by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time: August 24, 1988
Greenwich, Connecticut USA
One of the most familiar fixtures of old New England towns are the early grist mills, which over the course of history have graced our hills and valleys.
These sturdy structures were built long ago, when most of the activities of our forebears centered around satisfying the immediate needs of life and survival. Henry David Thoreau wrote during his sojourn on the banks of Walden Pond that those immediate needs were essentially food, shelter, clothing and fuel. To satisfy some of the needs of living of our early settlers, a number of water-powered grist mills were constructed along streams and rivers.
Even up to the present century it was quite commonplace for everyday people to seek out the valuable services of the village miller. Their needs could have included stone-ground flour, or perhaps lumber for building houses and barns. These old mills, most of them now gone forever, had a unique contribution to the everyday life of our community. Given their importance in daily commerce, these buildings, so functional yet vital, deserve special attention and sustained efforts at preservation.
As mills were built along streams, brooks and rivers, towns and villages sprang up around them. Across New England, one can find many place names that allude to their mill-oriented beginnings. Those places in the town of Greenwich which come to mind immediately include the Cos Cob Mill Pond at the Strickland Road Historic District, and to the north, in the heart of Round Hill, lies Old Mill Road. Mills were at one time quite plentiful, perhaps even outnumbering churches.
Gristmills had a vitality all their own -very similar, in fact, to the traditional post office or country store. Like those places, there was a hustle and bustle of activity, with wagons pulled by horses and oxen going to and from the grist mill laden with cargo. Business transactions took place on a daily basis, and political gossip was exchanged while the mill wheel went round and round.
Grist mill buildings as a whole were strictly utilitarian by design, intention and purpose. We of the 20th century must keep in mind that these sturdy structures were meant primarily to house sacks of grain and the machinery used to accomplish its varied functions.
Architecturally most gristmills resemble barns. Sitting on solidly built foundations, they are a bit stronger in construction than barns, in order to guard against ever-present vibrations of the water wheel and the millstones. The structures, built with hand-hewn beams and stone foundations, were in many cases constructed without the juice of bolts or nails, with wooden pegs used instead. The exterior of grist mills were for the most part covered with shingles or clapboard siding.
One of the most essential components of the grist mill was the millstone. Many of our town parks have some examples of display. One lies at the town green off Greenwich Avenue, next to the Havemeyer Building.
Another lies near the site of the old Davis Grist Mill, whose foundations still endure above the water line, although it was demolished a century ago. It is now part of Bruce Park. Yet another can be found across from the Bush Holley House, at the site of the Justus Bush Mill, and I have seen one used as part of a stone path at a private estate off Cliffdale Road that probably belonged to the old Pickhardt miil on the Byram River.
The stones themselves measure from four to six feet in diameter. One of the most popular substances that millstones were made from is called buhrstone, imported from France, although granite was often used as well. Some millstones were actually several pieces bound together and surrounded by iron hoops.
In the process of grinding, one of the millstones was stationary, while the other rotated above it. The grain was poured through a hopper, which featured a valve that regulated the flow to a hole in the middle of the upper stone. The grain flowed into a series of shallow grooves, known as channels. These channels spread from the center of the stationary millstone and led the crushed grain onto a flat section called the land. Out on the edge, the grain emerged as flour. The grist would fall into a spout from which it passed by conveyor to machines, which separated the flour from the bran.
I ran across a little poem about millers and their grist mills:
Many early millers seemed quite satisfied and content with the work and life style, so much so that mills were often handed down from generation to generation.
A miller by the name of David Craik wrote a book I came across at the Manhattanville College Library titled The Practical American Millwright, published in 1870. In that, Craik writes with pride and conviction that, among other things, "the occupation of a millwright differs from that of almost all other tradesmen and mechanics, in that he is compelled to accommodate his work to a greater variety of circumstances, conditions and contingencies,” and that "a millwright has need of an extra share of tact and ingenuity.”
A truly master millwright, Craik writes, “must, like a poet, be born such, and cannot be made.” Hence it is that we find so many celebrated millers who never served an apprenticeship, "but were originally sawyer, a carpenter and joiner, an engineer or machinist, until some accidental circumstance occurred to show that they were millwrights.”
Thus the man who ran the grist mill was a special man whose intuition and experience were the best teachers of his trade.
According to historian Spencer P. Mead, in his book Ye Historie of the Town of Greenwich, published in 1911, the first record of a grist mill in Greenwich was dated January 13, 1688. He states, according to town meeting minutes that, “the town took into consideration the building of a grist mill on the Mianus River.” The location of the site today is sometimes referred to as Dumpling Pond, now the intersection of Valley Road and Palmers Hill Road. The grist mill was built in 1688 by Joshua Haight, who died several years later. After the town “recovered its rights in ye stream of the Mianus River heretofor granted to Joshua Haight, deceased,” granted such rights to Jonathan Whelpley in March, 1697, and then to John Burley in 1725.
A story about this site survives from the Revolutionary War days. When the British began one of their longest raids on the town in the year 1779, British soldiers under General Tryon came to this mill, demanding to be fed. The miller's wife, informing the soldiers that their dinner was not yet done, secretly removed the dumplings she had prepared and threw them into the pond out of loyalty and her own way to the cause of the rebellion.
Farther down the Mianus River at the Lower Landing, Justus Bush built a grist mill across from what is now the Historical Society headquarters, Bush Holley House. This area was the main hub of commerce and business for many years. When his descendent David Bush died, he was the most affluent man in town whose holdings included his homestead, a country store, two gristmills and the nearby landing and ships. The grist mill at the landing was destroyed by fire in the late 19th century and is now marked by its millstone in a park under the shadow of the Mianus River Bridge.
Another grist mill prominent in our local history is the old Davis Family mill at what is now Bruce Park at Brothers Brook. This tidal mill was originally owned and operated by Rev. Joseph Morgan 1705. He used the stream for grinding while continuing to preach the Lord’s word to his parishioners on the west side of the Mianus River in the Second Congregational Society. The reverend apparently became so devoted to his milling that his parishioners complained their spiritual needs to be neglected. This was enough to eventually force Rev. Morgan to leave the ministry and devote his full-time energies to his mill. Surely, Craik would have understood.
Around the years 1765, Thomas Davis of Long Island bought the mill. During the Revolution his two sons, Steven and Elisha, operated the mill. What many did not know was that Elisha secretly sold some of the crushed grain to the British, whose menacing fleet plied the waters of Long Island Sound. With the war over and the discovery of Elisha’s treason, his half share of the mill was confiscated, with Steven eventually buying out his brother’s lost share. The mill stayed in the Davis family until 1889.
Judge Hubbard, whose reminiscences early Greenwich grace the pages of Other Days in Greenwich, recalls the last member of the Davis family, Edward, to own the mill and who died in 1891. Hubbard writes, “He loved the old mill but he realize that its end had to come, and the day before the demolition began, he went all through it in is half blindness. He passed his hands over the girders and the floor timbers and stroked the long shingles as though they were creatures of life and knew him and realized the parting hour.”
There is only one water-powered grist mill left in the town of Greenwich, though its demise may come about unless conscientious citizens band together to restore it. This mill, known for years is the Knapp Mill on Old Mill Road in Round Hill, was recently discovered by researchers working under the Historical Society’s successful Signs of the Times historic house program.
In light of the dilapidated condition of this legacy of our heritage, I must call upon civic-minded citizens of our town to save this historic site from an timely demise. It would be dreadful if the Selleck grist mill were allowed to crumble. Surely the history and dignity of such a place deserves better treatment than ignorance and neglect. A restoration of the site would be a valuable reminder to the present and future generations of our New England culture and Yankee heritage.
Grist mills, such as the Selleck grist mill, served our town and its people well over the years of our history. Old Mill Road, an enchanting country thoroughfare that has retained its rural flavor, would be tremendously diminished if this symbol and its namesake rollout to die. The 350th anniversary of the founding of Greenwich will arrive in 1990, and I noticed that in our Historical Society Archives just how many of our historic structures have disappeared forever.
Preserving such places is indeed a worthy cause. It is as American as apple pie to be concerned about the welfare of places like the Selleck mill and other historic sites. Grist mills are worthy of preservation and let it be said that this one was worth the effort.
Greenwich, Connecticut USA
Architecturally most gristmills resemble barns. Sitting on solidly built foundations, they are a bit stronger in construction than barns, in order to guard against ever-present vibrations of the water wheel and the millstones. The structures, built with hand-hewn beams and stone foundations, were in many cases constructed without the juice of bolts or nails, with wooden pegs used instead. The exterior of grist mills were for the most part covered with shingles or clapboard siding.
Another lies near the site of the old Davis Grist Mill, whose foundations still endure above the water line, although it was demolished a century ago. It is now part of Bruce Park. Yet another can be found across from the Bush Holley House, at the site of the Justus Bush Mill, and I have seen one used as part of a stone path at a private estate off Cliffdale Road that probably belonged to the old Pickhardt miil on the Byram River.
The stones themselves measure from four to six feet in diameter. One of the most popular substances that millstones were made from is called buhrstone, imported from France, although granite was often used as well. Some millstones were actually several pieces bound together and surrounded by iron hoops.
In the process of grinding, one of the millstones was stationary, while the other rotated above it. The grain was poured through a hopper, which featured a valve that regulated the flow to a hole in the middle of the upper stone. The grain flowed into a series of shallow grooves, known as channels. These channels spread from the center of the stationary millstone and led the crushed grain onto a flat section called the land. Out on the edge, the grain emerged as flour. The grist would fall into a spout from which it passed by conveyor to machines, which separated the flour from the bran.
I live by the mill, she is to me
Like parent, child and wife
I would not change my station
For any other life.
Many early millers seemed quite satisfied and content with the work and life style, so much so that mills were often handed down from generation to generation.
A miller by the name of David Craik wrote a book I came across at the Manhattanville College Library titled The Practical American Millwright, published in 1870. In that, Craik writes with pride and conviction that, among other things, "the occupation of a millwright differs from that of almost all other tradesmen and mechanics, in that he is compelled to accommodate his work to a greater variety of circumstances, conditions and contingencies,” and that "a millwright has need of an extra share of tact and ingenuity.”
A truly master millwright, Craik writes, “must, like a poet, be born such, and cannot be made.” Hence it is that we find so many celebrated millers who never served an apprenticeship, "but were originally sawyer, a carpenter and joiner, an engineer or machinist, until some accidental circumstance occurred to show that they were millwrights.”
Thus the man who ran the grist mill was a special man whose intuition and experience were the best teachers of his trade.
According to historian Spencer P. Mead, in his book Ye Historie of the Town of Greenwich, published in 1911, the first record of a grist mill in Greenwich was dated January 13, 1688. He states, according to town meeting minutes that, “the town took into consideration the building of a grist mill on the Mianus River.” The location of the site today is sometimes referred to as Dumpling Pond, now the intersection of Valley Road and Palmers Hill Road. The grist mill was built in 1688 by Joshua Haight, who died several years later. After the town “recovered its rights in ye stream of the Mianus River heretofor granted to Joshua Haight, deceased,” granted such rights to Jonathan Whelpley in March, 1697, and then to John Burley in 1725.
It was built by Sylvannus Selleck in 1796, and he and some of his family are interred in a small overgrown burying ground near the mill. The mill itself straddles the stream that now runs through the stone dam close by. Situated on the Mayer property, the building seems to have retained its original size and shape.
Preserving such places is indeed a worthy cause. It is as American as apple pie to be concerned about the welfare of places like the Selleck mill and other historic sites. Grist mills are worthy of preservation and let it be said that this one was worth the effort.
Jeffrey B. Mead, who lives in Greenwich, is a direct descendant of one of the founding families of the town. He is a free-lance writer and member of the Greenwich Historical Society.
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