Connecticut River Shipbuilding

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Introduction

Astroll down Essex, Connecticut’s Main Street is a saunter back into the textured history of the United States of America. In just a quarter of a mile, one can amble along a corridor of time that stretches from the deep past into the ever-changing present and future. Every May, this storied street becomes a parade route that celebrates a seminal event from the town’s, and our country’s, early annals. Fifers and drummers dressed in the blue-jacketed, brass-buttoned, striped blouse regalia of early nineteenth-century sailors march in musical cadence to celebrate one of the most important naval non-battles in U.S. history. They step smartly past stately homes and one of the oldest taverns in the country as they head downhill to the waterfront. It was there that British marines landed in 1814 and burned the fleet of American privateers built to menace English shipping.

Today, at the spot where the British marauders landed, stands the Connecticut River Museum at the old Steamboat Dock. Tied up to the wharf in front of the museum is an excellent re-creation of Adriaen Block’s ship Onrust. It was the first wooden sailing boat built in North America. When his fur-laden trading vessel, the Tyger, was set ablaze under mysterious circumstances off Manhattan Island in the fall of 1613, Block, his crew and their carpenter constructed the Onrust out of material salvaged from the burned-out hulk and wintered on Manhattan. Early in the spring of 1614, Block and his crew sailed east through a nasty stretch of water they named Hellgate and made their way up Long Island Sound on a voyage of discovery.

The Onrust was the first vessel manned by Europeans to sail up what was to become the Connecticut River. Block named it the Versch, or Fresh River, but the Algonquin name is the one that has come down to us and lasts though time. Imagine the awe the vision of that mysterious, white-sailed ship must have inspired in the Nehantic natives who inhabited the mouth of the river. It could move without paddles! These intrepid Dutch explorers sailed, rowed and kedged sixty miles upstream until they reached a set of rapids that blocked farther progress. Block turned about, came back downstream, interacted with a few groups of indigenous people and set the stage for European colonization of the river, its valley and its people. The Connecticut River would never be the same.

The Dutch were eventually supplanted by the English, who settled the length of the river from the Enfield Rapids to Long Island Sound. They started at a fort built at the mouth of the river and settled upstream in what was to become known as Potopaug Quarter. It encompassed the current communities of Essex, Old Saybrook, Chester, Deep River, Centerbrook, Ivoryton and Westbrook. These communities are the stage on which our narrative unfolds. They developed into shipbuilding and shipping enterprises that filled the world’s waterways with Connecticut-made vessels, produce and goods. From the seventeenth to the twentieth century, some of the most beautiful sloops and schooners ever built came from these towns.

Today, Essex and its surrounding environs are marked by stately houses, upscale businesses and yacht repair and storage yards. It is a community that is most aware of its heritage. Stepping back in time is not a cliché here. The sense of the past made present is palpable in the carefully preserved architecture. The collection of maritime art that graces the walls of its most famous watering hole, the Griswold Inn, is world famous. The relaxed ambience of the village is a special quality of life for those who live and visit this historic hamlet. The story of its maritime heritage is one that takes us from colonization to revolution and on to the ages of sail and steam. Essex-built boats played roles in the Civil War and the First World War. The town’s waterfront history encompasses the gilded age of yachting and is still a boating mecca today. Like the Connecticut River, Essex flows into the future with a strong sense of the past.

The Early Days

As later discussed in our look at dugout canoes, humans occupied the area that became Essex for thousands of years. After Adriaen Block’s initial exploration of the Connecticut River revealed its seemingly unending supply of beaver, mink, otter and fisher cat pelts, entrepreneurs from Holland were quick to follow in his wake and establish trading relationships with the indigenous inhabitants. Some of these interactions were less than fair, and tensions between Europeans and the native people were inevitable. But it was conflict with the English that spelled the end of Dutch trading on the river and the ascendency of Puritans from Great Britain.

The first Dutch traders nailed their national coat of arms to a post on the west bank of the mouth of the river, a place they called Kviet’s Hoek, Plover’s Corner in English. The Hollanders then proceeded to establish a trading post/fort at what is now Hartford. They called it the House of Good Hope. It sat at the confluence of the Connecticut and Park Rivers. That fort/trading post became the hub of fur and goods exchanged between the Dutch and the River Indians, who inhabited the area. The coming of Europeans to the Connecticut River Valley was the most significant transformative event in the history of the region. Perhaps the greatest cultural collision in human experience occurred when people who possessed writing, metalworking, plows and firearms came in contact with non-literate societies that functioned with organic technologies based on wood and stone and a nature-based world view. Plow agriculture, and the metallurgy it inspired, proved the pivot point from which modern civilization ensued.

The Dutch, aboard the Onrust, not only brought advanced weapons technologies, but they also carried kegs of rum, an intoxicant that the river-dwelling people had no familiarity with and no physical or social means to ward off its addictive qualities. The men from Holland also carried the concept of private property. In the foraging and horticultural lifestyles of the indigenous river dwellers, possessions were shared. The idea that someone could own the earth was incomprehensible. Rum, guns and land ownership gave the interlopers tremendous economic and political advantage and power. They also brought viruses and bacteria against which the Algonquin-speaking natives had no immunities. Thousands of people sickened and died; communities and cultures were devastated and destroyed, never to rebound or recover.

The Dutch were primarily traders and merchants. Their overarching goal was to obtain as many beaver, and other animal, pelts as quickly and as cheaply as possible and ship them back across the Atlantic and sell them for handsome profits. Europe drove its beaver population to extinction because the animal’s fur could be fashioned into waterproof, warm and stylish hats that were in great favor among men of means. Adriaen Block, and his countrymen who followed in his wake, were able to realize tremendous profit margins as they took unfair advantage of the people who trapped and processed hundreds of thousands of animal skins.

But military and political events in Europe began to spill over into what was coming to be known as the New World. The English and Dutch were at loggerheads, and that antagonism was to cross the Atlantic and manifest itself on the Connecticut River. Shortly after the Dutch built their trading post/fort at what is now Hartford, the English set their sights on settling the banks of the river. They were agriculturalists more than merchants and came to the pristine riverside with the intention of developing permanent settlements rather than just extirpating the existing beaver population and sailing away in search of more skins. Their plows were as effective as their cannon in driving the Dutch off the river and subjugating the native population.

In 1633, Lieutenant William Holmes led a small band of Puritans from Massachusetts up the Connecticut River in hopes of establishing a base upstream of the Dutch that would allow the English to facilitate trade with the local trappers and establish a farming community. In order to do this, they had to sail past the Dutch fortification at the House of Good Hope and its cannons. Jacob Van Curler, the commander of the fort, hallooed across the water and commanded the English ship to turn about. He ordered his cannoneers to load their weapons and light their matches. Martial drumbeats filled the air. The stage was set for armed conflict that could exacerbate hostilities in Europe. It was a tense situation fraught with international consequences.

But the steely nerved Lieutenant Holmes ignored the Dutch threat and sailed blithely upstream. Van Curler blinked. The matches were extinguished, and the English erected the first prefabricated house in North America in what is now Windsor, Connecticut. The English had come to the river to stay. And stay they did. The inevitable war between England and Holland broke out in Europe. Tensions and bad feelings between the Dutch traders and the ever-growing population of English settlers continued to fester on the riverbanks. Faced with overwhelming odds, the Dutch realized their position was untenable and, in 1653, shut down their outpost and sailed down the river and out into the sound, never to return.

But the Dutch were not the only hostile people that the English bumped up against on the Connecticut River. At the point where the river meets the sound, where the Dutch nailed up their national coat of arms, the military engineer Lion Gardiner established a fort that commanded the mouth of the river with greate gunnes. The fort was named Saybrook, in honor of Lord Saye and Sele and Lord Brook. They were English noblemen who facilitated British immigration to the Connecticut River Valley. While the River Indians, for the most part, were prone to peace and accommodation with the Europeans, some indigenous people, particularity the Pequots, had no love for the English. The unfortunate result of the growing tensions was the Pequot War, which resulted in the almost total decimation of the tribe and the ensured dominance of the English in Connecticut.

After the successful completion of the campaign against the Pequots, Lion Gardiner retired to an island off Long Island that still bears his surname. Command of the fort passed into the hands of Colonel George Fenwick, who established an agricultural, trading and exploratory presence on what is now known as Saybrook Point. Fenwick was married to the magical Lady Alice Fenwick, who is still celebrated as a pioneering female presence in the New World. She befriended the native inhabitants; grew crops, flowers and medicinal herbs; sang madrigals; rode horses; sailed small boats; and generally became an archetype for women transforming wilderness into civilization.

Her husband played a key role in transforming wilderness into habitation for colonists. As more English settlers moved into the fort and its immediate surrounds, George Fenwick anticipated a time when settlement would have to branch off into hitherto unexplored nearby areas. A fire at the fort in the winter of 1647 made the need for more living space a reality. Although the fort was quickly rebuilt, Fenwick dispatched key members of his administration to explore and survey possible dwelling sites. William Pratt and William Hide were those selected to look into what soon became known as Potopaug Quarter. The name, which has various definitions in Algonquin, was passed to the English colonists by their guide, Joshua.

Joshua was the son of Uncas, a Mohegan chief who was closely allied with the English. Joshua’s indigenous name was Attawanahood, and he was recognized as a chief of the Western Nehantics. The close bonds established with these leading members of the native community spared the English who settled in the area from Indian attacks that plagued so many of their fellow settlers upriver in the years to come.

Joshua’s name lives on today. Just above Essex on the east bank of the river, there is Joshua’s Rock. It is a piece of the earth that once was set in Avalonia off the coast of Africa. Shifts in tectonic plates placed it here, in Connecticut, for the present. There also is a Joshuatown Road on the east side of the river. Joshua thought so highly of William Pratt that he recommended him to provide guidance to his children upon his death. Joshua also willed parcels of land to other English colonists. Joshua led Hide and Pratt to a lush paradise of meadows and coves. These were ideal for agriculture and maritime activities. The area also included what is now known as the Falls River, which provided water power to turn saw- and gristmills and mineral deposits of iron to be fashioned into hardware and tools.

These early settlers were joined by the Lay brothers, John, Robert and Edward. All three worked closely with George Fenwick. They managed his farm on what is now called Nott’s Island and also oversaw the day-to-day operations of the farm at Cornfield Point, which played an important role in the conflicts with the Pequots. Pratt, Hide and the Lays built houses in or near what is the center of modern-day Essex. They established corn and wheat fields, orchards and pastures. Agricultural production necessitated the development of ferries across coves and cart paths that evolved into the streets that continue to be traveled in the town today.

These early settlers of Potopaug picked a particularly propitious part of the river valley to establish their young community. In addition to the area having excellent arable land to facilitate the production of food, the watercourse now known as the Falls River had a series of waterfalls that the colonists quickly utilized. By 1690, a gristmill was in operation at the Hough Dam. The financial arrangement that the residents worked under stipulated that the miller could turn a profit, but he also had to grind corn and wheat for his neighbors. This reliable food source assured the new residents that their relationship to the territory would be sustainable.

The damming of the Falls River set the stage for the interrelated activities that were to merge into the shipbuilding industry for which the area became famous. In 1697, peat bog iron ore began to be worked near the river. The early colonists in Connecticut were dependent on England for metal products in the colony’s early days. The settlers brought the tools and hardware they required across the Atlantic with them. The need for hardware to build both houses and ships, as well as the machines of the nascent Industrial Revolution, impelled the newcomers to seek their own sources of iron.

In 1701, ironmaster Charles Williams (possibly a descendant of Roger Williams) was recruited from the Rhode Island colony to develop the ironworks that ultimately led to vigorous shipbuilding in Essex. A triphammer built on the Falls River made the manufacture of ship hardware possible. In 1648, shipbuilding began on the Connecticut River upriver from Potopaug at Wethersfield. A group of citizens banded together to create the sloop Tryall. It was outfitted for a voyage to Barbados under the command of Captain Greenfield Larrabee. This venture turned a tidy profit, trading agricultural products for rum and sugar. The Tryall’s first voyage established trade between Connecticut River ports and the Caribbean that proved to be so successful that it lasted for over two hundred years.

Potopaug was quick to follow in Wethersfield’s wake. In the 1650s, Robert Lay built a wharf at the present site of the Connecticut River Museum. Lay was instrumental in establishing the town in the West Indies trade. In 1666, he headed a group of local men who purchased shares in a New London–built ketch named Diligence. He and his partners worked out an insurance-like agreement for the voyage, focusing on whether or not a horse would arrive alive and, if it did, how much rum and sugar to take in trade for it. The Diligence also carried corn, grain, peas, hay and candles to the islands. The voyage was a success and became the precursor of many successful ventures from the town of Essex. It solidified the bond between the town and the sea that was to see over five hundred Essex-built ships sail down the Connecticut River to ply the waters of the world’s oceans and bring fame, elegance and prosperity to the community. This is the story of those ships and the families who built and sailed them

After the Golden Age of Sail was supplanted by steam, Essex became a stop for the opulent steamboats that ran up and down the river. At one point, a passenger could embark in Hartford at 5:00 p.m., have dinner, listen to a small orchestra, enjoy a cocktail, sleep in a stateroom and wake up in New York City. The steamers were eventually made redundant by the railroads and automobiles. But Potopaug remained true to its heritage and reinvented itself as place where some of the finest yachts to ply the world’s waters were built and moored. The story of these vessels is a splendid coda for the town’s centuries of shipbuilding.

Dugout Canoes

For thousands of years, people circled campfires on the banks of the Connecticut River and passed sacred stories from one generation to the next. The exploits and adventures of divine spirits and beings were vividly recounted in timeless tales and sagas. One interesting spiritual eminence was the Noah-like rabbit-trickster named Manabozho. He was the son of Mother Earth and the Wind God. He performed several key feats that allowed the indigenous people of the deep past to live and flourish in harmony with the beautiful river and land. Like Prometheus, he purloined fire from the divinities and passed it on to humans. He also gave people the gift of culture, which allowed them to experience a learned, shared way of life that could be transmitted from one generation to the next.

From a riverine perspective, this divinity’s most important deed was saving the world when the Great Deluge threatened to sweep away all life in a raging torrent that looked like it would drown the world. Manabozho responded to this catastrophe by loading all the plants, animals and people onto a massive tree. On this woody ark, the inhabitants of Earth rode out the watery spate and were able to resume their accustomed lives when the flood receded. Manabozho then resumed his trickster ways and went about doing a bit of good here and a bit of mischief there. As a result of his divine intervention, the ecosystem was saved, and life could proceed apace.

The story of the deluge-defying tree conjures up a couple of interesting interpretations. The story of a Great Flood can be found in many of the world’s mythologies. One of the most familiar is that of Noah and his ark. Many interdisciplinary scholars today are positing the idea that Noah’s flood and many others were caused by rapid and extreme climate change. As we shall see, climatic variations played a role in the sociocultural evolution of the indigenous people of the Connecticut River Valley. Their lifestyles reflect adaptation to the ever-changing environment in which they lived.

The other analogy based on Manabozho’s salvation story concerns the massive tree on which he placed all life to ride out the destructive deluge. It is but a small leap of the imagination to see that tree as a symbol of the dugout canoes that were a prime tool in the River People’s adaptation to the environment of the Connecticut River, Long Island Sound and beyond. The dugout was an important means of food production, seasonal migration, communication and trade. It played vital roles in human activity on the river for several thousand years. People still paddle the currents and coves of the Connecticut in canoe-style boats. The river has seen many types of vessels arise on its banks to venture forth to the oceans of the world, but the canoe has outlasted them all.

Shipbuilding on the banks of the Connecticut River conjures mental images of sturdy sloops and sleek schooners eager to ply the world’s oceans in search of adventure, profit and the prizes of privateering. Hundreds of sailing ships were built in Essex and its surrounding towns from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century. But before the arrival of the Euro-Americans with their tall masted ships with billowing sails, uncounted thousands of dugout canoes were crafted by the Nehantic and Wangunk people. Indigenous people lived in the Essex area for almost fifteen thousand years. In the four hundred years since Adriaen Block first navigated past the point of land called Potopaug, many different types of vessels have sailed the river. Opulent steamboats, oil-soaked tankers, Civil War gunboats, splendid yachts, icebreakers and more worked their way from Long Island Sound to Hartford and back. But the humble canoe remains long after the steamers, towboats and barges have vanished.

Called misoon in the Algonquian language, the dugout canoe was the vessel ideally adapted to the waterborne transportation needs of the foraging people who quickly came to inhabit the lower Connecticut River Valley after the last ice age receded. The early inhabitants left no written