Tag Archives: Revolutionary War

Historic Marker Honors Revolutionary War Patriots

Jennings Trail is named in honor of Bessie Jennings. Her family settled in this area around 1650.

A beloved educator and authority on Westport’s past, she originated and led tours of local historic sites, for decades of elementary school students.

Conceived in 1974 as part of Westport’s plans to celebrate the Bicentennial, the Trail was initiated by the Westport Historical Society in collaboration with the Westport Young Woman’s League.

23 markers were installed throughout Westport. Jennings Trail is now under the stewardship of the Westport Historic District Commission.

Four additional markers are now being added. Historian Morley Boyd explores the story behind the most recent one.

At 1 a.m. on Saturday, April 26, 1777, the Meeker household was wide awake.

Thirty-six-year-old Benjamin Meeker stared out the window at a scene that would have defied description. On the narrow, muddy road beside the Meekers’ 50-year-old Cross Highway residence, a heavily armed force from one of the most powerful nations on the planet came into view.

Suddenly there was shouting. The column of 1,850 soldiers – stretching into the darkness for nearly a mile – halted in front of Benjamin’s house.

The expedition was under the command of British Major General William Tryon. Three regiments had participated in the battles of Lexington and Concord. One had been at the Battle of Bunker Hill. These were seasoned professionals.

The “Meeker house” in the 1930s. After the Revolutionary War, Benjamin Meeker built the barn in back. It, and the house, still stand.

Benjamin probably knew that, around 5 p.m. the previous afternoon, a dozen British transports and 3 warships had arrived at the mouth of the Saugatuck River.

Because it had taken 6 hours to get the men and materiel off the ships and assembled, there was time for word to spread. Although the Americans had previously received intelligence that the British — desperate for food, tents and other supplies — likely intended to capture the Continental supply depot in Danbury, no one in those early hours could be completely sure of the enemy’s true plans.

The British had no idea how to get to Danbury, but they were guided by men who did. They also knew the loyalties of every resident in every house along the way.

Though we don’t know the scope of Benjamin Meeker’s efforts during the Revolutionary War, documents and testimony indicate he was a patriot. He would have particular concern about the force now standing outside his house.

After the order was given to halt, there was likely a knock at the door. When there was no response, someone probably started calling for Benjamin.

When that did not have the intended result, a British Regular was ordered to fire his weapon at the heavy plank door. The musket ball imbedded itself, but did not pierce it.

The door today. The hole left by the missing musket ball can be seen on the left side, underneath the knocker.

Benjamin faced a decision. If he continued to resist, his house would likely be set ablaze. Or perhaps the artillerymen would be ordered to open fire on the residence.

Either way, Benjamin knew that continued resistance could put his wife Abigail and their children – Anna, age 10; Sillivant, 8; Rachel, 3, and Benjamin Jr., less than 1 month – in mortal danger.

He opened the door, and was arrested. His older brother Daniel, a sergeant in the local militia, was arrested too.

Though Tryon had issued explicit, written orders forbidding plundering during the expedition, the house was ransacked. The family’s livestock were slaughtered. This kind of treatment (and worse) by British forces was typical near the coast in what is now Westport.

After Benjamin and Daniel were made prisoners, the column resumed its march. Arriving in Danbury the next day, things did not go as planned.

Although the original objective was to carry off everything possible from the Continental supply depot, Tryon’s men could not secure wagons to do so.

British forces landed at Compo Beach, marched to Danbury, headed back south and — after the Battle of Compo Hill — retreated to Long Island.

Then came word that American forces were rapidly closing in on the British position. Perhaps even worse was news that Benedict Arnold was among the 3 American generals  preparing to challenge the British, as they attempted to return to their ships at the mouth of the Saugatuck River.

Though Arnold was a pharmacist by trade with no formal military training, he was feared by the British for good reason: In the first 2 years of the war, he had proved to be a brilliant tactician, with astonishing endurance.

With time running out, the British decided to destroy the Continental supplies and get out of Danbury.

Presumably, Benjamin and Daniel Meeker — joined by over 50 other American prisoners — not only witnessed what happened at Danbury, but were dragged along on the harrowing retreat back to Compo.

Exhausted, out of ammunition and pinned down at Compo by American forces, only a do-or-die fixed bayonet charge got the British expedition back to the safety of their ships.

Robert Lambdin’s “The British Landing at Cedar Point, April 25, 1777,” 1955 painting is now part of the Westport Permanent Art Collections.

Although it’s impossible to imagine what the previous 48 hours must have been like for Benjamin, Daniel and the other American prisoners captured along the way, their situation soon got  much worse.

As Abigail Meeker watched her arrested husband and brother-in-law disappear into the night, she knew their chances of returning alive were slim.

It has been said that British-occupied New York was more of a gulag than a garrison. After the British filled the debtors’ prison with rebels, they turned the city’s non-Anglican churches into cages. When those exceeded capacity, prisoners were packed into New York’s massive, multi-story sugar warehouses. Finally, 16 decommissioned ships floating off Brooklyn were used to hold American prisoners.

It was a nightmare of brutality, starvation, disease and death. Over half of the estimated 18,000 American prisoners did not make it out alive.

Both Meeker brothers were thrown into a sugar house prison. They managed to survive for 18 months. before being released as part of a prisoner exchange.

The men returned to their families. Life resumed as best it could. When Daniel died 6 years later at age 45, his wife Abby interred him in the Lower Green’s Farms Burying Ground (now the corner of Greens Farms Road and the Sherwood Island Connector).

Daniel Meeker’s headstone.

Benjamin supported the family of his younger brother Stephen, who had just been killed in action in Pennsylvania. He also supported his younger sister Molly, whose husband was badly wounded during the Battle of Stony Point. Benjamin died in 1817, at 75. When the ground thawed that spring, his wife buried him the Green’s Farms Church’s Upper Cemetery.

The Meeker homestead still stands at 188 Cross Highway, bearing silent witness to those who bravely fought for America’s independence.

(Hat tip: Bob Liftig. For a 2015 “06880” story on the musket ball embedded in the Meekers’ door, click here.)

(“06880” regularly covers Westport history. If you enjoy stories like these, please click here to support our work. Thank you!)

The Minute Man Monument commemorates the Battle of Compo Hill. It took place 3 days after the British marched past the Meekers’ Cross Highway home. (Photo/John Maloney)

Bonjour, Marquis de Lafayette: 200 Years Ago Today

“06880” is “where Westport meets the world.”

And not just in 2024.

Today marks the 200th anniversary of a great moment in local history. (Of course, this was 11 years before Westport broke away from Norwalk, Wilton, Weston and Fairfield to become its own town.)

Josh Berkowsky has unearthed this fascinating bit of history: Two centuries ago today, Marquis de Lafayette’s visited here.

This 1824 portrait of the Marquis de Lafayette now hangs in the US House of Representatives.

In 1824 the French nobleman and military officer — who half a century earlier had joined the Continental Army, led by General George Washington, in the Revolutionary War — returned to this now-established country, already 50 years old.

(It was not his first time here. In 1780 he is said to have discussed war strategy with General Washington and Comte de  Rochambeau at the Disbrow Tavern — where Christ & Holy Trinity Church is today).

Lafayette arrived in New York on August 15, 1824, accompanied by his son (Georges Washington) and his secretary.

He was greeted by a group of Revolutionary War veterans who had fought alongside him many years before. There were 4 days and nights of celebration in the city.

Lafayette left for what he thought would be a restful trip to Boston. But cheering citizens welcomed him with celebrations, in nearly every town along the way.

Josh found this official description of Lafayette’s stop here:

At Saugatuck the militia were prepared throughout the day, to fire a salute; but owing to the lateness of  the hour when the cavalcade approached, it being 10  at night, the villagers could do no more than give  their loud huzzas, as the General passed.

Although we sadly could not give the hero of the Revolution the welcome he deserved as he passed through our little Burgh, not yet then a town, our neighbors gave him more than a sufficient welcome to make up for it.

“Washington and Lafayette at Valley Forge” (John Ward Dunsmore, 1907)

He arrived at Norwalk, at 8 o’clock P.M. where his  arrival was announced by a salute from the heights,  and discharges of musketry.

Two companies of uniform militia were in waiting to  salute him. An arch was formed across the bridge,  with the following inscription — “Welcome  Lafayette,” in large letters, on a white ground.

On one side of the arch, the American flag was  displayed, and on the other a French  flag. As the  General had been expected from about 11, A.M. Norwalk was filled with people from the  surrounding country, at an early hour in the day,  who remained anxiously waiting until the time of  his arrival. All business in the town was suspended.

The General arrived at Fairfield about half past ten  at night. In this beautiful town, great preparations  were made to receive him; but as he had not made  his appearance at a late hour, it was supposed he  would not arrive until the following day.

It was calculated the fit between 1000 and 1200  persons were collected here, including the  inhabitants.

They all remained until late in the evening, still  hoping that he might be on his way; but they were at length reluctantly compelled to give up the hope, and all retired, except a few of  the most distinguished inhabitants of the town, who remained at the Washington Hotel, until the General arrived.

From here, the war hero continued to Bridgeport, Stratford and then Hartford, where he met with the son of our Revolutionary governor, Roger Sherman.

Josh notes: “This goes to show we’re a small part of the tapestry that makes up our country, and to try and remember what the Marquis and many other fought for, in his own words, that ‘Humanity has gained its suit; Liberty will nevermore be without an asylum.'”

Marquis de Lafayette

(“06880” covers Westport — often of 2024, occasionally 1824 — 24/7/365. But we can’t do it without readers’ help: news tips, and donations too. Please click here to help. Merci!)

The British Were Coming! Jono Walker Was (Almost) There

Some Westport residents have been here a few years. Some grew up here. Some trace their local history back even longer.

Jonathan Walker is a 10th-generation Westporter. He traces his local ancestry to 1662. Three centuries later, Walker grew up in a house on the very same road — South Compo — where that pioneering Bennett family lived.

But that’s not even the most remarkable part of this story.

Walker — nicknamed Jono, as a member of Staples High School’s Class of 1970 — has just written his first book. “A Certain Cast of Light” is a tale of the Bennett and Walker families’ lives here in Westport during the Revolutionary War, and beyond.

Jessie "Gigi" Bennett -- Jonathan Walker's great-grandmother -- was born in 1862.

Jessie “Gigi” Bennett — Jonathan Walker’s great-grandmother — was born in 1862.

It’s fiction. But it’s based on a story Walker heard growing up, from his great-grandmother Jessie “Gigi” Bennett.

And it was told to her by her own great-grandfather. In other words, Walker spoke to someone with a living link to a time before the United States was even born.

Bennett’s great-grandfather claimed that — as a boy in 1777 — he climbed a tree and watched the British land at Compo Beach. He then saw them march past his South Compo house, on the way to burn an arsenal in Danbury. A few minutes later, Bennett witnesssed the skirmish near the Post Road.

Bennett told Walker’s great-grandmother that 3 wounded British soldiers were brought to his house. The reason: The Bennetts were Tories.

As Walker researched this fascinating tale, he discovered that the injured men were not “Redcoats,” as he’d always assumed. They were “Greencoats” — provincial loyalists who joined the British fight, with the promise they’d be granted land in Mississippi.

They were at the front of the column that day for 2 reasons. They knew the way to Danbury. And they knew which homes — including the Bennetts’ — belonged to Tories.

The story Walker heard included details like this: One of the injured men, Capt. David Lyman from New Haven, was operated on in the Bennetts’ house. Supposedly his leg was amputated, and the bone remained in the cellar.

Deliverance Bennett's house still stands on South Compo Road. It's where wounded British soldiers were taken, and "given succor."

Deliverance Bennett’s house still stands on South Compo Road. It’s where wounded British soldiers were taken, and “given succor.”

There was more to the lore. The owner of the Bennett house — the Tory named Deliverance — had 9 children. One was Gigi’s great-grandfather. But Deliverance’s brother, Joseph Bennett, lived up the street. He was a patriot — and a captain in the rebel American Home Guards.

How could one family be so divided? Walker always wondered. How did Joseph Bennett end up in Deliverance’s bigger house by the end of the war? Why was Deliverance — despite losing his standing in the community, and his property — allowed to remain here, and not flee to Nova Scotia like other Tories?

Those questions are at the heart of Walker’s new book.

In it, a fictional character — 13-year-old Haynes Bennett — climbs that tree and watches the British land. Defying his father, he joins the patriots. The book is written in Haynes’ voice, 50 years later, as the narrator tries to imagine why his Tory father acted as he had.

In writing “A Certain Cast of Light,” Walker says he drew on fights with his own father, Bill, over the Vietnam War.

Jonathan Walker

Jonathan Walker

The 1820 and ’30s — when Haynes “writes” the book — was a fraught time in Connecticut. Walker made his narrator an abolitionist. It was not an easy position to advocate. Like his father, he was tormented by neighbors.

Walker did his homework. He studied the privateers and “skinners” who roamed Long Island Sound, ensuring that New York City’s trade in tea, cotton, china — and slaves — could continue without interruption. In Fairfield County, emotions on both sides of the slave trade ran so high that neighbors poisoned each other’s wells. During the 1700s, Walker says, the Bennett family owned slaves.

Like the Bennetts’ history in Westport, Walker’s book spans many years. He started it during the 1970s, as a student at Union College. He’d heard stories, but that was the first time he actually thought about what it meant to be a Tory family during the Revolutionary War. Even then, he says now, he did not realize how dangerous that was.

Jonathan Walker grew up in this "poor man's farmhouse," across South Compo Road from the larger Bennett house.

Jonathan Walker grew up in this “poor man’s farmhouse,” across South Compo Road from the larger Bennett house.

In pre-internet times, Walker did his research at the Westport and Pequot libraries, and in New York City.

He figured he’d take 2 years to write his novel. But he got an MBA, became a father, and real life took over.

Three years ago — after retiring from a career in business — he returned to his book.

The cover of Jonathan Walker's new book.

The cover of Jonathan Walker’s new book.

Historical accuracy was important. Walker researched sailmaking, and apple tree farming. A book of 18th-century slang provided expressions like “that tarnal idiot,” and enabled him to write dialogue for college-educated Bennetts, as well as those who were farmers.

But one thing always bothered Walker. Though his ancestors were as important to Westport as families like the Burrs, Sherwoods, Coleys and Stapleses — in fact, Narrow Rocks Road was once called “Bennetts’ Rocks” — nothing here remains named for them.

Delving into the past, and writing his book, he realizes one thing: “We were on the wrong side of history.”

(Next month, the Westport Historical Society celebrates the 240th anniversary of the British landing at Compo Beach, march to Danbury and subsequent Battle of Compo Hill. As part of its programming, on April 18 [7 p.m.], the WHS hosts a talk by Jonathan Walker, and a book-signing. “A Certain Cast of Light” is available on Amazon and Kindle.)

Missing Meeker Musket Ball

Yesterday’s commemoration of the 238th anniversary of the Battle of Compo Hill — with ceremonies honoring the Minute Men who battled the British on the way to and from their arsenal-burning in Danbury — got Mark Yurkiw thinking.

He lives in a very historic saltbox home on Cross Highway.* By the time the Redcoats marched past in 1777, the house — owned by Samuel Meeker — was already nearly half a century old.

The

The “Meeker house” in the 1930s, as photographed for a WPA project. After the Revolutionary War, Benjamin Meeker built the barn in back. It — and the house — still stand today.

As Samuel’s great-great-grandson Edward Franklin Meeker wrote in an application to the Sons of the American Revolution in 1895, the British expedition included a number of Tory guides.

They knew who along the way were Patriots. So en route to Danbury the Redcoats took Samuel Meeker’s son Benjamin and Daniel prisoner. They “sacked and gutted his house,” and butchered his cattle. The brothers were taken to New York, and held in the Sugar House Prison for 18 months.

The Meekers did not go easily. A musket ball was lodged in their front door.

There it stayed for nearly 2 centuries — silent witness to a historic past.

But sometime in the late 1940s or ’50s, the musket ball vanished. “Oral history tells us it disappeared after a local Boy Scout troop visited the house for a tour,” current owner Yurkiw says.

The door today. The hole left by the missing musket ball can be seen on the left side, underneath the knocker.

The door today. The hole left by the missing musket ball can be seen on the left side, near the bottom.

Yurkiw wants the musket ball back — or at least closure. If anyone knows where that small ball is, he’d like to know. He hopes to restore it for future tours, of what is the only known house in Westport still standing that the British passed on their way north.

Click “Comments” if you know. And don’t be shy. The statute of limitations is long gone.

Just like the Redcoats.

*BONUS FUN FACT:  Cross Highway gets its name from the fact that it “crossed” the “long lots” on what is now Bayberry Lane and Sturges Highway, near Long Lots Road.

Daniel Meeker died in 1784. His wife Abigail (Gorham) died 5 years later. They are buried in the cemetery bordered by Greens Farms Road and the Sherwood Island Connector. Daniel's brother Benjamin outlived him by 33 years. He married another Abigail (Burr). This photo -- and information about the Meekers, and the house -- comes from current owner Wendy Van Wie, Mark Yurkiw's wife. She is a law professor and historian.

Daniel Meeker died in 1784. His wife Abigail (Gorham) died 5 years later. They are buried in the cemetery bordered by Greens Farms Road and the Sherwood Island Connector. Daniel’s brother Benjamin outlived him by 33 years. He married another Abigail (Burr). This photo — and information about the Meekers, and the house — comes from current owner Wendy Van Wie, Mark Yurkiw’s wife. She is a law professor and historian.

No More Trolls: The Sequel

We’re in the midst of an important Westport anniversary.

At dusk 237 years ago yesterday — April 25, 1777 — 2000 British troops landed at Compo Beach. Tory loyalists planned to guide them up Compo Road to Cross Highway, across to Redding Road, then north through Redding and Bethel to Danbury, where they would burn a major munitions depot.

Patriots fired a few shots at the corner of the Post Road and Compo, but the British marched on. In Danbury they destroyed the Continental Army’s munitions, then headed back toward their waiting ships at Compo.

Hastily assembled patriot forces fought them in the fierce Battle of Ridgefield. Led by Brigadier General Benedict Arnold — not yet a traitor — and outnumbered 3 to 1, the patriots deployed a strategy of selective engagement.

British forces landed at Compo Beach, marched to Danbury, marched back south and — after the Battle of Compo Hill — retreated to Long Island.

The next day — April 28, 1777 — patriot marksmen waited on Compo Hill (the current site of Minuteman Hill road). They did not stop the redcoats — 20 colonials were killed, and between 40 and 80 wounded when the British made a shoulder to shoulder charge with fixed bayonets — but they gave them a fight.

A very different fight took place in the days leading up to April 26, 2013. Here on the “06880” blog, a post about the new town arts curator devolved into nasty attacks on her and her appointment. Accusations flew about a waste of town dollars. Even after it was noted that she is a volunteer, she continued to be vilified.

A post about a summer party planned for the “06880″ community quickly degenerated into a political catfight. Much of the joy of the announcement was sucked away by anonymous commenters.

There is a word for anonymous internet bullies: trolls.

There is a word for anonymous internet bullies: trolls.

So a year ago today, I pulled the plug on anonymity. In a pissed-off post, I described the reasons I finally had it with “trolls.” By stirring the pot so virulently, they were poisoning the blog for everyone. They clothed themselves in free speech garb, but in reality they were just cyberspace bullies.

That post drew 91 comments. Almost all were positive. A few people predicted the end of “06880.”

So what’s happened in the year since, now that commenters have to use their real, full names?

Well, I’m working harder. Not everyone follows the rules. I spend time deleting occasional anonymous posts — I have not gone as far as to demand pre-registration — and sending requests to re-post (I’ll even do it for you).

The number of comments is down a bit — but not significantly. Instead of 2 or 3 bozos shouting at each other, we’ve had (for the most part) civil conversations.

The dark spirits are gone. “06880” is lighter, freer.

We now know who is part of the “06880” community. And doesn’t any community — a blog, a town, whatever — function better when everyone knows their neighbors?

In the nearly 2 1/2 centuries since the Battle of Compo Hill, the British have never ventured inland again.

And — as the past year proves — the trolls are also gone for good.

 

The Minuteman, Benedict Arnold And The Battle Of Compo Hill

For over a century, the Minuteman has stood as Westport’s most beloved symbol. Harry Daniel Webster’s statue was dedicated in June 1910.

But this will make you feel really old: The skirmish it commemorates — the Battle of Compo Hill — took place 126 years before that.

The Minuteman statue in 1912 -- 2 years after its dedication.

The Minuteman statue in 1912 — 2 years after its dedication.

According to Mollie Donovan and Dorothy Curran, 2000 British troops under the direction of General William Tryon landed at Compo Beach at dusk on April 25, 1777. Tory loyalists planned to guide them up Compo Road to Cross Highway, across to Redding Road, then north through Redding and Bethel to Danbury, where they would burn a major munitions depot.

Patriots fired a few shots at the corner of the Post Road and Compo, but the British marched on. In Danbury they destroyed the Continental Army’s munitions, then headed back toward their waiting ships at Compo.

Hastily assembled patriot forces fought them in the fierce Battle of Ridgefield. Led by Brigadier General Benedict Arnold — not yet a traitor — and outnumbered 3 to 1, the patriots deployed a strategy of selective engagement.

British forces landed at Compo Beach, marched to Danbury, marched back south and -- after the Battle of Compo Hill -- retreated to Long Island.

British forces landed at Compo Beach, marched to Danbury, returned south and — after the Battle of Compo Hill — retreated to Long Island.

The next day — April 28, 1777 — patriot marksmen waited on Compo Hill (the current site of Minuteman Hill road). They did not stop the redcoats — 20 colonials were killed, and between 40 and 80 wounded when the British made a shoulder to shoulder charge with fixed bayonets — but they gave them a fight.

Graves of some of the patriots who fell that day lie along Compo Beach Road, just past the Minuteman statue.

Though Tryon returned to burn Norwalk and Fairfield, never again during the American Revolution did British troops venture inland in Connecticut.

This Friday (April 26) the Westport Historical Society celebrates the 236th anniversary of that engagement. There’s a 6 p.m. lecture by John Reznikoff (a professional document and signature authenticator with Rockwell Art and Framing), plus a display of historic documents related to the skirmish.

One of the documents on display -- and for sale -- at the Westport Historical Society this weekend.

One of the documents on display — and for sale — at the Westport Historical Society this weekend.

All documents are available for purchase. If you can’t make Friday’s event, additional sale days are Saturday (April 27, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.) and Sunday (April 28, 12 to 4 p.m.).

And if you can’t make any of those days, at least think about the Battle of Compo Hill. That’s the reason our Minuteman stands guard, facing Compo Road.

Like his fellow patriots 236 years ago, he’s ready to give the Brits his best shot.

The Minuteman statue today.

The Minuteman statue today.

As The Crow Flies

As a Westport history buff — and chair of the town’s Longshore 50th committee — Scott Smith is a stickler for accuracy.

News of the Westport Historical Society’s Sept. 25 The British Are Coming! bus tour — commemorating our Revolutionary War claim to fame — brought to mind a pet peeve of his:

The lopsided, cluttered sign at the corner of Post Road East and South Compo.

As any bicyclist or jogger knows, Compo Beach is not “one mile south” of the street sign.  The British might have wished it were so — they marched all the way north from there to Danbury where they demolished an ammunition depot; burned 19 houses, 22 stores and barns; destroyed food, clothing, medical equipment, tents, candles and a printing press, then trooped all the way back to their boats moored off Compo — but it is definitely more than a mile.

Which brings to mind an important question:  If something as simple as that distance can be wrong, how accurate is everything else on all those historical markers?