Life, as anyone who has lived for a time can tell you, is fraught with irony. And sometimes, so it would appear, is death. A case in point is that of our fair town’s own David Sherman Baker; a man who in 1893 was elected Governor of the great state of Rhode Island.
My good friend Joe Beckwith passed away last week. He was a kind and gracious man whom I have known since I was a child.
There are a very few individuals who, in the course of their lives, had a lasting impact on their community. Stillman Saunders was such a man.
When pondering 19th century farming in South County, it’s a sure bet that the seaside village of Wickford is not the first locale that comes to mind. The fact of the matter is though, that there were indeed two fairly large and very successful agricultural enterprises within the confines of this quaint little port town.
Last week we took a good look at the property that now houses the Pleasant Street Wharf boatyard. This week we’ll finish the story around the land at the end of Pleasant Street, with an examination of the parcel that the Wickford Yacht Club now calls home; known in the historic record as the Point Wharf parcel.
The parcel on the west side of the tail end of Pleasant Street, designated in the historic record as the Point Lot, seems to have remained undeveloped and in Updike ownership until around the start of the 19th century when Lodowick Updike II entered into a 10-year lease agreement with shipwright Henry Vaughn and his business partners Capt. Richard Barney, merchant Stukely Himes, and trader and mariner Samuel Carter.
The year 1841 was an auspicious one for young Robert Rodman. The 23-year-old not only married Almira Taylor in April, he also signed a long term lease with his new father-in-law William Taylor to take over the Taylor-owned mill at Silver Spring.
You know, I have got to tell you, I am a huge fan of actor Richard Thomas. Since his breakthrough role as John-Boy Walton in 1971 through numerous Hallmark Hall of Fame movies and television appearances, I have admired his work.
If you could pick one man who has influenced the course of history in both peaceful communities of North Kingstown and East Greenwich, it would have to be Daniel Gould Allen.
Contrary to the information gleaned by Col. Hunter White and published in his book “Wickford & its Old Houses,” the Gideon Carr House on Fowler Street was constructed in 1774 and then sold two years later in 1776 to goldsmith Thomas Bissell Jr.
As you might imagine, my reading preferences always tend towards the historical. I love biographies, well-written straight out history focused tomes, and accurately portrayed historical fiction.
This is a very typical story of an early 19th century South County black family. They lived quiet productive lives in their community and their stories are largely lost to history. The Grandersons left just enough of a footprint in the historic record to allow me to get to know them a bit. They deserve to be remembered.
I guess the only New England accent that is poked fun at more than the shared colloquialism of New Hampshire Yankees and South County Swampers is the high-fallutin’ sound of the Boston Brahmin.
This being the week during which we celebrate our independence from British rule, I thought it only makes sense to take a look at a house in North Kingstown with some actual Revolutionary “street cred”.
Nothing brought more of a sense of dread to the inhabitants of a closely constructed community like Wickford, Davisville, Belleville or any other of the local villages than the thought of a fire racing out of control and consuming homes and businesses one by one.
Perhaps you noticed the little historic cemetery one day while you were waiting patiently in line at the Burger King drive-thru; just in case you were wondering what it was all about, this week as part of our long standing continuing effort to examine all of the historic cemeteries in our fair town, we will stop a while and ponder the life and times of Col. Royal Vaughan and his kin, the permanent residents of this little graveyard.
If recent events during the last few months are any indicator, Chicken Little may have been right. The sky is falling! The sky is falling! Back on July 24 at approximately 2:44 a.m. EDT, a soccer ball-sized meteor entered the Earth’s atmosphere above Lake Ontario and became a bright fireball as it disintegrated.
It’s bird migration season, a time when billions of birds undertake the most dangerous time of their lives – the long journey south to avoid the unpleasant winter weather in the north.
I went to bed last night wondering where the Sun had gone. Then it dawned on me. A little astronomy humor to begin a serious discussion on our life-giving star—the Sun.