A Look Back, Before Stepping Forward

Vol 1. No. 6

Cracking the Books

Things are about to get very busy around the property. The solar installation will be done by mid-July. Jason–ably assisted by his daughter Hailey–did a great job prepping for the install, sculpting a perfect spot to tuck the solar array into the hillside across the road. The structural design and drawings are nearly complete to enable the retrofit/renovation, and then we can turn to thinking about inside finish choices and such. Michael and his team will be starting in about a week, which will mark the moment we are truly on our way to creating the next iteration of what this house will be. It is an exciting time, and I look forward to telling that story as it evolves. 

We will soon write a new chapter for the house that Moses Chaplin built. I found myself wondering about the chapters between the Chaplin family and the family from whom we took over as stewards of this land. The real estate listing said the property had been owned by just four families in its 240 year history.  

Who were they?  

I spent an afternoon at the Reading Town Hall, to see how far back I could trace the deeds, and what I could learn. Between those records, and information about some of the names found in those deeds as researched in Reading Centennial Celebration notes of 1874, History of Reading (1903), and Genealogical and Family History of the State of Vermont, I was able to fill in some details.  

1806-1865: The Forbush Family

Moses and Mary Chaplin and their family lived here until 1806. They sold the land to Rufus Forbush and his wife Mary Brown, of Westboro, MA, who moved to this house with their six children.  Getting to set eyes on the original parchment on which Moses signed over the house was a very cool moment. It complemented the survey, which I never understood why it was made in 1806, until now.

The original survey of the property, which now hangs on our wall, and has been passed down through the owners to us

Like Moses, Rufus served in the Continental Army. Rufus was part of the Lexington Alarm Roll, marching from Westboro on that momentous spring morning of April 19, 1775, and he served again in 1777. Rufus is described as being “a man of commanding presence, being six foot two inches in height, and in war times was noted for his personal courage and officer-like bearing.” He indeed became an officer, his commission as Captain being signed by Samuel Adams, governor of Massachusetts (a patriot of some renown, and as a certain beverage company would like us to remember, a brewer). 

Fun fact: Rufus’ name was mistakenly omitted from the brass tablets installed in the Reading library in 1902 commemorating the citizens of Reading who had served in the wars up to that point. But he got a special tablet post facto. No harm, no foul.

Rufus Jr., took over the farm after Rufus, Sr. passed away in 1830. He and his wife Fidelia Hapgood and sons Charles and Rufus O. were the original occupants. Fidelia was the daughter of David Hapgood, who constructed what was said to be the first framed structure in Reading in 1781 (and which hosted the first town meeting), just one year before Moses Chaplin built this house. 

Sketch of the junior Rufus Forbush, as appears in the Reading Centennial Celebration publication of 1874

Notes passed on to us from the prior owners indicated that the second floor of the house, as well as the addition on the back of the house, were built in the 1830s. As Rufus Jr. and Fidelia had 3 more children in the 1830s after moving into this house, I wonder what the conversations about the addition were like. Was Rufus Jr. the type to say “It was big enough for me and my 5 siblings, it will be big enough for them!”? If so, he clearly lost that debate. Or perhaps Rufus remembered a cramped existence as a youth, and couldn’t wait to add more space once the place was his own? 

In any event, Rufus Jr. and Fidelia raised their family here.  Tragically, they lost two daughters (ages 7 and 4) within a week in June of 1839, just a month after their fifth child was born. I can only wonder if it was the same deadly scarlet fever epidemic of the 1800s I mentioned in a previous blog.  Regardless, Rufus Jr. and Fidelia persevered, their remaining three children went on to live full and impactful lives in Springfield and Woodstock, and they lived in this house until December 1865. 

Like the two prior owners of the land, Rufus Jr. also served in the military (in his case, the War of 1812), and all three of them served the town of Reading as selectmen and in other official capacities many times over. Rufus Jr. was also in the legislature, and a member of three constitutional conventions to amend the state constitution. 

1866-1920: The Eastman Family

We recently saw an old map of Reading on which the road the house is on was called Eastman Road. That surprised us, given that the road is now named after one of the well known multi-generational farms on the road. It is a lovely farmstead, worthy of having a road named after it. But when I saw Albert Eastman’s name on the deed as the person who purchased the farm from the Forbush family, the mystery was solved. 

Albert Eastman and his wife Lucinda Wood moved to the former Forbush Farm from South Woodstock with their son Horace and daughters Arlie and Annie. While Albert had spent some years in business in Boston before taking over the farm, he had been raised on a large family farm in Newport, NH, and the record suggests he was an innovative and determined farmer. From the History of Reading:  “He was considered a thorough farmer in every sense of the word, being always ready to grasp at new ideas, and keeping well out of the time-worn ruts; and if any of his neighbors thought him a little fussy about some branch of farm work, they would later on show themselves just as fussy by adopting (his) ways.” 

Albert also comes across as a pleasant and kind fellow in the retelling: “He (was) ever ready to help those less fortunate than himself. In his family he was one of the most indulgent and thoughtful of husbands and fathers, ever mindful of those around him, and always happiest in the home circles, greeting all who came to his door with a cheerful word and pleasant smile.” 

I have devoted much space discussing the men who made their lives in this house, with very little detail about their wives or daughters. Unfortunately, history was then recorded with a decidedly male lens. I have no doubt the women of the three families that made this place their home were very hard working partners in the conduct of the busy households that played out here on the old Eastman road. 

Despite the obvious patriarchy of the time, when Albert died in 1896 (his wife passed shortly thereafter), the farm was passed on to their two daughters.  Their son Horace seems to have made his own way in Barnard by that time.  Arlie, the first daughter, passed away shortly after her parents, leaving the farm to Annie alone, who by then was married to Henry DeWolf of Woodstock. They resided in the house until her death. Henry and Annie had no children, and in her will, Annie deeded the property to her nephews Albert C. and Allen W. Eastman. 

A page from Annie Eastman’s will, as copied for the deed records

Annie states that “It is my will and desire that the…. real estate be kept and owned by the Eastman family so long as it is consistent to do so.” To me, this indicates Annie valued the land and the connection of her family to it, but had the wisdom not to unnecessarily bind them to it, emotionally or otherwise.  One can’t foresee the future, and flexibility is always helpful.

Well done, Annie. 

Because the will became part of the deed record due to Albert C.’s decision to sell the property in 1920, we get a glimpse into what (and who) Annie valued. Some selections:

Her nephews Albert and Allen together (in addition to the land) received “all my pictures of the Eastman and Wood families; one mirror of the Hipple White design 1750 formerly belonging to my Grandmother Wood; one hickory cane formerly belonging to Uncle John Eastman; my Father’s old clock; one pair of gold cuff buttons.” She also gave them each some silver spoons, crayon drawings of her sister and her mother and father. 

To her brother’s wife Martha went “one crayon portrait of a little girl and a pet farm; a gold stone brooch inlaid with colored stones…after Martha is through with the brooch, it be given to Elizabeth (Hope) Hathorn.”

Myrtle Hastings DeWolf (I think this is her sister-in-law) got her organ and all her music. To her nephew’s son Roger went “my best goose feather bed; one home made fringed wool bed blanket embroidered with blue and red; one tea cup and saucer and tea caddy in ancient china supposed to be over 150 years old…”

And it goes on. Albert’s daughter Elaine, and her nephews’ wives Carrie and Angela, were willed household items, embroidery, jewelry.  

And finally, her husband Henry’s estate gets whatever is left, as well as $188.46.

I can’t decide what that means. 

All of these items and more were in this house. Music was made. Entertaining was done, people snuggled/huddled under warm blankets on cold winter nights. The fact that Annie wanted this property to stay in the family was practical, and perhaps it was also a sense of appreciation for, and love of, the land and the memories.  I am only two years in. But if that was her motivation, I get it. Totally.

1920-1939: Turnover, a new roof, and the first local electricity generation

In this period, while the roaring twenties and a Great Depression roiled the US, the house saw the most turnover it had seen in its 140 years. Albert C. Eastman (the nephew) sold the farm in 1920 to Harrison and Irene Ambrose of Pomfret, who lived here for two years before selling to Hugh Morehead (of Hartford, CT) in 1922.  It seems that Hugh Morehead passed away, and his estate sold the property to Hugh Copeland in 1924. Two items of note: (1) despite the fact that it was the roaring ‘20s, Mr. Copeland bought the land for $1,800, which was less than Rufus Forbush paid in 1806 ($2000) or Albert Eastman paid in 1865 ($3500). Inflation adjusted, I think we can agree Mr. Copeland got a deal, (2) that deal looks even better when you consider that specifically noted in the deed was conveyed “roofing paper that is now in the building on said premises.”  I can tell you that Mr. Copeland made good use of the roofing paper, and this find explained a little graffiti I found up in the attic.

A roof rafter, painted with “Copeland, 1929”

The Copelands had the property until 1936, when the property was sold to Ralph and Mary Maxwell of Weathersfield VT, who then sold the property to Mary Ashton of Wallingsford, PA in January 1939. 

Mary Ashton was the great aunt of the sisters from whom we bought the property in 2020. I will fill in some of the details of that family, our coincidental relationships, and respect for their legacy of stewardship for this special place, at a later date. 

For now, just one thought. In the deed to Mary Ashton, it was noted that “This conveyance includes the entire Delco Motor, batteries and equipment, the kitchen stove, stove and furnace wood in shed and cellar.”  I didn’t know what a “Delco Motor, batteries and equipment” was for, but it sounded like electricity.  Turns out, these Delco generator systems were a key feature in rural America at this time (the battery would power whatever you hooked up to it, and the generator was triggered to turn on whenever the batteries got low). The Rural Electrification Act, signed by FDR in 1936, ultimately brought electrification to areas just like Reading. So, local, distributed electricity generation was in place in rural America well before there was a “grid” in these areas. 

As I write this, the Suncommon team is outside setting the posts that will hold our solar photovoltaic array. Preparing us to, once again, bring local electricity generation to the farm. Only this time, we will ditch the fossil fuel and swap out the power of the sun to make that electricity. 

Drawing inspiration from the past, while looking forward to writing the next chapter. 

We’re ready! Let’s go!