Long History of Town Given Short Shrift

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time, Greenwich, Connecticut USA
April 11, 1990

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. 

New England -the cradle of the heart and soul of America. A land of rolling hills, farms, orchards, cascading brooks, of dazzling kaleidoscopic autumns known the world over, of hand-built stone walls and homesteads erected to last the tests of generations, of majestic churches reaching heavenward, of bulldozers, wrecking balls and the ultimate in tacky, pretentious development, of…

What’s that, you say? I sit here now on the side of Round Hill Road staring in disbelief, sadness, shock and anger at the passing of an old friend callously taken from me and my community. When I learned of the death earlier this year of the Fincherie, also known as the Gilbert Peck house, hand built more than two centuries ago, I felt something die in me, and I have not been able to fill that void. 

I walked up the road to the Peck burying ground that volunteers and I have cleaned up from time to time. I wandered among the gravestones and wondered how, if I had to do it, I could explain this loss to them. 

I recalled a map in my living room by Roger Selchow showing northern Greenwich in olden days. A banner atop the map said words that pierced my Yankee soul like a sword: “Our Inheritance From Those Who Toiled, Wept, Prayed and Harvested.” 

Have we been worthy of our inheritance? I drove home with many questions, but no answers.

Like many residents, I am appalled at this loss, whose physical space will no doubt be occupied in time by yet another aberration built for speculative investment. That this happened as Greenwich kicked noff its 350th year is an embarrassing, shameful event. It touches the soul of our shared values, and in particular, the hearts of those of us with ancestral ties to this town, who work hard to preserve the history of Greenwich.

As reported in this newspaper, a delay of demolition ordinance would apply to structures 500 feet square or more and more than 40 years of age. A sign announcing a proposed demolition would be posted on the property. If no opposition were expressed, the building could be torn down after a 90-day waiting period. The demolition delay would allow preservationists time to preserve all or part of the structure.

The past shelving of the demolition ordinance by the selectmen and the destruction of the Fincherie are unsettling symptoms of modern-day Greenwich. Despite the praise this town gives itself over and over, today’s Greenwich has a growing number of cancers. 

I’ve heard it said that towns do not die overnight but die unassumingly, an inch of two at a time. 

The Town of Greenwich that I grew up with revered its heritage and believed that it benefitted from its New England history. There was confidence in the citizenry and in our democratically-elected government that measures would be taken to ensure the continuity of our shared values. 

This no longer seems to be true. Greenwich has exchanged reverence for heartless and cold profit.

A fire in the hearth in winter requires rekindling to keep providing warmth for those gathered around it. So, too, do towns require laws, such as the demolition ordinance, to keep the warmth of our heritage and shared values from the cold forces of development. 

Think about this: neighborhood residents learn through the grapevine that a revered historic home has been bought by a developer, who plans to demolish it. A trip to Town Hall confirms that the developer plans to move quickly. At a public hearing, preservationists and neighbors express their anguish. One elderly man hands over a petition he solicited by going door-to-door, collecting signatures. Letters to the newspaper lament the imminent destruction of the old house, and that a delay ordinance was not passed by elected town officials. Neighbors and historians express a sincere interest in working with the developer to preserve it, and show profitable alternatives to demolition. Yet in spite of popular support for a delay ordinance, the house comes tumbling down, thanks in part to the passivity of elected officials. Accountability flies out of the window. 

In light of the demise of the Fincherie, I offer a short obituary of some of the fine historic structures lost over the years in Greenwich for the cause of “progress.” 

William Mead House -This spacious house, which occupied the site now taken by Cos Cob School, was the hub of a large farm on both sides of the Post Road. It was said to be 150 years old when it was torn down in 1915. All that we have to remind us of this place is a photograph and the family burying ground off Relay Place.

The Haggerty Building, Greenwich Avenue -Built in 1858, the structure was a blacksmith shop before the Civil War. It also housed the Horseneck Tavern after it moved across the street. It had a bar of wood polished by almost 100 years of elbow rubbing. This place was the first in town to serve bottled beer, and I’m sure its patrons mourned its demolition. 

Peter Ferris House -Built circa 1763, this house was named for a man who operated a grist mill on the west side of the Mianus River. It had four chimneys and dormers on the main roof. A large porch was used for relaxation by its residents. It also had a green Dutch door and bubbled glass windows. It was destroyed when the new bridge over the Mianus on the Post Road was created and the road path changed. A fine sketch by Whitman Bailey reminds us of its dignity and allure.

The Cathmere Inn -How many of you recall this 49-room hostelry that was a familiar site by boaters on Long Island Sound? It was situated on historic land, part of the original tract purchased in July 18, 1640 by Jeffrey Ferris, whose family owned this land until this century. This inn was a resplendent refuge for summer and year ‘round guests. It was purchased by out-of-towners who subdivided the acreage, sold the furnishings and fixtures at public auction and demolished the inn for smaller houses and a new road. 

The Octagon House -Octagon houses were rare examples of 19th century architecture. Could you imagine the novelty of living in an eight-sided house? Solomon Gansey built one on Milbank Avenue in 1857. A French and English school operated there, starting in 1884. The brunswick School got its start there on September 22, 1902, in two rented rooms. The house was sold to the Greenwich Hospital Association, which decided to demolish the house and thus force Brunswick to move. 

Jabez Mead House -William Finch, Jr., tells me that this house, built by my great-great-great-grandfather on the corner of Indian Field Road and East Putnam Avenue where the Sunoco gas station now sits. This homestead was the hub of an immense far that stretched around the Milbrook area. A photo in my possession shows my early relatives in front of the house. 

The Pickwick Arms Hotel -I have few memories of the place, but i know many still mourn the loss of this majestic landmark. How many weddings and receptions have I heard about of celebrities and dignitaries who stayed there. No obituary of demolished homes can say enough about the demise of the Pickwick Arms Hotel, and what was built to replace it. 

The Kent House -This venerable landmark opened its doors in 1876 as a summer resort, attracting a clientele from New York. Many of these people eventually went on to develop Belle Haven. Originally a 12-room house, it expanded over the years. People were picked up at the train station by horse and buggy and taken to Kent House. In the fall of 1953 it was condemned to make way for I-95.

There are plenty of other old houses as well deserving of such a listing here, but space does not permit this. How many recall the Tod Mansion at Greenwich Point, or, for that matter, other mansions of Greenwich’s Great Estates era that were reduced to piles of rubble? The Ephraim Mead House, built in 1830, was the first brick house in town, constructed of bricks imported from the Netherlands? The Ebenezer Mead House, the first tavern in town, was demolished to make way for the First Presbyterian Church at the top of Greenwich Avenue. 

The list goes on and on.

When I was in high school in Greenwich I saw a fine example of government officials working for the preservation of our historic structures. I was among those who watched the home of my Revolutionary War ancestor Ebenezer Mead traverse the Post Road from the high school to new foundations on Salem Street. 

When the Board of Education turned the matter of the Mead House to the selectmen, then-First Selectman Rupert Vernon reconvened a committee in an attempt to preserve the house, which fortunately was successful. Bids on the house were accepted and the house was relocated at the owner’s expense.

It upsets me that this type of respect no longer seems to exist in Greenwich. I believe the demolition ordinance being considered by the selectmen is proper and should have been adopted long ago.

The irreplaceable destruction of our heritage is a horrible and immoral loss to the town. When I hear that people, including Jackie Onassis and His Highness the Prince of Wales, are actively engaged in the preservation of historic buildings, I ask why my home town seems to have missed the boat on this one. It is a disgrace that a town that holds itself so dear would allow such violence to be inflicted on its historic houses and heritage.

In my travels through the town’s burying grounds I have found one epitaph still poignant today, worthy of a sign that ought to be posted at the site of the Gilbert Peck house. If you drive by this place, remember these words of warning:

Behold and see as you pass by
As you are now so once was I
As I am now so you may be
Prepare for death and follow me.