In 1851, an English noblewoman wrote home to say, “I have been invited to visit New Bedford … it is said to be the ‘City of Palaces,’ from the beautiful buildings it contains.” New Bedford was once the jewel of Massachusetts, called by some the “City of Light.” It is this glimmering history that author Peggi Medeiros has explored in her newest book, New Bedford Mansions.

Medeiros, a research librarian and historic preservation expert, arrived at the Mattapoisett Free Library on a brisk, chilly Saturday, October 24, to discuss her latest book. She has written a book that details a New Bedford, which to many seems to be veiled firmly in the mists of the past.

“The brightest age of New Bedford,” said Medeiros, “begins at the end of the American Revolution, when the Rotch family moved to New Bedford from Nantucket, and ends at the onset of the Civil War.”

It was in this era, Medeiros said, that New Bedford became the whaling capital of the world and the wealthiest city per capita in the United States. She said proudly, “I wanted to write the biography of that New Bedford.”

During New Bedford’s reign as the City of Palaces, world-renowned politicians, painters, naturalists, and architects flocked to its shores. Frederick Douglass began his life as a free man in New Bedford. Bronson Alcott (the father of Louisa May) lectured in the city routinely. Harriet Tubman sought and received shelter in New Bedford to avoid fallout from the raid on Harper’s Ferry in West Virginia. John Quincy Adams visited the city as a young man; so did Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau. Ironically, Moby Dick author Herman Melville only spent about two weeks in the city.

John James Audubon used the whaling merchants as a patron bank; Medeiros described how he would “go from house to house of the different whaling merchants, selling them first editions of Birds of America.” One such edition, reputedly the seventh ever published, remains at the New Bedford Public Library. The book was bought by wealthy whaling merchant James Arnold and was donated to the library by his descendants.

These numerous luminaries were drawn to New Bedford through their friends, the whaling merchants of New Bedford. The people who lived in this glittering city inside great mansions bordering the deep blue Atlantic would define New Bedford in the years to come.

James Arnold and his wife Sarah, the buyers of the seventh Birds of America, were staunch abolitionists and also the aforementioned protectors of Harriet Tubman. The two were the benefactors of the famous Arnold Arboretum in Jamaica Plain, and they also built a beautiful mansion at 427 County Street.

“The old mansion is still easily visible,” said Medeiros. “Just look at the central brick building. What we have is a wonderful, original Federal Revival mansion, flanked by two Colonial Revival wings.” The building described is now known as the Wamsutta Club.

Modern New Bedford, however, possibly owes most to a strong and willful young bride. Rachel Smith Howland arrived in New Bedford in 1842, the new wife of Matthew Howland. Howland’s family was one of the richest whaling families in the country; Matthew himself kept the books of the family company. Rachel, to this day, manages to knock the socks off of everyone who learns about her. When she was not praying with Abraham Lincoln or serving on a school board for black children with Harriett Beecher Stowe, she was organizing useful public works for the city. She was active in the New Bedford school system, which Medeiros notes was “not any easier” in the 1860s as it is today.

“She did a remarkable thing. When the school board in one instance disagreed, she threw a party,” said Medeiros. “She invited the school board to the party and was able to make them all talk. What an accomplishment that was!”

In 1866, Howland organized the Association for the Relief of Aged Women of New Bedford. This charitable organization was meant to feed, clothe and care for elderly women in the city who had no family. The organization still exists to this day. So does Hazelwood Park – the rolling green space sits on the former grounds of Howland’s summer cottage.

It is often very difficult to imagine what New Bedford must have been like in these golden years. So much of its cultural history lies dormant, even when reminders of a glorious past loom directly before you. The mansion of Joseph Grinnell, a four-term Massachusetts senator, was for many years the library of the Swain School of Design.

Rachel Howland’s summer cottage still stands in Hazelwood Park, resting in what Medeiros terms “demolition by neglect.” Its windows are boarded up. Sections of roof cave in and green vines climb steadily up the fence that walls it off from the park. Here, the buildings that remain are often so removed from their history that the history is lost entirely.

Traces of the shining city history remain, observed by the sharp eyes of researchers like Peggi Medeiros. That day, Medeiros’ eyes shone as she recounted the grand buildings, famous visitors, and strong minds of old New Bedford.

For a moment, as Medeiros spoke, it was as if Rachel Howland herself was standing there behind us all: The mists part and I can see the great ships, the brick mansions and crowds of people. The history of the city often seems so far away, separated by a curtain over 100 years thick. Now though, I can feel their presence in the history that remains.

By Andrea Ray

Here they are … the last two stories in our 2015 Halloween Story Contest. To continue the suspense just a little further, we won’t tell you who won until after these stories, where we also list all of the authors. Thank you to everyone who entered!

The Wanderer will also hold a special Facebook Halloween photo contest next week. Submit your best Halloween photo to support@wanderer.com by November 3; don’t forget your name and contact information. All the photos submitted will be displayed on Facebook where you can vote for your favorites. The top three photos will win gift certificates to local restaurants. See The Wanderer Facebook page at www.facebook.com/wanderer for more details.

Halloween Story Contest Entry #6

Death Trial

I woke to a piercing laugh, with memories flooding into my head. I was in a blank, deathly and dangerous place, you guessed it, and I was at an insane asylum, that I was bound to die at. My blood stained roommate eyed me ferociously and with a creepy smile said ”Why are you here, I killed my dog and best friend,” the thought gave me shivers, but I simply replied, ”We all have our secrets” and I silently slipped out of our “room” and into the breakfast hall.

I was personally not ready for this; I thought I would always be innocent. My plan had been ingenious, but it was not good enough because someone caught me and they will pay! But the problem was, as I said I would probably die here, unless I made a run for on the day no one would suspect, Halloween. It’s a perfectly joyous day but no one remembers how scary it actually is, if only no one lived anywhere for miles. Oh right, I’m miles from any town, perfect!

Officer Smith stomped in with inhuman steps and ordered us 10 laps around the asylum, no walking! What a drag! I mean sure we killed people or whatever, but no one said we were anything like Superman’s villains! At least it gives me an idea of where to break out, or else another soul would have vanished.

The day dragged on. From counseling to physical education to brain gym to lame last word speeches of former asylum “buddies.” Finally, we were sent to, what I call our death chambers, to “bond” with our new best friend.

But you see Curtis, my grim cellmate, was not exactly my kind of guy. You see, he had a blood thriving soul, stunning blue eyes, a piercing laugh, and a haunting smile, he was built to kill. Me, I looked quite average, with dull brown eyes, a bored smile, and a lazy soul. The only thing that made me abnormal was the fact that I am a killer, but I’ll get to that later.

As I was saying, Curtis is not exactly my bestie. On my first day at the asylum he punched me in the gut and said we would get along well. What the heck is that supposed to mean! This guy was more that insane, he was trying to out sane the insane!!!!! And he is not the person I want to die with. But maybe, just maybe I could play this guy like a record.

Curtis interrupted my thought with his daily “what are you in for,” question but I always reply with the same “we all have our secrets.” I thought our conversation would end here as it usually does, but Curtis said disappointed “Why does everything have to be a secret with you, we are going to die with each other, and you’re here which means someone else knows what you did, I meant it when I said I thought we would be good friends, but you don’t trust anyone.” I was stunned by what he had said, and it was all true, I guess I should explain, to him and to you.

My voice was dull and flat as I spoke these words “It was three months ago, I was at school with JJ, my best friend, and we were just laughing and walking down the hall and when some kid threw a note at us that said meet me in the library. So obviously we did, at 9:30 we creeped into the library and saw Stewie Jones standing by a computer in the empty library, not even the librarian was there, we hurried over and he told me to tell the contact on the email account he was on that they would die. The email contact seemed vaguely familiar, but I did it anyways. JJ started acting weird and said he had to go. Once he left Stewie told me he had a present for me and that he would leave it in my locker along with a note as long as I left my locker open, I seemed like a good deal to me. Later in the day I found a knife wrapped in happy birthday paper and a note that said put this in the Principal’s office on his chair at 1:50. I was very confused by this but maybe for some crazy reason the principal needed it, I did it. After I did my task I walked into the hall that was flooded with people that were waiting for a bus, the one that happened to be mine, I raced on the bus and in a matter of 20 minutes I was home. I finished my homework, ate supper, and fell sound asleep with nightmares of murders and death. The morning announcements were devastating and bad, for me. They announced that Principal Wilson was killed while reading an email that stated he would die. Then they announced that Linda Washer was wanted at the principals, I walked to the office, they accused me of murder and played the security footage of me placing a knife on his chair, they told me I was insane, then they brought me to court, my lawyer barely believed me so obviously lost and ended up here.”

Curtis was in shock, but he finally said “You, Linda Washer were played, to kill someone, that Stewie kid will pay, but for now we are going to scheme how to get out, “now it was my turn to be in shock, we were both planning to make a break for it, together? I was utterly confused but I had found a new liking in Curtis and I felt energized, Curtis told me exactly what I had wanted to hear. The dinner bell sounded and we silently walked off smiling like a pair of Cheshire cats.

The night was cold and unforgiving, so when I woke to ear splitting shriek I knew that this was an advantage. Or maybe it was just me strategizing, either way; I knew how we would break out. That scream had to have been a murder, right, so most likely it will take the officers a couple of weeks before they can narrow it down to the killer, which means they will be pretty darn distracted, which will make it ten times easier to escape, most likely they won’t realize till after they have found whoever just killed someone, and by then it will be too late.

When Curtis heard my idea he grinned his unraveling little smile and drummed his fingers together, I could tell he was happy. He spoke in a hushed tone as he whispered these unmistakable words “Good, good.” Then he pulled me to the side and said “We need Officer Smith’s gun, we will be more intimidating and if we shoot the electric fence it should put the power to a tinny tiny zap that will feel more like a bad pinch,” and with that we parted.

Later in the day Curtis and I made a plan to sneak out the officer’s gun out when we were supposed to do laps. Apparently that stereotype about police men eating donuts and coffee is true, or it applies to Officer Smith because as we burn major calories he stuffs up on Dunkin’ Donuts! Any ways, while he was gaining more rolls of fat, we planned to distract him, Curtis would sneak in his office before breakfast and hide out behind the officer’s desk, then when we are supposed to run laps I would run a lap then come into the office of Officer Smith doubled over and screaming for air, when Officer Smith drops his donut to either yell at me for cheating out the laps or asking me if I was OK, it didn’t matter, when one of those happened Curtis would slip the gun out of its little pouch. He would signal me with thumbs up once he had the gun, and I would appear to be fine. I knew all those years of theater would pay off.

The next day our plan sprang into action and everything went as planned! We are now hiding a shiny black gun in our room and Officer Smith is freaking out because he doesn’t have a gun! It’s pretty hilarious to see a cop throw his donut on the ground fuming then realizing he just threw his Boston Crème Pie donut on the dusty ground! I feel a little guilty but Curtis knows his stuff, so I should trust him.

On other terms I am so excited to break out in two days! No more asylum! Yay! Sure I’ll miss the asylum crew, but we can write to each other, NOT! I am not going to break out of here just to give away my location and I am totally not going to keep in touch with these actually crazy people!

Curtis and I know exactly what to do to break out. In two days, when Officer Smith announces our extra laps for a Halloween present Curtis and I will run out together with the gun hidden in my jail hoodie, then once everyone is ahead of us Curtis will shoot the gate, which should disarm the electrocution to a light pinch, next we obviously would climb over and sprint for our lives. I am praying we get a miracle like the gun incident.

OMG! This is terrible! In a very good way! We made it out of the jail, thank god, after a whole day we found a tourist attraction that was apparently on the south coast and an INN that was nice enough to let us stay for the night for free since we seemed like such good people. The goods parts about this are that we found a popular place so that we weren’t suspicious and that the INN owner had such poor judgment. The bad part is that we don’t have a penny. I just was hired at a local restraint, I get paid a good amount but not enough.

Maybe someday you’ll see me in a small town on the shore. Or even in an old library with a pile of books, maybe even overlooking the ocean from a big house that Curtis and I bought after we eloped, but maybe you will never see me.

Halloween Story Contest Entry #7

The Seal

There was once a great scientist. Ever since he had been a young lad, he had been devoted to marine biology. He saved endangered species, engineered prosthetic limbs, and created healthier recipes for marine life at SeaWorld and other animal parks. He especially loved seals. In his great mansion this scientist got a pool and used this pool for his new pet seal. Pup. That was what he named his seal. Pup and the scientist had great fun together and the scientist taught him all sorts of tricks, fed him fish, and paid newspaper writers to make Pup the front page of every issue they sold.

Eventually, Pup got very old and no matter what the scientist did Pup eventually died. This made the scientist very sorrowful.

Time passed and when the scientist could finally find joy again he declared to the town he would bring Pup back, for they all loved Pup almost as much as the scientist did. Towns and cities across the country heard of this and everyone wanted to know more.

As the scientist worked hard, a Yale student was given the opportunity everyone wanted. This young grad was given an assignment from his professor to write an article on the scientist. The boy was such a good writer and wished to one day be a great journalist. The Yale professor had grown up with the scientist so he organized a plane ticket and set the date for the boy to come. The boy’s name was Peter.

When the date finally arrived for Peter to fly down to the scientist’s mansion Peter was irked. He did not believe anything the scientist had been saying in the papers was true. But Peter went anyway in fear he might lose his spot at one of the best universities and one of the best internships he was sure he would get after getting this story. No matter how unimportant this was to him.

When Peter got off his plane he rented a car for him to drive to the scientist’s house. It was a small town in Washington. Finally Peter’s GPS told him he arrived but the boy saw nothing but a lengthy driveway. He drove down it and finally saw the somber mansion. He got out of his car, grabbed his notebooks, (since his professor thought writing made better ideas flow rather than typing, and he wouldn’t have wifi anyway) and walked towards the door. Right away one could tell the scientist loved his seal. The door had “Pup” exquisitely engraved in the ebony wood.

Peter knocked and waited… Nothing happened so he looked around and saw a pocket-size sign hanging just above the doorbell. This sign said, “Please use the doorbell, for I might not hear your knocking. Thanks.” Peter rang the doorbell and a piercing dong and ding escaped the speakers and an eyeball appeared in the eye hole of the door. It looked around as if waiting for someone else to approach next to Peter and then the door finally flung open.

“You must be Pup. I mean, uhh … Pete? Is that it? No … Paul? Um.…” The gawky scientist fidgeted.

“My name is Peter Mr.-” Peter began but…

“I am a Doctor! Excuse you fellow, only doctors bring back the dead, no misters can do that!” The scientist led Peter to the office.

The office had a big oak desk smack in the middle of the circled shape room and papers were stacked and scattered everywhere. Peter sat in front of the scientist who sat in his vast ugly colored green chair at the desk.

“So doctor, about your seal. I’m very sorry for your loss. I just have a few questions.…” Peter spoke and flipped through his pages without looking up or showing any real sympathy.

The scientist didn’t speak for a moment. He stared at Peter with distaste realizing how insensitive he was acting and then began.

The interview lasted no more than 45 minutes; Peter didn’t pause much between questions and rolled his eyes or hardly paid attention to the scientist’s dispirited expanded answers. Peter barely noticed the scientist growing hopping mad. And then when Peter was about to wrap up his writing, the scientist made a decision.

“Would you like to stay for supper, Chap?” The scientist asked, politely smiling.

“Finally … I mean, well yes. I am quite hungry and jet lagged sir. Thank you.” Peter felt more positive, maybe this wasn’t a waste? He was getting free food and hopefully dessert before leaving Washington.

“Perfect, follow me.…” The scientist led Peter to the dining hall. The scientist sneaked a vial of powder in Peter’s wine glass and prepared their meals, while Peter waited. They were eating and chatting of small things like the weather and football. After dinner Peter thanked the scientist for a delightful evening and laughed as he said good luck on bringing his seal back. But then the scientist smirked. And then there was nothing. Peter was out cold.

What seemed like moments, but were really days, passed and then Peter woke up. He was in a dark room and he was sitting in a wheelchair with a blanket over his lap. He wailed and shrieked and the scientist came forth.

“Where am I?” Peter hissed at the scientist. “Why am I in a wheelchair? I can’t feel my legs!” Peter’s arms were tied behind his back so the scientist took pity on Peter and removed the blanket. And a horrifying sight lay under it.

“My legs! My legs! They’re gone! Where are they?!” Peter cried.

“You won’t be needing those anymore.…” The scientist creepily laughed and Peter went out cold again from lack of blood. Later, he woke up in the same room with a blanket over him and sitting in the wheelchair once more.

The scientist was in front of him and removed the blanket for Peter, and not only were his legs gone but also his arms. Peter bellowed and leaped from the wheelchair and rolled himself against the wall, bashing his head. It went black again.

Weeks passed and everyone grew worried, for poor Peter hadn’t returned. His friends, family, and teachers assumed he was dead. Newspaper reports in Washington said an accident of a rented car near the scientist’s house was spotted but when he was asked about it he said nobody had come to visit by the name of Peter.

Peter’s girlfriend and her brother decided to fly to Washington to see the scientist, since they found the scientist’s news interview enigmatic. When they arrived, they got invited in for tea and they waited until finally the scientist said he had to use the lavatory. They searched the house. At the end of the hall was a door, a metal door not even an ant could fit under. It was unlocked and they went in.

Inside this room was an indoor pool. They were about to leave when they heard a yelp. They went towards the sound and looked in the pool to see a seal. They threw it fish and whistled.

“What a cutie. Wait, what’s that on its face?” Peter’s girlfriend noticed something odd even though the seal was staying a good distance from them.

“Come here, Boy!” Her brother called and clapped and the seal reluctantly swam to them They both saw it. The two fins. The back flippers. The whiskers. And Peter’s face.

Once again, we would like to thank all those who submitted a scary story to our contest and helped make this a fantastic Halloween season. The winner of this year’s contest is Madison Hayward, author of Entry #7 – “The Seal,” who won a $250 gift certificate to any of our advertisers – Madison’s pick!

            The authors in this year’s contest were:

Entry #1 – Scarred for Life by Erin Besancon

Entry #2 – White’s Glow by Hannah Charron

Entry #3 – Abigail by Sarah Besancon

Entry #4 – The Halloween Challenge by Anna Murray

Entry #5 – The True Tale of the Aardvark by Thomas Goodfellow

Entry #6 – Death Trial by Kira Sarkararati

Entry #7 – The Seal by Madison Hayward