There is a debate on whether Halloween’s origins lie with ancient Celts (or going back even further to Babylonians) or it is purely a Christian holiday. Some say it was a holiday stolen from Pagans and adopted by Christians to ease the process of conversion. I’d rather follow the old adage “If you want to keep your friends, avoid discussion of politics and religion.”

Ultimately, regardless of its origin, it has morphed into the consumption holiday that we have today – most have no idea about its origins and/or find it unimportant. It’s certainly not a necessary ingredient to celebrating it. It can be celebrated as an American holiday or a secular one, just as Christmas or Easter are. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that there is only a small minority that actually celebrates Halloween as a religious holiday.

If you are interested in the origins and perhaps the debate, the information is ubiquitous and the easily accessed. I’d rather focus on its history here in New England – this isn’t “hard” history, it’s light and tasty. A real treat – pardon the pun.

Of Samhain; Origins of Trick-Or-Treating
The holiday was practiced by the Celts as Samhain and there are aspects of this observation that are still practiced today like the bobbing for apples, wearing of costumes or making jack ‘o lanterns – made from potatoes or turnips.

When the potato famine arrived in Ireland in 1845, many left the Emerald Isle and came to America bringing many of Samhain’s traditions. Before this time, you wouldn’t have seen anything that resembled Hallows’ Evening or Hallowe’en.

The “trick” aspect to trick-or-treat refers to the pranks that mischievous leprechauns or other fae would practice on their victims. The “treat” aspect is manifold: it has its roots in food offerings left out for visiting ghosts so they wouldn’t kill the livestock or curse the household, because beggars would be attracted to these celebrations and people in a festive mood are more prone to make donations, and eventually Christians would offer soul-cakes.

There seems to be a misunderstanding about whether this holiday was “allowed” by the religious leaders in America. The answer is as the Germans would say “jein.” Yes and no. Christianity as we know can be quite diverse. Catholics were OK with the holiday, and in fact, practiced a three version of the holiday called “Allhallowtide” where the faithful would honor and remember martyrs, lost loved ones and saints – which is why it is sometimes called All Saints’ Eve.

While Catholics embraced or observed the holiday, depending on your point of view, many Protestants were not happy at all about it. The difference lay in the belief among these Protestants that returning souls could not come from Purgatory to heaven. Eventually, the sheer number of Catholics coming from the Old World outnumbered those religious folk that did not observe the holiday and it grew in popularity.

Melon Heads
No, not your little brother. This legend shared in Michigan, Ohio, and Connecticut. How? No one knows why they cropped up in three unconnected states.

Who are they? They are reclusive folks with misshapen heads and slender out-of-proportion bodies. The debate is whether they are inbred, a failed government experiment, escapees from a mental hospital or people with hydrocephalus. One thing that isn’t debated, is these feral mutants won’t hesitate to attack you on any foray into the woods.

The legend is so common-place in Connecticut that not only can people tell you the areas that you will encounter them, but can narrow it down to specific streets, like Saw Mill City Road in Shelton or Marginal Road in New Haven. Want more Melon Heads? There’s quite a bit of information to be found online and there’s even an eponymous movie.

Pigman of Devil’s Washboard
With a name like “Devil’s Washboard” it seems like it’s sort of mandatory to have some creepy legend attached to it. Imagine a shaved head person with a pig’s snout that seems allergic to clothing. He likes to run around Northfield, Vermont squealing – preferably with an ax, but has no qualms about biting you.

Since the legend begun sometime in the 1950s it’s had a lot of time to morph and change. In some variants, he is covered in white fur and in others he is a serial killer who runs around with a decayed, rotten pig’s skull for a mask. No thanks.

He seems to single out teenage couples. Like many of these legends, they seem to be a creative attempt to discourage teenagers from hanky-panky. If you’re a girl, you’re somewhat safe: he seems to target boyfriends and leave girls screaming. We don’t know if they were screaming because of the pigman, or that they are happy they finally got rid of lead weight. Even the police with K9s have given him chase.

Let’s hope he stays in Vermont.

Derry Fairy
The Derry Fairy was first revealed to the world by a Derry, New Hampshire man in the 1950s who went into the woods to harvest some Christmas trees to sell. He ran into a 2′ tall little green man, with long, droopy ears, reptilian eyes and wrinkly skin.

After a few moments of staring, both decided to carry about their business – keeping an eye on one another.

The unnamed man had some time to think. Whether for fame, because he wanted a new pet or because no one would believe him, he decided to tackle the little green man and take him home. “I’m going to love him, squeeze him and hug him and call him George.” he must of thought.

Problem was that after he grabbed George, he let out a shrill scream that was so piercing that it stopped him in his tracks and made him unsettled. This allowed George to escape and ne’er be seen again.

Dover Demon
The Dover Demon is a similar legend from here in Massachusetts – this one from the late 1970s. This one started when 17-year-old young man was driving along minding his business when he spots a creature standing on a mortar-less wall. Like the Derry Fairy, he had wrinkly skin, weird eyes but the difference was that the Dover Demon wasn’t 2′ tall, he was more like 9′ or 10′ feet tall and had tendril-like fingers. Great – I could beat up George, but think my chances are much slimmer with his dad.

Soon many sightings followed. Some even swore “…on a stack of bibles.” Of course, the Dover Demon was explained away as a moose, foal or prank. Because we all know how hard it is to tell the difference between a moose and a humanoid. Sometimes I even mistake people for moose, but that’s another story.

Bennington Monster
Bennington, Vermont seems to be a sort of magnet for the supernatural, legends, and myths. Many have heard of the Bennington Triangle – an area of southern Vermont where many people went missing from the 1920s through the 1950s. Maybe related, but perhaps not: the Bennington Monster.

This guy is the quintessential Sasquatch or Bigfoot. He’s the New England version with a far more boring moniker. This one goes as far back to the 19th century when the stagecoach was utilized as a common mode of transport. The story goes that a stagecoach broke down and when the coachman climb downed to work on some repairs, he noticed a massive footprint.

150 years later, he would have watched enough movies to know that this usually is a misdirection, setting you up for an ambush. Since Netflix hadn’t been invented yet, he was ambushed. Out came the Bennington Monster – all hair covered 7′ of him. Luckily for this group, the monster just took his frustrations out on the couch and pounded on it, flipped it over and then ran back into the woods where only his piercing eyes could be seen watching over them.

Since that time, he has been “spotted” over and again. Like all Sasquatch-like creatures, he manages to continue to elude capture or even a clear photograph. Likely he was just Uncle Steve – the one who looks like he’s wearing a sweater, even when he’s shirtless. No, wait – I think I’m getting the hang of dismissing these legends: he was a moose!

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Here is another installment in our Who Remembers? series. You can browse previous articles by using the search bar on the right or by clicking here. These articles are strolls down memory lane. In some cases the buildings are still there, but new businesses have replaced them. In other instances, the buildings or even the properties have been razed. Instead of a building, it may be a TV show, personality, or commercial that no one longer exists. Either way, it can’t stop us from taking the Memory Lane stroll!

As always we would rather this be a discussion. No one knows this area better than those who grew up here! Please, leave constructive criticism, feedback, and corrections. We’d love to hear your anecdotes. Please share!

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In this installment, let’s discuss things we used to do or things we had, that you no longer see. Times have certainly changed – for better or for worse – but often it happens so gradually that it goes unnoticed. It’s only through discussion that you think to yourself “Oh yeah! I totally forgot about that!”

This usually is the precursor to a flood of memories and before long, hours have passed, and many smiles and chuckles have been had. That’s what makes reminiscing so much fun and so popular.

Being born in 1970, I can only bring up those things that “we” used to do and have in the 70s, 80s, and 90s. However, don’t let those of you longer in the tooth, from sharing the things that you used to do or have, yet no longer see.

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1. Keeping the groceries company

Going with mom to the supermarket was exciting enough – it always meant coercing her into buying a bunch of junk in the form of soda, chips, ice cream and candy. It was perfect, because she was usually too preoccupied with her list and checking prices to make sure money was saved. We would strike while in her moment of weakness. Junk food was on the line.

Once the groceries were bought and paid for, we would stuff the groceries (when there was only one choice of packaging: brown paper bag) into the backseat, trunk, front seat, anywhere. Usually there wasn’t much room, so you had to finagle your way in between sacks and make a concerted effort not to squash something, lest there be wrath. Being this close was exhilarating. It also was opportunistic: being in that proximity to the goods, meant rifling through the brown bags was like opening a treasure chest on Oak Island. What would we come across and rip into….and get away with?

Back then, seat belts weren’t much of a focus. So crawling from back seat to cargo area and back was a given. Sure, you’d get reprimanded IF mom noticed. But usually she was too busy watching the road or chatting with her girlfriend. If there were to be an accident, there would be upside down kids covered in milk, bread and eggs. Somehow, it was never an issue and we made it through fine. The other variants of this? Filling the bed of a truck or El Camino, or filling the inside of a van and whipping around the city, or even the highway. You could whip right by a cop with five people in the bed, no problem.

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2. Having endless time to do odd arts & crafts

I distinctly remember macrame being ubiquitous. At home, at friends’ houses, or anywhere else you went you would find macrame sweaters, plant holders, hammocks, tapestries, or some other odd trappings made from the popular craft. It bordered on obsession.

Also popular was making your own jewelry. While today, it seems to be the domain of teenage girls, back then adults really got into making their own jewelry to proudly display. Making your own candles, decoupage, or reusing household junk (or pantyhose) that was heading to the bin or yard sale table, pebble pets, and rock rascals were also pretty common. These recycled and handmade items made great birthday presents, anniversary gifts or Christmas presents. Right? Guys. Hello? Right? Wow. It’s really quiet in here.

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3. Non-Musical albums

Before cycle classes, Zumba, and outrageously priced Sunset-candle-embryo-co-ed-naked-stiletto-aerial-hip-hop yoga by the sea, you threw on your leg warmers, head bands and wrist bands and got a workout with an album. Debbie Drake was particularly popular, but when celebrities got wind of the profits, they jumped on board. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mary Lou Retton and others made some pretty decent coin on the fad.

Also, in this time period, every comic seemed to have an album. Bill Cosby, George Carlin, even Cheech & Chong, who turned the album sleeve into a gimmick: a proper rolling paper.

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4. Having boom boxes

Before digital music players the size of a Susan B. Anthony dollar, there was the boom box. The boom box gave you swag. When you had a boom box, you could walk with confidence, almost authority. You just knew that everyone who didn’t have one, was envious. The boom box was a way to let everyone know who you were, by the music you chose. It was as important to your style as the shoes, shirt and jewelry you wore.

If you were as hip as they came, you got one of the boom boxes with the detachable speakers. That generated some serious “oohs” and “aahs” and put you in the running for “King of the Block.” You were the man. Every chic wanted your number and every friend wished they were you. You just knew it.

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5. Hitchhiking

Felt like seeing the country, relocating, visiting family out of state, or simply wanted to go into Boston for a night on the town, but don’t have wheels? No problem. You stuck out your thumb and hitchhiked. Getting chopped into little pieces or stuck in a dirt pit being told about lotion? “Nah, that only happens in the movies!”

I had forgotten all about this slice of Americana until I went on sabbatical and backpacked Europe. I did a lot of hitchhiking there and it saved me a lot of money. I met so many decent people, and had such an overwhelmingly positive experience, that I thought it was a shame that we couldn’t experience the same back in the states. People were thoughtful, generous, and kind. Some were even emphatic about bringing me to the doorstep of where I was heading. One elderly lady even tried to give me money as I was getting out, to ensure I would enjoy myself in the town she was proud of. Of course, I refused but the gesture left quite an impression. Yes, even elderly women weren’t afraid to pick me up.

Sadly, just mentioning the word “hitchhiking” is enough to conjure up serial killers, horror movies, and perverts. Sigh.

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Which era did you grow up? Do you recall these things? What memories do you have of them? What things would add to this short list?

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The Zeiterion is a respected area icon that has been around for almost a century. New Bedford’s love affair with theater goes back to the 1820s. Before television, before radio, theater was the form of entertainment.

The primary venue for entertainment was the humble tavern. The first historical mention of a tavern providing entertainment for the masses was of “Cole’s Tavern” in 1824 playing “Pizarro,” by German playwright August von Kotzebue. The play was almost 3 hours long and performed by a traveling troupe of black actors.

In those days, uptight folks were appalled at the saucy topic of the popular play and tried to quash the performances. Of course, actions like this backfire and further publicize the venue and the performance. In spite of the popularity of Pizarro, selectman managed to have the show canceled under threat of persecution. The troupe had only ten performances.

But the people had spoken: they wanted to be distracted. They wanted to shed off the toil and stress of the day and be whisked away. “Entertain us!” they demanded. And so other venues began to spring up to supply the demand.

Another popular early venue was “Reverend Dewey’s Meeting House” which served as the Congregational and Unitarian Church on the northwest corner of Purchase and William Streets. Baycoast Bank is there today. The “pious” nature of the subject matter allowed the venue to prosper, and local politicians even allowed rehearsal at the town hall. It would eventually burn down and become the Liberty Hall in 1864. If it was theater, concerts, or lectures, the Liberty Hall was the destination.

A number of circuses cropped up, more theaters, like the Lion Theater which showcased Shakespeare, were built. There was Nelson’s Tavern, Academy Hall, Alcazar Theater, the Big Nickel, Mr. Holmes Meeting House, Union Square Theater Company and many more.

At one point Acushnet Avenue was home to over a dozen theaters starting with Lupo’s in 1897. It was a sort of “Theatrical Row,” where a plethora of shows were offered.

The point being that New Bedford’s theatrical history is a long, interesting, and deep one. There are few bastions of this tradition left, and the Zeiterion is one that is still shining. On the corner of Purchase and Spring Streets, the site was originally Nelson T. Fuller’s blacksmith shop before being sold to Brownell & Ashley Carriages who razed it and erected their factory there in 1862 in the middle of the Civil War. By 1920, Stephen C. Lowe would take over the building and move the carriages into the future with an automobile business offering a line of Cleveland and Chandler cars.

In 1922, the automobile shop would be bought by the Zeitz family comprised of Harry Zeitz (president), Fisher Zeitz (managing director) and Moron Zeitz (treasurer). They owned a number of theaters including the New Bedford Theater and the Empire Theater locally, the Civic Theater in Maine, the Academy Theater in Fall River, and the Paramount Theater in Providence. At this point America had more than 15,000 theaters and they began to install the new fandangled “talking motion pictures.” Their New Bedford Theater would be third in New England to offer these “movies,” beating Boston and Providence to the punch.

They touted their fleet of venues as the “Home of the World’s Largest Pictures.” They would tear down the factory and break ground on the Zeiterion Theater on March 14, 1922. The intention was for the theater to be the place to go for “live performances of vaudeville.” The new venue would respect its foundation in stage performances, but would also have one eye on progress and offer these new movies.

However, the Zeiterion Theater name would last only a few short months and be renamed the State Theater on April 2, 1923. The first performance on that day was a stage show called “Trouble of 1923,” starring George Jessel who was famous for his vaudeville performances, most particularly a comedic skit called “Hello Mama” or “Phone Call from Mama.” From that point onward, the Zeiterion would grow in popularity by continuing to put on some of the nation’s most interesting shows, plays, movies, ballets, concerts and stage shows.

By 1971, the theater was approaching 50 years of age and the powers-that-be felt that the theater needed some modernizing. The grand architecture, marble walls, chandeliers, contemporary leather rocking seats, ivory and old Rosewood were either covered up, removed or replaced.

At some point in the 1970s, the city suffered economically and downtown stopped being a prime destination. The State Theater suffered and eventually closed its doors for good. As time went on, discussion was had over destroying the building altogether. Locals who had fond memories of the theater and cared about local history, began to campaign for the building. In the early 1980s, the Penler Brothers of Paragon Travel donated the theatre section to WHALE, or Waterfront Historic Area League.

The locals continued to campaign for the building and their efforts paid off with WHALE getting further involved and providing $200,000 towards restoration.

The theater would reopen in September 25, 1982 under a new name respecting its origin: the Zeiterion Theatre. The first performance was by singer and actress of stage, film and television, Shirley Jones who had been wowing people for 6 decades.

The Zeiterion continues to provide a broad variety of the best live performances from talent across the world. Recently, I enjoyed my favorite band, the “Gipsy Kings” and the house was positively packed. There is something about a smaller venue that creates an intimacy that is lost in the big arenas. It creates an energy and atmosphere that you just can’t get in the stadiums.

A glance at the Zeiterion’s event list shows that they are booked over a year out for a reason: quality talent is returning to the small venues for the intimacy. Not just intimacy with their audience, but by a world-class, passionate staff of people.

Looking at the venues offered across the nation, the Zeiterion theater comes up as not only an interesting choice because of it’s local history, but also because it is part and parcel of this nation’s theatrical history. To perform in a place like the Zeiterion is to be a part of America’s history as much as it is New Bedford’s history.

Whether it is comedy, a musical, play, theater, or any other possible type of stage performance the best in the world are coming to one of the best venues in the world, our Zeiterion.

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While Cinco de Mayo isn’t an American holiday per se, it is increasingly celebrated by Americans with each passing year. For many, it’s a reason to go out partying, socializing, and drinking tequila, a mojito, or some Tecate with friends – any excuse to have fun. Cinco de Mayo has a feel of a holiday that is about to become an official one since it is celebrated by so many Americans. So what is the real story and significance behind this Mexican holiday? Not the dusty, boring dry version, but the “easy to swallow” version? Maybe one with some fun, facts that you could break out while out and about?

As some of you more astute gringos who took high school Spanish already know, Cinco de Mayo translates as “the fifth of May” and is related somehow to Mexico. So what is the deal with this day and its importance in Mexican history? How did it make its way to the U.S.? Well, hold on to your sombereros and zapatas as we take a stroll through this interesting aspect of history.

Is May 5th when Mexico gained its independence?
Many people incorrectly think Cinco de Mayo is the Mexican equivalent of our July 4th, however, Mexicans celebrate their Independence Day on September 16th – in spite of the fact that they won their independence from Spain on 24th August 1821. Cinco de Mayo came decades later, in 1862, during the height of the American Civil War. The date commemorates the Mexican victory over the French and Mexican traitors at the Battle of Puebla.

So why were the French even in Mexico and why were they there to do battle? In the years leading up to the Battle of Puebla, Mexico had borrowed from England, Spain and France to fight us in the Mexican-American War (1846-1848) and then rebuild afterward.

A few years later in 1855, a Liberal Minister of Justice by the name of Benito Juarez tried to reform Mexico with some very controversial new laws that didn’t sit well with either the populace or other political leaders, especially the Conservatives led by Félix Zuloaga. These laws go beyond the scope of the article, but in general, they revolved around stripping the church and military of power, e.g. enforcing a separation between church and state, seizing church properties not used for worship, and annulling non-civil marriages for example. This incited locals and unrest eventually led to a civil war called The Reform War (1857-1861). Benito needed all funds to quell this uprising, so declared a suspension of all payments to the three nations that he owed monies to for two years.

Three nations coming to collect payment from Mexico
This would typically not be an issue and if there weren’t some deeper agenda, the three nations would have accepted the suspension until Benito and Mexico had moved past the Reform War. In fact, even though all three nations sent troops to recoup payment, England and Spain accepted terms and returned home. But….there’s that agenda. At the time, France was one of the world’s most powerful military forces and like all powerful military forces, expansion was the name of the game.

France under Napoleon III saw an opportunity to expand his global empire and install a French monarchy, by taking advantage of a weakened Mexico. This would also place Napoleon III closer to the United States and in a far better position to stem our growth, lest we become too powerful. He could even pick a side in the American Civil War and help divide and further weaken the nation. What a cunning little hijo de….ahem.

Anyhow, Napoleon III sent General Charles de Lorencez and depending on which historical documents you read or believe, 5,000 or 6,000 troops to land at Veracruz – Mexico’s largest port at the time. From the coast, de Lorencez and his state-of-the-art, abundantly equipped and experienced troops made their way to Puebla and launched an attack on the 4,000 poorly equipped, hodgepodge group of farmers, young Zapotec Indians, and mestizos, led by Texas-born General Ignacio Zaragosa. Charles de Lorencez’s intelligence had come to the conclusion that any show of dramatic force on his part would encourage the locals to turn on Zaragosa – so right up the middle of Zaragosa’s forces went de Lorencez’s cavalry.

Lorencez’s mistake was tripartite: his intelligence about the populace was incorrect, while the opposing side consisted of mainly farmers they were highly motivated, and though it was true that Zaragosa didn’t have experience leading massive armies in warfare on open plains and fields, he did have plenty of guerrilla warfare style experience. The cavalry was tripped up by an uphill trek, ditches and adobe ruins that slowed their onslaught to the point of being overly vulnerable. Zaragosa had his cavalry attack from left and right flanks and had hidden troops bring up the rear. Then nature worked her magic and rains began to fall making the battle zone muddy and slippery.

Ready for round two de Lorencez?
By the time de Lorencez was able to retreat to lick his wounds, he would count 462 of his men dead compared to a loss for Zaragosa of 83 – a thorough thrashing for a battle that lasted half a day. De Lorencez took higher ground hoping Zaragosa would give chase, whereby making himself vulnerable to counter-attack, but Zaragosa let him simmer for a few days. A disappointed, battered and dejected de Lorencez then left Puebla for Orizaba almost 100 miles away.

This was a sound victory for the Pueblans, however, was only one battle of many to come. The following year, France would return with 30,000 troops under General Elie-Frederic Forey and not only conquer Puebla but eventually the capital Mexico City, placing Mexico under France’s rule. Benito Juarez and his government would then retreat to the north and to conspire. Thus began the Second Mexican Empire (1864-1867) ruled by Austrian Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian. This never sat well with the Mexican populace who made sure Maximilian’s military was in constant conflict.

If the United States weren’t enmeshed in a Civil War, we may have prevented Mexico’s fall to France. With the advent of the American Civil War, the American government could now focus on Mexico. President Abraham Lincoln and Benito Juarez both had similar political views and the Lincoln administration did not see France or Maximilian as the rightful rulers of Mexico. In addition, the United States foreign policy was declared in the Monroe Doctrine, which stated it would label any attempt at colonization of the Americas by European powers as an act of aggression that would not be tolerated. The United States pressured France to accede – which it did, leaving Mexico in 1866 under order of Napoleon III.

However, Maximilian had his supporters in Mexico and genuinely felt Mexico was not only his new home but his destiny. Ignoring the direct order of Napoleon III, Maximilian and his troops remained and fought against the resistance. By 1867, he was defeated and executed. Benito Juarez would be restored to power and rule Mexico until his passing in 1872.

Two nations with an interwoven history
Why was that Battle at Puebla important to America? If France hadn’t been set back a year at the battle, it was likely that Napoleon III would eventually fund the Confederate South and would have had a dramatic effect on the outcome. A divided America would be a weaker America and one that could eventually fall to France as it expanded its empire. In addition, General Ignacio Zaragosa was a born in Texas – which was part of Mexico then, making him essentially one of the first Chicanos.

Today this little battle that could, is enjoyed in Mexico and the United States as a celebration of Mexican music, culture, and food. Mexicans and Mexican-Americans alike are thrilled to have non-Mexicans join in the celebration, especially their brethren to the north who helped oust the French. Nothing against the French culture – Americans love Canadians to the North, but it’s nice to have two different cultures on our border. The American identity has a large Latin flavor to it and the Mexican flavor in particular is a beloved one.

by Jim Rose

This story was sent to us by Jim Rose, a reader who was proud of his family’s history and its presence in New Bedford. There are many numbers of ethnic communities in New Bedford which reflect the landscape of most of America – today and of yesteryear. Since America began there has always been a kaleidoscope of cultures in varying degrees coming to what was, and still is, a land of opportunity. In the past we’ve featured Africa-American, Cape Verdean, Portuguese, Italian, and Hispanic cultures. It seems fitting with St. Patrick’s Day approaching that we discuss the Irish presence in New Bedford’s colorful past.

Do you have a family history to share? Some great photos? Please contact info@newbedfordguide.com and let us know!

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These photos, history and anecdotes are a tribute to my great-great-grandfather Patrick Keane who lived in New Bedford from 1870 until his death in 1907.

Patrick Keane was the son of Patrick Keane and Sarah Carrigan, born on March 17th, 1832 in Kilrea County, Londonderry, Northern Ireland. When Patrick was young, his parents moved their family to Scotland (Glasgow) where they first appear in the 1851 census there. They may have moved to Glasgow because of the Great Famine that occurred in Ireland during the late 1840’s.

That same year, at about age 20, Patrick Keane visited the United States for the first time – though there are no records of it. For unknown reasons, he returned shortly thereafter. Upon his return to Glasgow he and his brothers Edward and Michael learned their glass-works trade. The Keane’s lived near St. Rollox Glassworks, and may have initially learned their skill of glass cutting and glass etching from St. Rollox Glassworks. Michael Keane would later ply his trade at James Couper and Sons Glass Works in Glasgow. He was a lauded artisan and brilliant crystal/cut-glass engraver.

Being young and successful, Patrick would inevitably find love and in January of 1859, Patrick married Margaret McWade at St. Paul’s (St Machan’s) Catholic Church in Campsie/Lennoxtown, Scotland. Soon they would build a family, three daughters – Mary Ann, Josephine and Sarah – and a son, Patrick III. Sadly, they would lose Mary Ann to Scarlet Fever in 1862. They would have another daughter named Mary in 1864.

It is likely that Patrick discussed his travel to America and what he saw here and this would influence the decision to take their children and immigrate to America in 1869. His brother Michael would follow him.

The family lived at 167 Bolton Street and would have another daughter, Rosann born in America. He found employ with a William Libbie, who would eventually acquire the iconic Mt. Washington Glass Works of New Bedford. While everyone knows that New Bedford is the Whaling City, it was also known as the City of Light, and the City of Glass. Mt. Washington Glass Works’ presence and history in New Bedford is deserving of an entire article of its own – suffice it say, it was one of the world’s premier glass work facilities.

In 1870, after the death of two year-old Rosann, the family decided to relocate from the South Boston facility to the one in New Bedford. Patrick would purchase a house from James H. Tripp at 41 Wing Street, which was previously occupied and likely built by New Bedford Selectman (and cotton dealer) Thomas B. Bush. Here they would have another child: John McWade. This home would stay in the family for four generations of Keanes. Here Keane plied his trade, making a solid name for himself as one of the region’s best glass artisans.

Things were looking up for the Keanes and in 1872, Patrick and Margaret would add another addition to the family: a boy named Leo Edwin. In 1874, Margaret would give birth to a girl Francis, further swelling the ranks. This may seem a bit “busy,” but keep in mind this was the norm in those days. People had many children since so many died leading up to childbirth and often children would succumb to illnesses at very young ages. Having many children increased the odds of having someone carry on the family’s name. In addition, there were no child labor laws, so the larger the family the more people there was to work on the farm, land or at local mill jobs. Very young children were expected to work in spite of the hazards.

In 1875, Patrick would became a naturalized citizen of his adopted country. Tragedy reared its ugly head in 1877 and three year-old Francis passed away of unknown causes.

In 1881, while playing in a home under construction with other neighborhood boys, Leo Edwin would fall off a ladder and break his neck and die instantly.

In 1882 the Keanes gave birth to a girl named Mary. Unlike the previous Marys, this Mary would live a long life (until 1967) breaking the morbid streak. In 1884 they would give birth to their final child, Lenora Clementine.

In 1885 Patrick would strike out on his own and open a glass-works studio “P. Keane Glass Cutter” on the second floor of the New Bedford Foundry building located at 272 South Water Street. Having an aptitude for business, sometime in the 1880s he also opened a Saloon at 15 Howland Street.

The Keane family was active in music and theater in New Bedford, acting in plays and performing music and singing. Daughter Josephine was an accomplished pianist who taught piano and played in theaters during the silent film era. His other daughter Sarah sang and played piano. There was also a violinist in the family who’s unnamed photo remains as a testament to the Keane family’s love of music and the arts.

In the late 1890’s Patrick Keane exhibited his cut glass work at an industrial exhibition on Weld Street in New Bedford furthering his name and business. He would finally retire in 1907 after five decades in the trade. On December 30th, 1908, Patrick Keane would die from complications of old age. He was laid to rest at his family plot in St. Mary’s Cemetery in Dartmouth Massachusetts, having lived a full life.

Patrick Keane’s penned his last Will & Testament in 1907, which left money to several family members. This will revealed that he owned two homes and a house lot. The second home was occupied by his sister, which his will stated was to remain in her possession until she died.

St. John’s Church bought the house at 41 Wing Street and was planning to use it for a Rectory. The church owned it, but they never got use of it because three of Patrick’s children lived there until they died or moved to a rest home in the 1950’s. Somehow the business savvy Irishman Patrick Keane had an iron-clad contract with St. John’s Church that they could own the house, but his adult children could live there until the day they died.

The Keane’s lineage lives on in the greater New Bedford area and Mr. Keane’s descendants live in New Bedford and Dartmouth. A few Fletchers and Gardners have married into the Keane family. In fact, the founder of Gardner real estate, Bob Gardner, married Patrick Keane’s great-grand-daughter Patricia Harrop. There are even a few Sylvias who have married into the family as well – Frederick Sylvia III worked in the New Bedford school district as a high school counselor, and sons Kurt and Darren Sylvia attended New Bedford schools.

My great-grandfather James Tallman Mosher married Sarah Keane, they lived at 41 Wing Street as well, and raised four children there; between 1886-1927 James & Sarah lived at 41 Wing with the rest of the Keane family, in 1927 they moved to Russell’s Mills.

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Special thanks to John McCreadie of Glasgow Scotland for helping with Patrick Keane and Margaret McWade’s story; he searched cemeteries and researched archives in Scotland (things you can’t find on Ancestry.com.) Jay Avila at Spinner Publications for helping with research on Patrick Keane’s house and where he worked. Joan Barney of the New Bedford Public Library who ofund Patrick Keane’s 1907 retirement story in the newspaper microfilms.

I also want to thank all my family members who contributed. I spent over 4 years (2009-2012 and counting) doing research and contacting people to get as much info as possible on the Keane-McWade family.

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by Andrew O’Leary

70 years ago, U.S.forces stormed the island of Iwo Jima. The amphibious assault, given the benign title of Operation Detachment, was waged for six brutal weeks costing 6,821 American lives, including New Bedford native Corporal Leon J Abrams, a rifleman in the First Battalion, 24th Marines.

Corporal Abrams joined up in 1943 and had participated in the island hopping campaigns in Kwajalein, Saipan, and Tinian, playing his part in turning the tide of the war in the Pacific and putting the forces of Imperial Japan on the backfoot. By 1945, the defeat of Japan may have seemed inevitable to some, but the fanaticism of the Imperial army made clear that a high price would be paid to bring the war to an end.

Military leaders considered Iwo Jima crucial to the strategy of of encirclement and roll back, pointing to the need for Iwo Jima’s airfields to assist B-29 bombing raids on the Japanese mainland.

The iconic image of the Iwo Jima assault remains: Marines’ raising the U.S. flag at Mount Suribachi (immortalized in the Washington, D.C. Marine memorial – replicated also in Fall River.) Lesser known, however, is that the scaling of Mt. Suribachi occurred February 23rd. At this point, a thousand marines and had been killed and over three thousand wounded, but the battle had just begun.

Moving inland, the Marines looked to capture capture Hill 382, the highest point of the island – an area the Marines labelled the “meatgrinder” – where the gain of 100 yards would cost hundreds of lives. The Japanese defenders, almost twenty thousand strong, refused to surrender. In addition, they had months to prepare their embedded defenses on the volcanic island. The Marines would have to force them out and the Hill was not scaled by the 24th division until 2 March.

Abrams fell on Sunday Feb 25, 1945. That day, the attack began at 06:30, with Abrams’ battalion the right flank of an assault on Iwo’s notorious Amphitheater – a rough terrain where no tank support was possible as mortar and machine fired rained down. Leading a four man fire team, non-commissioned officers like Abrams were among the first to fall. The official U.S. Marine Corps history reports that that on that day, it was not surprising that “…as usual, key officers and non commissioned officers were among the casualties.“

Abrams was buried in the Marine plot on Iwo Jima.

See more on the 1/24 Marines here.

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The posh, luxurious Arnold Estate with its splendid grounds. (Spinner Publications)

Series Introduction
Welcome to the eighth installment of the series “Historical Personages of New Bedford.” The previous six installments can be found by using the keyword “personage” in the search window in the column at the right or click here.

My intention with this series is to shine some light on the lesser known names and figures of New Bedford’s past.

I won’t focus on the more popular and well-known figures since they have not only been covered in substantial depth, but information about these figures is something most people already have a cursory knowledge of. Though redundant to say, if any more information is desired, it is readily available and easily accessible.

Some of these great and popular figures got to be well known, wealthy, or famous on the shoulders of names vaguely recalled or ne’er heard. I don’t want to swing all the way to the other side and overcompensate by saying that these great figures would be no one without those you haven’t heard of. Perhaps they would have, but I think since history has traditionally ignored the lesser known figures, let’s give them their due!

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Unlike any of the past installments, this article is per request. Do you have a street or personage that you think – or know – has an interesting back-story? Curious about why it is called what it is? Send your request to nbgarts@gmail.com!

This article is a combination of chocolate and peanut butter – “You got your street article in my personage article!” The James Arnold featured in this article is the one that gave Arnold street its name. If you are a history buff, nerd, or fan, how Arnold Street got its name maybe “common” knowledge. However, there are a lot of people – dare I say the majority – that aren’t privy to many of New Bedford’s historic figures. If you are of the former group, perhaps you may enjoy some little factoids that you weren’t aware of…or even better, perhaps you’ll chime in and embellish.

If you are of the latter group, you will learn about a hugely important figure in New Bedford’s past. A real cornerstone of the city’s success in the 19th century. I hope you’ll chime in too. Hopefully this will pique your interest and you’ll head to the library or book store and read books written by far better authors going into greater depth.

Well born beginnings of a polymath
Arnold Street got its name from a one James Arnold, son of Quakers Thomas Arnold and Mary Brown. He was born in Providence on September 9, 1781. James’ family was a prominent one, so he had interest and access to many academic areas. He was fond of agriculture, literature, horticulture, public speaking, and was a member of the debate society called the Old Dialectic Society. Of temperament, he was said to be impassioned, exacting, disciplined, and in business matters, autocratic.

As he grew into adulthood, he was attracted to New Bedford because of its robust economy, whaling industry and the opportunities those offered. Arnold worked for the family that was responsible for developing New Bedford’s whaling industry in the first place: the Rotches. These whaling moguls owned a number of enterprises including William Rotch Jr. & Sons, William R. Rotch & Company, Rotch Wharf Company, Rotch Candle House, and New Bedford Cordage Company. Specifically he received work under the tutorship of William Rotch III.

James’ first house – a modest one – was built by Jonathan Howland on the corner of South Water and Madison Streets. Arnold’s intellect, temperament, and business acumen helped him rise through the ranks rapidly and he would eventually be made a partner. It would be through his close work with the Rotches that he would be introduced to his future wife, Sarah (Rodman) Rotch, daughter of William Rotch Jr. Sarah was a sort of precursor to businesswoman Hetty Green, in the sense that she had a similar business acumen, was well respected, and intelligent. However, she was well cultured and had a soft spot for the poor of New Bedford.

Sarah had an indelible effect on James and through their relationship she would soften some of his rough edges. They would marry on October 29, 1807. Surely due to the influence of his wife, he began to take a more serious role in the city of New Bedford’s economic environment – something that would help the poor, by creating more jobs.

Post War of 1812
The War of 1812 certainly hurt the economic aspirations of New Bedford and some serious work was needed to get things back on track. Arnold along with many Howlands, Russells, John Avery Parker, Grinnells, Nyes and Rodmans was one of the principals on a committee to recharter the Bedford Commercial Bank in 1816. As a business partner and now family member of the Rotches, Arnold begun to amass a sizable fortune allowing him a greater role in the city and region’s economy.

In 1819, Abraham Russell sold his farm and James would buy a large portion of the land to build what would become an iconic building in the city. In 1821 he commissioned housewright Dudley Davenport to begin work on a home at 427 County Street: a large Federal Style brick house at the head of Spring Street – you know this building today as the Wamsutta Club.

Arnold’s wealth allowed him to not only erect a large home, but his love for horticulture and agriculture could be expressed here. A large amount of monies were spent to create greenhouses, impressive groves, grottos and extensive gardens – in fact, James and Sarah spent considerable time traveling throughout the world, particularly Europe, to find and bring back all sorts of botanical items. These were easily brought back to New Bedford aboard one of the many whaling vessels under his or the Rotches’ employ.

In what was considered rather unusual for the city’s aristocrats, Arnold allowed the public to enjoy his gardens and it was quite popular in its day – in fact, there is mention of “villagers” having Maypole dances and festivities in the gardens and Arnold’s Grove, it was a popular picnic ground on the site. I’d imagine this was through the encouragement of his wife, and because it was a source of great pride. The entire region knew of Arnold’s Gardens and it would garner visitation by many famous people including President John Quincy Adams and Herman Melville. It is sometime in this period that James abandoned his Quaker upbringing and he and his wife became congregants of the Unitarian Church.

The amount of wealth that James Arnold had amassed continued to grow. As he got older, he became more and more interested in city issues and increasingly philanthropic. While he and his wife maintained an anti-slavery stance, their ambitions were focused on the city’s poor.

The Arnolds from 1820s-1830s – political aspirations, serving New Bedford, and various committees
From the late 1820s through much of the 1830s he would spend most of his time not only traveling to improve his gardens, but was very active in the city’s economics. In 1829 he would become the Massachusetts State House of Representatives, the same year he would form a committee with Samuel Rodman, Abraham Gifford, Thomas Greene, and many others to establish the lines of the streets as accurately as possible. Up to that point, the rather pedestrian “red oke” or “crooked black oak” method of defining streets was used, but this led to much confusion. This method utilized a length of oak to define the width of the streets as well as the “run” of the street’s length by flipping the log end to end. It certainly wasn’t a standard that was defined in any specific way. In small towns and hamlets where a few feet here and there weren’t that important, the method was adequate. In the cities, where a few feet meant a difference in revenue, liability, or legality it was a method that simply could not be utilized. This committee established permanent, accurate boundaries across the city – which primarily are still used today.

In the early 1830s, New Bedford went through a sort of recession. Arnold helped form another committee with many other local business leaders to prepare resolutions to help New Bedford economically. This endeared him to many locals, and they rallied to support him as thousands of locals from New Bedford, Dartmouth, Rochester, Wareham, Westport, and Fairhaven signed his resolutions.

He was a president of the Port Society associated with the Mariner’s Home who the Rotches owned. The objective was to help the moral improvement of seamen and to assist them in any way possible through the little recession.

By 1836, Arnold was now 55 years of age and was perhaps slowly working towards less work and more of a retirement lifestyle. He, his wife, and daughter would spend the next three years abroad. On their return, they would find an altogether different economic environment in New Bedford. The whaling industry was going through a boom – indeed it was heading towards its peak in 1853. This new environment and even more increase in his wealth would allow him to enjoy his passion for horticulture even more. He and a number of other businessmen would found the New Bedford Horticultural Society in 1847.

In 1854 the mansion of William Rotch Jr. at the southwest corner of William and Water Streets was owned by Arnold’s wife Sarah. She donated it to the Port Society and it was moved to Johnny Cake Hill where it was dubbed as the Mariners’ Home.

In the 1850s, a sort of minister-at-large, Reverend Moses Thomas was also of a philanthropic lean and was very active in helping the city’s poor. He had the support of the Unitarian Church that the Arnolds were congregants of. For unknown reasons, the church withdrew its support and the Arnolds stepped up to the proverbial plate and put him in their employ in a full-time capacity until his retirement. A very nice gesture.

Legacy: Last Will & Testament, Arboretum, and Philanthropy
Sadly for Arnold he would outlive both his wife and daughter, passing away right here in New Bedford in 1868. His estate was worth $1.4 million dollars, or about $24 million dollars today. In his will he specified that $100,000 (approximately $1.7 million today) of his fortune be left behind to advance agriculture and horticulture. Unfortunately, these monies didn’t stay in New Bedford, as one of the trustees of his estate, George Emerson had the funds sent to Harvard University for botanical research and helped build the Arnold Arboretum in Jamaica Plains, founded in 1872.

However, he did leave something for New Bedford: $100,000 or $1.4 million dollars in today’s money for the city’s poor. Of course, his mansion, the Wamsutta Club still stands today – with additions and renovations. In 1919, the Wamsutta Club purchased the mansion and added two wings, and a squash court. Today the mansion is on the National Historic Register of Historic Places.

The Arnolds had big hearts and were of a generous, sympathetic bent. Their philanthropic mission lives on with the James Arnold Fund started in 1934. This charitable organization offers “…gifts, grants, or loans to other organizations, Gifts or grants to individuals (other than scholarships), Aid to the handicapped.” The Arnolds’ have made themselves immortal in a sense – their presence lives on in the street names, Wamsutta club, charity organizations and philanthropic nature that is part and parcel of the city’s spirit. This is a trait of New Bedford’s citizens, regardless of what other places will say about us. We may bark and even bite, but there’s always someone eager to help those in need, in hard times, or down on their luck. There is a humanity and kindness to most and I’d like to think it was a precedence set by James and Sarah Arnold.

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One of the more polite versions of “Cup of Joe.” This image has become a popular meme.

Figures of speech, idioms, slang, dialects, creoles, pidgins, and other aspects of language have always intrigued me. I would never call myself a writer, but I am a reader. An avid one. Some of my fondest childhood memories were of being swept away to Mars with Asimov, Hobbiton with Tolkein, or to Puritanical 18th century England with Howard. My family are all readers, so when I was paired with not one, but two excellent English teachers in middle school, I began to get an even greater appreciation for words. Coincidentally both English teachers were named Mr. Carter. Both were master teachers who were clearly passionate about literature and more importantly about enriching young minds and instilling the love of English and languages in general.

I’m assuming that I’m not alone out there and that there are people who enjoy this sort of thing. People who enjoy spelling, grammar, syntax, etymology, and definitions. We are the last bastions of the English language. Logophiles and nerds unite!

I grew up in the 1970s, but recall some of the words my parents and grandparents used. I recall men calling other men they didn’t know mac, bub, cat, boss, daddy-o, and pal. Pal is one I have retained and still use pretty often today. It’s supplanted “dude,” for me. Even rarer is the term, coincidentally, “Joe.” Which not only could be used to address someone you didn’t know or just met, but it could also refer to coffee. “I’m heading down to Woolworth’s and going to enjoy a cup of Joe.” Since I enjoy inflicting my poor humor on others, when I’m with older…er…wiser company, I’ll offer them “a cup of me.” Insert drum rim shot here. Go ahead, throw your rotten vegetables. If I haven’t crossed that line yet, then “Take my wife.” Have at me.

The 80s, a particularly rich in slang time period brought us homeslice, homeskillet, bruh, and

Whippersnapper refers to the day when teenagers didn’t rob convenient stores and do heavy drugs, but their crime was throwing those little white baggies that had gunpowder in them. Imagine that? When you saw a kid your primary worry was whether the little puke was going to be a whippersnapper. That’s a much better “-er” than robber, drug abuser, or killer.

When a bunch of boys got together, you better believe there was going to be some tomfoolery, hijinks, or some raising Cain. Of course, if you were a square you wouldn’t have any of that.

How about the words invented for slapping temporary fixes or repairs? The Jury-Rig or the Guinea-Rig. Being Italian, the latter one would garner raised eyebrows – but back then people were less sensitive and less eager to cry out “racism” every three minutes.

There were even more words for that tool or object whose name you had forgotten: the doohickey, thingamajig, doodad, thingy, watchamacallit, thingamabob, etc. Funny, thing is that everyone knew exactly what that poorly described thing was.

Money has always been a popular one to give names to. Beyond bucks, we had greenbacks, duckets, moolah, jing, grub, bread, and scratch. “You buying? Because I’m crying.”

Today we have bad, awesome, sick and wicked or mad cool. Yesterday we had capital, top, ace, neat and keen. The 80s brought us rad, gnarly, fresh phat and tubular. Oh, man. The 1980s. They also brought us the opposite of good: grody and bogus.

For girl, we have chick, hottie, bunny and in certain sub-cultures a less savory term and that seems about it. Growing up we had a LOT of terms: dame, broad, bird, skirt, fox or for the less popular ones, skag. Coincidentally, if something wasn’t up to par or was not good, it was “For the birds,” as in “Doing chores is for the birds!”

Well, hope you enjoyed this light-hearted historic stroll. A slight departure from the hard history.

When you meet up with friends in the next few days, feel free to break out some of these old terms and have a laugh. In fact, if you like to torture your teenage son or daughter, like I do, you can wait until he or she is in a group of their peers and say “What’s the word, homeslices? Where the cute birds at?” and when they look at you like you have three heads you can finish, dare I say coup de grace with “Why you guys tripping? Chillax.”

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With this new series of articles, we’re hoping to shed a little light on how things were done in the 19th century. A fun way to lend perspective to our modern way of living. We often hear “You don’t know how good you have it. When I was a kid…” or “You should clear your plate, there are starving kids in Cambodia/Ethiopia.” So this is an attempt to add images and detail to those perspectives – without the hyperbole.

Well, maybe a little bit.

When we peer back into the past and see how things were, we come to appreciate the things we have – perhaps taking them for granted a little less or no more. Of course, I will keep this is local as possible and share any anecdotes I come across in my historical research. While no one today was alive in the 19th century, this is a series on perspectives, so by all means share YOUR story on how things were in the era that you grew up in!

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The inaugural article will begin with something we can’t live without and most of us genuinely take for granted. “I love having a refrigerator, it allows me to have refreshingly cold drinks, preserve my food for longer, and allow me to heat my leftovers the next day. Fridges are great!” said no one ever.

Frederic Tudor, the Ice King who started a multi-million dollar industry in the 19th century.

It is also one of those pieces of technology that most of us don’t understand how it works. What is the exact process that allows us a grand luxury? To have a device that we forget exists unless it’s humming in the middle of the night or we lose power? Well you can add that aspect to the list that includes cars (for most of us), radio, TV, microwaves, phones and many more.

Regardless, it’s not important to understand the exact process to appreciate it. The effect of refrigeration on civilization was and is a massive one. Speaking locally or domestically, waterways were the first thing explorers, conquistadors, and settlers looked for. A water source provided sustenance, energy, water for smithing and livestock, etc. Typically food would have to be eaten soon after it was captured.

Refrigeration allowed us to be able to move into isolated areas when it came to settling. One no longer had to live near a waterway to sustain living. One could stockpile enough food that live off of for days or weeks without need to head to the developing areas to re-supply or head back towards a waterway to fish or hunt.

The first known historical reference to refrigeration comes from ancient China’s Shih King period, who referred to “ice cellars.” Subsequently, refrigeration is mentioned in Jewish scripture, by the Egyptians, Greeks, Romans and the Indus Valley.

In the 19th century refrigeration was a booming industry, especially here in New England. In fact, ice harvesting as a commercial business had its start right here in New England. In the start of the 19th century, few people utilized refrigeration because there simply wasn’t a service in place. There were no storehouses to supply the ice, no supply chain, and no personnel to deliver it. It had isolated use by few individuals and certainly wasn’t commonplace.

Andreoly Ice House of New Bedford in 1920. (Spinner Publications)

How the ice harvesting industry got to its booming stage, was by Bostonian Frederic Tudor (1783-1864) also known as the “Ice King.” Tudor was the right man at the right time to kick-start the ice harvesting industry. He was born of a wealthy Boston lawyer and could afford to accrue the initial losses that were certain to come from a new venture.

On a visit to the Caribbean – it’s not known if it was for business or pleasure – he got the bright idea to bring ice to the tropical isles. There was certainly a need for it. He thought back to the many ice ponds back home. In 1806 at the age of 23, he utilized his brig Favorite to take ice from his father’s pond in Saugus, to Martinique. For four years, Tudor was in the red and did not turn a profit. In 1810 he made his first profit and the ice industry began to pick up steam.

Within a few short years he would add Cuba and a number of southern states. As technology advanced and he learned to preserve and cut better, he expanded into Europe and even India and was estimated to be worth $220 million in today’s money. People loved his “crystal blocks of Yankee coldness.”

Ice harvesting was a pretty darn dangerous business from harvesting to icebox. Men would venture out onto frozen ponds with saws, gaffs, tongs and picks and methodically cut and drag blocks. Falling into the water was dangerous enough, but the sharp tools were responsible for the majority of the injuries. Manipulating these heavy blocks of ice came with its own hazards, as did shipping them.

Collage of ice harvesting activities. (Harper’s Weekly)

The process of harvesting, would take dozens of men up to a month. First they would scrape all the snow, leaves and debris off the top. The men would then score a large section called a cutting grid. The cutting grid encompassed that day’s section to be harvested. Then, further score marks of smaller sections would be made and these were called “rafts.” These were rows that ran the length of the cutting grid.

The men would then cut into the rafts of two feet thick ice and pull the ice cakes out, often with the help of horses. A typical ice cake would be 22″ x 32″ to 44″. These were then pulled along with gaffs and floated to the pond’s edge.

These ice cakes, would then go up a chute into the nearby storehouse where more men were waiting to cut them into even smaller sections, depending on existing or expected orders. While the waited delivery the ice cakes would be insulated with saw dust and/or hay.

As you can see, a lot of work (and danger) went into bringing ice to iceboxes in homes across America. One could genuinely appreciate that “simple” ice cake that was brought to your home. I’d imagine that the average person was quite aware of the harvesting process in that day. If they didn’t appreciate because of the labor and risk, the expense of the product and delivery would certainly grab you.

Of course, the cost would go down as the demand went up and technology made the harvesting safer and easier. Today the entire industry has virtually been replaced with the refrigerator. I say, virtually and not entirely, since ice harvesting still takes place in a few areas of the world. In isolated parts of Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire and parts of Canada the ice harvest is a communal event.

The precursor to the refrigerator, the icebox is something that my Nonno and even my mom recalled as a child growing up in the 1950s. Certainly there are some readers that recall using an icebox. We would love to hear your stories!

Refrigeration is a modern convenience that we just can’t live without and certainly one that I take for granted…or took for granted until I wrote this! Now when I go to my refrigerator, I think of Frederic Tudor’s foresight and the thousands of unnamed men who harvested the ice and started an industry.

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Any early photo showing the building with its original third floor – not the NB Business College sign and attached structure to the West. (Spinner Publications)

The Citizen’s National Bank building is a structure with quite a bit of history. Not the “gasp,” or “What a crazy story!” type of history, but the slow and steady “Hmmm, interesting.” kind of history. While the building was erected in 1877, its story goes back a few years earlier.

The building’s story begins with a partnership between like-minded individuals – Joseph Arthur Beauvais of South Dartmouth and Thomas B. Fuller of Fairhaven. Born in 1824 of French immigrants (his father was conscripted in Napoleon’s army), Mr. Beauvais was a salty veteran of James B. Wood’s counting room – which was the room where the accountants kept their books and records of transactions. It was said that New Bedford was the richest city in the world in 1853, so two decades on you would find that many people were employed in some fashion or other in the whaling industry. Those with a knack for accounting found themselves in a counting room or house somewhere within the city.

After twenty one years in the employ of James B. Wood, Mr. Beauvais wished to strike out on his own and started Beauvais & Company, specializing in private banking or what we would call today “Financial Planning.” His office was on the northeast corner of Water and Centre Streets – what is today the Tatlock Gallery.

His head cashier was a one Thomas B. Fuller (1849-1886) who would eventually become his partner in 1874. I can’t seem to find any record of how a cashier rose to become a partner – perhaps it was his extraordinary skill with numbers, a strong friendship with Beauvias, substantial personal savings or an act of loyalty on Beauvais’ part. Perhaps, I misunderstand the position of head cashier and confuse it with the contemporary term. By all means, if someone is in the know and can shine some light on the matter, please do.

A year later, the Citizen’s National Bank was organized and Beauvais and Fuller combined their assets when their business was transferred to it. What the records do show is that the bank was not welcomed by other banking institutes because of its private banking nature. However, what Beauvais and Fuller did, they did well. In short order, they gained the full support of the community at large.

They enjoyed substantial success enough that they relocated in 1891 to the building we know as Freestones – whose facade still declares “Citizen’s National Bank.” The facade is comprised of Long-Meadow red freestones which is a type of red sandstone that made up part of the bedrock of Longmeadow, Massachusetts – the name which would eventually be adopted for today’s restaurant.

The bank was on a stretch called the Robeson Business Block that included all of the buildings on William St. from Acushnet Ave. to N. Second St. While the bank already owned the building which it built and ran out of in 1877, it was occupied by the Automatic Telephone Company headed by F.T. Akin and L.B. Bates. They had a running ad “We Want to Supply You with Telephone Service. We offer lowest prices. Unlimited Service. Private metallic lines. Long distance phones. Modern construction and guarantee satisfaction. Use the AUTOMATIC toll line when talking to Fall River. CALL LONG DISTANCE.”

Ah….I pine for the days of metallic lines and when a call to Fall River was long distance. Today a call to a martian lander is considered long distance!

Anyhow, the bank printed 9 different denominations to the tune of $1,488,720 dollars worth of national currency, and if you are a collector of sorts you may come across what is left of this $1.4 million dollars on auction sites or dusty cellars.

By 1899 Mechanic’s Bank was a powerhouse in the area and the Citizen’s National Bank was liquidated. Seems like yesteryear differed little from today when it comes to banks. This year it has one name, and the next year it’s someone else. Sticking with this theme, after it was liquidated and merged with the Mechanic’s Bank, lo and behold the New Bedford/Acushnet Cooperative Bank moved on in.

This is where the building’s first of two fires takes place in 1934. This fire destroyed the third floor which was never replaced.

At this point in the building’s history things get a bit hazy. It seems it is easier to find a detailed history of the 19th century than it is to find historical information from the 1940s onward. Most of what is available from this time on is accessed by anecdotes. It’s not that there aren’t documents and images of this era, it’s just that not a lot is available for public access. It’s primarily an oral history.

So while history shows that the building had enough of banks and became a “cafe,” the official documents offer little more. Anthony DiPiro, son of Fay DiPiro who started Fay’s Knotty Pine opened Haskell’s in the mid to late 40s. I’m sure there is someone alive today that recalls this place and more exact dates.

Oral history states that Haskell’s Cafe was a bar/restaurant that was pretty “sketchy.” It had a reputation as a “hard” place. In 1951, a cigarette left unknowingly burning by a patron set the building afire again. The scorch marks can still be seen today on the pillars in the main dining room.

Haskell’s eventually re-opened after licking their wounds, but would eventually rename and become Pequod’s Lounge. I’m unsure if it passed hands or just took on a new name, to breath some new life into the venture. I haven’t heard much about Pequod’s or the typical clientele. My good friend Earl mentioned that his dad told him that it was a Go-Go bar with women dancing in cages hanging from the ceiling. What have you heard?

In 1979 the building would be taking over the fantastic Freestone’s City Grill (their Freestone’s Pasta is one of my favorite dishes on earth) which it is still today. The next time you walk by this iconic New Bedford building you can look at it in a different light – perhaps show up to your guests how knowledgeable you are about the historic district!

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Citizen’s Bank Building Timeline
1824 – James Arthur Beauvais born in South Dartmouth.
1849 – Thomas B. Fuller born in Fairhaven.
1853 – New Bedford declared “World’s Richest City.” Riddled with banks.
1874 – James Arthur Beauvais and Thomas B. Fuller become partners.
1875 – Citizen’s National Bank organized.
1877 – Long-meadow red freestone facade structure built by Citizen’s bank.
1891 – Beauvais and Fuller move into the building under Citizen’s National Bank.
1892 – Mural designed (or it was 1942).
1899 – Citizen’s National Bank merged into Mechanic’s Bank.
1934 – Fire at New Bedford/Acushnet Bank.
1951 – Fire at Haskell’s Cafe.
1979 – Freestones City Grill opens its doors.

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