SEE THAT! Tragedy Repeated
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.
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| 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 responsibility and prestige.
The Tilton property carried its own storied history. Charles Henry Tilton had begun manufacturing boots and shoes on Pleasant Street around 1850, and during the Civil War, his factory had supplied boots to Union troops. Tilton's ambitions extended beyond his trade; he had accumulated one hundred acres, developing streets, planting orchards and shade trees, and overseeing the construction of forty dwellings. As manager of Tilton's estate, Milo Spring stood at the helm of a small empire.
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| Tilton Boot and Shoe Factory |
The Evening of August 22, 1903
The day began like any other. Milo attended to his duties on the estate, managing the property with the steady care expected of him. As evening approached, he invited his wife and daughter for a leisurely drive after supper—a simple family pleasure on a pleasant summer evening in New England.
Around 6:30, the three climbed into their carriage for what would become a two-hour drive around the area's reservoirs. Perhaps they discussed the day's events, admired the landscape, or simply enjoyed each other's company.
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| Ashland Reservoir |
When they returned home, Milo secured the horses and joined his family in the kitchen, the warm heart of any home.
Then came his nightly ritual. Milo retrieved a revolver from the closet—a weapon he customarily kept under his pillow for protection—and placed it on the table. The family continued their conversation, the scene unremarkable in every way.
Until it wasn't.
A Daughter's Intuition
Without warning, Milo rose from his chair and moved toward the table. His daughter noticed something in her father's face—a peculiar look that sent alarm through her veins. Acting on instinct, she stepped between him and the weapon.
Milo gently placed his hands on her shoulders and moved her aside with a tenderness that must have made what followed even more incomprehensible. He picked up the revolver, pressed it to his temple, and yelled, "See That!"
Then he pulled the trigger.
Thirty Agonizing Minutes
His wife and daughter could only watch, frozen in disbelief, as the unimaginable unfolded before them. The bullet tore a hole through Milo’s head, yet Death did not come quickly. He remained alive for thirty agonizing minutes before Death claimed him.
The Diagnosis
Milo had been suffering from acute kidney disease. Medical understanding of the era held that such conditions could cause confusion, mental disturbances, and behavioral abnormalities that could strike without warning. The term "temporary insanity"—more commonly used in legal defenses than medical diagnosis—offered one explanation for what happened.
Two Generations, Same Shadow
The Spring family's story speaks to the particular agony of accidental and self-inflicted gun deaths—tragedies that unfold in an instant yet reverberate through generations. Henry Spring lived with the knowledge that his hands had ended his brother's life. His son Milo grew up under that shadow, only to meet his own violent end by his own hand, in full view of those who loved him most.
Whether Milo knew of his father’s tragedy- or whether echoes of it lingered unspoken in the family home-remains lost to history.
The Spring family's tragedies occurred in an era when mental health was poorly understood and the effects of kidney disease on cognition were only beginning to be recognized by medical science. Today, we know that kidney failure can cause profound confusion and psychiatric symptoms—a truth that came too late for Milo and his family. What remains is the enduring lesson that behind every gravestone lies not just a name and a date, but a story of love, loss, and fragile humanity.
If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of self-harm, help is available. Call or text the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (available 24/7) or visit 988lifeline.org.
Edited Out/Author’s Additional Research Notes
Henry and William's father was named Milo. He died on August 12, 1883.
William had another brother, but it is believed that Henry was the one who accidentally killed him.
William's gravestone claims he was nineteen, some records suggested fifteen.
Some records say that William died on August 25. This does not appear to be correct.
Henry's son, Milo, was born about a year after he shot William.
It appears that Tilton's factory later became a cannery and then other manufacturing before most (or maybe all) of it was demolished.
Milo's father, Henry, was born in Southwick and died there on January 31, 1899. Some sources list his birthplace as Granby, Connecticut—a discrepancy likely explained by the disputed Massachusetts/Connecticut border, which was not settled until the early 1800s. The final compromise gave Massachusetts the area including present-day Congamond Lakes (formerly Southwick Ponds).
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