Saturday, April 10, 2021

Lost Houses, Lost History

John Frost House in 1910 Brixham Road


Eliot folks are a fortunate group of people.  We live in an area that has largely remained rural and undeveloped for centuries.  People first started building houses here in 1633, and some of our modern property lines still run along the original boundaries that were laid out 380 years ago.  Early colonial settlements and farms that were part of the original Massachusetts Bay Colony were largely bulldozed over due to the pressures of suburban Boston planning over the last century and a half.  If people want to see original colonial-era houses that are still standing, they can see many by driving north into New Hampshire and Maine.  Many of these old homes were built with thick, sturdy timbers from nearby forests.  I know many people trying to keep 20th century homes from falling apart.  Sadly this is a losing battle in my opinion.  The construction of many modern houses was never meant to last centuries.  We will not have homes built in the 20th century standing in the 23rd century the way we have 18th century homes still standing in Eliot today, which is why it is all the more tragic when we lose one of these historic marvels to the bulldozer or the ravages of time. 

I also understand that these homes have not survived on their own.  They survive because they have had centuries of careful owners and caretakers.  We owe a debt of gratitude to those that buy or inherit an old house and care for it and give it life.  I do not know all of the old houses of Eliot that we have lost over the past century.  I just know the ones that we have lost since I first came to Eliot 25 years ago.  

1740s John Frost House lost 2013
The John Frost house on Brixham Road was one that awakened me to the reality that all of these old houses may not remain forever.  I didn't even know it was going to be demolished.  This house is featured in the "Images of America" book on Eliot produced by Margaret Elliott and the Eliot Historical Society in 2005.  One day in 2013 I was driving up Brixham Road and noticed that the old house that always greeted you as you rounded the gentle corner was suddenly gone.  

Clover Farm circa 1910 w/ Arthur Lee Hanscom
Our most recent loss is the 1750 Hanscom house which was better known as "Clover Farm" on Main
Street.  After the loss of the John Frost house a few of us asked the town of Eliot if they would provide us notice when an old property is going to be demolished so that we may try to contact the owner or developer to attempt a last recording of the structural, architectural, and family history of a property that will soon cease to exist in our town.  Not long after we took pictures of what remained of Clover Farm, the property was bulldozed to make way for a new development.  I personally don't understand it.  I love old houses.  I would love to see new developments retain some of the old structures and property features if it is feasible.  I would much rather live in a place that had preserved real history, than anywhere where history was sterilized and paved over, or worse, invented.  I have to believe I am not alone.

Clover Farm lost 2021
Even an 18th century house will not survive forever without a caretaker who has the means to perform expensive repairs and maintenance.  Some of these old houses are small in an era when buyers are looking for large open-concept houses.  It takes a special kind of buyer.  A buyer that appreciates the history of a house, the stories of the families that have lived in that house, and a desire to preserve that past while carrying on the long caretaker tradition of that house.  One day their time spent living in and caring for the old house will also be part of the history of the house.

There is a favorite poem of mine by the poet Joyce Kilmer.  It is called "The House With Nobody In It".  I reproduce it here because it speaks of the soul of an old house and the sadness when its days are done.

The House With Nobody In It
by Joyce Kilmer

Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what a house should do,
 a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.


Lost Cemeteries

  Eliot has a lot of old cemeteries.  And Eliot, most likely, has a few old, lost cemeteries.  This is the story of one of those cemeteries ...