These are the latest, most up-do-date images of the Mead Cemetery at Cos Cob, located on the eastern side of the Mill Pond.
The podcast is released every Tuesday.
The show this week offers a sampling of how the Fourth of July was observed and celebrated.
It also features historical accounts of the American Revolutionary War in Greenwich featuring Mead family ancestors.
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| Shirt worn by Obadiah Mead when he was killed. It is now in the collections of the Greenwich Historical Society. |
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| Benjamin Mead II House, circa 1728. |
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| Accessway and site of the pollinator garden. |
On Friday, May 3, 2024 the process of removing the grass path at the family cemetery was completed.
Fresh mulch now covers the strip of land extending back and forth from the cemetery to the terminus of Relay Place, Cos Cob.
We are already observing that day lilies planted along either side of the path are rapidly emerging, as are coneflowers, golden rod, bee balm, ferns and other perennials.
This is known as a "garden cottage" design concept. It eliminates the need for lawn-mowing, saving on time and expense.
More day lilies are scheduled to be transplanted from the embankment fronting the Mill Pond to various locations.
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| Tuesday, May 21, 2024. |
The upper and lower tiers of the cemetery have had all grass removed. Mulch now covers both sections. As mulch breaks down it should add needed nutrients to the soil.
Eventually, natural ground covering plantings will be added. This will allow foot-traffic as well as the permanent elimination of lawn care and its expense.
On the upper tier, pathways have been marked and laid out. These will be lined with stone and filled with gravel in the future.
Day lilies line the perimeter, with ferns and golden rod planted as well.
Trimming and removal of trees is in-process.
Trash that washes along the waterline with the Mill Pond also continues to be picked up.
We remind everyone that the cemetery and the access way to and from the terminus of Relay Place are not open to the public.
In the near-future, our plans are to open this site on a limited basis to the public, charging a nominal fee for the purposes of fundraising to support its perpetual care.
Finally, individual cemetery plots are not for sale -nor are they open to the public.
Burials are for Mead family descendants as described in the last wills and testaments of William H. Mead and Caroline Mills Smith Mead.
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| A view of the Cos Cob Mill Pond, facing south, from the Mead Cemetery accessway. |
Source: The Greenwich Graphic. December 1, 1894, Page 1.
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| The Pond at Ten Acres (former Ebenezer Mead Farm, now the site of Cardinal Stadium on the campus of Greenwich High School). |
No more sad affair has occurred in Greenwich in many years than the drowning of two boys at Ten Acres on Sunday morning last. The community was startled and horrified, as the report spread quickly after the catastrophe, and expressions of sorrow were heard on every hand and deep sympathy for the parents of the boys came from every one.
Three boys, John Mead, aged 16 years; James Gillespie and John Brandan, 18 and 17 years old, started on Sunday morning for Ten Acres. John Mead, a son of Captain Joseph G. Mead, Jr., a resident of Mechanic Street, had invited his cousin John Brandon, who lives in Brooklyn, to come to Greenwich and make him a visit, and Brandon asked his friend, James Gillespie, to come with him and he consented. They came on Saturday and expected to stay a day or two.
John Mead wanted to make it pleasant for his friends and show them around, and proposed that they go down to Ten Acres. It was about 9 o'clock when they arrived there.
On the north end of the pond there was a boat. Recently Mr. Maher had thrown up an embankment across this portion of the pond to keep sticks and leaves and debris from the brook from entering the pond, and this had formed a second pond being separated from the larger one by the embankment. This upper pond is quite large, but it was thought that the water was shallow here and that there was no danger.
The boat was in the upper pond. The three boys stepped into the skiff, which had been put there only about two weeks ago. There was no sail in it and they rowed around for a while, and Gillespie said he was cold and went ashore. John Mead said he knew where there was a sail, and Brandon said, "Go get it," and he ran across the field and returned with it. It was much too big for the boat and weather-worn. There was some discussion about using it, but Brandon finally succeeded in rigging it up after a fashion.
Brandon urged them to get into the boat, but Mead and Gillespie were timid about risking their lives in such a craft. Finally Mead jumped in and Gillespie remained on the bank and watched them. They sailed down the pond nicely and all went well.
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| First Congregational Church Cemetery, Old Greenwich, Connecticut |
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| First Congregational Church Cemetery, Old Greenwich, Connecticut |
As they turned and came back the wind, which was very puffy and stiff, struck the boat and it went over on its side but righted and they came before the breeze at a lively pace. Brandon was at the stern steering and Mead was tending the sail, when the rope broke and the sail flopped.
Johnnie Mead, in attempting to regain the sail, lost his balance and fell in the stern of the boat. This sudden weight tipped it up so that the bow was out of water, and the rear of the boat went under and the water rushed into it. The boys became frightened and the skiff tipped over.
They were not over fifty feet from land and but a few feet from the embankment. As they were thrown into the water, one of them grasped the rudder rope but the rudder unloosened from its socket.
Gillespie, standing on the bank, hallooed to them to hold on to the boat, but they evidently had become so frightened as to have lost their presence of mind. He could not swim and neither could his comrades. They were in the ditch where the water is about ten feet deep and ten feet wide, and is the deepest part of the pond; two feet to the south of them was the embankment with sloping sides. On the other side of the ditch the water was from five to six feet in depth.
Gillespie saw them come up twice and then they disappeared. He waited for a few minutes and then ran to the village to Johnnie Mead's home. It did not occur to him to run to the nearest house, for he was a stranger and he was too frightened to think of anything but to go to Mr. Mead's house. Exhausted and panting he told Mr. Mead what it happened.
Help was clipped quickly obtained, and Richard McCormick, Charles Hartung, Thomas Ritch, Mr. Mead and Gillespie went at once to the pond. The boat had drifted nearly ashore, and near it were the hats of the two boys. McCormick and Hartung jumped into the boat, and guided it to the place where the rudder was seen floating, for Gillespie had told them that was the spot, and looking into the water they saw the two boys standing upright, clutching each other. It was the work of but a few minutes to get them out. It was found that the rudder rope had become entangled around Mead's body.
The poor boy, Gillespie, was almost insane. A GRAPHIC representative met him at the top of Put's Hill just after the bodies had been recovered.
He told the story as best as he could, with trembling form and bated breath, and then pointing to the pond said; "Suppose I had gone out in the boat, where would I have been; lying on the bank dead with them." The poor boy was a sad sight indeed, his reason was on the verge of going.
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| First United Methodist Church, Greenwich, circa 1890. |
THE FUNERAL
Funeral services were held in the Methodist Church on Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock, and the Church was crowded to overflowing. Chair were placed in the aisles to accommodate the large throng.
Two white coffins were tenderly and touchingly brought into the Church, one containing the body of john C. Brandow, by six of his comrades who had come from Brooklyn to perform this sad duty. They were James Gillespie, William Allen, Fred Heyman, Frank Broombacker, David Fleming and William Noble, and following were Charles Crosby, Herbert Platt, Jacob Rippel, Harry Talbot, Harry Burnett and Leo Cuecil, bearing the other with the body of John C. Mead.
The bodies were both dressed alike in their coffins, and in the lapel of their coats was a little white bouquet. They were placed near the altar rail, and around them was a mass of flowers made into wreaths, pillows, broken columns and other designs, these being gifts of kind and sympathizing friends.
The choir of the church sang the favorite hymns of the two boys, one in particular being pathetic, "Throw Out the Life Line." Its effect upon the audience was touching.
Rev. Dr. Adams delivered an address full of feeling. After the services at the Church the funeral procession proceeded to Sound Beach.
Conspicuous in the line was a special carriage which contained the flowers, which, at the arrival at the graves, were left upon the coffins of the two boys who were buried as they died, side by side.
Dr. Adams said: "There is no man standing before his fellow meant such a time as this that knows enough to tell the reason why. There is no man, however deeply he may have suffered, that can communicate to the hearts that are especially bereaved under these circumstances, the comfort that they need. There is no man, however wide his observation and however deep his research, that is able to present the peculiar providence that brings us together this afternoon as to make it clear to his own understanding or to anybody else, that the way that this affliction may work out other than as God himself has set down in his word.
"It is most unusual that such an accident as this should occur. There are all sorts of things which we call accidents in the world, and yet, if we believe God's Word, somewhere and somehow, he who sees the spiral fall and who is not unmoved by it, takes cognizance of all these strange and effective dispensations, and it is the duty of the minister of religion stands before his fellowmen at such a time as this to point in but one direction, namely, to Him before whom we all stand; to Him who is above all circumstance and is the helper, solace and comfort of man.
"We turn to that wonderful sentence of the Lords Prayer, 'Our Father who art in Heaven,' and we know that there are things that seem to us utterly disastrous in the world that are after working out that which is good. The flash of lightning and the roar of thunder, while disastrous here and there, while disastrous here in there, make the forces which give the summer its beauty, purifies the air and makes the sunshine clearer than it otherwise could possibly be. It oftentimes turns out that what we think may be calamities are for the best after all. We know not how all things are worked out.
"Destruction goes everywhere. The plow that goes through the furrow in the spring destroys multitudes of things, and yet out of that apparent destruction comes the waving harvest and the glow of the autumn. It is just so in the gathering of the crops; in a gathering of the crops; there is distraction even in reaping. It is the law of death, as much as the law of life.
"The going off of men in their youth, or in their middle-age, at times seems untimely at times seems untimely and strange and marvelous, and strange and marvelous, but there is one that never fails, and that is God, who loves men even in the depths of their greatest sorrow and bereavement. As a rule poor human nature tries to make the best of things. Certain things come to pass that we expect and we look them in the face. It is the unexpected that happens. Who would have dreamed on that morning, the other day, when these bright young men went for their morning walk that they would never come back? Who would have dreamed that that man who the other day went over to his office in the city of New York would never go back to his home again? Life is full of these things, and strange to say, we never get used to them. Death everywhere! Tombstones standing like silent sentinel, pointing with their marble fingers to another world, and yet we get accustomed to them.
"There is only one thing that can bring rest to the souls of men in these hours of darkness and sadness, and that is the strength of him who is the omnipotent God. He has taken into his own harbor these souls that have departed. Those same loving arms rule on both sides of the river. As the great bottom is under the ocean and as the shores go down beneath the rivers, so the great arms and hands of God are down under humanity, ready to hold them up and give them strength.
"We come here to-day in the presence of death, not of aged men or aged women, but young men, in their pride and strength, going out quickly into the other world, and it brings a lesson especially to be done: 'Be ye also ready, for in such an hour as ye the Son of Man cometh.'
"Years ago a woman up in the interior of the state of New York heard her son had been shipwrecked and was drowned. She had been praying for him for years, but some one went into this woman's presence and said, but someone went into this woman's presence and said, 'What do you think now? You have trusted God all your days about your boy; what do you think now?' She clasped her hands, looked up and said, 'Notwithstanding the promise of God standeth sure, having this seal, the Lord knoweth them that are his.' So I bid these mourning and these sorrowing hearts, look into the face of God.
"It is a hard thing to bury a little baby boy or baby girl; taken out of your arms and taken away to another world. But when our children rise up, slowly growing into manhood and womanhood, until they look right into your eyes on a level, it is harder still. Your boys and your girls come up around you and you lean on them in spite of you; you can't help it; you think you wont, but you do. The mother walks out in the street with her manly boy and takes him by the arm -the boy she carried on her bosom and nurse doesn't baby.the boy she carried on her bosom and nursed as a baby. The father makes believe he is as young and stalwart as ever, yet after all he leans on them. He thinks he won't but he can't help it. God brings us into such relations, and it is none the worse for us. But oh! when they die! oh when they pass away! Words are not down in poetry; words are not written in human speech: words are not in any literature that I have found, to express it. I have only this to say: God does know you; God does love you and will help you, and God will stand by you.
"Over the death of these young men let us consecrate ourselves to the service of God. One of them has been on my list of prayer here for more than a year, and every day that has gone over his head there has a prayer gone to heaven for him, I believe God heard it. Let us cultivate love; let us cultivate sympathy; let us give our hearts to God. Young people, let this be a warning to every one of you. Seek the great and loving God; make him your friend; give yourself to the service of the King invisible, eternal and everlasting. Now, in the days of your youth, get ready for the days sure to come."
Source: Greenwich News and Graphic. Friday, June 1, 1923. L.B. Edwards. Page 9, Column 1.
If the question was asked most residents of Greenwich, Who is Zechariah Mead?, they could not answer the inquiry. They probably would reply that they had never known such a man. Some of the older members of the community would say immediately with pleasing enthusiasm, "Yes, I do."
Zechariah Mead was a prominent young man living in Greenwich sixty-three years ago, and belonged to one of the oldest Mead families, and while not among the number of young men who were the original members of Company I, the "crack" Greenwich company of the famous fighting Tenth Connecticut Regiment of Volunteers, as it was and still is known by among old soldiers and others who are familiar with its record in the war of the Rebellion, he joined the company later and in one of the few survivors who took part in the Memorial Day exercises in Greenwich this year.
For over forty years Zechariah Mead held an important position in a prominent New York city bank, giving it up only a short time ago on account of the infirmities of age.
Every Memorial Day since the beautiful soldiers' monument was placed on the conspicuous triangular knoll southeast of the Second Congregational Church, flowers have been placed at the base and a wreath or other flowers hung near the top, where the figure of the soldier in solid granite always scouts attention from the observers of interest in the town, especially strangers.
The flowers used have mostly been lilacs, as their attractive blossoms have been the most in bloom at this season of the year; until hear in Greenwich, if nowhere else, the lilac has come to be regarded as the national symbol for Memorial Day observance, no national flower having been adopted.
Now, however, it seems that the Flanders Poppy will become the national Memorial Day flower, and it has been stated that more than 40 states will show their regard for those who fell in war by the use of the poppy for Memorial Day decoration, and the Veterans of Foreign Wars are inaugurating a movement for the recognition of this pretty little flower, as the national Memorial Day blossom.
The very many wearers of poppy blossoms on Memorial Day paid silent tribute to the soldiers gone, and where they were sold, as they were in many places, the proceeds realized will be used to alleviate the condition of disabled ex- servicemen, the comrades of those living in Greenwich, who formed the Greenwich Company, as well as other veterans of the late war for taking part in the Greenwich Memorial Day exercises.
It was a number of years after the Civil War was over, that the residents of the town of Greenwich decided to erect a suitable memorial in recognition of their valiant deeds. Many of the other towns of the state, within a comparatively few years after the soldiers and sailors returned to their homes and the war was declared ended, had directed memorials of some kind, and as the years went by criticism became more and more severe in Greenwich because nothing had been done in the matter in Greenwich. Finally public opinion became aroused and Horace W. Barton, who was engaged in the monument business in Woodlawn, but whose home was at Greenwich, was consulted and he submitted plans of the soldiers monument that seemed to please all who inspected them.
Then a town meeting was called and the resolution appropriating the $6000 required was passed without a dissenting vote, and it was not long after the monument was placed in position with the appropriate exercises.
Stanford was more remiss than Greenwich in neglecting proper permanent recognition of the soldiers and sailors of the Civil War. There were a number of Greenwich veterans living in Stamford and they did not hesitate to call attention of the old soldiers of Stamford to what Greenwich had done in honor the veterans and Stamford residents; many of them were insistent that some action be taken on the part of the Town to place Stamford on the map with other cities and towns of the State that had so long in abeyance.
And then, too, the action of Greenwich was an incentive for Stamford to do something. The town did it, but it took an object lesson, laughed at by many Greenwich people who saw it, to secure what those who insisted that Stamford should have– a suitable recognition in form of a monument for the Stanford soldiers and sailors. The object lesson was given one Memorial Day morning. It was a beautiful day and the residents had begun to start the Memorial Day exercises. Many of them were wealthy New York business men who lived with their families in handsome residences, of which there was a large number of conspicuous homes, and the conditions prevailing were similar to those of most towns whose prominent residents were largely of the commuting class and there was very little interest taken by them in local affairs of the town.
On this Memorial Day morning, located on a permanent place in front of the public square on Main and Atlantic Street and Park Place, was a small monument. It had been put there the previous night. It was about five feet high, of wood frame, covered with unbleached cotton cloth.
At the front was a wreath of green leaves and underneath lettering: "The way Stamford remembers its veterans," or wording of similar effect. There was a lot of mad Stamford folks when they saw it, and some laughed at it, however, and said that it was a great joke, while the majority passed it by with a look of disgust. It was the talk of the town on that Memorial Day and some of the residents said they would find the ones who were the instigators of the insult.
"Plain" Sam Fessenden, leading politician, state's attorney and public spirited citizen, who had been a lieutenant in the Civil War, smiled in his friendly way when spoken to about the matter, and Alexander Weed, an old soldier who knew more about jokes than any other man in Stamford and was one of the kindest-hearted men of the town, stormed around some and appeared to be very angry when spoken to about it by those we're going to find one, but it was noticed that after they left his store he would go into the back room and laugh, and it soon became evident that the two close friends knew more about the monument than they were willing to tell.
But it had the desired effect, for soon after the Town of Stamford was presented with a cannon, captured from the Spanish in the Spanish-American war. This was mounted on a suitable base in West Main street park, and dedicated with appropriate exercises and afforded a suitable and rather unique soldiers monument for Stamford.
