Neilson Caplainby Neilson Caplain
First published in November/December, 2006, Volume 3, Issue 4, The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.
When she was young, Lizzie Borden loved downtown Fall River. She thrilled to the clang-clang of the trolley cars as they ran down Pleasant Street to meet with others traveling on Main Street. She enjoyed watching the low-gears, loaded with huge bales of raw cotton, lumbering up the steep hill on Central Street on the way from the Fall River Line steamboats to the mills lining the Quequechan River. She delighted in the sounds and the view of the tumultuous waters of the river as they tumbled over the rocks on the way to the Bay. She mingled with the crowds of housewives and mill workers and noisy children that thronged the sidewalks, so crowded that she was forced to walk in the roadway.
Life was different now. She was a rich lady no longer cooped up in that mean old house on Second Street. That house had humbled her in its location and lack of amenities, not at all like the mansions she had aspired to on the Hill.
For the first time in her life, Lizzie felt free, free to go to Providence, Boston, wherever. She enjoyed the shopping in the lovely stores, the museums, and especially the excitement of the theaters.
The others thought that she would move out of Fall River after the murders. Oh, no. She and Emma decided to buy the thirteen-room mansion at 7 French Street, re-numbered within the year to 306. “No use waiting,” she thought. “We moved in September 1893, ever so glad to leave behind that awful house on Second Street.”
Later, Lizzie would have the name “Maplecroft” engraved on the top entrance step of her home. There would be some criticizing in town. Naming a house in Fall River just was not done. She reveled in the bathrooms, with hot and cold running water, and she enjoyed a beautiful garden in which she could feed her beloved squirrels and birds. She could now afford a housekeeper, a cook, a second maid and a coachman.
Having rid herself of these thoughts, both happy and sad, Lizzie stood at the corner of Central Street, eager to examine the stores on the west side of South Main Street. Before her stood the massive Granite Block extending the entire block from her corner to Pocasset Street.
But Lizzie hurried by Granite Block, anxious to get to the A.J. Borden building at 109 further down South Main Street, at the corner of Anawan Street. She had business to discuss with Charles C. Cook whose office was located in Room 2. Mr. Cook was financial advisor to her father and now took care of her properties, collected rents and dividends. He reported the mills were busier than ever and the dividends were substantial.
Her father erected the building. She said, “It was his pride and joy. What a shame he was murdered before the addition was completed and fully rented out.” The edifice was constructed of red brick with a central passageway leading to the upper two stories. The top floor was the home of the Thibodeau Literary and Commercial College.
The W.C.T.U. was, for a time, on the second floor. Lizzie, in a snit, had them evicted. Or, as some say, they moved out voluntarily. Lizzie snickered, “Let the gossip mongers toss it back and forth. The truth is mine to keep.”
Two stores flanked the central passageway. The one on the south was quarters for the C. E. Macomber Clothing Company, at Number 111. The one on the north side of the building was occupied by the Knox and Charlton Five and Ten Cent Store (#105).
Leaving the building, Lizzie now leisurely retraced her steps back to her starting point. She noticed first Higgins & Fraze, dry goods at Number 99. Maggie Shea and Daniel Gifford, the one being a dressmaker and the other a milliner, were in stores 97 and 95. At Number 93, Nicola Sangeriano’s barbershop took care of his Italian neighbors. Upstairs, Della Atwood had a boarding house.
Now Lizzie came upon two of her favorite stores, and she paused for a moment to examine the window displays in Joseph L. Hick’s jewelry store at Number 91, and Holt & Patenaude’s shop for boots and shoes (#89). Lizzie loved clothes and always dressed well. She noticed scuff marks on her walking shoes. She rarely, almost never, visited the stores in Fall River. But this time she went in the shoe shop, shading her face. She tried on three or four pairs but found nothing to her fancy. So she left, feeling sure the clerk had not recognized her.
A photographer, expert in family portraits, C.N. Denault, had his studio in Number 87, and the Robert Adams bookstore was in Number 85. It was well known that Mr. Adams had been part of the Underground Railroad that helped get-away slaves, and his son Edward was now proprietor.
The building at Number 83 housed a number of newspaper offices—minor papers catering to local subscribers in neighboring communities. Lizzie knew of the Swansea Gazette, which was delivered to her father’s farm in Swansea. A milliner, Adelina M. Sanguinet, was at Number 81.
And then Lizzie came upon the undertaking establishment of James E. Winward (#75), who supervised the burial of her father and stepmother. The middle-aged spinster was overcome with a flash of emotion as she recalled that sad day. And other thoughts intruded. She was reminded of the inquest that preceded the trial. The New Bedford newspaper published her testimony. It was embarrassing. “But I had good reason, very good reason, for the vague and contradictory answers I gave.”
Regaining her composure Lizzie proceeded along the street to pass the stores of the Fall River Rubber Company (#75), and Bogle & Booth, dry goods (#71). Four tenants, including a dentist, Amadee DeCouagne, occupied Number 69. Next, she walked by the apothecary shop of Charles A. Baker (#67) and the Rabbit Hat Store (#65).
This brought Lizzie to the end of the block. She crossed Pocasset Street and gazed upon the Granite Block building. It was an impressing building, extending the full block from Central to Pocasset Street. It was four stories in height and was made of drab grey granite, native stone from quarries in the eastern part of town. From history classes at school she knew it was constructed in 1843 immediately after the Great Fire that devastated downtown Fall River.
Law offices and rooms for other professions, as well as space for tenements, occupied the upper floors. Attorney Arthur S. Phillips who assisted Andrew J. Jennings, her lawyer at the trial, occupied room 31. Mr. Jennings had his office in Room 3. Lizzie was amused. She remembered a newspaper interview at which Mr. Jennings said, “To this day it is a puzzling mystery. I have never yet been able to solve it.”
“Of course not,” Lizzie intoned. “Neither you or anyone else will solve it. Where is the ax they claimed I used? What happened to the blood stains they said should be on my clothing?”
“I know, and what I know nobody else will know. Not even the three judges or my attorneys or that terrible District Attorney, Josiah Knowlton. Or was his name Hosea? He is now Attorney General and Mr. Jennings is the District Attorney.”
Lizzie’s walk came to an abrupt stop. She was overcome with her visions of the night before the murders, the night she told Alice Russell of her foreboding that something bad was about to happen. When she had returned home that night she heard Father and Uncle Morse deep in conversation. “Was it Andrew’s will they discussed? Were they plotting to make Abby his main beneficiary? I won’t admit I heard any such talk!”
On the south corner of the Granite Block stood the apothecary shop run by James C. Brady, address Number 47. Then Lizzie passed by the jewelry store owned by Aime B. Bruneau (#43). Carrie M.G. Johnson carried on a confectionery and fruit store (#35-41). Then came two dry goods stores, the proprietor of the first James W. Henry (#35), and the second, Samuel E. Allen (#33). P.S. Brown sold fancy goods at Number 29. A bookstore, George E. Bamford’s, was at Number 27 next door to Frank B. Riddell’s pharmacy at Number 21. Anthony & Davis purveyed men’s clothing (#19). Emery & Company sold boots and shoes at Number 15. Then followed M.T. Coffey (tobacco) and Dennis P. Murphy (periodicals) who shared the address at Number 7. Lastly, Lizzie encountered Krone & Dreier (men’s clothes) occupying the store at Number 1.
Lizzie ruminated, “I’m glad to have done with the Granite Block. It is a place for loiterers and people waiting for trolley cars.” She still feared being recognized. She quickly gathered up her skirts, climbed into her carriage, settled comfortably and was driven to her mansion on French Street.
