Powder House Amesbury Restoration & Preservation Effort

A Message from Tim Osgood Amesbury resident, teacher and avid preservationist Contact osgood.tim@gmail.com and Bartlett Museum is also on the board

As some of you may know the historic 1810 Powder House on Brown’s Hill (off Madison Street) was recently vandalized this past fall. Built for the storage of gunpowder before the War of 1812, this historic property is only 1 of 7 left remaining in the entire state. See In My Footsteps:Amesbury

Despite many attempts by the Amesbury Improvement Association to help preserve this building, keeping up with the frequent vandalism has proved to be a tough task.  Several residents volunteered their time and donated materials to temporarily secure the Powder House from further damage this winter. As we begin to thaw out, it is time to start thinking seriously about the future of this structure.  

The AIA has green-lighted the formation of a community group to assist in its restoration and putting into a place a plan for its future.  Whether you’re a history buff or someone who likes cool, old buildings, we would love if you could offer your thoughts, ideas, and expertise to this project.  If interested please message me on Facebook or e-mail me at osgood.tim@gmail.com – this will put you on the group list where a more formal meeting will be planned for the Spring. Thanks!"

Historic Powder House damaged by vandals The Powder House on Brown’s Hill in Amesbury has been vandalized again. It was built in 1810 and used to store powder and shot during the War of 1812.BRYAN EATON/Staff Photo

Article from Newburyport News written by Jim Sullivan

A beloved piece of Amesbury’s past has been the victim of vandals once again after the Powder House was found heavily damaged this week.
“It is like knocking over gravestones,” Amesbury Improvement Association president Anne Ferguson said. “It is like burning an historic home and I don’t know where that comes from.”
One of only seven left in the state, the Powder House is believed to have been built in 1810 to house arms, ammunition and gunpowder and was put to good use during the War of 1812.
Located at the top of the secluded Brown’s Hill at the corner of Monroe and Madison streets, the 13-foot-tall stucco and brick structure can be very attractive to those looking to escape prying eyes, as five-year Amesbury resident Tim Osgood discovered Monday afternoon when he was walking his dog and discovered damage and graffiti.
“It is pretty extensive from what I saw. I guess in the other times that it has been damaged, it wasn’t that bad. But it looks like someone really went at it this time,” Osgood said. “The damage is to the top, so someone really would have had to have been either incredibly tall or have used something to get to the top of the structure (which) looks like someone might have taken a sledgehammer to it.”
The damage that Ferguson said looks to have been done within the past month was not limited to the structure’s stucco exterior.The brick interior is damaged as well.
“You can see inside of it,” Osgood said. “Whoever did it obviously had malicious intent. Someone had a fun time. There are broken bottles and beer cans and there is a remnant of a fire up there.”
Osgood took pictures of the damage and posted it on social media soon after returning home Monday and Ferguson received a call from a friend alerting her later that evening.
“This is the second time is the last several years that we have had to pay for damage that is caused by vandals,” Ferguson said. “When we do our cleanups, the woods are filled with beer cans and that is not a recent thing. But that doesn’t make it right. I have never seen this much intentional damage done.”
A nonprofit, volunteer organization, the AIA was formed in 1886 with a mission to enhance the natural beauty of Amesbury and owns four historic properties: Alliance Park, Patten’s Pond Bird Reservation, the Golgotha Memorial and the Captain’s Well. It maintains four more, including the Powder House.
“I have been involved with those repairs for a long time,” Ferguson said. “The first three, four or five repairs were primarily skin coating, the mason work and painting. The last three repairs have been insignificant vandalism repairs. This repair will probably be at least $3,000 if not more. The last was over $1,000 and half was donated.”
Also a City Councilor at-Large, Ferguson has been a member of the AIA for the past 30 years and has been serving as president for the past six. She alerted the Amesbury Police Department of the situation yesterday; according to Lt. William Scholtz, an investigation is currently in the preliminary stages.
“Knowing the size of this, it would be very difficult to get on top,” Scholtz said. “I am not saying it is impossible, but it would be very difficult to get on top of it without a ladder.”
Scholtz also urged those with pertinent information to bring it to the police before posting on social media.
The AIA has handed out “Wanted” flyers within the Brown’s Hill neighborhood after past vandalism incidents, but nothing had ever come of it, said Ferguson. With the winter on the way and the top of the Powder House breached, whatever work that can be done must be done quickly.
“I am outraged that kids can have such little respect for something that is so historic,” Ferguson said. “The damage they are doing completely takes it away from future generations and we have worked so hard to keep it. I really wish we could find out who is responsible and make them realize what harm they are doing to the preservation of history in our community.”

Blizzard of 2013 unearths Jennie M. Carter shipwreck of 1894 Angeljean Chiaramida

Courtesy photo Wreck of the Jennie M. Carter from 1894, the ribs of which can still be seen off Salisbury Beach Center at low tide. The weekend's blizzard has once again exposed the wreck.

SALISBURY BEACH — On April 13, 1894, local residents rose to find the schooner Jennie M. Carter smashed on the sands of Salisbury Beach, its crew gone while its cat remained curled up on the captain’s chair.

Sunk as the result of one of the worst storms of the 19th century, the broken bones of the 130-foot, three-masted vessel are now more visible, further exposed through the sand after the sea ravaged Salisbury’s shoreline during the weekend blizzard.

“You can usually see it when there’s a low, low tide, but after this storm it would be more visible,” said Cassie Adams, the hostess at Salisbury Beach’s Seaglass Restaurant. “The beach lost a lot of sand in this storm.”

Playing on Salisbury Beach as a child, Adams hadn’t been aware that the wooden stubble peeking up in the sand during very low tides was a 139-year-old sunken ship. Forming a remote oval in the shape of a ship, its remains look like wooden stubble sticking up in the sand, she said, its inner realm filled with what looks like driftwood.

“I never knew it was a shipwreck until someone told me about it,” Adams said. “Our patrons at the restaurant comment on it when it’s visible.”

Other local history buffs in Salisbury know of the famed shipwreck and its lore, according to Salisbury Historical Society secretary Beverly Gulazian. When the Jennie Carter went down due to foul weather, she was carrying granite, Gulazian said, and after the ship was lost, its cargo was salvaged.

“The granite was off-loaded,” Gulazian said. “And it was used in a number of places around the area.”

The tale of the Jennie Carter and Salisbury’s other shipwrecks are also well chronicled by Salisbury historian Carolyn Sargent in her book, “Salisbury History.”

Built in Newton, Md., in 1874, the ill-fated, three-masted schooner was a 296-ton vessel with a 33-foot beam, drawing 9.8 feet of water, according to Sargent. But in April 1894, loaded with a cargo of stone, the Jennie Carter, her crew and Captain Wesley T. Ober ran into trouble 40 miles southwest of Highland Light on Cape Cod in the midst of “one of the worst storms in 30 years,” Sargent wrote.

As the ship struggled at sea, George Courant, the captain of the Gloucester schooner Smuggler, pulled up alongside of her upon learning the Jennie Carter’s rudder and foremast were gone and the bowsprit damaged.

“The Jennie’s captain, Wesley T. Ober, told Captain Courant that he would stay with his ship and could bring her into port,” Sargent wrote. “After lingering nearby for several hours, the Smuggler sailed on.”

But with snow blinding her crew, the storm’s gales tossed the ship for a hundred miles around the Cape and into dangerous waters between Portsmouth and Salisbury, Sargent wrote.

The final blow was dealt the Jennie Carter when it smashed into one of the jetties, Gulazian said; then the battered boat came to its final resting place on the sands of Salisbury Beach, remaining there through time and tide to this day.

“Abel Souther and William L. Fowler rowed out to investigate and found Captain and crew gone,” Sargent wrote. “Had they remained on board, they might have been saved, for in the captain’s cabin a low fire still burned in the stove and the ship’s cat curled in a cushion on the captain’s chair.”

Jennie M. Carter ~ Painted from a photo dated April 13, 1894 From Judi Heit

He left his pipe in Newburyport

by Jack Garvey Columnist Leader of AISI Newburyport News He has been a street-piper in Newburyport since 1982, performing on the Inn Street Mall and Market Square as weather allows. He can be reached at hammlynn@yahoo.com  Pictures added by Melissa Berry

                              
               “You will never know how much it has cost my generation to preserve 
                 your freedom. I hope you will make good use of it.” ~John Q Adams


Presidents Day, Monday, Feb. 17 2104

Our Newburyport Public Library once “entertained” three Revolutionary heroes and the infamous pair of Benedict Arnold and Aaron Burr.

Sixth name on the lawn plaque belongs to our sixth president, John Quincy Adams, just nine when dad championed the Declaration drafted by a reticent Thomas Jefferson.

Unlike the other five, the younger Adams lived in Newburyport, an apprentice for over two years to Theophilus Parsons, an architect of Massachusetts’ Constitution and later Chief Justice of the Commonwealth.

Adams was engaged to local girl Mary Frazier until her parents broke it off because they thought he had no prospects.

Only in Newburyport.

Perhaps the Fraziers worried over one of Adams’ youthful pastimes. When he arrived here in 1787 as a 20-year-old Harvard grad, he brought with him a musical instrument:

A flute.

Adams’ biographer says he “fell in with a circle of fiddlers and flautists,” frequently playing in public houses, most often the legendary Wolfe Tavern—a tradition now carried on every Wednesday evening and many Sunday afternoons downtown in the Port Tavern.

But there’s no mention of music by the time Pres. Madison sent him to Russia. As minister to Czar Alexander, Adams redeemed himself from a failed stint as a US Senator.

“Failed” is a relative term for a legislator who backed Jefferson’s embargo against an England that mocked our independence with the “impressment” of American sailors into the British navy.

The embargo cost Massachusetts manufacturers dearly, and just as today, putting principle ahead of economic interest was political suicide.

America’s Revolution needed a second act. To win the War of 1812, Adams wrote accords in St. Petersburg and Ghent well before January, 1815, when Andrew Jackson fired that gun and the British kept a’comin’.

Like father, like son: In separate acts each played a lead. The younger Adams’ triumph was gaining Russia’s alliance. Following Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow, England had to accept that a very powerful friend had our back.

Adams’ redemption came when Pres. Monroe made him secretary of state. According to Monroe’s biographer, Adams wrote “the core provision” of the Monroe Doctrine “ending foreign colonization in the Americas.”

Like father, like son: They state the case, a Virginian gets the credit.

A Boston newspaper dubbed Monroe’s two terms “The Era of Good Feeling,” but friction between North and South ended that by the time Adams defeated Jackson—and Henry Clay—in the 1824 presidential race.

Obstructed from the start by a bitter and ambitious Jackson, Adams’ one-term presidency was hardly the stuff of Mount Rushmore.

Old Hickory’s supporters termed Adams’ appointment of Henry Clay as Secretary of State “The Corrupt Bargain,” a theft of the election.

Thus began a four-year smear campaign. Like then, like now: Claims that Adams used prostitutes to strike an alliance with Russia and secure the Treaty of Ghent were as foam-mouthed as “death panels” and “Obamunism” today.

The treaty thus discredited, their slogan for 1828’s rematch gained traction: "Adams who can write, or Jackson who can fight?"

Undeterred, Adams then served Massachusetts and the abolitionist cause for 16 years in the House of Representatives, waging a long and successful war against a “gag order” preventing any discussion of slavery in Congress.

His 1841 victory in the Supreme Court would inform the 1997 film, “Amistad,” with Anthony Hopkins in a penetrating turn as Adams.

Only a stroke on the House floor could stop him. He was 80.

If another Rushmore commemorated work after leaving the White House, Adams would have the peak to himself with Taft, Hoover, and Carter candidates for the nearest ridge.

A new book, American Phoenix, details the roles of John Quincy and Louisa Adams in gaining the Russian alliance, an account owing much to Louisa’s diary.

An active diplomat in fact if not name, Louisa rivals the more celebrated Abigail for prolific and insightful accounts. Like mother, like daughter-in-law.

They all kept voluminous diaries, but after Adams’ Newburyport years none, not even his own, ever mention that flute.

At the time, Adams reported that the “fiddlers and flautists” went on “frolicks” to the homes of young women—Rebecca Cazneau, Sarah Wigglesworth, Elizabeth Coates, and a "Miss Fletcher.”

Serenades through the windows.

And so the sixth president of the United States was a street piper.

Only in Newburyport.

A page of flute music copied by John Quincy Adams when he was studying the flute during his student days at Harvard University (1786-87).

SOURCES:

American Phoenix: John Quincy and Louisa Adams, the War of 1812, and the Exile that Saved American Independence (2013), Jane Hampton Cook

John Quincy Adams (2012) and The Last Founding Father: James Monroe and a Nation’s Call to Greatness (2009), Harlow Giles Unger

John Quincy Adams: A Public Life, a Private Life (1997), Paul C. Nagel.

Ecstatic Nation: Confidence, Crisis, and Compromise, 1848-1877 (2013), Brenda Wineapple. Long introduction makes a convincing case that JQA’s funeral was a landmark event in American history, his death a turning point in relations between the North and South.

Profiles in Courage (1955), John F. Kennedy. An account of JQA’s support of the Louisiana Purchase and Jefferson’s embargo against the wishes of New England Federalists, especially merchants, is the first of this book’s eight chapters.

For a richly detailed and most engaging biographical sketch of Theophilus Parsons and for a history of the Wolfe Tavern, see www.ancestoryarchives.blogspot.com and type the names into “search site.” Kind thanks to fellow As I See It columnist Melissa D. Berry for these leads.

A Fearless Hero: Captain William Nichols War of 1812

By Melissa Berry Newburyport News

 A fearless hero during the War of 1812

---- — Our ships all in motion once whitened the ocean.
They sailed and returned with cargo
Now doomed to decay, they are fallen a prey
To Jefferson — worms — and Embargo
 — Newburyport Herald 1808

On a recent visit to the Custom House, Michael Mroz and Kevin MacDonald shared riveting tales of the War of 1812 and the Port’s valiant fight for maritime rights against the Brits. Newburyport was particularly distinguished for the bravery and success of its privateers who were “helping to thin out the enemy’s merchant ships.”
Much like the Revolution, this conflict depended on the voluntary service of brave locals. Despite the popularity of privateering during the war for independence, Federalists thought the practice was “unprincipled.” Governor Strong ordered a public fast to protest the war, and the atmosphere was one of angst. MacDonald stressed the impact of the economic crisis caused by the Embargo Act; it crippled the local merchants and the whole Merrimack Valley market hit ground zero. The effect was devastating, and for the first time, soup kitchens rose up to feed the once-prosperous citizens.

The sentiment was universal: “In every seaport there was much distress. Labor was impeded; the most industrious were enforced to idleness; poverty took the place of plenty. Many a noble man became a mere wreck of humanity.” The destitution spread with the “Great Fire” of 1811 that left many homeless as “nearly two hundred and fifty buildings were totally and suddenly consumed.”

Although this privation capped the harbor like a thick fog, a gallant hero “with flashing eyes and lion heart courage” eventually emerged to lift people’s spirits. A vibrant, daredevil seaman born and bred in the Port, Capt. William Nichols sent many of his enemies to Davy Jones’ Locker, while spinning tales of aquatic omnipotence that would put Ulysses to shame.
To the locals, he was “fearless” and, to the Brits, the “Holy Terror.” For his “daring and bravery, he had but few equals,” and he “was suited to become among privateersmen what John Paul Jones is upon naval records.” Mroz calls him the “Indiana Jones” of the briny deep, and he commanded the most advantageous privateer on the Eastern seaboard, the Decatur.
Before the war, the temerarious Nichols enjoyed several adventures on the high seas, and this is, no doubt, why Benjamin Pierce placed him in command of the Decatur. Pierce himself witnessed Nichols’ first stunt on the brig Alert. The Brits captured Nichols, but a crafty plan would turn fates. Nichols had “loaded and concealed a brace of pistols” in preparation for this very moment, and at the magic midnight hour, “he and his companions rose on the British seamen and regained possession of the vessel, securing the hatches over four men in the hold, and sending the rest adrift in a jolly-boat.”
The Vestal again captured the crew and brought them to England. Only confined for a brief interlude, Nichols narrowly escaped by “traversing gardens and leaping hedges,” and then he hopped a coach to London and bumped into the very sergeant he had just busted away from. Nichols responded to his opponent: “Here are three guineas you can have, but never me!” Luckily, the sergeant favored coin and Nichols went free.
Leaving port on Aug. 4, 1812, the Decatur sailed out to make history. Nichols’ first encounter was not with the enemy, but rather a two-hour pursuit with the Constitution, during which he threw off 12 of his 14 guns to out-run her. When this famous quick-fire frigate finally approached, Nichols suspected he would become a prize; however, he was pleased to find Captain Hull wearing an American naval uniform. Nichols tipped Hull off that the Brit frigate Guerriere had indeed given him chase the day before — the very vessel Hull was in hot pursuit of. The next day the Constitution fell in with the Guerriere, and the legend of “Old Ironsides” was born.

Even without guns, Nichols was determined to venture on, but the crew did not share his buoyancy. He mustered around the mutinous lot, “appearing to multiply himself on the eyes of his despondent crew,” while asserting, “You shall be masters of this brig, or I will.” He then flattened the insurgent ringleader with a billet of wood to restore order.
Out of this conflict “rallied some of the bravest spirits of war about him.” That very same day, the Decatur captured two prizes, thus replenishing arms and the crew’s spunk. The Duke of Savoy and the Elizabeth were sent sailing up the Merrimack, conjuring the Port with the vigor of heavy guns and a blazing exposé of 50 flags. No doubt, this Brit vanquisher was a sight for sore eyes!
The story of Capt. William Nichols will be continued tomorrow.
A man 'not born to be shot'

Editor’s note: Today’s column finishes the story of Capt. William Nichols that was begun yesterday and that details his exploits during the War of 1812.

The adventures of Port privateer Captain Nichols continued, and the Decatur’s reputation soared: “Ranging over the ocean, she was known and feared wherever an English flag spread to the breeze.” Nichols was on a spree. After capturing the Duke of Savoy on Aug. 22, he would total nine prizes by Sept. 1, all of great value and well-stocked with guns.
With cargo valued at $400,000, one of Nichols’ biggest scores was the Diana, a ship armed and ordered to Newburyport. Although this stint at sea was a success, the Neptunian exploits had to be suspended — out of 160 original crew members, he had but 27 remaining. He had several prisoners on board as well, including a few British officers.
 
Nichols set a course for home, but the primordial powers were not yet finished with him. Before long, he was “called upon to meet one of the severest tests of his courage and skill.” This fateful encounter with the Commerce would be a fiery one.
When Nichols asked the few crew remaining if they would fight despite the ominous odds, the “three cheers” response must have given him a potent surge of panache.
Although his “illy armed and feebly manned brig” was up against “an enemy twice her size, double the number of heavy guns and full of men well equipped with small guns,” Nichols rose to the occasion, boldly asserting his “iron will.” While simultaneously manning his vessel and working the guns, Nichols dodged repetitive gunfire from British Captain Watts. Watts directed 14 shots his way, but missed each time, eventually throwing down his musket and swearing: “This man was not born to be shot!”
Ready to take the ship, though Nichols surged forward with just 10 men, the command to “Fire!” shot from his lips “as though he had a hundred men for the work.” In spite of the raging sea and wild wind, the gutsy crew took the lead and seized control of the enemy ship. Remarkably, the Decatur suffered no losses, and Dr. Bricket of Newburyport went on board to tend the wounded. Watts, hit by a cannon ball, met his maker during the night, along with three other British officers. No doubt impressed by his tactical prowess, the remaining crew signed up with Nichols on the spot, and he agreed to share the prize.
On her second cruise out, the Decatur captured prize after prize, but was eventually taken by the Surprise and brought to Barbados. Because of his reputation, Nichols was looked upon with high regard and respect. He was a parolee, rather than a prisoner, until the Vestal showed up. The captain, no doubt remembering the humiliation he suffered during the stunt on the Alert, decided to “get even” and took Nichols prisoner.
As an “uncaged lion would have been safer freight,” a special 5-by-7 wooden crate hosted the “Holy Terror.” They kept Nichols for 34 days, and then held him in a Brit prison. His release finally came after negotiations for an exchange.
Nichols returned home and quickly hit the seas once again in the brig Harpy, with which he “successfully preyed on enemy ships and brought in rich cargos.”

Although a lion heart roared in Nichols, according to his contemporaries, he possessed a warm, watery disposition and “was of tender sensibilities, always exhibiting the greatest affection for his mother and his family.” Even at sea, both foes and comrades noted his “great civility, indulgent lenity, and humane usage.” After Nichols captured his ship, Capt. William Drysdale, grateful for the hospitality while imprisoned, extended an invitation to his home, Stepney Green in London, should Nichols ever be in the area.
Benjamin Pierce, in a letter to Col. Thomas Barclay, the commissioner of prisoners, called him “modest and unassuming, yet brave and decided.” Pierce also noted that Nichols “was strictly moral and sincere; as a husband, parent, and neighbor, tender, indulgent, and affable.”
Later appointed as the Port’s Collector of Customs, Nichols purportedly regretted that “his advanced years did not permit him to engage in the service of the country upon the sea.”
Often referred to as “the forgotten war,” the War of 1812 is still alive and thriving at the Custom House Maritime Museum in Newburyport.
Take a tour, visit Nichols’ portrait and collections, and learn how America won her nationalism and freedom.
Special thanks to USS Constitution Museum historian Matthew Brenckle for his contribution. He notes, “The War of 1812 established America among world nations as major players and not the poor Colonial cousins!”

Garrison's battle was fought from Newburyport

By Arnold Lessard Newburyport News May 31, 2010

William Lloyd Garrison was born on School Street in Newburyport on Dec. 10, 1805. He would go on to acquire international renown as one of the great fighters for the abolition of slavery and for women's rights.

His father abandoned his home, wife and three children and was never to return to Newburyport. William never knew his father. The deserted family was penniless.

His mother worked as a nurse and sold baked goods, while William would often go out with a pail in hand to sort through the garbage of the fancy houses on State and High streets.

Garrison was the typical boy of his age, what with rolling hoops, playing marbles, swimming in the river and sneaking on board ships to get a taste of the molasses they contained. He almost died one winter when he fell through the ice and struggled to get back to shore as the ice continued to break under his feet. He also led forays involving "down alongers" against similar gangs of "upalong" boys.

His mother moved the family to Baltimore, but William wanted to return to Newburyport, where in 1818 he signed a seven-year apprenticeship agreement with The Herald as a typesetter. He began to write articles and as he said later in life, he wrote without any idea of the rules of grammar, having had almost no formal schooling.

Garrison was a devout Baptist and seriously considered becoming a Baptist missionary. His fellow church members would recall him as a young man of "... uncommon gravity, neatly dressed and popular with the ladies."

Garrison was 20 when he completed his apprenticeship, which had served him well in that it gave him an education. He left on foot for Boston, where he found employment with the Massachusetts Weekly Journal and later with the National Philanthropist, where he was named editor in 1828.

He later recalled returning to his hometown to welcome the visit of Lafayette to Newburyport in 1824. He reported on the triumphal arch of flowers on State Street, a banquet at the Wolfe Tavern, a reception at the Tracy mansion and the tears in Lafayette's eyes at his warm reception.

Garrison's often very intemperate language and strong positions were drawing criticism. In the words of the Boston Courier, men like Garrison "should be seen and not heard." Another called him "M'Lord Garrison," while still another gave him the name "Mr. Garrulous."

By this time Garrison was a confirmed and dedicated anti-slavery advocate, which brought him to the attention of Benjamin Lundy, who offered him the editorship of the Baltimore-based The Genius of Universal Emancipation.

In 1829, Garrison heard that a Newburyport ship owned by Newburyporter Francis Todd and captained by Newburyporter Nicholas Brown was in the Baltimore port to load slaves for trans-shipment to Louisiana to be auctioned off.

He immediately wrote a scathing article published in both Baltimore and Newburyport in which he called Todd and Brown highway robbers and murders who should be sentenced to solitary confinement for life or to the lowest depths of perdition. The result: libel suits and the serving of seven weeks in the Baltimore jail before friends could bail him out.

Garrison was active on the anti-slavery lecture circuits. Returning to Newburyport to deliver a series of lectures, he was literally turned down by the Presbyterians and the Congregationalists. He would later characterize the clergy as "a brotherhood of thieves." It would be 30 years after this time before Garrison would speak publicly in Newburyport.

Even his closest supporters were continually warning Garrison that he should tone down his rhetoric. His response is engraved on the base of the monument we see in Brown Square Park. The first issue of The Liberator contained these words:

"I will be harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as justice. On this subject I do not wish to think or speak with moderation. I will not equivocate. I will not retract a single inch. And I will be heard."

Garrison by now had gained an international reputation and become the acknowledged leader of the American Anti-slavery Society. He made several trips to England for meetings with the leading British anti-slavery leaders.

The Emancipation Proclamation of 1862 marked the end of Garrison's efforts. By that time, he was often ill and indisposed. He lived until 1879, passing on at the age of 73.

Today, we will salute his memory as we look up at that familiar figure standing tall on his monument. The statue was created by a Newburyport artist, David French, who called this work "the greatest of my life." The unveiling ceremonies took place on July 4, 1893, complete with parades, fireworks, speeches and marching bands.