Preparations for the Journey

Although, financially, the decision to leave home, and the area that they had known throughout their lives, seemed wise it was heart wrenching nevertheless. George, Lydia and their children would be leaving lifelong friends and family behind and making a long, unpredictable journey northward to Willsborough.  They would be settling in an unfamiliar place that George had been assured offered great promise for him and his family, but he could not help asking himself at what cost this might be. The prospect of a brighter future was all that mitigated the fear that George and Lydia felt in the months preceding their departure.  

The journey alone presented a daunting prospect with three small children - six year old Polly, three year old Orrin, and two year old George - as well as infant Sally who had just recently been born on May 14th, 1801. George knew that he and his family must depart by mid-summer if there was to be any chance of completing the journey before colder weather began to set in, with winter close behind it.

Having successfully sold his property in New Marlborough and left farming life behind – at least for the foreseeable future - George and Lydia headed back down to Canaan as soon as they could after Sally’s birth. They intended to make their final preparations for the trip there and spend a last bit of time with their families and friends. They could not help wondering if they would ever see any of them again.  

Ox drawn wagon
Source: Manoahswife at Wordpress

As the day of departure loomed closer George turned his attention to the many plans to be made, and details to be thought out. With no other real option he knew that for the journey he must use the sturdy farm wagon that had served him well in New Marlborough, so he constructed a canvas cover to shield them from rain and glaring sun.  His trusty yoke of oxen would pull the wagon and he planned to ride alongside on horseback, occasionally moving ahead to scout out the terrain and figure out the best route for the wagon, or how to get around any obstacles that lay beyond view.  

Because they had scant accurate knowledge of the area they would be passing through George and Lydia knew that they had to be prepared for a wide variety of possible eventualities.  George thought about all that they would need to take with them and then tried to figure out the most expedient way in which to pack the wagon.  He built racks along the sides of the wagon that would help to support the canvas cover and hold pots and pans for cooking, storage for provisions, and places for the boxes and crates that would hold their belongings.  He even built a portable coop in which he would carry a rooster as well as some hens that he hoped would be inclined to lay eggs despite being cooped up and jostled around during the journey.

They could not be certain of how long their journey would take, or how many opportunities they might have to renew their provisions, so Lydia had put as many stores of foods as possible in the wagon. She and her mother had worked together to prepare things from their garden, and had dried and pickled some of the produce. They had packed the fresh vegetables and berries in straw and stowed them in the coolest spot they could find. They made sure to include some herbs from the garden, and a few spices. These would do much to improve the flavor of their food and disguise the rancid taste of items that were a bit over the hill.

They had filled sacks with the beans, split peas and corn that Lydia’s mother had dried from the previous year’s crop, as well as boxes with apples and pears from their orchard that they had cut and dried in the previous autumn evenings. They stowed sacks of cornmeal, oatmeal and bran, as well as jars of molasses and vinegar, wherever they could find space. George and his father had slaughtered several pigs and salted or smoked the meat for the journey. The meat was carefully packed in boxes of straw. Of course, Lydia made sure that she had a good stock of flour, lard, sugar, and the saleratus that was necessary to make her bread rise. She had also laid in a supply of freshly preserved jams, as well as honey from her mother’s apiary.  These would be perfect with the breads and biscuits that she planned to bake over an open fire on the journey. [Food on the Oregon Trail, Jacqueline Williams, © 1993 Oregon-California Trails Association Overland Journal - Volume 11, No. 2 – 1993, [Printed with Permission of Jacqueline Williams 2007]]

Covered wagon interior
Source: Abbeville.com

With the foodstuffs taken care of George finished packing the wagon.  First, he laid a bed of straw on the floorboards to soften the jolting and jarring that was inevitable.  Next came the feather bed that he and Lydia treasured, and a pile of blankets and quilts for padding and for warmth when needed.  He filled the remaining racks and shelves to the brim with the cooking vessels, crockery, utensils and other household items that Lydia had laid out for him. The children clamored for a few of their most precious playthings to be put on board, and so those too were added to the growing pile. With everything safely stowed away there was just a wee bit of room left for a very few treasured furnishings and pieces of furniture that neither he nor Lydia could bear to leave behind. Finally, George carefully loaded the precious family Bible on board. This would remind them of home when they were far away.

George was well aware that his travels would be very dependent upon the road conditions. From his experience as a farmer taking a fully loaded wagon to a nearby town he had learned that he and his team of oxen could travel about 3 miles per hour. Based upon this information he figured they should be able to go about 12-15 miles in a day on their journey, and hoped that, if they had to push harder, they might be able to cover 20 miles. He knew that this would make for a long, tough day. Of course, all of this was based upon the premise that the road conditions would be adequate for this. [The Rural New Yorker. 1905, Vol. 64, pg. 823.]

He also knew that if the weather was rainy the dirt roads would quickly turn into quagmires of mud into which his team could find themselves up to their bellies, and the wagon wheels could become totally encased right up to their axles, or even above. Every traveler’s fear was a road that had become a type of primeval swamp that simply sucked anything that passed over it into the ooze that lay beneath.  This could cause significant damage to their wagon, injure the oxen and horse, and cause great delays in travel. On the other hand, endless days without rain could turn the roads into dustbowls that covered people and animals, as well as a wagon and its contents, with itchy, grimy grains of dirt that had a habit of getting into every nook and cranny. They simply had to pray for more good days than bad, and considering the time of year the prospect of this being the case was fairly positive.

An Invitation

Willsboro Point with Ligonier Point
Credit: Google Earth

Sometimes destiny and fate land one in the most unexpected places, places that some day will offer up untold treasures and opportunities as yet unknown.  This is just what happened one day in 1998 when my husband, Bruce, first introduced me to Willsboro, New York, a very small, rural town on the western shore of Lake Champlain. Our town is packed full of history, some of which was yet to be unearthed as we found out in the years ahead. We drove north onto Willsboro Point and soon turned west onto Ligonier Point, a thumb of land stretching out into the lake.  We followed a quiet country lane lined with stately 150-year-old sugar maple trees that arched their gnarled limbs overhead and thus my story begins.

For almost a hundred years the still extant 19th century Clark structures on Ligonier Point were only used seasonally, and many of the articles and artifacts that were within them remained undiscovered and untended.  Remnants of the past were hidden in nooks and crannies, beneath floors, in attics and cellars, tucked away in old steamer trunks, and even behind books of a more contemporary nature. All manner of memorabilia, including an unused coffin, lay jumbled together in heaps on the bare earth floor of an old icehouse that had slowly deteriorated until there was nothing left but a shell that sat ready to fall to the earth at any moment. Each object, so long hidden from the outside world, was silently waiting to be awakened from its century-long slumber.  

Scragwood Today
Credit: Philip Hall

We spent weekends and vacations salvaging and hastily storing everything that we could until finally in 2001 we left city and professional lives behind and took up permanent residency on Ligonier Point. At last we had the opportunity to begin opening the seemingly endless piles of boxes whose contents we had so hastily saved. Now began the arduous process of sorting and conserving that took until 2015. The doors to Scragwood and Old Elm, the Clark’s mid 19th century houses, and the numerous surviving outbuildings that supported the family endeavors as farmers, quarrymen and shipbuilders were flung open once again to let in air and life.

Old Elm Today
Photo by Philip Hall

As we worked, an abundance of questions kept bubbling to the surface. We found answers to some but certainly not all. Who were these Clarks who lived and worked on the land, on the lake and in those old buildings?  What sorts of endeavors did they engage in? What were their daily lives like? Were they educated? Were they religious? Did they participate in local affairs? How were they viewed within their community? Did they ever travel beyond the shores of Lake Champlain? What did they really contribute that was truly lasting and meaningful? Were they participants in the making of history? The list of questions went on and on.  We don’t pretend to have all of the answers yet - and maybe we never will – but we do have an ever-increasing understanding of the Clarks and the “world” in which they lived.

The story I tell begins wrapped in the misty folds of mystery and unknowns and then gathers momentum and clarity as it moves forward. There are some blanks that may never be filled in completely and pieces that will remain a bit ragged around the edges like a newly quarried bit of stone. We begin with George Clark, a young farmer in Canaan, Connecticut who sought a better life in a fledgling village on the western shores of Lake Champlain.  Early records of Willsboro, New York and the Clark family are a bit scant in places, and so for the period from 1802 to 1850 there will be a mixture of fact and fiction but I have used primary sources wherever they are available. By 1850 the amount of raw material at my fingertips expands exponentially and the tale I have to tell springs from the 51,000 paper materials in the Clark Collection that we have amassed over the years.

The Clark Family Preparing to Leave Scragwood for Church
Credit: Clark Collection

With excitement and, yes, even some trepidation, after almost 18 years of discovery, caretaking and research I can finally share the story that lies within me.  I invite you to come with me on my journey, to rejoice with the Clarks in the happy times, to suffer along with those whose lives were grim and short, to be inspired by the will and fortitude of these rugged people, to understand what kept them alive and functioning through thick and thin, to feel what they felt, to experience what they experienced, and to follow them through their daily lives.  Whether you are a historian, researcher, or someone who is just plain interested in history and the people who created it, I hope that you will join me as my story unfolds in the coming weeks, months and, maybe even years.

Our Story Begins

Canaan, Connecticut in 1800
Credit: Wikipedia

Our story begins in Canaan, Litchfield County, Connecticut; a spread out farming community in the Berkshire Mountains that straddles the Massachusetts-Connecticut border and sits on the southwestern edge of the Berkshire Mountains. George Clark, the future patriarch of the Clark family, who ultimately settled on the shores of Lake Champlain in Willsborough, Essex County, New York, was born there on Jan. 7, 1777 in the midst of the Revolutionary War. Like many New England families in this period his family suffered death, poverty and all of the horrific aftereffects of a long and bloody revolution. As the terror and turmoil in which they had lived, and been fortunate to survive, began to abate Canaan and its inhabitants, like so many others, set about the painful process of restoring and rebuilding their lives.  Bit by bit, bound by their deep sense of community, their frugal ways and their profound religious beliefs, they worked together to restore order to their fragmented world. Like other children in his community, George’s boyhood memories were seared and scarred by his family’s long struggle to survive while they worked to create new lives for themselves as a farm family in this remote and mountainous area of western Massachusetts.

For George farming was the only life that he had ever known. His formal schooling was rudimentary and his skill set was totally directed toward working the land as his ancestors had done for generations.  In his teens he developed into a strong young man and a quick learner.  He took great pride in his work on the family farm and envisioned that farming would be his lifetime vocation.  Like most young people he looked forward to the occasions upon which he and his friends from Canaan and the surrounding communities could get together to socialize. At a church gathering he became acquainted with Lydia Jakeways, daughter of Phineas and Hannah Jakeways who were farmers in the neighboring community of Norfolk. On April 23, 1794 he took her hand in marriage. George was but 17 and Lydia was 22.  It was not uncommon for a man to marry a somewhat older woman at the time. This would give the young woman the time to learn the housekeeping skills that would be essential to her future. [Deed research by H. Erwin Hale for clear title to acquire Scragwood, 1950]

Oxen pulling a load of hay
Credit: rocketroberts.com

Following their marriage the young couple set up housekeeping with Lydia’s parents in nearby Norfolk as was typical in that day. As a strong, young farmer George continued to work on his father’s farm while also lending a hand to his father-in-law. He spent his days tilling the soil and harvesting the fruits of his labors, tending the livestock, making and maintaining the tools of his trade, and doing the multitude of chores that consumed a farmer’s days from dawn to dusk. Even though Lydia shared the household burden with her mother her days were spent addressing the seemingly endless daily tasks of cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, sewing, helping with lighter farm chores, and even butchering. Before dawn she arose to light the woodstove and begin preparing a hearty morning meal for the menfolk. Then it seemed that she barely had time to complete her morning’s household work before the hungry men were marching in the door to take a break as they indulged in the bounteous noon repast that had been prepared by their womenfolk. Following this main meal men and women alike returned to their round of chores before the family came together once again to enjoy a lighter evening repast. In between all of this there were the children to be cared for.

Within less than a year of their marriage Lydia bore her first child, Polly, on February 28, 1795.  With the help of her mother, and the knowledge that she had acquired when helping to take care of her younger siblings, Lydia quickly stepped into a woman’s role as mother, housekeeper and mainstay of the family group.  She was grateful to still be in her family home, to receive the guidance and support of her mother and her help with the young ones.  The years rolled by and almost three years later Orrin was born on January 2, 1798. (Later Orrin would become one of the main characters in our story.)

Early 1800s frame house
Credit: Blogger

By June 19, 1799 George, at age 22, had amassed enough capital to acquire a place of his own.  For $8.94 he was able to purchase from Zacheus Wileas a small plot of land outside of New Marlborough, Massachusetts, a tiny hamlet in Berkshire County that lies just across the Connecticut border from Canaan. The land transaction was typical of its time with the property description reading “One certain part of the lot North of the Third Division situated in New Marlborough beginning at a stake and stone on the east side of the highway running east eight rods to a stake and stones then southerly ten rod ¾ of a rod to a stake and stones then westerly to a stake and stones on the highway then northerly on the highway ten rods ¾ to the first mentioned bounds, containing one half acre…this to be an absolute estate of inheritance in fee simple forever”. It is curious to note that the transaction that took place on that June 19, 1799 was dated “In the 23rd year of the Independence of the United States” as was common at this time. The deed was finally officially recorded on Dec. 9, 1800 and a time lag between purchasing property and receiving title was not at all unusual at that time. [Deed between Zacheus Wilease of New Marlborough in the County of Berkshire and Commonwealth of Massachusetts Bay Yeoman and George Clark of New Marlborough aforesaid bloomer June 19, 1799] The family had barely settled into their small, frame house and gotten accustomed to farming and housekeeping on their own before young George came into this world on September 11, 1799 and Sally was born on September 24, 1801. [Deed research by H. Erwin Hale for clear title to acquire Scragwood, 1950] Father George was happy to have a place of his own and he and Lydia were grateful that they were still near both of their families. Enveloped in their daily lives, the young couple lived from day to day.  They had no realization that life in New Marlborough would be very short-lived and that soon fate and a tale of intertwining relationships would intervene to change their lives radically.