The Romance of Norwalk

A fair sized tavern kept by one John Betts on the Green. Here lodged the elegant Madam Van Horne and her two beautiful daughters, all three of whom fled to New York when they heard General Tryon was coming to town. Arnold’s Inn, which stood where the Connecticut trolley barns are today, with a green bank rising behind it. It was noted for its fine view. It stood at the head of the Norwalk river, across the bridge, and many travelers watched the boats riding up and down the harbor, from their vantage points on the second story porch balcony. General Tryon, it is said, stopped here when he was governor of New York state and on one occasion bought a collection of natural history specimens at the hotel, which he sent to London. Mention is also made of Wentworth tavern which “once stood on the James H. Knapp property, next to the Baptist church.” It is added that George Washington spent a night here. Whether or not this was the same hotel at which STAGE COACHy DAYS 181 Washington stopped shortly after the Revolutionary war, to refresh his horses, we do not know. The exact date of Washington’s visit or visits, for he probably stopped in this town more than once during his career, cannot be ascer¬ tained. Rev. Selleck in his address at the centenary of St. Paul’s church, speaks rather vaguely of the fact that George Washington once stopped at the “Taylor house, where a little child from the Woods house came and was taken into his arms.” But that is aside from the main problem. Where was the Old Norwalk Hotel, famous during coaching days? If it existed during the Revolutionary War, being built in 1775 as Jenkins claims, why is no mention of it made in any of the histories, in their accounts of the buildings burned or saved in the great fire here? Why do we not find it either among the houses rescued from the Tryon torch or among the buildings which were reduced to ashes? The only point on which all the histories agree is that the hotel was “at the bottom of the hill.” Even this statement leaves us open to doubt, since it might have either been at the foot of Mortuary hill on the Green, or else at the foot of Mill Hill, corner of Wall and Main sts. Most of the local residents feel that it was the old Connecticut House, until recently the Boston Store, which was the famous stage coach hotel. Among them is Miss Mary Chichester, 31 Orchard st., who is quite well versed on old Norwalk. And so the matter must remain for the present, at least until some one comes forward with a good deal more definite informa¬ tion than has yet been found. There are still some residents in town who recall hearing tales of ancestors who gathered at the Norwalk Hotel in coaching days and waited with subdued excitement for the loud and lengthy blast of the driver’s horn “as he came down the hill.” What a sight that must have been, as the stage driver swept into view, his coach rocking from side to side, his horses foaming and sweating, the passengers leaning ROMANCE OF NORWALK 182 eagerly from the windows in their gay silks and satins, and waving to friends and relatives gathered on the steps of the hotel. Sometimes a stop was made for a meal, depend¬ ing on the time of day; sometimes the coach paused only long enough to pick up passengers who might want to con¬ tinue to New York. Stage coach lines were commenced between New York and Boston, June 25, 1772. During the Revolutionary war the lines ceased operation to recommence after the close of hostilities. Three of the main lines passed through Nor¬ walk, continuing together on the same road as far as New Haven. There directions changed. The upper road went over as far as Springfield and then across to Boston. The middle, ran through Coventry, Pomfret and Uxbridge, while the lower took an easterly course. New York at the time was not much of a city to brag about. When stage travel was resumed in 1789 it was practically in ruins. Several years in the hands of the enemy, combined with loss of trade due to war conditions, plus a very bad fire, had reduced it to a state of dilapidation and it was described by travelers as “a poor town with about 23,000 people.” The stage coach of post Revolutionary times was not the romantic looking vehicle now pictured in thrilling wild west holdups. It was a huge sort of box mounted on springs, having four seats to accommodate eleven passengers and the driver. There were no windows nor protective cover¬ ings other than a canvas or leather top equipped with side curtains which might be lowered at the passengers’ desires. Since there were no backs to the seats, the last seat in the coach against the rear of the vehicle, was the most pre¬ ferred and was usually reserved for the lady passengers. All well and good if such lady passengers arrived in fair time to take their places, but if they had the misfortune to be late, they must needs straddle all the other seats and pas¬ sengers in front, in order to reach their places. Nothing could have been more uncomfortable than stage travel in STAGE COACH DAYS 183 those days. The seats were hard and backless, the pas¬ sengers were rattled and jolted over the bumpy roads. In summer, the sufferers were stiffed by the heat and choked by the dust; in winter they were covered with windblown snow and numbed into insensibility by the freezing weather unmitigated by warmth from even the smallest of stoves within the coach. The stage driver was a dignified and imposing being in those days. In his own community he was a prosperous and respected citizen. On his box, he was king of all he surveyed. Picture him driving up through Norwalk in the winter time, his bearskin cap drawn tight about his red face, his greatcoat buttoned close. From time to time he slowed his horses long enough to drop a package from Aunt Julia into the waiting arms of Mrs. Raymond or Mrs. Bailie, or perhaps to give a message of comfort brought from a far away town to an anxious mother or sister. Time and again passengers were witnesses to little scenes when perhaps a careworn mother, anxiously waited by her garden gate until the important stage driver slowed up his steaming horses just long enough to lean over and shout: “John’s better, fever’s all gone.” Drivers in those days did other things beside handle horses and deliver passengers. They carried messages of all kinds and handled letters, papers and pack¬ ages.. Some even made shopping trips while in town, for their customers along the line. One boasted that he bought spring bonnets for all the young ladies on his route who couldn’t get to Boston and that he never made the mistake of purchasing two alike ! A remarkable man ! In 1789, the coaches left the stage office kept by Charles Beekman in Cortland st., New York, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, arriving in Boston just about a week later. Today the trip can be made by an express train in a little more than six hours. The cost of travel varied, according to the ideas of the stage line owner, from about five and a half to eight cents per mile. 184 ROMANCE OF NORWALK OLD NORWALK INN By the time the stage coach reached the Connecticut House, or the “Norwalk Hotel,” as you like, in Norwalk, a large crowd had gathered to greet the travelers and to hear the news. Of the actual appearance of the hotel, we have only the most meager of accounts. We do know, however, that it was of large and imposing appearance, for those times, made of wood, with a flight of steps lead¬ ing to its main doorway. Inside, the Connecticut House was no doubt like any other inn existent in those years, contain¬ ing a number of “chambers” upstairs, and a large tap room, a kitchen, and a sitting room or parlor for women and rich parties, downstairs. The tap room where ales, beers, wines and liquors were dispensed, boasted a large sanded floor, ample seats and chairs of various description, low ceiling with revealed rafters, a huge fireplace at one end, and at the other end probably a rude writing desk for the use of the travelers, and for the landlord when he must make out his bills. The bar, at the back of the room, close to the kitchen, was equipped with a portcullis grate, if it followed the trend of the times, which it no doubt did. This grate was a sort of sliding door, above the counter, and it might be closed at will. Big jugs and small jugs, Indian bowls, fat mugs and slender mugs, colored glass beakers from Holland and quaint wooden hinged tankards lined the shelves about the bar, while nearby stood rows of barrelled wines, spirits and brews. Before the fire on the great hearth, often 1 8 or 20 feet square, the travelers sat on a winter’s night and scorched their chilled bones. Pleasant indeed was it to drowse in the warmth while the wind whistled shrilly out¬ side, and to smell the tantalizing odors emanating from the large roast of beef which revolved endlessly on the spit turned by a trained “spit dog.” Landlord Reed of the old Norwalk Inn was a man of great importance in the community, as were all landlords. During the 1 8th STAGE COACH DAYS 185 century a hotel proprietor was usually the postmaster of the town, captain of the train band (a group of musical aspirants who appeared in connection with the soldiers on the annual or semi-annual training and muster days), and he was generally a holder of some of the most important offices in the community.