Courage of Vets Served the Highest Goals

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time: November 11, 1986

Veterans Day, 2014

During the cold, somber days of the First World War in Europe, doctor, Charles McMoran Wilson, said of the young servicemen who went off into battle for their country:

"Courage is a moral quality. It is not a chance gift of nature like an aptitude for games. It is a cold choice between two alternatives, the fixed resolve not to quit, an act of renunciation which must be made not once but many times by the power of the will. Courage is will power."

The same high-quality also hold true today of the courageous men and women we honor and commemorate today on Veterans Day. This holiday is set aside annually as a memorial to those who serve our country, fought our nation's wars and were fortunate to come home.

What was once called Armistice Day, this holiday is proclaimed annually by the President of the United States and the state governors in honor of all the former members of the various branches of the U.S. armed services. Veterans Day is dedicated to the observance of those "old soldiers" who served in distinguished service in whatever capacity, to further honor the flag, country and the democratic ideals they fought to defend. 

We are reminded of the  enormous risks and sacrifices our armed forces veterans of made, as well as pay tribute to the special place veterans have an history for their contributions to peace. 

We pause as we do every year with our heads bowed as a united democracy drawn together by spiritual and moral conviction, so that we may pay homage to the hundreds of thousands of men and women, including those locally, who have defended our precious freedoms and the right of those in other lands to enjoy these privileges as well.

History recalls to mind veterans of many wars, with quite a few of the aged, who carry on the tradition of participating in patriotic ceremonies in their respective communities. Memories of the service of the special people have in some cases become dim over time, so that World War II was seeing is far in our distant past.

It was not on June 1, 1954, that Pres. Eisenhower signed an act of Congress "… to honor veterans on the 11th day of November of each year… a day dedicated to world peace."

And so Veterans Day came into being with a host of special observances throughout the nation and at Arlington national Cemetery. It is at the Tomb of the Unknown's where the desire to honor all the dead is symbolized.

Many of us who are young were raised with the quagmire of Vietnam, by far the most frustrating and protested military action in our modern history. We must promise never to bypass paying their respects to the veterans of the of this sad episode. These men and women perform their duties in Southeast Asia without regard to what they thought about the advantages of our presence there or what protesters back home had in mind. This at the very least was not a war characterized by glory. Veterans of the Vietnam conflict deserve more – they have been tested severely, and need a helping hand and an unrestrained compassion and respect of all of us. It is all the more reason their service and sacrifices merits our respect and gratitude.

The Rev. George Yancey, then-pastor of the First Baptist Church in Greenwich, said in 1946 that, "Genuine peace will be difficult to capture, because like the spirit of beauty, it is an abstract. But mankind can find it if he really wants to.

Let us remember that this is a special time to renew hope and faith so that no new generations are called upon to make the sacrifices of past veterans.

Jeffrey Bingham Mead, who lives in Greenwich, is a direct descendent of one of the founding families of the town. He is a free-lance writer and a member of the Greenwich Historical Society.

An Old-Fashioned Holiday at the Ferris Homestead

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time, Greenwich, Connecticut
December 24, 1986

*Note: This is a fictional story I wrote for publication in Greenwich Time. This historical setting is authentic, but this is not based on a story of an actual historical event.

It was mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve in 1893 when the snow began to fall. The wind had been especially cold and breezy that morning, and thin layers of ice had begun to form on the "Myanos" Mill Pond behind the dam.

At the Ferris homestead, near the east bank of the river, there was much jubilation, especially among the children. Travelers passing by the house could hear the sounds of singing and laughter as friends and family came by to extend holiday wishes to Sarah Peck Ferris, grandmother and owner of the historic old family homestead.

While others commented on the snowfall and the breezes that whipped by, Grandma Ferris seemed unfazed by all the fuss about the weather. After all, she had read about it in her Farmers Almanac days before.

As one approached the Ferris house, it could be seen with its pitched roof, clapboarded sides and whitewashed chimney under two very large poplar trees. Beyond the homestead lay an old apple orchard that gently sloped down toward the water's edge. 

Built in 1714, the house seemed to sit comfortably all year round at its location. It had splendid views of the nearby harbor as well. Sarah Ferris and other locals always spoke with pride to travelers that the homestead had been frequented on occasion by the great General Lafayette during the Revolutionary War and that George Washington himself had passed by.

Inside, Sarah sat quietly in her rocking chair beside the blazing warmth of the living room hearth. A fresh pine wreath hung majestically on the wall above the fireplace. The inviting glow of burning applewood logs contrasted with the plumes of smoke that billowed out of the chimney that rose from the center of the house. 

In the opposite corner of the low-ceilinged room stood the family Christmas tree, with the highest branches brushing one of the exposed beams. The tree was gailey festooned with candles, garland, cookie ornaments, red ribbons, popcorn strings and candy canes. The rich aroma of pies, roasted goose and other foods spread from the kitchen throughout the house. Trays of smoked oysters, gooseberry tarts and molded jellies dotted all the side tables, inviting all to feast and enjoy.

So, while the men and the older boys gathered firewood and tended other chores, and the women busied themselves with holiday preparations in the kitchen, the grandchildren gathered themselves around their grandmother and the warmth of the hearth as they did every year to hear her tell stories and sing Christmas songs.

"What is the meaning of Christmas?" asked six-year-old Nathaniel.

"I know," said his older sister and, smirking. "It's 'cause old Santa comes around every Christmas to give all the good children presents."

"Is that true?" Nathaniel asked his grandmother.

Sarah laughed loudly. "No, child," she said.

"Grandma, did Santa Claus bring good children presents before Jesus, or did Jesus get born in the manger first?" asked Nathaniel.

Sarah took the boy in her lap and said, "No sweetheart, the baby Jesus came first."

After dusk a group of handbell ringers and carolers gathered in front of the homestead and sang. One of them stood in the middle holding a lit oil lantern. The carolers sang one of Sarah's favorite songs, "Away in the Manger."

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,
The little Lord Jesus lay down His sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky looked down where He lay,
The little lord Jesus asleep on the hay.


While they were still singing outside, young and old alike stopped what they were doing and listened to the harmonious carolers. Sarah emerged from her rocking chair and parted the living room window. Delight beamed joyfully from her bespeckled eyes. Above the lantern light, bare branches were enveloped in silvery ice that sparkled like constellations of stars in the night. The snow was falling quite heavily, rapidly covering the persevering carolers, who continued with unrelenting holiday cheer to sing merrily.

Snow! Everyone grinned at the thought of drifts of snow covering the ground on Christmas morning. Over by the sugar maple at the front gate would lay abundant folds of the white stuff. From here Sarah's grandchildren would build a snowman. With the carrot for a nose and charcoal for eyes and mouth, he would stand nobly greeting everyone venturing to the homestead. 

The snowman would receive an old pipe for his mouth and his head would be topped with a beat-up brown hat swiped by an anonymous grandchild from one of the upstairs closets. The snow indeed was a delight for all, although Sarah Ferris would be there to admonish young and old alike, noisily banging her cane at those who forgot to wipe off their snow-encrusted boots before entering the house.

After greetings and best wishes for holiday cheer were exchanged with the carolers, the family gathered in the living room with Sarah taking her usual spot next to the warmth of the heart. She took out her Bible from the nearby bookcase and read aloud the story of the birth of Christ. 

Later, her son, Jonathan Ferris, brought in his violin and played while the young children sang to their grandmother:

We three kings of Orient are;
Bearing gifts we traverse afar,
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Following yonder star.
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect light.

After a hearty Christmas Eve dinner of roasted goose, pies and an endless assortment of foods, the young children were brought to the living room to hang their stockings above the hearth, and those that were staying at the homestead got ready to go upstairs to bed. 

But before everyone set off to depart until Christmas day, Sarah Ferris ended the evening by reading "A Visit from St. Nicholas."

As Grandma Ferris read on, Nathaniel came over and stood next to his grandmother. As she neared the end of the poem he climbed onto her lap. The dancing flames of the hearth made both their faces glow with holiday warmth, love and goodwill. 

And with that they read the end together: "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Good-night."

Samuel Ferris House. 1 Cary Road, Riverside, Connecticut. 

Jeffrey Bingham Mead, who lives in Greenwich, is a direct descendent of one of the founding families of the town. He is a free-lance writer and a member of the Greenwich Historical Society.

Time to Preserve Character that Made Greenwich Great (Founders Day, 1985)

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time: July 18, 1985

The front porch of the Bush Holley House, Cos Cob. August, 2014.

Today, Greenwich is celebrating its 345th birthday, and occasion popularly known called Founders' Day. Founders' Day marks the commemoration of one of our most vigorous but some traditions, namely, to hold in highest esteem and honor our ancestors who first settled this town.

America as a whole, and New England towns such as ours in particular, are very fortunate in that our beginning was distinct and authenticated. In looking over the history of our town, we find a community which constitutes those qualities, shared values and principles that helped make the Town of Greenwich unique in the likely spectrum of old New England towns.

While Founders' Day is not a legal holiday, it is a day that has been and still is loved and honored, an event commemorated by our local media, public meetings, churches, and other functions both private and public. The town in the past has held large parades featuring floats, and marching bands. Retailers have been known to dress in period costume, and indeed let us not forget the bargains galore during the annual Greenwich Sidewalk Sales Days.

Putnam Hill, as viewed from the steeple of the Second Congregational Church looking eastward. Circa 1913. 

But Founders' Day, especially for me, has a broader and deeper significance. This occasion calls upon our citizens to honor the early settlers of this town who came at great risks and noble motives, namely, the love of freedom and the hatred of oppression. In its broadest sense we on Founders' Day glorify these hard-working people who abandoned their native lands and devoted their lives to the founding and continuance of values and principles that would help this nation become the greatest home of political and religious history in the world.

Selleck Grist Mill, Old Mill Road in Round Hill. November 11, 2014. 

The modernization of Greenwich has hastened the vanishing phenomenon of a small-town life, yet I assert that are small-town values are part of a continuing heritage and must be preserved as much as any historic building or landmark. Such an endeavor at traditional preservation entails responsibility and common concern.

Thorton Wilder and our own Anya Seton, to name two, immortalized in literature that sort of idealization of the Elm tree-lined village and enlisted the reader to the passionate sense and subtle qualities of the small town soul. The phenomenon of the small town past feature chapters in innovative thinking and action that met the needs of its inhabitants, and such patterns in our small town heritage are very much worth commemorating and saving.

Stanwich Chapel (former the Stanwich Congregational Church). November, 2014. 

What I protest on this occasion is a cry heard many times before, in particular, an appeal for our citizens to again cherish our countryside and our shared values now blighted by excessive commercial development and local exploitation. Our Yankee traditions, unique cultural phenomenons, I think are worth preserving and recalling on occasions such as Founders' Day.

A vigorous and growing town such as ours must preserve its historic heritage and pass it on to succeeding generations. Our local history tells the story of Greenwich's growth, its trials, accomplishments, failures and goals. How well we safeguard and interpret this priceless legacy will determine the kind of town we shall be tomorrow.

Old barn off Stanwich Road. November, 2014.

Indifference to overdevelopment is the greatest enemy and threat to our uniqueness and values. Political leadership and consensus is what we need in substance, not politically expedient management which only leaves us rudderless and disheartened. 

When the Greenwich Historical Society took over the Bush-Holley House in 1957, Richard Howland, then president of the National Trust for Historic Preservation, urged the society to "preserve the soul as well as the body" of the Bush-Holley House itself. 

Interior of the Round Hill Store. July, 2014. 

In the great spirit of Mr. Howland's wise words, I believe it is now time to preserve the foundations, shared values, our vital open spaces, indeed very body and soul of the Town of Greenwich. There is no substitute for the virtue of Yankee ingenuity. We must take ourselves to task in the same spirit of hard work, faith, perseverance and reverence of our heritage that helps found this town. I call upon those on this Founders' Day who, like me, love this town for its Yankee heritage and not for its empty, purported snob appeal to come together and rebuild. The time for such a vision to prosper is now.

Following in Historic Footsteps: 1993

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time. Looking Back (first monthly column): May 9, 1993

Jeffrey Bingham Mead, emerging from climbing the interior of the steeple of the
Second Congregational Church of Greenwich, August 2014. 

Editor's Note: This is the first of the monthly series of columns by Jeffrey Bingham Mead, a free-lane writer and direct descendant of one of the town's founding families. He grew up in backcountry Greenwich and is a member of the Historical Society of the Town of Greenwich.

Today marks a new beginning for me. Thanks to you, I have been given the opportunity to follow in the footsteps of others is a regularly featured Greenwich history columnist.

Other prominent historians have preceded me in the local newspapers. Judge Frederick Hubbard, author of Other Days in Greenwich, recounted the past in The Judges Corner and Greenwich – Life As It Was. Whitman Bailey crowned his stories with classical pen drawings. Most recently, Warren Lewin entertained readers with Times Past until his death in 1990.

Sound Beach Avenue, Old Greenwich. August, 2014. 

Ten years ago, Greenwich Time opened the door that allowed me to write about local history. My expressed wish all along has been to popularize the heritage of this town, ponder items from yesteryear, promote the preservation of historic sites and explore the deep recesses of long ago.

Heritage and aptitude have been kind to me. Studying, teaching, speaking about and penning history have been experiences that I think have brought out the best in me, and as a result, I love my work. My vocation propels me to investigate the nooks and crannies of our culture and rediscover the traditional character of a New England town that I hold near and dear to my heart.

Dingletown Community Church. October, 2014. 

Sounds simple, right? It isn't always. Coupled with years of practice and experience, I undertake to succeed in achieving such laudable features as brevity, clearness of thought, accuracy and excellence. Historian and Francis Parkman stated many years ago: 

"The narrator must seek to imbue himself with the life and spirit of the time. He must study events in all their bearings, near and far, in the character, habits and manner of those who took part in them. He must be, as it were, a sharer or spectator of the action he describes."

Veterans Day, Greenwich Avenue. November 11, 2014

The traditional Town of Greenwich is a fine community with many blessings. While I think it sometimes takes itself too seriously, it remains a friendly and hospitable place. This is especially true in the hearts of its people, both past and present. A town is what it is according to what its inhabitants make of it. Without the perspective of history, we are devoid of explanations, memory and continuity.

John Banks House, Banksville. November, 2014. 

True, there are some today looking for fairy tales – you won't find them here in this column. We've had our share of ups and downs -folks in both the olden and new days stubbed their toes from time to time, and admittedly a few did some eccentric things, too. You'll be reading about that and much more.

As your narrator, I will be your guide through the passageways of time and place, sharing with you the essence of Greenwich throughout its history. You, the readers of Greenwich Time, have been faithful and loyal over these past 10 years, and I thank you for it. Your appreciation has not and will not to be forgotten.

Mill Street, Byram. August, 2014. 

Understanding our heritage grants us confidence and sadness of mind. With that, we are better prepared to steer the course of time and history. For me, the dividends of this trek has been bountiful and enriching. I hope you will deem it so, too.

A Dispatch from the Civil War Battlefield

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time: May 20, 1990

*Note: This is a fictional story I wrote for publication in Greenwich Time. This historical setting is authentic, but this is not based on a story of an actual historical event.

During the cold and dark years of America's Civil War, tens of thousands of young men marched off to the sound of cheers of family and friends, many never to return home again. It turned out to be an agonizing conflict out on the battlefields, where American fought American and a series of bloody episodes this nation had not seen before or since.

Jonathan Swift once called war "that mad game the world so loves to play." Most of the boys who fought on both sides were younger than 21 years of age. The war and its realities changed these boys into men forever. They slept on the ground in rain and snow, scavenged for food, water and firewood. They stood firm while the thunder of cannon shock the ground underneath, and bullets whizzed past their ears like a multitude of angry hornets emerging from their nests.

At one encampment in Virginia, the end of another long day drew to a close. The hillside overlooking the village by the river below was lit by the redness of the settings sun in the western sky. The puffy clouds above burst in cold flames of blue, yellow and crimson, a sea of colors that illustrated the autumn leaves on the trees below. 

As the sun dipped slowly behind the mountains in the west, it gave one last sinister grin, promising the mortal souls of a nation embroiled in self-destruction below that it would rise again the next morning. Darkness cloaked the landscape like an icy pall, the crescent of the moon above like a sword hanging from the heavens, unyielding, unforgiving and unmerciful.

At one of the many campfires, a young soldier named Samuel Lyon had just received a letter from home. He felt lucky to get one, for it took a long time for letters to reach their destinations, if they ever got there at all. Smiling, he put his rifle down beside him and began to write back:

"My Dear Father and Mother:

"It is with pleasure that I can seat myself this afternoon to answer your welcomed letter which I read a few minutes ago. How pleased I was to hear from the old homestead in Greenwich, but I am sorry to hear that Cale's health has been poor. I hope this letter reaches you when he may be restored and recovered.

"The weather has been for the most part mild an Indian summer like, but from sleeping in a tent I had caught a very bad cold, though I am well over it by now. We are in a field of about 50 acres, as near as I can judge, on the east side of a hill near the top. In the valley below lies a small village on the river here in Virginia. We marched into the village with little opposition, though a few snipers were stationed where we now camp.

"At night we sleep in pairs and a small tent made of the slender strip of muslin which is drawn over a pole about three feet from the ground. A blanket is spread out on the grass underneath and serves our bed. Although it is uncomfortable sleeping on the ground, it is all we have. When it rains, the downpours and wind beat down upon us because it is open on both ends, the ground soaking with riverlets of muddy water flowing down the hillside around us.

"Father and mother, you must not take my services to the nation so hard. Our country and President calls, and somebody must go and defend her unity and freedoms as our forefathers done before us. There are hundreds of boys not even as old as I. Just think of the sacrifices that have been made by those poorer than us, and where the only son has gone and left their families to tend emptiness and memories in our cold and indifferent world.

"Since I enlisted left the homestead I have seen so much evil and atrocities… That I am really sickened by it. Though times have been easy, lately it was not always so. After one battle with the Rebs we were ordered to search for any dead or wounded soldiers. We found one officer shot while looking through a telescope, as if glancing toward our lines. I think that day about several hundred of the enemy were killed, the bullets penetrating the four heads of a few. We found some grasping photographs or letters of loved ones. As they perished from this mortal world they no doubt rested with reflections or treasured thoughts of homes and carefree times they will never see you again.

"I hope to come home soon and be reunited with you. Have you finished the harvest yet? The autumn leaves in Connecticut must all be brown and off the trees by now. I heard that Sherman and Grant will someday soon join forces to take Richmond, and with it will fall the rebel Confederacy.

"Please be patient, dear parents and loved ones, and this brutality of American fighting American will end after a while, and then I shall come home again to live in peace with you.

"And now, as I have run out of anything more to write I will close, hoping this may find you, accept this from your ever affectionate son in the service of his country."

Jeffrey Bingham Mead is a direct descendent of one of the founding families of Greenwich. He is a teacher and a freelance writer.

Esbon Heusted and his Many Financial Troubles

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time. Looking Back: 1996

In 1842, Esbon Heusted, a Greenwich resident, found himself in considerable financial trouble. Deacon Silas H. Mead of the North Greenwich Congregational Church, in a letter he penned to his missionary friend, Amos Starr Cooke, in far off Hawaii, described Heusted's difficulties.

"The last part of last week, our town was set in great commotion," Mead wrote from his home on John Street. "Esbon Heusted, Deacon of Horseneck Church (today's Second Congregational Church) failed in his business, perhaps he won't be able to pay one half is liabilities."

From October 1841 through October 1842, Heusted had accumulated nine mortgages totaling $17,145.15. By today's standards that seems small, but it was substantial for the early 1840s. When the business climate went sour, so did Heusted's fortunes and investments. Bankruptcy loomed its uninvited head.

Twenty-three "executions" of warrants for his arrest were served between 1843 to 1844. These are recorded in manuscript form in the Greenwich land records at Town Hall. Heusted's creditors included Edward Knapp, David Heusted, Deborah Mead, Abigail Hobby, and William Close. The Fairfield County Bank was owed $26,066.1/2 cents, too. They levied $1444 for cost of suit and fees.

"The worst of it all," continued Silas H. Mead to his missionary friend, "is he used his neighbors names too freely, to what extent I do not know. Forge one note and then another, take up the first and so on. Whether he meant to be dishonest or not, there is a difference of opinion. I should think that he has no money now, and I believe today he has given himself up and gone to jail." 

Silas H. Mead resumed his narrative. "He commenced first by altering the date of a note from May to August... and I doubt very much whether he has a key to his bosom that will unlock any door there. I am told he appears penitent, says he did not mean to injure anyone, and is sorry he has done as he has." 

How did Mr. Heusted settle his accounts? One indiction is recorded in Volume 25, Page 26 in the Land records. A 'Chattel mortgage' is registered between Heusted and Zaccheus Mead dated Nov. 11, 1842. The items covered, valued at $200, included 20 yards of muslin, a "looking glass," 6 blankets, a picture of Washington, two chests of carpenters tools, a flock of geese and more.

A lesson was derived from these unfortunate circumstances by Silas H. Mead. "Here we can see the propriety of the caution, 'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. And now friend we can see what a tearful thing it is to step out of the path ever so little." 


Jeffrey Bingham Mead is a direct descendant of one of the founding families of the Town of Greenwich. He is a free-lance writer and a member of the Greenwich Historical Society.

Christmas Eve, 1875

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
December 25, 1988
Greenwich Time, Greenwich, Connecticut USA

Miss Ophelia Husted rose from the rocking chair in her room, where she had been reading her Bible, and walked to the window, though why she did so she could not tell. Ophelia parted of the curtains and gazed outside.

The landscape beyond on this Christmas Eve in 1875 would have been a delight for an artist to paint on canvas. It had been snowing for almost two days. The bare hills and forests around the old Husted homestead on North Maple Avenue, where she was spending the holidays, were covered with layers of snow. The pines and spruce trees seemed as if cake icing have been spread upon their limbs by an overly enthusiastic baker.

The Husted Homestead on North Maple Avenue, Greenwich, Connecticut. Image captured October, 2014. 

The old homestead at the bottom of the hill appeared from the road to be a white gingerbread house, the centerpiece of the child's dream of tasty sweets and other holiday goodies. Several deer foraged in the distance for food at the edge of the brook, then quickly ran off and disappeared.

Ophelia smiled as she turned away and strolled to the writing desk close by. As the candle lantern flickered, she took out a piece of paper, and with pen in hand began to write:

Christmas Eve 1875

Dearest Louisa:

I had set out with mother and my brother William by stagecoach from Bedford at 9 a.m. on Thursday. The clouds hung like a heavy canopy in the winter sky, and we knew snow was on the way. We had packed ahead of time for a trip to cousin Adelia Husted's home in Greenwich. It was so gracious of them to invite us – Pa had passed away in March and Christmas around our farm could never have been the same. Mother still mourns his passing, as we all do.

The roads were very rough, to say the least. We felt every bump on the frozen ground beneath us. Sometimes it was dangerous, it was as if we were going up and down all the time. I had always enjoyed the countryside all year 'round, but this time I was genuinely relieved to finally get off the stage at the old homestead in Greenwich late in the day.

I saw a plume of smoke billowing from the chimney, a warm fire at last! Cousin Adelia came out and greeted us with open arms as usual. Mother brightened up for the first time that day. Adelia led her into the parlor and seated mother next to the hearth.

The Christmas tree was so beautiful! It was embellished with garlands, ribbons of many colors, candy canes, popcorn strings, candles and cookie ornaments. The house was filled with the aroma of pies, roasted goose. Trays of all sorts of goodies were scattered about. Many old friends were at hand to welcome us and fuss over mother. The Christmas spirit was everywhere.

As dusk arrived, the snow began to fall in flurries but thickened quickly. The little children beamed with delight at the thought of building a snowman and having snowball fights, although Uncle Nathaniel frowned a bit when he heard this. I don't think he has forgotten that snowball three years ago that broke the window of his study. It was all a mistake, of course.

The homestead was full of old friends, and the minister from the Congregational Church was at hand, too. You gathered everyone into the parlor and led us all in a beautiful chorus of caroles. Adelia was at Mother's side, holding her hand as the fire danced in the hearth close by. We sang in harmony, though I do recall a friend of Uncle Nathaniel's who was a bit off-key at times.

After the guests had bid us farewell, Mother read to the children, 'A Visit from St. Nicholas.' The children drew near to her place by the fire, listening attentively in anticipation of the joy of the coming Christmas holiday…"

Ophelia's letter writing was interrupted by a soft knock at her door. She put her pen down and got up to see who was there. Opening the door, she saw her brother William, smiling.

"Cousin Adelia sent me to tell you that dinner is being served," he said.

"I'll be there shortly," she replied.

She stepped down the staircase and into the dining room through the parlor. She paused for a moment to gaze at the Christmas tree, which had been lit with candles. All were seated at the table holding hands to say the blessing.

"Ophelia, my dear, would you lead us in our holiday blessings of the Lord?" asked Adelia.

"Yes, of course," beamed the young lady.

The prayer that followed was simple, yet earnest in expressing the tenderness shared by all at the holiday table. Her prayer recalled her father, and her words whispered softly, reached heavenward and caught the ears of invisible angels, who no doubt smiled.

The hearts of those in this homestead and so many others were filled with the joy of Christmas love, warmth, delight, goodwill and wishes for peace on earth.


Jeffrey Bingham 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 a member of the Greenwich Historical Society.

What's in a Name? A Lot of Local History

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time. August 18, 1989

It seems to me that almost everywhere I look these days friends and acquaintances of mine are getting married and preparing for the big jump into settling down and starting a family. While this plunge as of yet does not include me, I've been watching and listening with fascination to the attention those close to me are paying to this big turning point in their lives.

Most establishing would-be parents of children give careful consideration into choosing the first names of a newborn. I know this is a daunting task, for this name will accompany the child through infancy, childhood, adolescence, and adulthood.

This is a big decision for anyone to make. The stakes in such a decision are highest for the child, of course, who by and large is totally defenseless against your choice. (Indeed, perhaps the only time.)

I care very much about those who are close to me, especially those who were gleefully contemplating the day soon when you will be tying the knot and embarking on a new adventure in life. I realize lots of you are very busy with careers, shopping around for that first home, picking up the proper china pattern of the bridal registry, organizing the church ceremony, trying to find the right band play at your wedding reception, and just plainly trying to cope with everyday life in general. 

Since you know that I care you know how sincere I am in offering to help you decide on names for the kids. After all, what are friends for anyway?

Many of you know I've been working with the good folks at the Historical Society for some time now, wandering through burying grounds and reading the old gravestones, browsing through old deeds and legal documents of landowners from yesteryear, recalling the contributions of veterans from long ago, looking up lost relatives in the genealogies we have on file, and so on. 

I have picked up just for you a rich variety of names affixed to the identities of earlier generations of my forbears and other families here in Greenwich. Some are beautiful; some are near bizarre.

Although most of our Yankee forebears had what we would consider to be ordinary names, some of the Puritan faithful went to extremes in naming their children. For the most part they used names derived from the Old Testament in the Bible. Thus we find a number of names that are rarely, if at all, used today, such as Hazakiah, Job, Ebenezer, Jeduthen, and Azubah. 

The name Theophilus is found through several concurrent generations of the Peck family members at their burying ground on Round Hill Road. The name itself translates from the Greek for "beloved of God." Ebenezer is derived from the Hebrew term for "a foundation of stone." Keziah, a name assigned to girls by the Puritans, was one of the daughters of Job and translates from the Hebrew for "a powdered cinnamon-like bark," or fragrance.

Are you seeking to instill goodness and purity in your children at an early age? Some of the more conservative Puritans give their newborns the so-called "Virtue" names. Thus we find names like Deliverance Mead, Charity Knapp Mead, Thankful Lockwood, Prudence Avery, and so on. 

If one pictures through the genealogies contained in Spencer P. Mead's Ye Historie of Ye Town of Greenwich, we find names like Mindwell used in the Bates, Close, Ferris and Rundle families, along with Mercy Ferris and Mercy Merritt. 

Patience appears in the Husted and Rundle genealogies, Comfort is found in the Finch and Howe family trees, and Prudence is another found in the Mead and Knapp family lineages.

Some of those who fought in our Revolution, Civil War and other military conflicts went to battle with first names like Moses Peck, Jabez Mead, Jeduthen Ferris, Jared Mead, Solomon Close, Ezekiel Reynolds, Isaac Palmer, Drake Lockwood, Arod Peck, Zachariah Tilson, Elnathan Husted and Erastus Burns.

Other first names found throughout the genealogies of the old families worthy of mention include such as Shubal, Enoch, Lot, Eliphalet, Zebulan, Phineas and Titus. 

For the women one can find names such as Theodosia, Mehitable, Jemima, Sehra, Leaticia and Drucilla.

Today the majority of us whose roots go way back have been spared the difficulties of such names, and I think dear God and my parents for sparing me such a name. 

I did by chance page through the phone book and I did find one Mead family and treat that still retains one old name – the one and only Elkanah Mead Insurance Agency, which I admit has a nice ring to it. 

I hope those of you pondering the choice of the names of your children can now rest with peace of mind you deserve. I hope the in-laws will abide by whatever you decide, but in case a line of demarcation is been drawn, I must say, I'm sorry, kids: if it's a choice between Keziah and Mindwell or Theophilus and Arod, please don't call me-you'll just have to work it out for yourselves. I've done all that I can.

Jeffrey Bingham Mead is a direct descendant of one of the founding families of the Town of Greenwich. He is a free-lance writer and a member of the Greenwich Historical Society. 

Make Your Point with Electronic Newsletters (Guest Commentary)

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Small Business News, Honolulu: December 2000

Back in the Day: "Make Your Point with Electronic Newsletters (December, 2000)

"Whether an electronic-based newsletter is in simple-text format, formatted and delivered as an email attachment, or based on the World Wide Web, your business, organization, or denomination stands to benefit in ways that will surprise you."

Fourteen years ago this month those words were penned by me and published in Small Business News, the then-print-only monthly newsletter of Small Business Hawaii. My digital publishing company, Wordtronic, specialized in providing communication solutions for Hawaii-based small businesses and non-profit organizations. I dissolved the company in 2007.

You might be amazed to learn that there were quite a few people who thought that I was crazy. 

E-newsletters? Was I serious? 

"But newsletters have always come in my mailbox, always on printed paper!" 

I correctly predicted at that time that newsletters would change over to digital format. That's something we in 2014 take as commonplace. I knew my skeptics would be wrong -and they were. 

Below is the full text of that article, published as a guest commentary in the December, 2000 edition of Small Business News. 

Make Your Point with Electronic Newsletters

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead, Wordtronic.com

Small Business News. December, 2000. 

Ruthie Chong is one of Hawaii's best known graphicanalysts. "I've been promising an electronic-based newsletter to my clients and prospects for a long time. I realized it was time to stop procrastinating."

Electronic-based newsletters make good business sense. Many businesses, organizations, even religious denominations have embraced this as a 21st-century venue for advertising as well as product and service promotion. "I used to go crazy,"says Mrs. Chong. "My direct mail drops that I used to send out periodically cost me a fortune. It was cumbersome, frustrating, and wasteful."

Having an electronic-based newsletter has turned out to be a multifaceted boon. Companies, large and small, report enhanced traffic to their web sites, which in turn promotes loyalty and a forum for instantaneous feedback.

"I sincerely think that my goals in providing a published newsletter we're just the same as a retail store would have in advertising," added Ruthie Chong. 

Her published news letter, The Right Facts: Dialogue with Ruthie Chong. Maximizing the Power of Graphoanalysis in your Personal and Professional Life, has been received very positively by her clientele.

The inescapable cornerstone of an electronic newsletter is interesting and conversational content. 

"Most people today are sophisticated enough to tell the difference between bland copy and interesting, lively, and conversational copy," said Delilah Chang, a contributing editor for AtomicWord Hawaii, published by Wordtronic.com. "Let's face facts; if it's not going to be interesting, your clients and prospects will view you as a junk mailer. That's a recipe for lost business and credibility."

"My clients are very keen on content-quality electronic newsletters," says Angela Mara, marketing director for Boston-based Cohasset Financial Management. "We have found that we have a better probability of getting clients and prospective customers to our site this way."

Her firm generates much of the content internally, and it taps business partners, industry sources, and feedback from customers for free content. Her firm contracts out to Worktronic.com to organize the information, and gives it lively content and style. Electronic publishers like Wordtronic.com offer research time and services as part of its package, especially for those whose time and resources are limited. 

"For us it was a no-brainer. Since we've immersed since were immersed in our work going this route was appropriate and profitable."

Whether an electronic-based newsletter is in simple-text format, formatted and delivered as an email attachment, or based on the World Wide Web, your business, organization, or denomination stands to benefit in ways that will surprise you.

Jeffrey Bingham Mead is the founder and president of The Pacific Learning Consortium. 

Unlawful Activities in Turn of the Century Greenwich

by Jeffrey Bingham Mead
Greenwich Time: June, 1989


"Why is it," pleaded a reporter in one of the old town newspapers in 1897, "that burglars and thieves, when they ply their business in Greenwich, come on Friday nights? Saturday mornings when we arrive at the office, we expect to hear of some terrible thing that is occurred during the night. Why is it that Friday evening seems to be the time for unlawful things to shock the community to happen? Is it because Friday is considered an unlucky day?"

Police Department of Greenwich, Connecticut. Circa 1910. Photo Credit.

Crime, one problem ever present in most American communities, is interwoven in the history of any community. Over year ago, when the Historical Society opened the doors to its newly completed archives behind the Bush Holley House, some of us had quite a laugh in reading some of the accounts of earlier life here, discovering that the activities of a number of our citizens of those days were colorful, yet seemingly sparkled with those events that can turn a good day into a bad one.

I must admit that one of the most frequently read sections of any newspaper, including this one, is the police blotter, which tells the stories of those people who have gotten into some kind of trouble, from auto accidents to participation in illegal activities. 

I tend to believe that even some of the most literary among us get a certain sense of curiosity about the police blotter. Perhaps that obnoxious neighbor down the street finally got what he or she deserved, or the details of an auto accident you passed by on your way to work was discussed briefly.

I am not an authority on human nature, but I found, as Town Historian William Finch, Jr., said to all of us as we entertained ourselves that day in the archives building that bears his name, that the more things change, the more they stay the same. 

I have thus compiled a historical police blotter of sorts from the late 19th and early 20th century in Greenwich, during the area known for its great estates. If you think literally all went smoothly during those genteel, tea-party days of gentle breezes and pleasant afternoon conversations on the porches and piazzas of Greenwich, we have what I hope is an entertaining and informative surprise for you, for all was not smooth sailing in the pastoral days in this town in the Land of Steady Habits.

(*Authors note: the following are direct, authentic transcriptions from their sources. J. Mead) 

Oct. 14, 1882
Last week a raid was made on the liquor saloons of Henry C. Schnaultz, at East Port Chester, and of John Daly of Cos Cob, who were selling without a license. A considerable variety and quantity of intoxicating drinks were seized, under the new statute, and adjudged a nuisance by Justice Russell. Constable Dayton intends to execute his final warrant and pour the liquor into the gutter this afternoon.

Nov. 11, 1882
On Thursday night, Mr. Seaman Mead had a horse stolen from the pasture and a black bob-tailed horse left in its stead. Mr. Mead does not regarded it as a fair exchange and is in pursuit of the thief.

Oct. 21, 1882
On Friday afternoon of last week while Mr. David S. Husted was at work in the fields, someone entered his home and stole a good watch and a sum of money. The theft was probably committed by a tramp.

As Mrs. L. P. Hubbard was returning from church last Sunday evening, and when crossing the avenue near the corner of Mechanic Street, she was run into and knocked down by a carriage coming from the west, which was driven by Mr. George W. Scott of Mianus, and contained Rev. A. Scofield of Cos Cob, who had been preaching in the Methodist Church of this place. At the time Mrs. Hubbard was knocked down, she was looking for a carriage coming from the east and did not see that one coming in the opposite direction. As soon as Mr. Scott could stop his horse, they returned to take care of Mrs. Hubbard, and found her being cared for by a couple of gentlemen who happened to be near by. Mrs. Hubbard was considerably bruised, though not seriously, and is now rapidly improving.

Jan. 3, 1909
Mrs. Mariana Catorie, having been brought to justice this week, keeps a boarding house on N_g__r Hole Hill. Her husband has deserted her, and she has two children. She sold some liquor to the boarders, and in the house was found three cases of beer, a gallon of wine and some whiskey. In Borough Court, Judge Tierney imposed a fine of $10 and costs.

John Harper, chauffeur, Tuesday night had taken Benjamin Strong from the Greenwich station to Conyers Manor in a big limousine car, and in leaving the car skidded on the ice and overturned, badly smashing the top. Fortunately Harper was able to crawl from under unhurt.

June 12, 1897
A vicious dog belonging to a tribe of gypsies was shot on the corner of Greenwich in Putnam Avenues on Saturday noon. The cur had bitten two persons and was alarming the neighborhood, when Sheriff Fitzroy drew his revolver and put an end to his career. The gypsies, after he was shot, claimed they did not own him.

Aug. 14, 1897
A wild man is exciting the people of Long Ridge (Stamford). He is said to be about 35 years of age, dresses neatly, but he has a wild look. He makes his home in a blackberry field and has frightened a number of the women by his unexpected movement, and seems to be as afraid of the sex as they are of him.

1898 (undated)
Mrs. Wilbur, an elderly lady who is visiting her sister in Cos Cob, went out to pick blackberries Wednesday morning. Her being away so long, the family became alarmed, and several men and boys went in search of her. Mrs. William Teed found her almost 5 miles from the house where she was visiting. As soon as Mrs. Teed could calm the old lady she learned where she was staying and quickly took her home. It seems that while she was picking berries, she lost her way and had wandered through the swamp, where she lost her shoes, and a thick wood, in her efforts to find her way home.

Sept. 25, 1909
In Borough Court on Monday, the charge against Bernard Hanniker, a boarder, for assaulting William Anderson, was heard. He was also charged with resisting arrest, attempting to strike an officer and striking a man the officer called for assistance. His attorney, James R. Mead, in admitting the offense, asked that a fine and not a jail sentence be imposed. Judge Hubbard made the fine $7 and costs.

Sept. 25, 1909
James Jones of Cos Cob was found on the trolley track by the crew of a car and laid alongside the track. Another crew found him back on the track again and removed him. By this time an officer had come and taken charge of him, and Judge Hubbard sentenced him to a fine of $5 and costs.

Jan. 28, 1882
A. William Hamilton and Frank Moshier were speeding a fast trotter belonging to the former down Greenwich Avenue on Wednesday afternoon, the wheel of the phaeton was broken by striking a heap of frozen earth and the occupants thrown out, but fortunately no more serious damage was done.

Sept. 30, 1882
The residence of Mrs. Titus Mead, North Street, was burglariously entered a short time ago, and some property stolen. Last Sunday night the coach house was entered, but the coachman, Jas. Davis, who was sleeping therein, awoke and arrested the intruder. Nothing was stolen, however, and after giving the fellow a sharp lecture Mr. Davis let him go. The man is said to have been formally in Mrs. Mead's employ, and opinion is divided as to whether he entered the coach house merely to sleep, or did so with burglarious intent.

Feb. 11, 1882
While returning from Port Chester about 5 o'clock Monday afternoon, and when near the top of Col. Thomas Mead's hill, a sleigh containing Counsellor R. Jay Walsh and Deputy Sheriff Reynolds was upset, the occupants escaping serious injury. The public will breathe easier that these illustrious lives have been spared, and wrongdoers have still reason to tremble in their shoes. 


Jeffrey Bingham Mead, a direct descendant of one of the founding families of the town, is a free-lance writer and a member of the Greenwich Historical Society.