By Marilyn May
Milford History
The menhaden processing plant on Charles Island. The emerging tombolo can be seen at the left. Photo courtesy of the Daniel E. Moger Photo Collection.
So much has been written about Charles Island that you would think it was half the size of Manhattan. This 12-acre island has a rich history of legend and lore, anecdotal reminiscences and more than 400 years of history when we count what we know from the native Wepawaugs.
Here is a fact to add to the story: Milford Historical Society member Jack Clark was looking through old family documents when he came across a birth certificate. He discovered that his grandmother, Anna Guyer Clark, was born on Charles Island in 1878. Anna’s parents were John and Dora Guyer, who were living there when they were caretakers for the Miles Oil and Fertilizer Co. fish processing plant, where menhaden was rendered into fertilizer and an exceptionally fine oil that was used to lubricate clocks. The certificate is now hanging in the Society’s Stockade House.
Town Hall fire: what happened to the cat? Most people know the story. In 1915, five vagrants sleeping overnight in a locked room in the basement of the Milford Town Hall No. 4 were awoken by a panicked, noisy cat. The men, realizing the building was on fire, tore a pipe off the wall, punched a hole in the ceiling and escaped. The Town Hall was consumed by the flames, but the Congregational Church silver and town’s pre-Revolutionary War records stored in a vault survived the conflagration.
End of story? No, not quite. Let us start at the beginning with a story from a 1915 New Haven Register article that includes a lot more detail.
The unusual glow in the sky and the crackling sound and smell of burning wood awoke Paul Dumraese in his house at the top of New Haven Avenue. He later commented that his bedroom windowpanes were so hot he thought his house was on fire.
Meanwhile, town clerk George F. Weed was coming back by train from a show in Bridgeport. He, too, saw this unnatural glow in the sky.
While these two men were beginning to realize what was happening, five other men were struggling for their lives. They realized how close the fire was to them and they frantically tried to punch a hole in the ceiling and break through the floor above with a pipe that they had wrenched free. It was 12:30 a.m. and no one was around. Milford’s stately Town Hall was ablaze. High winds that night fanned the flames and blew embers into the winter sky. There was no chance that the hall could be saved.
There were reports of a shrill train whistle piercing the night that was sounded by the crew of a passing freight train to alert the town to the flames that they could see from their higher vantage point.
Meanwhile, the Dumraese house was one eighth of a mile from the fire. He and his father, Franz, raced there and were among the first to arrive. George Weed arrived from the train station about the same time. And just as other people arrived, the five vagrants emerged screaming and in pain.
They had managed to smash open a hole large enough for them to escape. The first man they boosted up was a one-armed man who ran pleading for help for the other men still in the building. The floorboards were beginning to smolder. As the vagrants struggled upward to save their lives, they had to hold onto flaming timbers that severely burned their hands.
The last man out got the worst of it. As he emerged, a large burning timber dropped onto his shoulder, just barely missing his head.
They were all taken to the home of Dr. W.S. Putney, who treated them at his home on the corner of South Broad and High streets.
There were two theories as to the cause of the fire. One was that it was started by cigarette or cigar ash left from an earlier social gathering. The other was that flames started in a room below the cupola where there was electrical equipment. Dumraese recalled that town offices were temporarily set up in the parish house of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church.
And what about the cat? She was a beautiful Angora cat, aptly named Beauty, who was the pet of Town Hall workers. Previously, she would wander from office to office each day, check on everyone and find a place to sleep at night. She escaped the fire unharmed and before long resumed her happy habit of visiting town workers.
George Washington: What a swell guy? Stories of great men are told by their actions in war or in politics, so there are many stories told about President George Washington. However, in hearing everyday stories about people we learn much more about them. In an article in the 1948 New Haven Register about the planned destruction of the Clark Tavern, such a story was told. It is quoted below exactly how it was printed.
“Only 90 years ago an old lady sat in the living room of the Clark Tavern and recounted Washington’s visit made only a few months after he had taken the oath of the first President. She was then a little girl, Eunice Treat Ford, whom Washington held in his arms as he went down the steps.
“Listening to the stories then was a nine-year-old girl, Sarah Stow Ford, who has recounted them to many Milford persons still living here.”
Prospect Street Baldwin House had what hidden there? Much has been written about the possible significant changes to – or destruction of – the Greek revival house at 67 Prospect St. because of a planned condo/apartment complex. The house is one of the jewels of Milford. Like any 19th century house, it has elegance, and this one has had many secrets – some possibly yet to be found.
When Dr. Giachinno Parella, known to everyone as Dr. Jack Parella, and his wife, Lucy, bought the house, they discovered there was a closet that had a false wall. Opening it, they found a hand-written sermon by Rev. Bezaleel Pinneo, pastor of the First Church from 1796–1840. This is a priceless document. His ministry had been one of the most noteworthy pastorates in the history of the church. There was also a cane hidden near the papers, but there was no information about its owner.
Then they made another discovery. Parella found that a wooden pillar in the oldest part of the house had been hollowed out to conceal a note from 1899.
The paper is signed by Charlotte Nettleton, widow of Lewis Nettleton, and it reads: “This house was built in 1839 by Elisha Peck, son of Capt. Nathan Peck, and William Tibbals. The owner was David L. Baldwin, son of Nathan Baldwin and Avis Durand.” The note goes on to list family genealogy. Then she wistfully writes: “The water pipe is being laid on Cherry Street. The railroad has been built since the house was built. What the future is about and what changes there shall be, I shall not be here to know.”
Now after more than 130 years, we know.
Marilyn May is a lifelong resident of Milford and is on the board of the Milford Historical Society.