Chapter IV

EARLY SPRINGFIELD AND LONGMEADOW, MASSACHUSETTS
Page 4 (Continued)

Just what was the intent of these building permits is a question, but there is reason for suspecting that they were often a mere whitewashing of a prior act, a legalizing of a condition already existing. An example is the act of December 26, 1678, when "all those persons who have builded up the ruins have their buildings allowed of."¹ That of course was in the time of stress following King Philip's War, but it was not an uncommon custom even in normal times. As a whole, the permits give little information as to the actual date of building.

With characteristic deliberation, Benjamin Cooley seems to have been in no haste about removing to Longmeadow. His efforts in the town must have been greatly handicapped by the limitations of his little four-acre tract there, even though that was supplemented by ten acres across the Connecticut, and he would have profited by that experience. Though he did increase his nine-acre long-meadow grant to twenty and a half acres by purchase on December 4, 1651 from Reice Bedortha of the five-acre tract adjoining it on the north, and also the Griffith Jones six and a half acre tract north of the latter, yet the location seems not to have been to his liking for a homestead.² The witchcraft hearing testimony is evidence that in the spring of 1651 he still lived in the town and his deposition concerning the Parsons-Burt house suggests that at least as late as November 1651, he continued there.

However, on May 17, 1656, he received a grant of ten acres at the northerly end of the long-meadow³ Adjoining it on the south was the eleven and a half acre lot of John Leonard's that he bought on January 13, 1657/58.⁴ South of that was the seventeen-acre Merrick lot as well as the fourteen-acre Bridgman lot, both of which he bought February 2, 1658/59.⁵ Thus he owned fifty-two and a half acres in one piece.

With amazing perspicacity and an uncanny appreciation of the future, on March 13, 1660/61 he petitioned for and received a grant of thirty acres on the highland east of his house "from the brow of the hill, eastward into the woods until thirty acres be made up."⁶ On the same date, Thomas Gilbert was granted twelve acres on the north of this Cooley grant.⁷ Gilbert sold to Marshfield who sold to Cooley.⁸ Thus did the Cooley family acquire the forty-two acres of land on the hill at the north end of the present town street that was occupied by later generations.

This home-farm was rounded out by the grant on February 1, 1664/65, of seventeen acres of "pond" that lay "against his own land at the higher end of the long meadow, bounded by the brow of the hill,"⁹ that is, extending from his meadow up the hill to join the thirty-acre grant of 1660/61. The combined area comprised 111 1/2 acres in one compact parcel, extending from the river eastward to the top of the hill and continuing easterly into the woods.

On the Leonard lot he built the home in which he lived for the rest of his life. That lot he bought in 1658. The first mention of his house was in 1661. At some time during those three years the house was built. His boon companion, George Colton, received his long-meadow building permit on December 31, 1660.¹⁰ One can surmise that at that time Benjamin Cooley completed his plans and that the house was built about 1660.

Even then he must have considered the removal in the nature of an experiment, for though he rented his house in town to his neighbor Richard Sikes, it was not until January 12, 1667/68, that he actually sold him the town property.¹¹

For years the settlement continued in its own unobtrusive way. The handful of Indians were much in evidence on the street and in the houses; a pest to be endured. Real estate speculation was rife. Allotments were often sought solely as material for barter. Those intending permanent occupation of the meadows bought adjoining tracts of their neighbors. Grants were made of the swamps east of the meadow until eventually it must have been about all parceled out. Various attempts were made to drain the wet ground. Then, as now, ditches were all over the meadows, but the result was rather negative. Today, the swamps are much as they were in the days of the Indians, a little more worthless, perhaps, for then they did at least produce cranberries. In 1683, Benjamin Cooley, as one of the last acts of his life, essayed a rather elaborate drainage project, digging a ditch "a little above his house that he might lay dry that low and wet land behind his house."¹² As it crossed the county road he was obliged to give a bond providing security against any damage that might accrue. A vestige of that ditch can be seen today. In 1695, Ebenezer Parsons and Henry Burt gave a bond in connection with a similar drain in another section of the meadows, but it was all rather futile.¹³

January 5, 1665/66, Nathaniel Burt, John Keep and George Colton were granted "ponds" adjacent to their lands.¹⁴ February 1, 1665/66, Benjamin Parsons and John Bliss had similar ponds grated.¹⁵ March 5, 1665/66, widow Margaret Bliss was granted "so much of the pond as is at the end of her lot."¹⁶ All of these grants were in the long-meadow and all were made with the proviso that "the Indians be not wronged in their pease," referring of course to cranberries, the sasachiminesh that they had reserved in the deed of 1636. Evidently these grantees were acquiring cranberry bogs and it would seem that in the language of the day, a bog was a pond.

In 1648, William Pynchon had said of the Indians, "Until they have fully subjected themselves to your government, they must be esteemed an independent, free people."¹⁷ The wise mentor had long since left the colony, but his precepts were still a guiding factor in the town. This regard for the rights of the natives continued to the very end, for on February 26, 1672/73, Samuel Bliss, Jr., was "granted so much of the pond as is against his land in the Long Meadow, provided the Indians be not hindered gathering pease in the pond."¹⁸

That was the last of such entries, for soon after, during King Philip's War, practically all of the natives deserted the valley.

The seeds of the Indian assault on the town on October 5, 1675, had been long in the sowing. The Indian of bow and arrow, the Indian of Pequot War days, was the occasion of little alarm; but the Indian of powder and ball was a menace to be seriously considered. Though Colony law prohibited the supplying of guns to the natives, the law was but lightly observed.

In 1640 the widow of Thomas Horton was called before magistrate Pynchon for "selling her husband's piece to the Indians." She protested that she had merely "lent it to an Indian because it lay spoiling in her cellar. The Indian is suddenly to bring it again and he left about six fatham of wampum in pawn for it. She knew of no order against it and doth promise to take it home again. She cannot tell the Indian's name but it is an Indian of Aguam." She was ordered "to get it home again speedily or else it would cost her dear, for no commonwealth would allow of such a misdemeanor."¹⁹ She, poor soul, was without influence, yet in 1659 the Worshipful Major John Pynchon, himself then a magistrate, had no hesitancy in boldly charging on his ledger for a gun that he delivered to Umpanchela, the Indian chief, in exchange for land.²⁰ In 1656, John Pynchon, in a list of his personal tools at the shop of John Stewart, the smith, included "a tool for making Indian hatchets," that is, tomahawks.²¹ Thus they sowed the wind and reaped the whirlwind.

During the night of October 4, 1675, long after the settlers were asleep, a moccasin-footed messenger sped through the hamlet of Longmeadow. The Indian Totoe, of Windsor, impelled by "the great respect and many kindnesses he had received and for the love he bore"²² to the English, was making his way to Springfield with a warning of impending danger. Incited by king Philip's successes, Wequogan, the Hadley sachem, had the night before led by a winding path, with noiseless stealth, four score of his Indian warriors into the palisaded village that the English had built for their dusky neighbors on the reservation on Long Hill. There they joined the score of local Indians. Hidden by the stockade, the leader postponed for a day the sack of Springfield for his scouts to retrieve from Hartford the hostages that the Springfield people had incarcerated there, and during the journey the native scouts had revealed their secret to Totoe, a Windsor Indian, a protege of the Wolcott family there.

The messenger, bearing the secret, hurried on.

Thus forewarned, three substantial houses in Springfield town were garrisoned and in them the settlers found asylum.²³ One of these was at the lower end of the town, the home of Jonathan Burt, that had been built by Hugh Parsons. Further up the street, the house of the widow Margaret Bliss was chosen. Still further north was the impregnable home of John Pynchon, built about 1662, the first brick house in the Connecticut Valley, later known as the "Old Fort." At one of these three garrisoned houses, Ensign Benjamin Cooley would have been on duty while, by virtue of his office, Quartermaster George Colton would have been with the Troopers at the Hadley headquarters.

With the coming of the morning, Lieutenant Thomas Cooper and Thomas Miller ventured out for a parley with the foe, but both were shortly killed. Later in the day, Pentacost Matthews, wife of John Matthews, the cooper, was slain. Richard Waite and Edmund Pryngrydays were wounded, the latter dying the following week of his wounds.

As soon as news of the impending disaster was brought by Totoe, word had been sent to John Pynchon, then with the Colony forces at Hadley, who brought his troopers to the rescue of his fellow townsmen before the close of the day, but he found his town in ruins.²⁴

Throughout those endless hours the Longmeadow settlers watched the smoke of the burning town in utter helplessness. Though neither their lives nor their property were menaced on that fateful day, yet both watch and ward were kept in every household for many fearsome weeks.

At Springfield the Indians had destroyed not only the town saw mill but the grist mill as well, necessitating the carrying of grain ten miles to Westfield for grinding. Thus, three weeks later, on October 27, 1675, tragedy came again to these harassed people. The diary of the Rev. Edward Taylor of Westfield relates that "our soil was moistened by the blood of three Springfield men, young Goodman (John) Dumbleton, who came to our mill and two sons of Goodman Brooks (John, aged 18 and William, aged 20) who came here to look after the iron ore on the land he had lately bought of Mr. John Pynchon, who being persuaded by Springfield folk, went to accompany them but fell in the way by the first assault of the enemy."

The winter passed in a state of siege. Long unused implements were brought out and grain was ground by hand. There were anxious days and sad days. Three of the town's stalwarts died, due perhaps to the hardships of the times; Deacon Samuel Chapin on November 11, Nathaniel Ely on Christmas day and Elizur Holyoke on February 6. At Longmeadow died Lawrence Bliss, son of a gallant mother, Margaret Bliss. John Leonard was killed by the Indians on February 24, Pelatiah Morgan March 1, and William Hunter July 4. On October 31, 1676, the beloved Captain Samuel Holyoke died of exertions at the Falls Fight.

With the coming of the spring, Longmeadow folk gradually ventured out again. On Sunday, May 20, 1676, John Keep, with his wife Sarah and their six-months-old son, Jabez, started for Springfield. Jabez was born barely five weeks after the Springfield disaster and this was the first Sabbath they had dared attempt his christening. All was well through the street of the hamlet. They passed the last house, the home of Benjamin Cooley, and hurried on through the fearsome narrow pass. Just as they approached the bridge over the Pecousic, shots rang out. It was the end for father, mother and son.

With the death of King Philip, in August 1676, life in the valley became quite normal, though it was another seventy-five years before rumors of impending danger entirely ceased.

The year before the breaking-out of the Indian war, at a town meeting held at Springfield on February 3, 1673/74, "there being, through the favor of God, so great an increase of inhabitants in the plantation, consideration was had concerning want of room in the meeting house for convenient seating of people"²⁵ At a meeting on April 15, 1674, it was decided that the problem should be solved by the building of a new church, and that John Pynchon, Elizur Holyoke, Nathaniel Ely, Anthony Dorchester and Jonathan Burt should have charge of the undertaking.²⁶ Then came the war.

The question next came up on August 24, 1676. Though the little church of 1645 had survived the disaster, it was most inadequate. Elizur Holyoke and Nathaniel Ely having died in the interim it was "ordered that Ensigne Cooley and Samuel Marshfield should be added to the committee for the meeting house affairs, some of them being dead."²⁷ They were directed to "treat with John Allis of Hartford, in regard to the town's poverty by reason of the war. If he will stay for his pay, then to get him to raise the meeting house as soon as may be." To this John Allis agreed.

To the building of the first church of 1645, Benjamin Cooley had given his labor and his money. To the building of the second, he gave of his thought and his money, the younger men providing the labor in this case.

Then came the year 1679. Benjamin Cooley was growing old. Though in years he was but sixty-two, he had led an active and strenuous life and men aged early in those days.

   At a General Court held in Boston, 28th May, 1679--In answer to the petition of Benjamin Cooley, ensigne to the Foot Company at Springfield, humbly desiring the favor of this Court, to lay down his place, being aged and deaf,--the Court grants his request. And when another meet person is presented, they will not be wanting to approve thereof.²⁸

It was nearly two long years before that "meet person" was presented, but on May 11, 1681, the Court confirmed Thomas Colton of Longmeadow as Ensign.²⁹

August 17, 1684, Benjamin Cooley died at the age of sixty-seven. Six days later died Sarah, his wife, the mother of his eight children. Five sons and three daughters they had brought to maturity. As one recalls the terrific infant mortality of those days, he realizes what an unusual type of mother Sarah Cooley must have been to have carried her entire brood safely through the dangerous period.

During his forty years in Springfield, Benjamin Cooley acquired a competence far beyond the average, while yet retaining the good will of his fellows. At his coming he acquired forty acres of mediocre land. At his death he owned 524 acres of the choicest. He had houses and barns to meet his own needs and those of his eldest sons. Of livestock, gear and equipment and the merchandise of his trade he had a sufficiency. The debts he owed, amounting to £9-16s-6d were more than offset by the £15-15s-2d due to him. The inventory of his estate totaled over 1241 pounds sterling, having a present-day value of perhaps $60,000.³⁰

As were all their contemporaries, Benjamin Cooley and his wife were interred in the ancient "burying place" by the riverside in Springfield, west of the church that he had helped to build. No stones marked their graves for no lasting stone was then to be had in the community. In the following century it was found feasible to bring from Middletown, Conn.,³¹ a hard brownstone suitable for grave markers, but locally the seventeenth century knew them not. There remains a stone that marked the grave of Mary Holyoke who died in 1657, but the workmanship suggests that the stone is actually of a much later date. The elaborate brownstone monument that marked the Pynchon lot is known to be but a scant hundred years old, the monument itself being so dated.

There Benjamin and Sarah rested until the coming of the railroad. In 1849, to make room for the tracks, the remains of 2404 bodies and 517 markers were removed to the Springfield Cemetery on the hill that had been opened in 1841.³² Dr. Joseph C. Pynchon, who then had charge of the removal of the Pynchon bodies, said thirty-six years later:³³

   Beneath the Mary Holyoke stone, dated 1657, deep in the white sand, six feet below the surface, were found the remains of two, lying side by side, with no others in close proximity. Is it too much to conjecture that these were the remains of Elizur and Mary Holyoke? The sand was discolored and some few pieces of the skulls and other bones were found while even the nails of the coffins were wholly destroyed, their places being marked by the rust only, while no other vestige of the coffins remained. The few remains were gathered, which soon crumbled to dust on exposure to the air, and with the surrounding earth, deposited in the new cemetery.

Dust had returned to dust.

Nothing is known of the Cooley bodies, which in common with many others undoubtedly had wholly disintegrated, leaving not a trace. Such a condition indicates that the bodies were then not buried clothed, as today, otherwise some evidence might have remained. Pilfered shoe-buckles and buttons are frequently found in Indian graves as old as those, though it is of course true that the place of interment chosen by the natives would have been in a soil having far greater preservative qualities than the damp soil by the river bank. Clothing was then far too valuable to have been disposed of in such a way. Contemporary inventories include odds and ends of wearing apparel that one would now think fit only for a rummage sale. Rural New England people can recall the times when a man would be deposited in his coffin, lacking shoes and trousers. It was just a bit of New England "nearness." The absolute lack of identifying articles in the graves of the old cemetery indicates that the bodies were laid to rest, wrapped in a winding-sheet or shroud.

Death seems to have come suddenly to Benjamin Cooley for though he attempted to make a will, he did not live to complete it. However, it was carried far enough to indicate some of his wishes, and with a sense of justice worthy of such a father and with a consideration for the needs of each other the heirs divided the estate and carried on.

Longmeadow strove to make itself an independent community. In 1693 application was made for the right to establish a saw mill on Longmeadow brook³⁴ and the following year for one on Pecousic brook.³⁵ In 1694, "the inhabitants of Longmeadow desiring to get a school master to teach their children to read and write and so be exempted from paying to any such schoolmaster in the town, it was voted in the affirmative with the proviso that they pay their proportions with the rest of the town for a grammar school."³⁶ In 1695, application was made for the use of Pecousic brook for a corn mill.³⁷

With the turn of the century there came to be an increasing interest in the lands on the high ground. Frequent applications were presented for grants variously described as on the hill, on the great hill, and on the plain.

"At a town meeting of the town of Springfield, January 29, 1702/03 the inhabitants of Longmeadow did present a petition that they would grant them land on the hill eastward of Longmeadow to build on for homelots." One of the reasons for the plea was that "by reason of floods our lives be in great danger, our housing much damnified and many of our cattle have been lost."³⁸ It has long been contended that this was due to a disastrous flood occurring in 1695 but no evidence of there having been such a flood is presented. It seems strange that if there had been such an experience that the settlers would have waited eight years before taking steps to avoid a similar disaster. For fifty-six years the meadows had been inhabited during which time but one mention was made in the records of such an episode. That was in the spring of 1680 when "the bridge over Long meadow brook was carried away or spoiled by the late flood."³⁹ That bridge, however, was but a few logs over a brook that might have been carried out in the spring rains and does not of necessity have any reference to the river. In modern times the meadows are annually inundated but that may be entirely due to modern conditions. Before the extermination of the beaver and the destruction of their dams on the upper waters there may not have been any such floods as are common today. On November 21, 1685, Increase Mather wrote from Boston to Rev. Thomas Gouge, pastor of an English church in Amsterdam, Holland, saying that "in Connecticut on August 13 there happened a dreadful flood. The water rose twenty-six feet in a few hours so that their corn and hay is almost all destroyed in those towns which border upon the river and the poor people there reduced to great extremities. The good Lord have compassion on them."⁴⁰ It may safely be assumed that by "those towns which border upon the river" Mather meant Windsor, Hartford and Wethersfield. Twenty-six feet of high water there must have meant flood conditions in Longmeadow. Evidence exists to show that the greatest flood in the valley, prior to the so-called Jefferson flood of 1801, began February 24, 1692, and did great damage.⁴¹ Perhaps the older generations took such episodes in their stride, while the sons rebelled against repeated undoings, which doubtless increased in intensity with the years, as the natural conditions were altered. Until further evidence becomes available, some questions must remain unanswered.

In any event, at a town meeting held March 9, 1702/03, "it was voted to give them liberty to build upon the hill eastward of said Long meadow.⁴² That was the birth of the modern town, in the development of which the Cooley sons had so great a part.

¹Burt, Vol. I, page 279. Return
²Book of Possessions.Return
³Burt, Vol. I, page 248. Return
⁴Book of Possessions.Return
⁵Book of Possessions.Return
⁶Burt, Vol. I, page 288. Return
⁷Burt, Vol. I, page 288. Return
⁸Book of Possessions.Return
⁹Burt, Vol. I, page 323. and Book of Possessions.Return
¹⁰Burt, Vol. I, page 279. Return
¹¹Hampden County Registry of Deeds, Liber A-B, folio 112. Return
¹²Burt, Vol. II, page 164. Return
¹³Burt, Vol. II, page 286. Return
¹⁴Burt, Vol. I, page 342. Return
¹⁵Burt, Vol. I, page 346. Return
¹⁶Burt, Vol. I, page 352. Return
¹⁷Original Manuscript in Massachusetts Archives, Boston. Return
¹⁸Burt, Vol. II, page 249. Return
¹⁹William Pynchon Court Record Book. Return
²⁰Pynchon Account Books at Connecticut Valley Historical Society, Springfield, Mass., Vol. II, pages 214-215. Return
²¹Account Books of John Pynchon at Connecticut Valley Historical Society Return
²²Indian Deeds, page 102 Return
²³Burt, Vol. I, page 131. Return
²⁴Burt, Vol. I, page 131. Return
²⁵Burt, Vol. II, page 120. Return
²⁶Burt, Vol. II, page 121. Return
²⁷Burt, Vol. II, page 127. Return
²⁸Mass. Colony Records, Vol. V, page 236. Return ²⁹Mass. Colony Records, Vol. V. page 490. Return ³⁰Hampshire County Probate Records. Return
³¹Burt, Vol. II, page 440. Return
³²King's Handbook of Springfield, page 224. Return
³³Pynchon Genealogy, appendix Return
³⁴Burt, Vol. II, page 281. Return
³⁵Burt, Vol. II, page 283. Return
³⁶Burt, Vol. II, page 334. Return
³⁷Burt, Vol. II, page 287. Return
³⁸Burt, Vol. II, page 360. Return
³⁹Burt, Vol. II, page 144. Return
⁴⁰Original manuscript at American Antiquarian Society, Worcester, Mass. Return
⁴¹History of Hadley, page 420. Return
⁴²Burt, Vol. II, page 364. Return

SOURCE: The Cooley Genealogy, by M. E. Cooley, pp. 1199; The Tuttle Publishing Company, Inc., Rutland, Vermont, 1941. Page 102-114

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