Tag Archives: Woody Klein

After 26 Years, A New Westport History: 1639-2025

The covers offer clues to what’s inside.

On the front is a photo of the handsome stone building that is now Massi Co.

The back shows Westport’s classic Town Hall.

If you’ve been here a while, you know the relationship. The Post Road restaurant on the front is our original Town Hall. (The current one is the repurposed Bedford Elementary School.)

Westport’s original Town Hall.

The images are from “Westport Connecticut: The Old and New Historical Accounts.”

Bob Weingarten’s 234-page book — plus 4 appendices, and an exhaustive index — is the first history of this place since Woody Klein’s “Westport Connecticut: The Story of a New England Town’s Rise to Prominence” in 2000.

Heavy on Greens Farms (the author’s neighborhood since 2002) and on historic homes (his passion), it also features stories about Longshore, the Minute Man Monument, road names (spoiler alert: Cross Highway comes from its “crossing” of the Eleven O’Clock Roads) and more.

“Stories” is the right term. The book includes 37 “articles,” many of them originally written by Weingarten for Greens Farms Living magazine, and other publications like Westport Magazine. (He is a frequent contributor to “06880,” too.)

Weingarten is not an architectural historian by training. He has a master’s degree in electrical engineering, and spent 30 years in software development.

But after moving more than 2 decades ago into an 1805 barn, he devotes hours each day to research.

Old homes are of particular interest. Weingarten has obtained 359 historic plaques; curated 5 exhibits for the Westport Historical Society; served as house historian for the WHS (and now the Westport Museum for History & Culture), and spent 10 years on the Historic District Commission.

Bob Weingarten, with one of his historic home plaques. The Simon Couch Chaise House is on Morningside Drive.

This book grew out of all that. It’s an important complement to Klein’s work, and George Penfield Jennings’ exhaustive “Green’s Farms, Connecticut: The Old West Parish of Fairfield,” published in 1933.

(About that apostrophe: Weingarten addresses the centuries-old debate about the proper punctuation of Greens/Green’s Farms in depth. Spoiler alert: He prefers “Green’s,” but concludes, “Your call!”)

His exhaustive look at historic homes — illustrated with plenty of photos — ranges into areas like barn conversions (“there were a lot more than you’d imagine,” he says), and the Underground Railroad. (Spoiler alert: Though Westporters helped enslaved people on their journey north, no Westport homes have been “officially certified” as stops on the network of secret routes.)

Have you wondered about Westport’s oldest houses? Weingarten writes about them (and includes photos): 187 Long Lots Road (circa 1683), 46 Kings Highway South, 28 Compo Road North, 81 Clapboard Hill Road and 41 Kings Highway North.

(Speaking of Long Lots, spoiler alert: The term comes from land grants that were just  50 to 875 feet wide, but 10 miles long.)

The oldest home in Westport is on Long Lots Road, near the Fairfield line. (Photo/Larry Untermeyer)

Weingarten also discusses well-known Greens Farms residents, like Rodney Dangerfield, Gene Tierney and Robert Ludlum; modern topics like solar panels, and the “changing streetscape” of structures that have been moved, like the Kemper Gunn House (from Church Lane across Elm Street, to its current incarnation as Serena & Lily), and nearby Spotted Horse Tavern.

He also mentions the Red Barn restaurant, a historic structure on the other side of town from Greens Farms. It was in the news recently (after the book was published) because its owner, the Westport Weston Family YMCA, plans to build an ice skating rink on the site.

So is our historic architectural character — of homes, the Red Barn and more — in jeopardy?

Despite his deep love for old homes, Weingarten takes a measured tone: “We need to carefully study any proposal (for change) from both a preservation point of view and a property owner’s point of view. Not an easy task.”

“Westport Connecticut: The Old and New Historical Accounts” will launch officially with an event at the Westport Book Shop on July 8 (6 p.m.). There will also be a signing at MoCA\CT, at a date to be announced. For more information, and to purchase, email rwmailbox@aol.com.

(“06880” is your source for local history, stories of past and present, and much more. We rely on readers for support. To make a tax-deductible contribution, please click here. Thank you!)

Remembering Woody Klein

Woody Klein — a longtime Westporter who was deeply involved in town affairs, in roles ranging from newspaper editor to RTM member to author of a detailed local history — died Tuesday. He was 90 years old.

The New York native had a distinguished career long before embarking on his Westport activities.

He was a reporter for the Washington Post and New York World Telegram & Sun (where he wrote about his experiences living undercover in a city slum); an on-air TV personality at New York’s Channels 13 and 2; press secretary for Mayor John Lindsay, and he spent 24 years in communications at IBM, including 6 as editor of the famed in-house publication Think.

Woody Klein

After retiring from IBM in 1996, Klein served 6 years as editor of the Westport News. His “Out of the Woods” column continued to run in the paper long after he left the editor’s chair.

He also was a board member of United Way of Westport-Weston, and an advisory board member of the Westport Historical Society.

He wrote 7 books, including “Westport, Connecticut: The Story of a New England Town’s Rise to Prominence.”

Klein is survived by his wife, Audrey, his daughter Wendy and her husband, Howard Lippitt of Long Beach, California, and several nieces and nephews.

For a full obituary, click here.

Remembering Dexter Brooks

Much of B.V. Brooks’ life seems to come from an earlier, more traditional New England era.

His real name was Babert Vincent.  His nickname was “Dexter.”  He attended Deerfield Academy and Dartmouth College.  Like his father — also named B.V. — Dexter was a faithful Yankee Republican.

B.V. Brooks

He followed his father into real estate development.  (In the 1950s, B.V. Sr. developed one of Westport’s 1st shopping strips — Westfair Center, opposite what is now Super Stop & Shop — and an adjacent housing development behind it.  Dexter Road is named for his son.)

In 1964, the Brooks family launched a new local paper, the Westport News.  According to Woody Klein’s history of Westport, it was formed as an opposition voice to the established Town Crier, seen as “the voice of the Republicans in power.”  The Brookses were aligned with Westport’s more conservative Taxpayers Party.

Ironically, the News made its biggest name — and ultimately drove the Town Crier out of business — with a very un-Republican crusade.  In 1967 United Illuminating announced plans to build a 14-story nuclear power plant on Cockenoe Island, less than a mile off Compo Beach.

Brooks’ paper — led by its activist editor, Jo Brosious — began a 2-year crusade against the utility company’s purchase.  In 1969, the town of Westport bought Cockenoe for $200,000.  Our water has been swimmable — and our homes safe — ever since.

The News tilted more Republican in later years, but Dexter Brooks never was a ham-fisted, you’ll-say-it-my-way-or-be-gone publisher.  I should know:  I spent 3 years as sports editor there, and my byline has appeared in the paper ever since I was a Staples junior.

In 1999 the Brooks family sold the Westport News — and its other Brooks Community Newspapers, in towns like Fairfield, Norwalk, Darien and Greenwich — to the Thomson chain.  Dexter stepped down as publisher that year.

He remained president of the Brooks, Torrey and Scott real estate company.  It was another family business:  Torrey and Scott are the names of his sons.

(Fun fact:  Brooks Corner — where his newspaper and real estate company once had offices — is named for the family.  The fact that Brooks Brothers now has a clothing store there is pure coincidence.)

Dexter Brooks’ impact on Westport — both as a real estate developer and a publisher — were enormous.

And no one could say he did not know his town.

Woody Klein’s book contains an anecdote about Dexter Brooks.  Once, a fellow member of the New England Press Association asked him how a small town like Westport could support an 84-page paper.  Where did so much news and so many ads come from? he asked.

“You don’t know Westport,” Brooks replied.

He explained that thanks to shoppers from far and wide, the town’s retail sales per capita were the highest in the state.

“The number and quality of restaurants is renowned far and wide,” he continued.  Home prices and income levels were quite high too.

But, Brooks continued, statistics did not tell the whole story.

At the heart of the difference here, in my opinion, is the dynamics, the widespread activism that engulfs Westport.  We kid that the shortest time span in the world is the time between when the light turns green and the guy behind you blows his horn.

And Westport boasts the world’s shortest time for organizing a group “pro” and a group “con” on any local issue.

Dexter Brooks died on Thursday, after suffering a heart attack while vacationing in Mexico.  He was 84.

His family’s legacy — and his own — will live for years.

Happy Birthday, Minuteman Statue!

Every Westporter worth his salt knows the Minuteman statue.

It’s how we give directions to the beach.  We put ski caps on its head, and flowers in its musket.

It commemorates Westport’s most historic only wartime exploits: 2 Revolutionary War battles.

It’s as much a part of this place as stone walls and Long Island Sound.

So it may surprise you to learn that the Minuteman statue is just 100 years young.

Tomorrow (Thursday, June 17) at 4 p.m. the Westport Historical Society is sponsoring a centennial celebration of H. Daniel Webster’s statue.  It takes place at Compo Beach.

Which makes today a perfect time to look back, and learn exactly what the Minuteman commemorates.

As Woody Klein recounts in his book Westport, Connecticut:  The Story of a New England Town’s Rise to Prominence, on April 25, 1777 a fleet of British warships anchored off Compo Beach.  The Redcoats were headed to Danbury, a colonial supply center.

The landing of 1,850 men was virtually uncontested.  A group of 18 men gathered behind a stone wall near the corner of Compo and Post Roads.  They killed a British major and wounded 3 others.

But the British pressed north.  In Danbury they demolished an ammunition depot; burned 19 houses, 22 stores and barns; and destroyed food, clothing, medical equipment, tents, candles and a printing press.

On the way back, the colonists offered more resistance.  In Ridgefield General Benedict Arnold — before he became a bad guy — rallied the local militia, and had his horse shot out from under him.

The next day, a Tory named Deliverance Bennett warned the British about an ambush planned here, on Old Hill.  They doubled back, crossing the Saugatuck River at Ford Road.

Benedict Arnold rushed to intercept the redcoats near the Kings Highway Bridge.  He led a charge — but none of his 200 militiamen followed.

“Arnold then rushed to the foot of Compo Hill where a full-scale battle was fought,” Klein wrote, “forcing the British to fight their way back to their ships in the harbor.”  The colonial troops, led by Colonel John Lamb, forced the British into a shoulder-to-shoulder charge, with fixed bayonets.  The maneuver demoralized the colonial forces, and the British made it to their ships.

The British lost 300 men, while more than 100 Connecticut militiamen were killed.  According to Klein, the British later claimed the resistance they met was more severe than what they faced at Lexington and Concord.

Two years later — on July 6, 1779 — the British returned to the area, with up to 3,000 men.  At Green’s Farms they torched 15 homes, 11 barns, several stores and the second Green’s Farms meetinghouse.  (Deacon Ebenezer Jesup and his wife Abigail did manage to save the Green’s Farms Congregational Church’s silver Communion set, by lowering it down a well.)

Which brings us back to the Minuteman statue.  Symbolizing the Connecticut Militia under the leadership of Colonel Lamb, it was sculpted by Webster from a composite of militia descendants.  Former first selectman Lewis P. Wakeman reportedly also sat as a model.

The dedication took place in 1910 — 9 years after two cannons were placed at Compo Beach, on the exact spot where the British landed.

So why does the Minuteman face away from the beach?

He’s looking north, toward Compo Hill — where the final, most successful battle took place.

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