David W. Hunter was a former cigar maker, like his father before him, and long-time resident of Southwick, Massachusetts. He had lived along Congamond Lake before moving to Hartford, Connecticut, where he found work at the massive Billings & Spencer tool manufacturing plant. As the operator hired to run the elevator, he worked closely with the machinery—but on Tuesday, April 4, 1911, something went horribly wrong.     No one witnessed what happened in that shaft. It was only when someone heard his desperate cry for help that workers rushed to the elevator pit and found him at the bottom, the elevator suspended high above. His right hand was crushed, his face and head cut, his left ankle dislocated, and his ribs fractured. The man, once well known throughout the region for his skilled hands, lay broken in the darkness beneath the machine he had operated. He was rushed to St. Francis Hospital. For a few days, there was hope. But his injuries were too severe, his body to...

A Southwick man named John Mason found work far from home on one of Massachusetts' most ambitious engineering projects — the new Slade's Ferry Bridge, spanning the Taunton River between Fall River and Somerset. Construction of the bridge began in October 1874, financed largely by railroad interests. The design called for two levels: the upper deck to carry trains of the Providence, Warren, and Bristol Railroad (operated by the Old Colony Railroad), and the lower deck to serve wagons, pedestrians, and eventually automobile traffic. This dual-level innovation allowed the bridge to serve multiple transportation needs simultaneously, making it an engineering marvel for the era. The bridge would also feature a swing truss mechanism — a sophisticated design that could pivot open to allow river traffic to pass beneath — a capability that set it apart from simpler fixed structures of the time.   Slade's Ferry Bridge It was grueling, dangerous work. On September 15, 1875, Mason was ...

When the ground shook that March afternoon in 1833, the people of Canton, Connecticut, and the neighboring towns thought the earth itself had split apart.  In the early nineteenth century, the manufacture of gunpowder was one of the most perilous trades in America. The slightest spark, a stray ember, or the friction of machinery could bring instant ruin. The Hazard, Loomis & Company powder mill of Canton—formerly operated as Mills & Laflin , the latter a native of Southwick, Massachusetts —would learn this truth at tremendous cost. The Ground Shakes  — March 22, 1833 Late in the afternoon of Friday, March 22, 1833, around five o’clock, the powder mill lay quiet. The works had recently been rebuilt and reopened after an explosion roughly six months earlier, but on this day, the mill was closed for repairs. Situated along the Farmington River, the glazing mill held between sixty and one hundred kegs of powder—an immense and deadly stockpile. What occurred in those final ...

A Southwick Farm Tragedy, 1924   On the morning of June 25, 1924, Raymond A. Mason left his home on Putney Road—known today as Fred Jackson Road—in Southwick, Massachusetts, with his shotgun in hand. He headed into the fields, as he often did. For weeks, crows had been plaguing his farm, and before settling into the day's work, Raymond had made it his habit to drive off the troublesome birds with his shotgun to protect his crops. Around 8:00 a.m., his wife, Bessie, heard a gunshot echo across the fields. It was nothing unusual so she continued with her daily household chores.   Whether Raymond intended to scare the crows or strike them down is not recorded, but it was a familiar morning ritual on his farm. Bessie expected him back by noon for lunch, as was their custom. It was a day like any other—or so it seemed.   When noon came and went without Raymond returning home, his wife grew uneasy. She waited through the afternoon, watching the clock, expecting ...

When Amanda Whipple received her daughter’s frozen body on February 10, 1877, the New England winter had preserved the young woman’s remains in the vault where they had been temporarily placed following her death at the Tewksbury Almshouse in Tewksbury, Massachusetts. What Amanda discovered upon examination would transform her grief into a quest for justice. Living in the remote western reaches of Southwick, Massachusetts, under the shadow of Sodom Mountain, Amanda was known throughout the hilltowns and the Pioneer Valley as the fortune teller of Sodom Mountain. She had not foreseen this tragic fate for her daughter. Ellen Jane Whipple was only twenty-one years old when she died on February 1, 1877. Far from the quiet shelter of her mother’s hillside home, her final days were spent in the stark, unwelcoming halls of Massachusetts’ institutions, a world far removed from the life she had known. Those who remembered her spoke of a young woman “rather pretty,” though some whispered she w...

Saturday, August 14, 1886, was meant to be a day of celebration at Southwick Ponds. The New Haven & Northampton Railroad had organized a grand excursion that day, offering free passage to railroad employees and their families. Twenty passenger cars pulled by two engines brought an estimated 1,550 people to the popular tourist destination. Among the excursionists were John Donovan, who worked in the New Haven railyard, and his fiancée, Miss Nellie Barry. The couple, both residents of New Haven, Connecticut, had postponed their wedding from the previous Wednesday and were planning to marry the following week.     A Day of Merriment The atmosphere at Southwick Ponds that August afternoon was one of pure joy. An orchestra filled the air with lively music as crowds of railroad workers and their families enjoyed their day of leisure. Laughter echoed across the grounds as children played games and athletic competitions drew enthusiastic spectators. On Congamond Lake, swimmers spl...

Sweltering heat blanketed New England on July 10, 1881. In the Longyard section of Southwick, Massachusetts, an unmistakable stench filled the air, leading to a grim discovery. High above the ground—more than thirty feet—the partly decomposed body of a middle-aged man hung from a tree, suspended by a single foot wedged between the branches. The head had long since rotted away, rolling some distance from the tree, and around the discolored neck was a blue silk handkerchief , tied tightly—a grim, silent witness to the man’s final act. Investigators believed they could reconstruct what had occurred. Weeks earlier, the man had apparently climbed into the tree, fashioned a noose from the handkerchief, and ended his own life. Over time, the weight of the body caused the upper knot to gradually slip. When the body fell, one foot became trapped among the branches, leaving him suspended in the air until someone discovered the scene. The question remained: Who was this desperate soul who had cho...

The Spring family of Southwick, Massachusetts, carried a burden few families could bear—two generations marked by sudden, violent death involving firearms, separated by half a century but forever linked by tragedy. Sunset - Ashland, Massachusetts Before the Storm On August 28, 1852, eighteen-year-old William Spring died instantly when his brother Henry accidentally shot him through the heart. For Henry Spring, the weight of that accidental shot would follow him through the decades. He would marry, build a life, and raise a family in Southwick, but the memory of that August day surely haunted him until his final breath. A Son's Promise Henry's son, Milo Spring, was born in Southwick and grew into a man of apparent stability and success. By 1898, Milo and his wife had made their home in Ashland, Massachusetts, where opportunity beckoned.  In 1901, his reputation earned him an appointment as resident manager of the sprawling Charles H. Tilton estate—a position of considerable resp...