlin wrote “Alexander’s Ragtime Band”, and it was the year of the Triangle Shirtwaist Company factory fire on New York’s lower east side, claiming 147 lives. Let’s bring into focus what it was like in 1911:
1. Pneumonia and influenza
2. Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhea
4. Heart disease
5. Stroke
In 1911, Fall River held the biggest event in its entire history: The first mill was built in 1811, and although it had not been an initial success, after one hundred years, Fall River had become – and still was – “Cotton King”, preeminent producer of cotton textiles. So Fall River threw itself a 5 day party to celebrate. To grasp how big and major this was, please read about it HERE.
Leontine Lincoln (white beard) escorts President Taft
In 1911, the founding families still controlled the cotton industry and its bi-product businesses which were the economic engine of the town. These same families also controlled all the shipping, railroads, the town’s transportation systems, banking, and city government itself. The “Hill” people still ruled, and the lesser fortunate, the mill workers, worked long hours at their jobs – but thanks to the unions (and no thanks to the mill owners) those hours weren’t as long as they used to be. Between June 19 and 24th, everyone shared in this mega-celebration and all the festivities. In reading William Moniz’ piece linked above, one can almost see an 8 year old Victoria Lincoln (author of A Private Disgrace) dressed in her finest “Pollyanna” style dress, holding hands and skipping along with her grandfather, Leontine Lincoln. Oh it was a grand time. Chests heaved high with civic pride. Radiant smiles beneath bonnets and bowlers. Never before had Fall River had such an event – nor would it ever again.
Was Lizzie drawn by all the hoopla that week to attend some of the events? Did she just read about it sequestered inside “Maplecroft”? Or did she go to see Spencer Borden’s Arabian horses at North Wattuppa Pond? Did she leave town so as not to be disturbed by it all? Maybe we’ll find the answers “that book” the one we’ve have such an exasperatingly long wait for: Parallel Lives.
Now, in the year 2011, one hundred years after the Centennial, Fall River will celebrate its Bicentennial. A new Cotton Queen will be crowned and rein for the next 100 years. But, sadly, 2011 Fall River is as different from 1911 Fall River as bengaline silk is to polyester. Long gone are the thriving mills, the bustling downtown district, horse driven carriages, the bellowing whistles of the great, grand steamers, and the expansive gardens bordering the beautifully maintained stately Victorians.
Remaining descendents of the founding families are no more a force of power as is the underground flow of the Quequechan River. The Portuguese and French Canadians dominate in business and local politics. Schools are failing, unemployment is among the highest in the country, drugs and assaults are commonplace, potholes and trash dot the landscape. Neighborhoods are splintered; the cohesive sense of community is a thin thread compared to the tightly woven fabric it once was. Instead of growth in population and its economy, Fall River has lost 30,000 of its residents over the past 100 years. It has lost its industry and lost a workforce that valued hard work over entitlements. Industrial, demographic and political shifts have changed Fall River forever. It has not adapted. It has not re-invented itself.
But the underlying spirit of a city is often slow to relinquish its claim to fame. And so Fall River will celebrate its Bicentennial this month. What began in 1811 and reached a pinnacle in 1911 will still be recognized in 2011 through the Mayoral welcoming address, through lectures, and other presentations. However, this time, a sitting U.S. President will not be taking part; the gathered crowds will not approach anywhere near 50,000; and the parade will not be as long. But for those who still care – for those who organize this event – Fall River’s history shall not be denied. Its history of becoming the nation’s leader in textile manufacturing will be trumpeted to a new generation who cares less for what was as for what “now”. I suspect little of any mention will be made of Lizzie Borden during the festivities. Just was well. If Lizzie Borden could see Fall River today, she would not be attending. She would likely consider most events, except the lectures, garish and cheap. She would not approve of the young men in white tank tops and khaki pants hanging so shockingly low. She would not approve of the 16 year old girls with tattoos pushing baby strollers. But mostly she would be filled with sorrow, weeping then sobbing of what had become of Fall River. She would remember 1911 Fall River. The Fall River of her time.
She would find no reason to celebrate this June. No reason at all.
Maplecroft, aka 306 French Street, Fall River, was the much loved and prideful residence of Lizzie Borden. She lived there the entire second half of her life.
The interior is well preserved by its current owner, Robert Dube.
The Mass. Historical Commission has incorrect information. The document states the Borden sisters moved there in 1894. In fact, Lizzie and Emma purchased the home not long after Lizzie’s Trial:
June 18, 1893 – Lizzie declared Not Guilty
August 10, 1893 – Deed recorded for (then) 7 French Street in Lizzie and Emma’s names.
September 2, 1893 – Lizzie & Emma move into (later named) “Maplecroft”
(circa 1974)
(Notice “Bed & Breakfast” sign bottom of lower right window).
(For a short while, Mr. Dube covered up where the top step is carved “Maplecroft”)
There are certain places in Fall River that are photographed repeatedly by tourists and visitors: 92 Second Street (specifically, the living room sofa); Oak Grove Cemetery (specifically Lizzie’s grave); and her French Street home (specifically the carved “Maplecroft” step).
Lizzie Borden’s Trial ended with a Not Guilty verdict on June 20, 1893. By July 12 it was reported in local papers that Lizzie and Emma had purchased the French Street house. They had first considered the “Butterworth” house but the deal didn’t go through.
The papers had been filled with articles about the sisters, the case, the verdict, the upcoming election for Attorney General, Lizzie’s visit to Taunton, the “bombshell” about a new suspect never brought foreward in court (will post soon), challenges to the FR Police to begin a new search for the killer, etc. etc.
Less than two months after the Trial, Lizzie and Emma were purchasing the property at (then) 7 French Street.
On August 10, 1893 the below document conveying the property from Charles W. Allen and his wife Atta was written in the hand of Charles C. Cook, Lizzie and Emma’s property manager. (Cook had served their father for years, became Executor in Lizzie’s will and was a subsequent legatee in both their wills 34 years later.)
Click on images for larger view.
This Deed was written only 6 days after the first of the Fall River Globe’s anniversary articles on the Borden murders. Reports of Lizzie and Emma’s move into the so called “mansion” didn’t circulate until wagon loads of their furniture and other possessions were observed being moved out of the 92 Second Street property. There were raised eyebrows and wagging tongues within the society on the Hill about the speed in which the girls moved there.
The article below is from the New York Times, most likely read by Julian Ralph, Sun Reporter who wrote about the girls post Trial on September 24, 1893.
Well, that last sentence sorta says it all, doesn’t it? Also, if it was true that as Executrix of Andrew’s estate, Emma was required to do those filings to account for it, where are they? Hmmm. Good job, Mr. Jennings. 😉
Lizzie Borden’s former church on Rock Street
Here’s how it went down today in Fall River on the public auction of the former Central Congregational Church.
It’s like this: Raped, pilfered and left bleeding, a warden tosses $250,000 at her naked, scared body as if to say: ‘Here, put this on and come with me.’ And so she goes. Who would have thought all her past beauty and home town history could be bought off so cheaply?
Built in 1875, this Gothic Glamour Girl once before fell on hard financial times. But it was her own membership – composed of the shakers and makers of Fall River, that led the charge to raise the then astronomical price of $82,000 to save her. Thanks to the benevolence and deep pockets of some Bordens and Durfees, not to mention the banker Charles Holmes – the Central Congregational Church was saved. Saved by a handful of her citizens. And what was the purchasing power of $82,000 in 1889 dollars compared to today? Better sit down for this one: $1,868,784.
Flash Forward 120 years: Today’s auction of her raped and pillaged body had no real takers to feed and dress her and nurture her back to her glory and prideful days – none save the bank to whom she was already indebted. There were no deep pocket, benevolent individuals to step forward. There were no “historical society” members (so often pleading for their own survival). The roar of preservationist outrage for saving another tattered thread in Fall River’s architectural weave was nowhere to be heard. So for a mere $250,000 she is auctioned off today. She’s tattered, beaten and bruised. In need of serious attention, of which she will not likely receive, save for public safety. As the weeds sprout around her and her internal organs continue to deteriorate, this grand lady will succumb to the passages of time. The silence of the vox populi serves up less surprise than sorrow.
$250,000. Shame on you Fall River. Shame on the people in Fall River who have the financial means – but looked away. Not quite the same generation or values as those that rushed to the call for action in pledges on February 11, 1889.
If I had a “BFD” category on Lizzie Borden, this post would go in it. From the administrator of the Lizzie Borden Forum comes this statement:
“The Fall River Historical Society has once again allowed us a small glimpse into the world of Lizzie Borden from their soon-to-be-published Parallel Lives: A Social History of Lizzie A. Borden and Her Fall River.
This one is a doozie! Not only do we see Miss Borden in all her jocularity, but we are given in insight that shatters some entrenched myths about this most enigmatic woman.
Lizzie had a soft side.”
Here’s the card.
Well, of course she did. It was a proper thing to do, and Lizzie was all about being proper with regards to the social customs of the times. Sending greeting cards was a common practice in Victorian times and it’s no revelation that Lizzie Borden, always adhering to proper deportment (well, almost always) would send out such cards. The reveal of such a card signed in Lizzie’s hand is hardly a “doozie”, hardly shows us her “jocularity”, and it hardly “shatters entrenched myths” about her. Such claims are gross exaggerations, but I consider the source.
Lizzie Letters that have been published for years in various books already tell us much about her: She was thoughtful, kind, valued the loyalty of her friends, was meloncholy at times, and fully understood what being a Borden meant in Fall River.
David Rehak’s book, Did Lizzie Borden Axe for It? was the first to print the newest found letter in Lizzie’s hand and I think we can make a pretty fair interpretation from it that Lizzie was somewhat vane, and loved the finer things in life. We already know her home was tastefully furnished with expensive furniture, fixtures, wallpaper, drapes, and nick nacks. Her pride (and understanding) of being a Borden was something she did not wish to diminish or change. While she may have altered her first name from Lizzie to “Lisbeth”, she kept her Borden name and stamped its first letter on some of her possessions and even etched it in glass on one of the doors in Maplecroft. “B” for Borden. Yep, Lizzie understood the respect, social cache, entitlement, and expected deportment which came with the name “Borden”.
What will be interesting from the collection of letters, cards, journals related to Lizzie in Parallel Lives will be just when and to whom she wrote them and/or just when and from whom they were written to her. This will serve to indicate who her little circle of friends and acquaintances were. I’m especially interested in who they were in her later years as I wrote about HERE when detailing her neighbors and speculating on whom might have visited Lizzie at Maplecroft during her last years
I suppose we will continue to get these little “peek-a-boos” from the FRHS to spike interest in purchasing their new book, an unnecessary endeavor for Lizzie fans, Fall River history buffs, and Borden case enthusiasts. It’s like a little game of lifting that Victorian skirt an inch at a time – beyond the tights and petticoats, as the skirt is lifted higher and higher, we await a profound discovery – but, alas, there will be none.
The book will deal primarily with the times in which Lizzie lived, i.e., the environment, customs, mores, day to day life in Fall River’s stratified society and the elite who ran it.
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Tattered Fabric: Fall River's Lizzie Borden 
