CHAPTER XIV.Disposal of Highway Property. |
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258 In our early days much of the business brought before voters related to roads. At a town meeting held in Farmington December 27, 1784, the year before Berlin was set off by herself, a vote was taken to sell the highways unnecessary for travel. A committee was appointed to locate such highways, and after three months' notice to individuals, for redress, to sell such highways to adjoining proprietors or to others, the avails to be and remain a perpetual fund for the support of schools in the several societies. At a town meeting held in Berlin April 11, 1814, it was "Voted that the several Societies of Worthington have the 'priviledge' of the Interest of all monies arising from the sale of highways, within the limits of said Society in the same manner as the other Societies in the town of Berlin have to Improve the Interest of such monies in their Several School Societies, the principal of such money to be Subject to the Same rules and Regulations as in the other parishes." According to the report of the town treasurer, Berlin has on deposit, held in trust for the benefit of schools in the Society of Worthington, a fund to the amount of $2,186.71, which accrued from the sale of highways.' When the town was first settled, some of the roads were laid out twenty rods wide and even forty rods in certain places, an advantage in muddy weather. When one track was badly poached, another and another could be chosen. In the year 1786, after it was voted to sell highways, over seventy deeds were given by the town to individuals who purchased land adjoining their own property. At first twenty-rod highways sold for nine shillings, ten pence, the length bordering on owner's land. 259 Jonathan Edwards, one of the first settlers in the south part of Berlin, died in 1776, aged seventy-two. Miss Harriet Edwards, his great-great-granddaughter, says she used to hear that he lived on a road which was abandoned, over west of Edward Hall's place, and that the ruins of the house could still be seen there in the woods. Jonathan Edwards was succeeded by his son Josiah, Sr. On May 30, 1786, a committee appointed by the town deeded to Josiah Edwards, for the consideration of fourteen pounds lawful money, "a part of the country road (so called) running westward from said Edwards' dwelling house .... butting west on the four rod highway so called .... and contains about two acres and eighty rods of land." "Eour rod highway" ran around into Kensington. Mr. Yale of Meriden used to say that once on a time there was a road west of the peat swamp, and that stages ran over that road. It butted on Hicks Street in Meriden and came out a little west of the Norris Dunham place in Kensington. There is still one house on that road near its Kensington termination, and the road is yet kept open as far as that house by the town. At a town meeting held December 4, 1797, it was "voted that the selectmen be authorized to sell a highway east of the country road lying between the lands of Jedediah Norton and Josiah Edwards, and that they offer to Jedediah Norton that part lying on his lands which if he will purchase at what they shall judge its value they are to sell to him, otherwise they will sell the same at auction." Turnpikes were owned by corporations or by individuals, whose revenue consisted of fees exacted from those who used the roads, and toll gates were placed at a distance of ten miles apart. Certain travelers, as those going to a funeral or to church, or to a training, were passed free, as were persons who lived near the gate when going about their ordinary business. All others had to pay toll according to a schedule of rates—twenty-five cents for a stage or a two-horse carriage; six and a quarter cents—fo'pence—for a one-horse wagon, and one cent for a single animal when driven. Lovers who visited their sweet- 260 hearts and remained until the small hours of the night would escape payment of toll on their way home. The gate would then be wide open. About a third of a mile below the Abram Wright tavern was a curious toll-house; the lower rooms were divided by the width of the pike, so that teams could go through. The second story extended across over the road and made a shelter for the gate, gate-man and for travelers while fumbling for change. A family by the name of Bassett lived there, and the children came up to the south district school. One of the sons, Erastus J., became a valued adjuster for the Ćtna Fire Insurance Company. His house in Hartford is now owned by George H. Sage. Another son, Edwin, was an aeronaut. His mother worried so much whenever he made an ascension that he finally promised her he would never go up again, and he kept his word. The gate was abolished in 1855. As we go to Meriden on the steam cars, we see at the left, near the southern boundary of Berlin's town line, a large pond, with buildings bearing the sign "Hartford Ice Company." The basin of that pond is a peat swamp, some twenty-five acres in extent. A laneway which starts from the highway just south of the Henry Norton house, leads westerly and southerly, a distance of about three-quarters of a mile, to this same swamp, which was once included in Jedediah Norton's farm and was called "Old Fly." A map of Berlin, dated 1867, shows on the east side of the track a building with the words "Etna Peat Co." On the west side is a "Boarding house." The Etna Peat Company was formed for the purpose of making the decayed sphagnum into bricks to be used for fuel. A factory which was put up was fitted with a steam engine and other expensive machinery for crushing and moulding the turf. A canal was cut across the swamp for drainage and to make a water way for an immense scow which carried a dredger for hauling up the sods. At first the bricks were dried in the open air, afterwards they were kiln dried. Some said the peat was not the right kind, and was good for nothing to burn. Whether it was that, or the 261 cheaper transportation of coal, is not clear, but after two or three companies had experimented and sold out, the scheme was pronounced a dead failure, and it only represented a small fortune lost. The persons who alone profited from the venture were the farmers who sold the land and turned their wood lots into money. Mr. Albert Warren bought the scow, and broke it up for the sake of the lumber. One long stick of yellow pine went into the foundation of his barn, its mate, he sold to the town of Berlin, and it is still in use, as a foot bridge, across the stream at Beckley's mill. The Hartford and New Haven railroad was opened to travel in 1839. Some years later a second track was laid. One night the laborers employed on this second track left, standing beside "Old Fly," a train of cars loaded with gravel, their tools piled on top. When the men returned to their work the next morning, they saw an island out in the pond that had arisen in; their absence, while tools, gravel cars and track had disappeared—had gone down into the depths of the marsh, and there they remain to this day. The workmen must have needed an extra bracer that morning to raise their spirits. Phineas Case remembers that when the railroad was building, the women used to come over to that saloon on the corner north of his house with pitchers, pails and jugs to be filled with whiskey. The story of a second accident at the same place, as gathered here and there from persons who had scarcely thought of it for years, is as follows: On the afternoon of April 6, 1880, just after a heavily loaded freight train had passed the peat factory boarding house, Mr. and Mrs. Kelsey, who lived there, were startled by a thundering great noise. Eight rods or so of the railroad track with its embankment had slumped again. Night was coming on, the Boston express was nearly due, and another train would soon come from the south. Mr. Kelsey went to look out for the New York train. Mrs. Kelsey ran into the house, lighted a lantern, took off her red flannel petti- 262 coat and started up the road toward the north waving her danger signals. Glory was the only reward she ever received. As the engine approached, she screeched at the top of her voice and the train was stopped its own length away from the yawning chasm. It is said that when the trainmen asked what the matter was they were told that the peat bog had gone to h . The story goes on to say that there were four millionaires among the passengers on that train—that much praise was given the brave woman who had saved their lives—but that no reward whatever was given to her. The next day a long procession of wagons and carriages filled with men, women and children might have been seen going through Berlin Street toward the peat swamp and half of Meriden was there. The boys collected fence rails which they threw into the water west of the track, the rails sank out of sight and then bobbed up again. The telegraph poles had settled so that only the tops were left. Supt. E. H. Davison and the directors of the road walked about and discussed the situation, while the crowd looked on. The advice of the directors was to remove the track far enough west to avoid the marsh, but the superintendent said he would make a solid bed for the road where it was first laid if it took the whole of Yalesville. A small boy gazed at him in awe as he gave his orders, like a potentate, and thought he must be a very great man. Mr. Luby says that a caisson of heavy planks, laid flat, one over another, was built and thousands of loads of sand were brought up from the banks owned by the company in Yalesville. As fast as the sand was dumped, water was poured on to make it as hard as possible. After the work was completed a man was kept at the place to watch the road every day for a year, and it will always be under careful inspection. A certain clever fellow, who was set to guard the embankment, had his one failing, and it came to the ears of the company that he sometimes neglected his watch. He was severely reprimanded and threatened with loss of his position. He was 263 so scared that he became a disciple of Father Murphy, and was ever after a sober man. He wore a blue ribbon conspicuously pinned on his coat, and when he met an old friend and was asked how he was getting along, he would say, "Firstrate, sir, I am a blue ribbon man now, sir." The depth of the morass at its center is unknown. Mr. Luby says he has seen a whole coil of telegraph wire unwound and dropped there until it settled by its own weight, without reaching a foundation. The story of the disaster at the Peat Swamp as given recently in the Berlin history, started quite a discussion among those who were taken by their parents to see the show. Charles Warren and one of his schoolmates were sure they saw one car tilting half over the track, and that another was down in the mud— that trunks, soaking full of water, were fished up from the depths, and that when the question was asked who was responsible for the damage the reply was "Oh, the company will have to make it good." Others said "'twas no such a thing—that there was no car on the track when it caved in." To settle the controversy Miss Ruth Galpin went to the office of the Hartford Courant and copied from the file of 1880 their account of the catastrophe [pronounced "cat-a-strop-he," by a little girl in our fifth district school]. Mrs. Walter Gwatkin kindly obtained from the Hartford Times their version of the accident. The two accounts are here given: OWL TRAIN WRECKED.
The midnight train for New York which left here about two o'clock yesterday morning met with an accident only less remarkable than the escape of all the passengers from the peril that it involved. The track all fell out from under the train, the whole train of nine cars 264 was brought to a sudden stop and its cars scattered right and left and yet no one on the train was hurt. It occurred just below the icehouse of the artificial pond below Berlin. On both sides of the track there is a peat bog. When the double track was laid a train of gravel cars was left standing there one night and the next morning had all disappeared —been swallowed up. The down train passed at three o'clock. It consisted of two express cars, a passenger coach and three sleepers. The engine was Planet —the engineer Bradford. He suddenly felt a remarkable swaying as if everything had fallen out from under. He applied the air-brakes. The engine crossed but the tender was derailed. The track held together although the foundation was gone. The first express car landed on the up track. The second express car containing the messenger twice turned over and landed on its side in the pond. The mail car fell across the up track with one end in the pond. The baggage car landed on up track. The three sleepers staid on the track. The passengers did not even wake up. Mr. Allen of this city did not know of any trouble until waking he saw by daylight the peat bog where he expected to see New York City. The up train was stopped at Meriden. The loss was between $2,500 and $3,000. (From the Hartford Times.) The passenger train bound south on N. Y. N. H. railroad that left this city 2.07 a. m. today met with a serious disaster when about two miles this side of Meriden. At the point where the accident occurred an artificial pond belonging to the Hartford Ice Co. lies on both sides of the track. For some days past the company has had workmen employed in drawing off the water in the pond in order to clean it out, as has been the custom each year since it was constructed. In consequence of this drawing off the water, the roadbed, which at this point is in the neighborhood of thirty feet wide, was undermined for a distance of seventy-five or more feet. The train consisted of an engine and tender, a postal car, two express cars, the ordinary coacher and three sleepers. The number of passengers on the train is not definitely known. The postal car was thrown at right angle across the track, one end lies buried hard in the sandy bottom of the pond. Every car in the train also we believe was thrown from the tracks and the wreck is a bad one, covering as it does both tracks and preventing the passage of trains in both directions, and requiring as it will, owing to the fact that the water is on each side, most if not the whole of the day to clear it away. 265 Passengers and baggage are transferred around the wreck with such dispatch however that the passengers from the south due here by the 9.44 a. m. arrived only about half hour lata It is reported to be impossible to lay a temporary track around the wreck and in consequence the delay is greater than it would otherwise be. Knowledge of the accident reached Hartford at about four o'clock, and Division Supt. Davison, Mr. Packard and other under officials of the road, soon had a wrecking train made up that took down a number of workmen to assist in cleaning away the debris. Other workmen also went down on the half-past six and eight o'clock trains and with these, sent from Meriden, formed a large force that is now at work in reopening travel on the line. (Later account.) A visit to the scene of the wrecked train disclosed a worse situation than the first reports gave and it shows too in a splendid way the unequaled efficiency and promptitude of the work that is done in such cases by the men and wrecking appliances of the N. Y., N. H. & H. road. Superintendent Davison had gone down long before daylight with a wrecking car and 100 men with jackscrews, etc., from this city, and Vice President Heed came up from New Haven with a work car, and a large force of station men with jackscrews and other appliances and the work that has been done is surprising even to those familiar with the expeditious ways of the Consolidated road in such cases. The distinctive feature of this case which separates it from all ordinary smashups, and from other cases of wrecks which can be, and are removed entirely in a couple of hours are first, the locality which is a spot between two sheets of water, that touch the road bed on either side and then give no room for working, and second, the way in which the wreck lay. It was all smashed up and lying across both tracks while one, the east track, had sunk four feet below the level of the other track. Two cars were deep in the mud, another was lying across the tracks, and all the rest were smashed more or less and lying in confusion in all directions. To all ordinary view it seemed at daylight as if the situation could not be corrected in three days. In reality it was made so the train could pass in five hours from the time the whole force had got fairly to work. The train from the south came by that spot at 1.52 p. m. on the west track without even stopping. The practical mechanical judgment and energy of Mr. Reed and his very capable lieutenant Supt. Davison were never shown to better effect. Mr. George Cutting a Meriden builder after visiting the scene declared that the damage must be $10,000 to the rolling stock alone. This may be a liberal estimate but it includes only a part of the whole damage. Both tracks will be clear at sundown and all restored to place. 266 Recent installments of the Berlin History gave accounts somewhat conflicting of the railroad accident at Peat Swamp, said to have occurred April 6, 1880. The Mr. and Mrs. Kelsey to whom reference was made as flagging the trains, lived for seventeen years in the boarding house west of the pond. The first account was copied by the Meriden Journal, of the same week, and thus came to the notice of Mrs. Kelsey, who now lives with her second husband on Curtis Street, Meriden. Her version of the trouble at the swamp shows that it is not always safe to tell another man that his testimony is not true, because it does not agree with yours. He may be thinking of one story, and you of another, both true. Mrs. Kelsey says that on the night of April 6, 1880, the track settled two or three feet and at that time the midnight Washington Express, or "Owl train," was derailed. The baggage car went down the bank, and the postal car lay across the track, while the sleepers remained on the rails; all as described by the reporters. After that a watchman was kept there night and day. On the night of June 3 following, as the same express was due, just after a heavy freight train had passed along, suddenly, without warning, the embankment settled out of sight, for a length of about a hundred and seventy-five feet. Mr. and Mrs. Kelsey were aroused by the great noise and went out to see what had happened. They were met by the watchman, who said "The peat bog has gone to h." His lantern had been put out, and he was so dazed that he could not relight it .Mrs. Kelsey ran back into the house, took her own lantern, caught her child's* red flannel petticoat from the clothes line, started up the north track, and stopped the train, its length away from the yawning chasm, and thus a terrible disaster was averted. Mr. Kelsey and the watchman went south and warned the New York express. It was at this time, June 3, that the telegraph poles sank their entire length into the water. No cars were thrown out of place. The trains stopped on either side of the breach and passengers walked over to make connections. * See pp. 261-2. There seems to be some discrepancy about the ownership of the petticoat. However, this is not of great importance.267 Six months afterwards the railroad company sent Mrs. Kelsey a check for fifty dollars. As for the millionaires aboard the train, she excused them, for the reason that they knew nothing about her. The affair was kept as quiet as possible. Mr. "William Beckley of Torrington has contributed the following bit of history about Peat Swamp: TORRINGTON, March 31st, 1906. To the Editor of THE BERLIN NEWS. DEAR SIR: I have been very much interested in the History of Berlin as given in the paper. An item about Peat Swamp that has not been mentioned is this: that in the latter part of the eighteenth and the early part of the nineteenth century, there was, a short distance below where the railroad crosses a swamp, a carding mill for the carding and making into rolls for spinning the wool and flax raised by the neighboring farmers. The swamp at that time was an open pond as now. What caused the growth of vegetable matter upon it during that comparatively short period?
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