East Boston in 1775
[Noddle's, Hog, Apple, Govenor's, and Bird Islands]
Image Courtesy of Library Of Congress.

An Early History of East Boston

1629-1880

East Boston was for more than two centuries known as Noddle's Island, named after William Noddle, who was likely sent out by Sir William Brereton, and settled here in 1629. Brereton received an early grant of the land; but the first conspicuous settler was Samuel Maverick, who erected a small fortified mansion, with artillery to defend it, and was in comfortable possession and authority long before John Winthrop's fleet entered Massachusetts Bay in 1630. [Sam Maverick's house stood just north of where Maverick Square is located today.]

The Puritans allowed Maverick to remain here, subject to a yearly payment of "a fatt weather, a fatt hogg, or XLs, in money." Maverick certainly lived under the stigmas of being an Episcopalian and a Royalist, and met with annoying persecutions from the Boston authorities. Maverick became the first slaveholder in New England, when Captain Pierce brought African Americans here from the Tortugas in 1638, and sold them at Boston.  In about 1645, the Godly brethren of Boston made new encroachments on the rights on Maverick, and he found himself forced to depart from his island home. Some years later he died at New Amsterdam [New York].

During their time of suffering from persecution in about 1660-70, the Baptists of Boston used to meet here under the title of "The Church of Jesus Christ worshipping at Noddle's Island in New England." The poor fellows labored under all sorts of disadvantages in town; but in this insular sanctuary their worship was undisturbed, until the slow liberalization of Massachusetts gave them opportunity to enter Boston as accepted Christians.

A century later the comfortable Williams mansion was the pride of the island; and Putnam, Knox, Lincoln, and the clergy of Boston made frequent visits here. The house was graced by six lovely daughters, whose harpsichord was the forerunner of musical Boston; and the hills on the island gave pasturage to 43 horses and 223 cattle.

The Williams house burned down in the skirmish of 1775, and George Washington gave Mr. Williams one of the Continental barracks at Cambridge, which was moved down to the island, and remodeled into a new mansion. During the siege of Boston that winter, a score of young ladies left the beleaguered town, and took refuge on Noddle's Island, perhaps in this well known house of Williams. One of these was especially dear to William Tudor, the judge-advocate-general of the American army; and he used to visit her frequently, passing from Cambridge to Chelsea, where he undressed, tied his clothing in a bundle, fastened the bundle upon his head, swam to the island, resumed his dress, and then called upon the fair lady. The result of these wooings was a happy marriage, where came three sons and two daughters, who later became patricians of the good Commonwealth.

Passing abruptly from love to war, we find that on this same island was fought the second battle of the American Revolution, and the first in which American artillery was used. On May 27th 1775, General John Stark and 300 men were sent to clear out the livestock on Noddle's Island; and after they had driven about 400 sheep inland from Breed's Island, they engaged the British marines on Noddle's, but were driven back when large re-enforcements of regulars crossed from Boston.

At the same time, General Gage sent a schooner armed with sixteen small guns and eleven barges full of marines, up Chelsea Creek to cut off the raiders; while Putnam came to their relief with 300 men and two guns. The fight lasted all night; but, although fresh troops poured over from Boston, the Americans forced the crew of the schooner to abandon ship and flee, and drove back the other vessels. They took the artillery from the captured vessel, and then burnt the ship, and retired to the mainland, having inflicted severe losses on the British forces. Lord Percy was immensely disgusted at this affair, and wrote home to his father: "The rebels have lately amused themselves with burning the houses on an island just under the admiral's nose; and a schooner, with our carriage-guns and some swivels, which he sent to drive them off, [had] unfortunately [ran] ashore, and the rebels burned her." Philip Freneau, the poet of the Revolution, makes General Gage speak thus, at this time, referring to the partial famine caused by the American raids on the islands:

"Three weeks, ye gods! nay, three long years it seems,
Since roast beef I have touched, except in dreams.
In sleep, choice dishes to my view repair:
Waking, I gape, and champ the empty air.
Come, let us plan some object, ere we sleep,
And drink destruction to the rebel sheep.
On neighboring isles uncounted cattle stray,
Fat beeves and swine, -- an ill-defended prey
These are fit visions for my noon-day dish."

In 1780, there were many sick men on the French fleet in the harbor, and barracks were erected on the island for hospitals. The poor fellows christened their gloomy quarters Isle de France, but they found small comfort with that nickname, with dead soldiers being borne to the burying ground every hour. The mortality rate was serious, and many a good veteran was laid to his eternal rest on the hills of Noddle's Island. After the British forces evacuated Boston, the island was strongly fortified.

Those same works were renewed and and strengthened in 1812, under the name of Fort Strong, having been re-erected by various patriotic societies, and guilds of tradesmen and mechanics, each of which marched to the place on their appointed days. After the removal of the barracks in 1833, the walls of the fort were allowed to waste away. In 1819, Lieutenants White and Finch of the United States Navy fought a duel here; and the former was killed, according to the code of honor.

The growth of the city of East Boston on the historic pastures of Noddle's Island, was rapid and solid. In 1833, there were 8 inhabitants; in 1835, 600; in 1847, 6,500; in 1880, nearly 30,000. The population of the island in 1880 was about equal to that of Mobile, Savannah, Memphis, Trenton, Utica, or Wheeling.

Some of the finest ships that ever sailed were constructed here by Donald McKay, vessels beautifully finished and furnished, and built for great speed. The Flying Cloud, 1,700 tons, made the passage to San Francisco in 89 days, being the quickest ever known. The Sovereign of the Seas, 2,400 tons, was the longest and sharpest clipper ever built, and once made a run of 430 geographical miles in 24 hours. The Empress of the Seas held high rank among the famous clippers of the same epoch. The Great Republic was the largest wooden sailing ship ever built. Her 4,556 tons included 1,500,000 feet of hard pine, 336 tons of iron, and an immense amount of white oak. She sometimes made 19 knots an hour, under full sail; and went from New York to San Francisco in 91 days.

Between 1848 and 1858, more than 170 vessels were built at East Boston; of which 99 exceeded 1,000 tons each, and 9 were above 2,000 tons. These were the famous racers, which swept around Cape Horn, and up through the South Seas, crowded with the Argonauts in search of El Dorado [lost treasure]. Others belonged to the Liverpool packet-line, and made regular trips across the Atlantic for many years, exciting the keen and jealous admiration of our British cousins.

The Atlantic Works on the island had built iron steamships for Russia, Egypt, Paraguay, China, and the East Indies: the monitor warships Nantucket and Casco; the turrets of several other iron clads; the engines for many American frigates; and entire fleets of ferry-boats and tugs. Other neighboring shipyards and works have done their share in creating that famous American marine which once was the wonder of all maritime nations.

Breed's Island, near current Orient Heights, was first known as Susanna Island, in honor of the daughter of Sir William Brereton, granted to him from John Gorges in 1628. The Puritans found the practical name of Hog Island more to their taste, and thus it remained for more than a century. Late in the last century it was named Belle Isle by Joseph Russell, who owned it; but the old name clung tenaciously for many years.

In 1687, Judge Sewall, in the presence of numerous chosen witnesses, took possession of Hog Island, by the ancient rite of "taking Livery and seised of the Hand by Turf and Twigg and the House." Here he built a wharf and planted various kinds of trees, and kept a large flock of sheep. He held the domain for many years, making diverse improvements, and deriving a fair revenue from.

About the year 1800, the island was bought by John Breed, a wealthy English gentleman, who had been heartbroken by the death of his betrothed bride, who died just before their wedding, and afterwards sought only to bury himself from the rest of the world. Here he had a rich hay farm, with a score of workers, an overseer, and a housekeeper. He built a house that remained standing for many years on the south slope of the hill; a singular stone structure, 200 feet long and one story high, with terraced gardens in front of it, and nurseries in which nectarines, apricots, and other fruits were cultivated.  In time, death carried off this peaceful agricultural hermit, and his domain passed to other uses. By the 1880s, the area was taken up as a seaside settlement; and upon the long and lofty ridge many pretty cottages were erected.

Governor's Island was taken down in the 1920s to create Logan Airport. It was a high green island, conspicuous in all views of the upper harbor, and had lied within two miles of Long Wharf and less than a mile from Castle Island. Governor's Island was first known as Conant's Island, probably in honor of Roger Conant, a conspicuous citizen of Hull. In 1632, the Colony granted the island to John Winthrop, the Governor of the infant State. It was then called Governor's Island, and its annual rent was placed at a hogs-head of wine that should be made thereon; and afterwards two bushels of the best apples there growing, which meant the resourceful Winthrop secured an exemption until such time as his vineyard or orchard became productive. As to the apples, one bushel was to be given to the governor of the Colony, and another to the legislature: so he thus secured for himself one-half of his own tribute.

Here, in his famous "Governor's Garden," with his Indian servants, the worthy Puritan chieftain enjoyed many a happy day, and, regarded his rising metropolis across the narrow channel with dignity and comfort. Here he doubtless smoked many a sweet and contemplative pipe, amid whose blue wreaths of incense he may have built strange prophetic air-puffs along Beacon Hill, as the sun went down behind its august height. In a letter written to his wife in 1637, Winthrop says: "I pray thee send me six or seven leaves of tobacco, dried and powdered;" and so, in common with his great contemporary John Milton, and his doughty Dutch neighbors at New Amsterdam, he found joy in the most un-Puritanical of habits. The present lord of the island maintains the ancient traditions, both as to devoutness and smoking.

The governor planted here the first apple and pear trees in New England, and made gallant efforts to also raise grapes, plums, and other fruits. Many a noble orchard of the bay towns may show lineal descent from this island nursery; and the Yankee Pomona can justly claim this as her birthplace and shrine. His Puritanical Excellency found it worth while to erect a small fort, or blockhouse; and also had some kind of a house in which to live during parts of the heating season. The hospitality of the place was bestowed freely on visitors and immigrants of distinction. In 1638, Josselyn wrote that there was not an apple or pear tree in all New England, save those on Governor's Island; and described how he had enjoyed the fruits produced there.

In 1643, the Huguenot noble La Tour, who had been driven from his fort at St. John by D'Aulnay, an adventurous relative of Cardinal Richelieu, sailed into Boston Harbor in a ship with 140 Huguenots from La Rochelle, had visited Winthrop on his island, seeking refuge from his Catholic enemy. The austere Puritans referred to the Bible to see if they could find any precedent for such action, but found no certain response from that oracle. The eventually assured themselves that it would be allowable for them to aid the distressed nobleman, but in the meantime a large fleet was dispatched, and D' Aulnay's forces had been scattered.

In Winthrop's first will, he wrote: "I give to my son Adam my island called the Governor's Garden, to have to him and his heirs forever; not doubting but he will be dutiful and loving to his mother, and kind to his brethren in letting them partake in such fruits as grow there. I give him also my Indians there, and my boat, and such household as is there." Soon afterwards, and eight years before his death, the governor decided the island would go to Adam and his heirs, reserving for himself one third of its fruits.

In 1661, the owners petitioned the General Court to end its tribute of apples, saying that the product had greatly fallen off. Adam Winthrop was an ancestor of the Cambridge Winthrops, so-called because his great grandson, Professor John Winthrop, was for forty-plus years connected with Harvard College, where he achieved great works in science. It was the professor's great grandson, Colonel John Winthrop of Louisiana, who owned the island when the United States took possession of it in 1833.

Margaret Winthrop, John Winthrop's wife, often dwelt on the island among the pleasant orchards of apples, pears, plums, and grape-vines. Here her sturdy sons made visits, when the cool harbor breezes wooed them from the little town of wood and thatch close by. Of these were John (her stepson), the founder of Ipswich and New London and governor of Connecticut; Stephen, who became one of Cromwell's colonels, and member of the English Parliament from Aberdeen; Adam, the heir of the island; Deane, a resident of the present town of Winthrop; and Samuel, who became deputy-governor of Antigua.

The colonists had trouble enough with this mountainous guardian of the port. Not only did it lure onto its shore the good ship Friendship, bound for St. Kitts in 1631; and in 1635 hold here for a week a half-dozen good Puritan burgher while an angry sea beat on all of its shores; but also, in 1643, terrible voices were heard issuing from there, which could not have been the accents of the good governor, and sparks of fire rose on its heights. For a brief time the Governor's Garden was regarded as an isle of demons by the superstitious and witch-ridden Bostonians.

In 1696, however, the committee on defenses ordered the construction of an eight-gun battery on the southeast point, and a ten-gun battery on the southwest point, the cannon to be taken from the works on the town wharves. Exactly fifty years later new and more formidable fortifications were begun here by Richard Gridley, the chief bombardier in the siege of Louisburg, colonel of the First Massachusetts Regiment, Provincial Grand Master of Masons in America, a Harvard man, editor, lawyer ("the Webster of his day"), mathematician, and military engineer.

We cannot learn much of the residents of the island in those days, but at least one hero was cradled there. When David Williams was born on this island in 1759, it might have been an easy task to cast his horoscope, and predict that the infant whose eyes first rested on a broad rim of blue waters, across lines of redoubts, should become (as he did) a famous and valiant pilot and privateers man. But little is heard of the island until 1776, when several British transports were driven ashore here by the furious gale which prevented Lord Percy from being annihilated on Dorchester Heights. It does not appear that the rattling skirmishes and cannonades with which nearly every other island was visited came to this spot

In 1793, the Massachusetts Historical Society held a meeting here; with James Winthrop, one of its owners, being then a member of the society. Fifteen years later the summit of the island was occupied by Fort Warren, an enclosed star-fort of stone and brick, with brick barracks, officers' quarters, magazine, and guard house. During the War of 1812, these works were fully garrisoned; but General Dearborn considered this point the key of the harbor, and laid out new defenses, inviting the men of Boston to come down with spades, pick-axes, and wheelbarrows, to aid in its construction.

The low battery on the southern point of Governor's Island was built several years before the War of 1812, of brick and stone, with a brick guard house and magazine; and once mounted fifteen cannon. It was a picturesque bit of antique fortification, whose purpose was to sweep the wide flats adjacent, and deliver a level point-blank fire at the hulls of hostile vessels passing in the channel. Later, in the War of 1812, the "Sea-Fencible" forces went on duty to guard the batteries; and mortars were placed in the works. Furnaces stood ready, so that all the shot required for the guns could be heated; and the presumably gallant-defenders dreamed fondly of British ships bursting into flames, as these red-hot globes of iron punched into them from water-line to shrouds. The commanders of the Shannon and Tenedos must have heard that the irate Sea-Fencibles were dashing their top-lights on this gloomy isle, for they kept their ships far out in the harbor until the war was over.

The last fort erected at Governor's Island was commenced some years before the Civil War, under the direction of General Sylvanus Thayer. The name of Fort Warren was then transferred to the modern work on George's Island; and the new defense received the name of Fort Winthrop, in honor of the ancient Puritan governor. In 1861, it had received no armament, and had never been occupied as a military post; but when General Schouler inspected the defenses in late 1863, he found at Fort Winthrop 25 large Rodman guns, and 11 pieces of other calibers and forms. Various companies of state militia and volunteers garrisoned the post during the civil war, and found it an ineffably dull station.

The island had contained seventy acres of land, was comparatively low on the east, and rose to a fine commanding height on the west. Here were the great military works, on which vast sums of money were expended by the Nation. There was little of the delusive symmetry of masonry to be seen; for vast mounds of well-turfed earth covered the entire hill, with ponderous outworks on the bluff to the eastward, mountainous magazines, and skillfully contrived traverses.

Here and there long underground passages, arched with masonry, led from one battery to another, or entered the main stronghold. At the crest of the hill was the citadel, --a massive granite structure, so well curtained by impenetrable earthworks that only its top is visible from the harbor, and entered by a light wooden bridge high above the ground. The lower story, with its roof hung with small stalactites, contained the cistern; the second story held the barracks of the garrison, with rooms opening on an interior court; the third story contained the officers' quarters; and above, on the top, covered by a temporary roof to protect them from the weather, was the immense Parrott rifled guns, which looked down upon the harbor. On the south of the hill was a long stone stairway, so built that it couldn't be raked, or carried by a rush, that led to a battery at the water's edge. Among these heavy mounds lurked scores of powerful 10 and 15 inch guns, well mounted, and peering grimly out on the channel, as if hoping, with a dogged iron patience, that some time their hour may come.

Bird Island, near the current Harborside Drive, was located close to Governor's Island, and was reduced to a shoal by the early 1800s to create land-fill elsewhere. The loss of its bold bluff, around which the narrowed tide swept with scouring force, was reckoned as one of the worst disasters which had befallen the harbor. The original shape of each of these islands was that of a perfect dome; but the continuous action of the northeast gales and surges for centuries has cut away half of their curves, leaving almost perpendicular cliffs on their north sides: and by the 1880s, every trace had been destroyed, with only a low-tide wreck of an island remaining.

Bird Island was a spacious tract in the year 1630, almost as large as Governor's Island. In 1634, a party of men were frozen-in, and obliged to stay there all night. A few years later the right to mow grass on the adjacent meadow was granted by the General Colirt to Thomas Munt. In 1726, the French miscreant, John Battis, with his son, and three Indians, were hung at Charlestown, and then cut-down, carried out, and buried on Bird Island. Other criminals, pirates, and sea-robbers were put to death, and then buried there, or hung in chains, making a ghastly but perhaps salutary spectacle before the wharves and shipping in the harbor. In 1790, there still remained a handsome grassy islet on this site; but afterwards a great deal of ballast and sand was removed from there, as Mayor Quincy had complained in 1827.

Apple Island was located about three miles from Boston and just offshore from Winthrop. All that remains of the island today is part of a runway at Logan Airport. It was always noticeable when entering the inner harbor, simply because of its rare grace, rising in a gentle slope from the water's edge. The island was crowned with waving elms, old, proud and beautiful, and marking the island at once like no other. At low tide it was surrounded by large flats, and was difficult to access.

In early times, Apple Island belonged to Boston, and was used chiefly for pasturage; but having a rich soil, and being well sheltered, it eventually became private property, owned in 1723 by Thomas Hutchinson, father of Colonial Governor Hutchinson. It passed in 1802, by will, to an English mariner, who, living in Northumberland and knowing little about it, allowed the property to decay. About that time, a gentleman named Marsh, an Englishman, was attracted by its beauty, and perhaps by its fitness as a home for Britannic insularity, who settled there with his family, and became so attached to its soil that he resolved upon owning it; and, after many years of searching, eventually found the proprietor in 1822, and bought the island for $550.

Here Marsh lived, content and happy, until the age of sixty-six.  When he died in 1833, he was buried on the western slope of his beautiful island home. The funeral was attended by many people from Boston. Two years later, Marsh's home burned down, leaving the island again lonely.

Apple Island was nearly 10 acres in dimension. It was bought by Boston in 1867, and was sold to private citizens. Here many a famous old ship, which had ran aground was broken apart by a gale, was hauled up on the beach and burned, in order to get at the metal used in its construction. On such occasions, the island was wrapped in rolling smoke and glowed like a volcano, with the lower harbor being illuminated by the light. Among the victims of this practice, burned on the beach for the copper and iron markets, have been the famous old steamships James Adger; the Baltic, last of the Collins line;  and the Ontario, one of the immense wooden steamships built at Newburyport for the Transatlantic trade.

By M.F. Sweetser
King's Handbook of Boston Harbor, 1883
Edited