The Rum Hole on Market Street

Patrick Cummiskey Jug

James Gallagher owned a shop on Market (Lowell) Street that sold clothing and accessories.  That was by day, by night Mr. Gallagher had another profession, rum dealer.  In 1845, upstanding citizens who had taken the pledge asked, “Is there no way Mr. City Marshall that this breathing hole of hell can be stopped?”  The rum hole in question was known to openly sell even on the Sabbath!

The history of temperance in the 19^th century had its ups and downs in the city and the state.  To point out Mr. Gallagher as “the” rum hole on Market Street is unfair.  There were untold numbers on Market Street and throughout the city.  As soon as one was closed down another would open.  The Acre and along Central Street were the most notable places to find them.  There were waves of hundreds even thousands of individuals in Lowell taking the temperance pledge, followed by periods of quiet tolerance of imbibing.  Fr. James McDermott of St Patrick and later St Mary churches was a promoter of the pledge and was noted by Protestant clergy as a model for his people.  It’s interesting to note that one of Lowell’s premier Irishmen, Hugh Cummiskey, took the pledge and donated money to purchase temperance medals to be distributed to oath takers.  Yet a short time later Rose Cummiskey (Hugh’s wife perchance?) is caught selling liquor.

The term “drunkard” was used multiple times on a daily basis for decades in the local papers, often attached to an Irish surname.  Trying to a keep a tally of the numbers arrested and the $2 fine often attached to it became laborious.  In any given month there weren’t just dozens, but dozens of dozens.  Males were not the only perpetrators.  Females were listed as well, sometimes being found passed out in alleys or having to be dragged out of rum holes.  Mrs. Ryan was one of the female operators of one such establishment in the Acre.   Repeat offenders could be given a higher fine ($3 or $5) and others were sent away.  A sad case in the 1850s was that of a father and son repeatedly being arrested for drunkenness and petty crimes.  The writer said the son was a “chip off the old block.”

Those who frequented such places had to be on guard since there were many occasions of patrons being beaten and robbed.  Even innocent citizens passing by had to be aware of who was loitering near such places.  Gangs would assault men beating them and removing their “purses”.  The perpetrators were often identified as being Irish “ruffians”. 

What did the citizens of Lowell think?  Was this an example of prejudice against the Irish, or the reporting of a problem of society at large?  There are a number of articles noting the lack of temperance in the city, almost to the point of outrage.  Some of these articles do point to the Irish population directly and the decline in the city’s morals with their increasing number.  On the counterpart there are voices that speak out about the good work being done by the likes of the Fr. Mathew Temperance Society and other organizations.  Added to that there are voices that speak of the problem belonging to society as a whole and ask how to solve the conditions that could bring about such conditions.

How would we have reacted living in Lowell and seeing such conditions?

The Parish Archives contains a number of ceramic jugs and bottles from this period.  One of our prized possessions is a ceramic jug from Patrick Cummiskey’s store at 83 Market Street (probably a nephew of Hugh).  We’re always looking to increase our holdings.  If you have photos, printed items, or artifacts that tell the story of Lowell’s Irish or the Acre, drop us a line. 

Corpus Christi - 1882

Benediction at St. Patrick's, 1920s

Today is the Feast of Corpus Christi.  Few today know the Latin meaning- the Body of Christ.  Even fewer recall the days of processions around the church with “stations” set up for Benediction.  Before Vatican II, the Feast of Corpus Christi was considered a major day of observance and was looked forward to with much anticipation.  Every year until the 1950s, the Sisters of Notre Dame recorded the day’s events in the journal they kept.  The following are excerpts from the journal:

June, 1882-  We had our annual procession which this year was more magnificent than ever.  Over one hundred fifty cadets trained by the Xaverian Brothers and dressed in Our Lady’s colors, white and blue, lent a new charm to the scene.  Thousands of voices blended in one grand harmony chanting the strain of Pange Lingua as the procession wound in and out of the garden walks.  As the procession passed through the street the band played some religious airs and as soon as our Dear Lord once more entered the church the organ pealed forth its grandest strains of welcome.  Here Benediction was given a third time, the entire congregation singing the Tantum Ergo and when all was over the Te Deum was chanted by the thousands (reported to be 10,000) present.

Mr. Manning's Corn Cakes & an Acre Memory

Manning Advertisement

A small parade of men and boys made their way down Broadway Street in Lowell’s Acre neighborhood on an October evening of 1868.  It was just before the big presidential election of that year.  The marchers carried torches and sang political songs supporting their candidate, Ulysses S Grant.  It was a heated contest that year, and boys were stationed along the parade route to keep an eye on any “missiles” that might be thrown at the marchers.  When they approached the corner of School and Broadway the group came to a halt to unfurl a flag as the crowd joined in singing The Star Spangled Banner. Speeches were made and the flag was suspended between William Manning’s shop and the opposite street corner.

Mr. Manning had just opened the shop a few months before.  He probably didn’t realize that Manning’s Silver Corn Cakes would become a national sensation and last for decades.  Manning, a relative of the well known Manning family of the Manning Manse in Billerica, had experimented with different types of popping corn and received a patent from the US Patent Office after perfecting a popping machine.  He purchased an acre of land on Broadway Street and built his empire. 

The basement contained the popping room, which used 5000 bushels of corn and 100 hogsheads of molasses a year.  Four large kettles were kept busy on the bottom floor and 12 more on the first floor to make corn cakes.  Horse power was used to grind the corn.  Large cutting knives were used to cut the cakes.  Later, Manning diversified into making corn balls and a variety of other products..  His cakes sold two for a penny. 

The business quickly prospered with 6 buildings taking up the corner.  Stables for the horses and storage sheds were added to fill the demand for corncakes.  The fame of Manning’s Silver Corn Cakes quickly spread from the Acre, across the city, state, and eventually the country.  Mr. Manning was nearly 90 when a broken hip led to his demise and death in 1923.  The business was sold and the land transferred over to a roofing company.  And all of this started in a corner shop in the Acre.

As soon as I saw the advertisement for Manning’s Silver Corn Cakes,  I was taken with his story. I had to find out more about him and his Acre connection.  I think few in my age group would forget buying corn cakes and old-fashioneds.  I’m not sure if it’s just a Lowell, or New England thing.  Finding corncakes today is a rarity.  Most are poor imitations of the original.  I recently found such an example at a local “candy house.”  It was a quarter size of the original and about $3 or $4.  The worst travesty was that it was not a real corn cake or an real old-fashioned.  As a kid I might get mine from the BC on Merrimack Street or more likely at Ovie’s on Broadway.  There was an unwritten rule that one did not buy them in mid-summer. The corn cake would be too sticky and the old-fashioned would melt too easily.  If memory serves, the pair cost a nickel.  I doubt anything will ever equal the memory of sitting on the stoop, taking out the corn cake from the brown paper bag; smelling the caramel, feeling the sticky sweetness, and finally squashing the vanilla crème drop onto the corn cake.  Ahh, youth!

What's your corn cake memory?

TEMPERANCE—1840

 

Fr. Theobald Mathew giving
"the pledge."

Alcohol, and the availability and abuse of it, were a constant problem in nineteenth century Lowell. In any given year, alcohol related offenses led the list of arrests and cases heard before the Lowell Police Court.  This was, unfortunately, also a major problem within the Irish community.  There were many 'rum cellars'  - mostly unlicensed - all along Lowell street. All too sadly the epithet “drunken Irishman” had some foundation in fact.  In 1840, Father Theobald Matthew, a priest in Ireland, was preaching total abstinence from alcohol and many thousands were “taking the pledge” to stop drinking – or to never start.  In Lowell, Father James T. McDermott, pastor of St. Patrick's Church, urged his congregation to take the pledge. After one Sunday sermon, it was reported that 501 parishioners had done so.   On a subsequent Sunday, another 500 also pledged total abstinence.  At the same time the 'Cold Water Army' was active, urging abstinence on the part of all, Catholic and Protestant alike.  In a letter printed in the ADVERTISER on 19 June, a writer commented that, “From present indications, our Protestant population will be outdone in the great work of temperance, by their Catholic brethren”.  Visitors to Lowell street on a Saturday commented that “...not a drunkard was seen.”

 

A positive step taken as a result of Fr. McDermott's effort occurred at a Merrimack street business.  A letter appearing in the COURIER of June 20, related that “A gentleman has just informed us that as he was passing a store on Merrimack street yesterday, his attention was attracted by some ten or a dozen men, who were all busily engaged in removing casks from a store where “the ardent” has formerly freely been dealt out.  On inquiring, he learned that the owner, although a licensed retailer, had voluntarily surrendered his license, and was removing all his liquor casks of all description from his store.  That owner was Hugh Cummiskey, a trader will known and possessing great influence in Lowell.  We cannot heap too much praise upon him for this act”.

This short recitation of the 1840 temperance movement was prompted by the discovery, in the ADVERTISER of June1,  of the following “gem.”

POLICE COURT

June 1, 1840 – William Congden was brought up, charged with being a drunkard.  It appeared in evidence that said Congden was decidedly drunk in the Catholic Church, and behaved very improperly during divine service.  His Honor regarded it as an offense of rather an aggravated character, and fined him $5.00 and costs. [note: about $10.00 total or almost two weeks pay]  He evidently got into the “wrong pew.”

One wonders,  Could it have been the 'sacramental wine'?
Submitted by Walter Hickey

Strange Happenings at Barnes’ Folly

Barnes' Folly

Lowell’s newest physician, Dr. John H Barnes, had big plans literally.  Having just finished his apprenticeship with Dr. J. W. Graves, Dr Barnes purchased a plot of land in 1832 on the edge of the Acre on Merrimack Street near the corner of Lewis Street.  He contracted with Osgood Pingrey to do the carpentry work on a building he was having built from canal rubble for the bottom floors and brick for the upper stories. The plans called for a series of dry goods stores at the basement and street levels and a number of halls to be rented out on the remaining floors.  Where the term Barnes’ Folly comes from is rather unsure.  According to the Lowell Cutural Resource Inventory, where the previous information can be found, it could be from the large size of the building or because the property changed hands so many times.  Whatever the reason, Dr Barnes’ hope for such a venture soon dissipated.  The building was sold, foreclosed, returned to the bank for nonpayment of taxes and sold yet again.  And yet it still stands there today with its original canal rubble foundation.

One of the first uses of the new building was space to teach Irish students.  The venture was not very successful perhaps because the school was probably paid for by parents who were hiring their own teachers rather than attend the public schools.  Attendance was not mandatory and even a few cents to pay the rent might be more than the pioneer Irish could afford.  The rooms in Barnes’ Folly were often rented out for offices or as venues for plays and musical presentations such as Damon and Pythias.  The area’s reputation quickly declined and soon the site is mentioned in a number of police reports.  A certain William Marston was arrested with a certain “Sal Sprague” for fornication at the Folly.  Each was fined $10.  In 1857 George Dane, the blacksmith who lived on Dane Street, had the misfortune of falling down a flight of stairs at the Folly and breaking his leg so badly amputation was a possibility. 

Liquor was often involved with the goings on at Barnes’ Folly.  The St. Nicolas Saloon in the building was cited for being the cause of a number of disturbances.  The saloon itself was known to sell liquor on the Sabbath!  A sad case happened in 1862.  Catherine Mullen was found dead on the floor in one of the rooms at Barnes’ Folly.  It was apparent that she died of alcoholism.  Her husband was away at war and Mrs. Mullen had taken $12 from the city and spent it all on liquor.  Barely a stick of furniture was found, just some straw ticking and a few clothes.  She was buried in a pauper’s grave. 

Another sad case was a 17 year old girl whose mother and  sisters resided at Barnes' Folly with her.  She was found murdered in the Pawtucket canal.  Screams were heard in the neighborhood, but no one responded.  She was known to be in the company of "rowdy young Irishmen."

Conditions got so bad that in 1864 complaints against the building were lodged before the Board of Aldermen.  The owner, Alanson Folsom, met with the Board at the building to discuss matters.  He was ordered to improve conditions.  Being so close to the Western Canal, it happened that residents of the Folly occasionally met their end by accident or design in the canal.  Also being one of the tallest buildings in the area the mention of someone falling out a window was not unknown. 

A final mention of Barnes’ Folly was when the city tried out their new fire steamers on the building.  The sheer size of the building made it a great target for the fire hoses.  The curse of the building began to fade towards the 20^th century when a new owner bought the building and adapted it to new uses.