BACKROADS • SEPTEMBER
words & images: Dan Bisbee Three miles above Williamsburg, Massachusetts, a mile up a foot path, is a series of stone walls on both sides of a small stream. It doesn’t look like much now, but a century and a half ago, it powered the economy of the Mill River valley. That abruptly changed on May 16, 1874. In the 1860s, Williamsburg was a thriving mill town thanks to the Mill River. It’s falling water provided power for two dozen or so mills
through the villages of Williamsburg, Skinnerville, Haydenville, Leeds, Florence and Northampton before emptying into the Connecticut River. The villages were strung out along the river, each one a mile or so below the one above it. The mills produced a range of items for local consumption – grist mills and various machine shops. Other mills produced goods for markets nationwide, among them cotton, wool, silk, buttons and brass fixtures. During dry spells, the mills were idle due to a lack of water flow. Two reservoirs in Goshen helped and the mill owners reasoned that a third reservoir, this one on the east branch of the river, would keep the mill turbines spinning profitably for most of the year. A committee was formed, money was promised, a site was selected and land rights granted. At the time, there was no official oversite on how to construct a dam and the $90,000.00 proposed design seemed excessive to the mill-ownersnow-turned-reservoir-owners. The price tag was trimmed and reworked and the earthen dam was built for less than $30,000.00. It was 40 feet tall, 600 feet long and 144 feet thick at the base. It had a stone core and held back nearly 600 million gallons
Page 33 of water. Once filled, the dam began leaking almost immediately. Soil was added and patches were made until the dam was considered safe and filled to capacity. A keeper was hired to oversee the dam and open or close the gate valve depending on downstream water demand. For nearly a decade, it worked as designed. May 16, 1874 was another rainy day and the reservoir was already at capacity. Around 7:00AM, a large section of soil slumped away from the downstream side of the dam and water began leaking. George Cheney, the dam keeper, opened the outlet gate to relieve some of the pressure but he soon realized his actions were futile. He grabbed his horse and raced three miles into town to spread the alarm. He stopped first at the home of Onslow Spelman, one of the dam’s owners. Spelman argued that the dam was safe before relenting and lending Cheney a horse. Collin Graves overheard the conversation and raced downstream with his milk wagon. By the time Cheney had a fresh horse saddled up, the water had risen to a point where he could not continue. Graves warned around 50 people already at work in the woolen mill and another 100 workers at the silk mill in Skinnerville. When he arrived at the Brassworks in Haydenville, he was rebuffed. Graves admitted to not actually seeing the flood waters and sheepishly began retreating to Williamsburg when he met Jerome Hillman riding at full speed yelling about the dam giving way. They returned to the Brassworks and this time the workers headed for higher ground. Myron Day, riding from Leeds to Haydenville saw the commotion and beat a hasty retreat through the narrow gorge to Leeds. He was able to warn
