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  <title type="text">Rhode Tour</title>
  <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:17+00:00</updated>
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  <author>
    <name>Rhode Tour</name>
    <uri>https://rhodetour.org</uri>
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  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[ Providence Dyeing, Bleaching, and Calendering]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><div style="text-align:center;"><em>Products for People, Not the Environment</em></div></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/1dca3aaaaeffc57904d0ee08ca6b3a35.jpg" alt="Image of the PDB&amp;C" /><br/><p>The Woonasquatucket River, with its generous drops and fast moving streams, was lined with textile factories in the early 19th century. Once textiles were made, they required dyeing and bleaching to be transformed into usable fabrics. In turn, a growing market emerged for vendors capable of taking in yarn or cloth for washing, bleaching, printing, or dyeing to the specifications of the customer. This process required large vats to hold chemical dyes and vast amounts of water to flush them off fibers. The Woonasquatucket became home to such textile finishing companies and the recipient of their toxic run-off. </p><p>In 1810, Dr. Benjamin Dyer of Cranston established the Providence Dye House Company on Sabin Street in downtown Providence. Dyer had an eye for innovation. He purchased rights to the differential calendering machine, a new technology that imparted different finishes to cloth by squeezing it under tension through rollers moving at varying speeds. His new machine, which could put down a more complex pattern, was eventually powered by a 20 HP “Colombian” steam engine, a small-sized high-pressure steam engine. Dyer's eye for innovation proved extremely successful for his company, reputed to be the first steam-driven textile finishing plant in the country. </p><p>In 1842, the company renamed itself the Providence Dyeing, Bleaching & Calendering Company and purchased the old Brown George Paper Mill building on the Woonasquatucket River in Olneyville. The property was strategic for a number of reasons: it came with the water privilege established first by Christopher Olney in 1773; it could take advantage of the newly completed New York Providence and Boston Railroad (finished in 1837); and it could service the cotton and worsted mills that shared the river–Lymnsville, Manton, Dyerville, Merino and Union Mills upstream–and the Valley Worsted Mill downstream. By 1850, PDB&C processed 13,500 yards of bleached goods annually and employed 200 workers. By 1880, the river corridor was the industrial centerpiece of Providence’s textile world, Olneyville buzzed with mills, and the river ran in multiple colors, reeking with foul odors.</p><p>A new sewage system installed in Providence in 1877 proved unable to mitigate the full environmental effects of manufacturing along the river. Eventually, the stench from the river drove concerned citizens to fund a study in 1905 to figure out how to clean up the river and a commission was formed. Businesses cooperated, adopting the commission’s suggestions to limit the amount of chemical waste they poured directly into the water. The efforts were somewhat successful.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/221">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2017-08-03T18:20:06+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:14+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/221"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/221</id>
    <author>
      <name>Jane Gerhard</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;A Farm Suitable for Keeping the Poor&quot;: Tiverton Town Farm]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/4358dc7fab8ef92c0cb49afff9f595fd.jpg" alt="Farmhouse" /><br/><p>In June 1830, the residents of Tiverton gathered for the annual town meeting, an opportunity for the freemen of the town to participate in local government. Included on the day’s agenda was a proposal to create a town farm as a refuge for the destitute and mentally ill. </p><p>Before the creation of poorhouses, town farms, or asylums, many communities auctioned off the poor, encouraging affluent residents to place bids for their labor as indentured servants. By the mid-1800s, the shift from farm to factory work created a new group of landless, jobless, and itinerant poor — too many to be absorbed into the traditional system. Towns viewed poor farms as a modern, humane way to combat poverty, drunkenness, and deviation from social norms, while allowing people to earn their own keep. Town leaders hoped to reform the poor through labor, while decreasing the burden on taxpayers. Spending on poor relief was often the single largest item in town budgets. </p><p>Although the freemen of Tiverton favored establishing a town farm, locating funds and deciding on suitable property was a complicated task. More than a year passed before the appointed committee purchased sixty acres of farmland from the Gray family for $4,300. The town purchased livestock for the farm and gave the committee authorization “to finish the house standing on said farm, in a good and plain manner.” By 1832, the town farm was ready for occupants. </p><p>Life was not easy for inmates. Burdened with endless chores, they raised pigs and cattle, and cultivated corn and other “grain, roots and vegetables and provisions.” Inmates lived under the strict supervision of the farm’s caretaker who lived onsite to discipline and reform the poor. The overseers expected the farm to be self-sufficient, with inmates raising enough food to feed themselves. </p><p>In 1886, the Overseers of the Poor ceased keeping records for the farm, marking the beginning of a slow transition from a strictly regulated poor farm to a refuge for the elderly and disabled. A 1910 Department of Commerce report indicated that town farm housed only eight inmates, mostly single men and women, who lived in the same house that the Overseers of the Poor had acquired nearly a century earlier. </p><p>Ruth Manchester, a lifelong resident of Tiverton, recalled playing with the caretaker’s children and visiting the town farm’s kitchen for cookies and other baked treats as a child in the 1920s. Although the town farm still ran a small dairy — selling milk to Ruth’s family and other Tiverton residents — it was no longer the agricultural venture of earlier decades. With the establishment of the Social Security Act in 1935, other options became available to those, particularly the elderly and indigent, who had once found themselves at the mercy of the Overseers of the Poor. Tiverton’s Town Farm continued to operate until 1955, at which time it became a private rest home that finally closed in 1982. </p><p>Today, a small cemetery containing the unmarked graves of inmates marks the town farm. The farmhouse where inmates lived for more than a century has been demolished and only the names of the Overseers of the Poor are preserved in the town’s records. The names and identities of those who lived and worked on the Tiverton Town Farm are lost to history.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/28">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-06-03T15:10:29+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/28"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/28</id>
    <author>
      <name>Molly Kerker</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;A Hospital Where Kids Had Fun&quot;: Sunshine Island]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/807e47acd614b20e84608a58e3146ecf.jpg" alt="Sunshine Island Launch" /><br/><p>It was September 21, 1938. Strong winds ripped across the landscape of Starvegoat Island, tearing up bushes, destroying trees, and obliterating the summer cottages and dormitories perched precariously on the edge of Narragansett Bay. The hurricane-force winds tore the buildings, telephone and electric lines, water tower, and children’s sandboxes to pieces. A twelve-foot storm surge swept the debris away. Eighteen years of work turning barren Starvegoat Island into the Providence Floating Hospital Association’s “Sunshine Island” were erased in minutes by the Hurricane of ’38.</p><p>The Providence Floating Hospital Association began in 1915, the result of a collaboration between wealthy women from a local church and concerned doctors. Providence, in the early twentieth century, was a gritty industrial city, rife with urban slums and overcrowded tenements brimming with malnourished children. Starting small, the association chartered a steamer and arranged for a carefully screened group of mothers and infants to go on a day-long cruise of Narragansett Bay. Mothers received a simple lunch and a lecture on proper child-rearing techniques, while nurses fed their infants sterilized formula. </p><p>This experiment was deemed a success, and the Providence Floating Hospital Association was officially incorporated. The association initially funded their cruises through a city-wide junk drive, gathering automobile tires, hot water bottles, metal, rags, old feather beds, and false teeth, and announcing the presence of the collection truck with a bugler. By 1917, the association’s fundraising efforts focused on purchasing a large houseboat. They moored the new houseboat near Providence in Narragansett Bay, providing sunshine and medical attention throughout the summer for up to thirty infants at a time.</p><p>By 1920, the Providence Floating Hospital Association had completely outgrown their houseboat, so when the owner of Starvegoat Island offered its use to the association, they enthusiastically accepted. With the acquisition of “Sunshine Island,” the association decided to refocus its mission on children aged two through six since they required less nursing care than infants and might remain on the island for the entire summer. With the support of Providence citizens, the association constructed a new dormitory with more than one hundred beds on Sunshine Island. Later additions included running water and a telephone connection to the mainland. Both made life much easier for the island’s staff.</p><p>The association used idyllic imagery to promote and publicize the program, particularly to wealthy Providence citizens who might offer financial support: “Under the influence of the salt breezes from the harbor, the clean living and wholesome food, children who might wither in the deadly heat of tenement districts are given a new lease of life and health by a stay at Sunshine Island.” The association clearly saw itself as capable of raising and nurturing the children in a way that their poor, uneducated, working-class parents could not. Parents sending their children to Sunshine Island relinquished much of their authority to the association. Only one afternoon a month was reserved for parental visits; the island was also open to the general public one day each month, to showcase the association’s positive work to potential donors.</p><p>Following the devastation of the Hurricane of ’38, Sunshine Island stood desolate and bare. Rather than rebuild in the same location, the Providence Floating Hospital Association moved their base of operations to Warwick, where they continued to offer a summer retreat for children until the 1960s. Once filled with the noise and laughter of children at play, Sunshine Island was even used for a time as a landfill. Eventually, the narrow channel separating the island from Field’s Point on the mainland was completely filled, making it an island in name only.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/3">For more (including 6 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-03-28T16:55:46+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:10+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/3"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/3</id>
    <author>
      <name>Rebecca Soules</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;From Broken or Badly Bent Homes&quot;: Sockanosset School for Boys]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/10eb1e3fa44b312b478c0999c4401a8b.jpg" alt="Sockanosset School for Boys" /><br/><p>Within the granite and brownstone walls of Providence’s imposing Gothic courthouse, Manuel shifts nervously from foot to foot. For the second time this year, Manuel stands alone before a judge, awaiting his sentencing. The son of Portuguese immigrants, Manuel’s struggling family has no money to spend on an attorney; the right to free legal counsel is decades away. Earlier in 1925, Manuel had been arrested for violating property rights and committing theft. This time, he was picked up by the Providence Police Department because of truancy. After reviewing Manuel’s record and listening to the testimony of the arresting officer, the judge is finally ready to announce his sentencing – “Six weeks at Sockanosset.” As the judge slams down his gavel, a look of relief creeps across Manuel’s face.</p><p>From 1881 until 1985, the Sockanosset School for Boys served as a juvenile detention facility and reformatory. Rhode Island citizens had first determined the need for such a facility as early as 1847, when the Providence City Council approved the establishment of a school for the “confinement, instruction and reformation of juvenile offenders and young persons of idle, vicious or vagrant habits.” For three decades, children of both sexes were sent to the Providence Reform School in Tockwotton House in the city’s Fox Point neighborhood. By 1880, however, concerns over the school’s management and new approaches to “reforming” juvenile delinquents led to the creation of two new institutions: the Oaklawn School for Girls and the Sockanosset School for Boys.</p><p>In 1881, construction of the new boys’ school began on the Howard Reservation in Cranston – a site that already included the State Asylum for the Incurable Insane, the State Prison and Providence County Jail, and the state-run almshouse. Five stone cottages were built between 1881 and 1895, each with its own schoolroom and a dormitory intended to house up to fifty boys. The school complex also included a house for the Sockanosset Superintendent, an infirmary, a gym, and an elegant stone chapel. By locating the reformatory on pastoral land away from corrupting urban influences, the founders were following the prevailing doctrine of the nineteenth century: urban chaos and idleness engendered lawlessness. With that belief foremost in their minds, the school’s administrators kept the boys busy on the Howard Reservation’s 225 acres of farmland.</p><p>The early years of Sockanosset were highly regimented.  The boys spent hours doing physically demanding activities like farm chores, building repair and construction, and coal shoveling. However, forward-thinking school administrators began to shift towards a program of education and rehabilitation. Social reformers insisted that the crimes of juveniles were typically motivated by social circumstance. Roy L. McLaughlin, the Superintendent of Sockanosset during the 1920s, noted that “most of the boys come from ‘broken’ or ‘badly bent’ homes.” </p><p>Sockanosset slowly shifted from a reformatory designed to contain and discipline the unruly to a school where classes and vocational training focused on preparing boys for life after Sockanosset. A key part of this training were the vocational classes offered by accomplished craftsmen. At one point, Sockanosset boasted a blacksmith shop, a carpenter shop, a farm school where they raised much of the food they ate, and a printing shop where they printed <em>The Howard Times</em>. Items created by boys at the school were the showpiece of the Rhode Island exhibit at the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago.
During its height in the early twentieth century, Sockanosset was known as a respected vocational school. Some boys may have been truant or committed minor offenses in hopes of being sentenced to Sockanosset. As in Manuel's situation, boys being sent to Sockanosset knew they would receive regular meals and practical vocational training. </p><p>As the century progressed, however, a lack of funds and overcrowding at the school necessitated the termination of the very programs that had made Sockanosett so forward-thinking for its time. After over one hundred years of operation, the school finally closed in 1985.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/29">For more (including 4 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-06-04T15:28:23+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/29"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/29</id>
    <author>
      <name>Ariana Alicea&amp;#32;&amp;amp;&amp;#32;Sandra Enos, PhD</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;Her Mother&#039;s Triumph&quot;: Jeanie Lippitt Weeden]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/00a77da99e1306afae611d82b61a7fb7.jpg" alt="“The Idol of the Family”" /><br/><p>In 1876, a well-dressed young lady in her early twenties joined Alexander Graham Bell on the stage of the old Providence Theatre. Bell, the noted teacher of vocal physiology and inventor of the telephone, had invited Jeanie Lippitt and her parents to join his public demonstration of one of the first long-distance telephone calls. Jeanie followed the conversation with interest and answered politely when spoken to – even though she could not hear a single word of the messages transmitted over the telephone.</p><p>Jeanie, the eldest daughter of Governor and Mrs. Henry Lippitt, was completely deaf.</p><p>Twenty years earlier, in the spring of 1856, a scarlet fever epidemic struck Providence. In less than a month, the disease carried off three of Jeanie’s older siblings and completely destroyed four-year-old Jeanie’s hearing. Her mother, Mary Ann Lippitt, responded to this tragedy by adamantly deciding that Jeanie’s loss of hearing would not be a handicap. Stating that no daughter of hers would “go through life flipping her fingers to make herself understood,” she resolved that Jeanie would be taught to lip-read and speak.</p><p>Mary Ann Lippitt devoted hours to teaching her daughter. When Jeanie was able to communicate adequately, she began to attend a private day school in Providence. Although her hearing loss necessitated some changes to the traditional curriculum, she was an exemplary student. Jeanie even learned to speak French, serving as the Lippitt family’s translator when they lived for a time in France.</p><p>Jeanie’s success made her a key figure in the campaign to establish new schools for the deaf in Rhode Island and Massachusetts. Existing schools in the United States favored manualism, an early form of sign language that eventually developed into ASL – the “flipping fingers” that Mary Ann Lippitt deplored. Oralism, teaching the deaf to speak and lip-read, slowly became mainstream in the 1860s, along with the understanding that people with hearing disabilities should be integrated into mainstream society. </p><p>In 1877, during her father’s tenure as Rhode Island governor, Jeanie visited the Rhode Island Statehouse and urged members of the General Assembly to create a school for the deaf. With her father’s political endorsement and Jeanie’s articulate and impassioned pleas the General Assembly passed the necessary bill.</p><p>Concerned that Jeanie’s voice did not sound entirely normal, Mary Ann Lippitt arranged for her to take private voice lessons in Boston. She studied with a young teacher of vocal physiology who “always arrived for her lesson with a curious box under his arm, about the size and shape of a carpenter’s box.” Jeanie worked for several months with the young instructor, before he finally begged off of his teaching responsibilities to devote his energies to his invention—an apparatus housed in the “curious box.” Jeanie’s teacher was the inventor of the telephone, Alexander Graham Bell.</p><p>In later years, Jeanie Lippitt Weeden recounted the story of Alexander Graham Bell, her voice lessons, and the invention of the telephone with pride, remembering her experience waiting on the stage of the Providence Theatre as a thrilling moment in her life. Jeanie lived up to her mother’s expectations that she would be able to succeed in life, devoting herself to her family and involving herself in a busy Rhode Island social life.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/2">For more (including 4 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-03-28T16:43:43+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:10+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/2"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/2</id>
    <author>
      <name>Rebecca Soules</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;Let us Build a Home for such Children&quot;: Rhode Island State Home and School for Dependent and Neglected Children]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/79366ce13c264ef644f75f2810654e6e.jpg" alt="Yellow Cottage" /><br/><p><em>Willie Owens, a sturdy boy of 12 years, in cap, reefer and gray knickerbockers, stood in the Providence and Worcester Railroad station Friday afternoon. Tears glistened in his eyes, and he said he had no money. He wanted to find his way to the State Home, where he used to live, but knew not the way.</em>
<div style="text-align:right;">- <em>Providence Journal</em>, November 23, 1888</div>
</p><p>Willie Owens had arrived at the Rhode Island State Home and School for Dependent and Neglected Children two years earlier, sent to the orphanage after his parents were interred at the State Poor Farm, most likely for vagrancy or petty crimes. In the spring of 1888, Willie had been indentured out to a Mr. Hiram Tifft of Sharon, Massachusetts. Then, on a crisp November morning, after all the harvests were gathered and Tifft’s farm was snug for the winter, he abruptly told Willie that he no longer needed the boy and purchased him a one-way ticket back to Providence. </p><p>Willie Owens’ story was not unlike that of the thousands of other children who passed through the doors of the State Home and School throughout its tenure. Chartered by an act of the Rhode Island General Assembly in 1884, the State Home and School’s goal was to remove children from “degrading and disreputable circumstances” and enable them to grow up into productive citizens. About a quarter of the children sent to the State Home and School had lost one or more of their parents. The remainder of them had parents who were ill, destitute, incarcerated at the state prison or poor farm, or otherwise deemed incapable. </p><p>During its early years of operation, the State Home and School attempted to indenture, or “”put out,” most of the children entrusted to the institution. In theory, this practice both reduced overcrowding in the dormitories and facilitated the children’s eventual adoption. In practice, however, most of the children were utilized as a low-cost workforce, rather than candidates for adoption. Like Willie Owens, many of the children found themselves precipitously returned to the State Home and School when their labor was no longer needed. </p><p>Most children were indentured to commercial farmers who were seeking labor on their extensive estates. Many of the children, born and raised in Rhode Island’s urban industrial centers, arrived at their new homes with little agricultural experience. Sometimes, the consequences could be tragic: in 1900, a twelve-year-old boy’s placement with a farmer was deemed unsuccessful after the boy lost an eye and broke his nose after being kicked in the head by a horse. In 1916, after a report by the Social Welfare League revealed the problems in the putting-out system, the practice of indenturing children began to be curtailed. </p><p>A number of children responded to these pressures of life at the State Home and School with disobedience or truancy. Particularly unruly children might find themselves sentenced to spend the remainder of their childhood at one of the state’s two reform schools: either Oaklawn School for Girls or Sockanosset School for Boys. The State Home and School records also illustrate the disturbing regularity with which children from the State Home and School eventually ended up at poor farms, asylums, and prisons throughout the region. </p><p>The State Home and School continued to operate until 1979. Renamed the O'Rourke Children's Center in the 1940s, the institution slowly transformed itself from a nineteenth-century orphanage into a modern receiving center for managing wards of the state. The state’s orphanage suffered from a serious lack of leadership and support from the state’s leaders. A series of scandals, runaway children, and demands from neighbors and advocates to shut down the institution led to its closing in 1979. Soon after, the Rhode Island Department for Children, Youth, and Families removed the last of its offices from the former State Home and School property and transferred the site to Rhode Island College.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/1">For more (including 4 images, 1 audio file,&#32;&amp;&#32;1 video) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-03-28T14:33:13+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:10+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/1"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/1</id>
    <author>
      <name>Rebecca Soules</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;Not Wanted by His Father and Mother&quot;: Rhode Island Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/690b7b91739e56349c3337f5a65388cc.jpg" alt="&quot;Not Wanted by His Father and Mother&quot;" /><br/><p>In nineteenth-century America, there were few laws and regulations regarding child welfare. Destitute parents neglected and abandoned their responsibilities. Unscrupulous guardians profited from child labor with little concern for their charges' well-being. Short-tempered or intemperate adults took out their anxieties and anger on helpless children. By the late 1800s, it was clear that an organization was needed to safeguard children’s interests, and in 1882, the Rhode Island Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (RISPCC) received a charter from the state legislature.</p><p>From its beginning, RISPCC was an early advocate of what we now call child welfare. It was a private organization that was quasi-governmental, with considerable powers to arrest and prosecute offenders. Over the course of its eighty years, before it merged to become part of Children’s Friend and Service in 1949, it evolved from acting as a guardian for children abused by the influences and actions of vicious parents to advocating for more economic support for parents so they might create a stable and healthy family life.</p><p>RISPCC’s legislative charter gave it considerable power to execute its mission. Agents could investigate complaints against parents or guardians for “wrongful neglect,” for using a child for “wanton, cruel or improper purposes,” for inducing a child to beg or steal, or for “gross and habitual cruelty.” RISPCC could enter homes and remove children, appear in court on behalf of children, and place children under indenture. The court could also award custody of state wards to RISPCC with the understanding that the organization would oversee the child’s transfer to either the Rhode Island State Home and School or a private orphanage.</p><p>As society’s attitudes toward child protection changed, so too did the philosophy of the RISPCC. Over time, RISPCC expanded its concerns to include child labor, curfew violations, truancy, child abuse, neglect, starvation, abandonment, sexual molestation, unwed mothers, incest, alcohol abuse and juvenile delinquency. Its respensibilities grew as well: service provider, policy developer, children’s advocate, social reformer, and – most importantly – significant spokesperson for child welfare.</p><p>In RISPCC’s early years, the few children actually removed from their homes were boarded with a matron on Sabin Street in Providence. By its third annual meeting, in 1885, it was voted to establish a temporary home for children. Donations allowed for the purchase of a shelter facility, which was located on the corner of Doyle Avenue and Camp Street. It operated there until 1953.</p><p>In 1946, RISPCC changed its name to Rhode Island Child Service, in hopes that the new name “might really give a picture of our work.” In 1949, recognizing that duplication of services by private agencies was ineffective, it merged with Children’s Friend Society to become Children’s Friend and Service. It was not until 1962, however, that the state of Rhode Island finally took responsibility for the investigation of child abuse and neglect complaints that RISPCC had overseen, making it one of the last states in the nation to do so.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/44">For more (including 4 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-06-18T16:35:33+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/44"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/44</id>
    <author>
      <name>Sandra Enos, PhD&amp;#32;&amp;amp;&amp;#32;Barbara Luebke, PhD</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;Positively Irrepressible!&quot;: Irrepressible Society]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/c2734dc83f8180cb35a2d6811e5491d2.jpg" alt="Irrepressible Society Retail Shop" /><br/><p>In 1861, five young ladies, attendees of a prominent Providence academy for girls, met together for an afternoon of sewing. Unlike many of their classmates, they were concerned with more than the latest fashions, juicy local gossip, and their future matrimonial prospects. With the country ensnared in the Civil War, hospital supplies and handmade comforts for soldiers were in great demand. In Providence, the wartime economy had also made life increasingly difficult for the city’s poor. Motivated to improve their community, the girls began to canvass their neighborhoods for funds and supplies. After an encounter with a crusty Yankee tycoon who declared that the young lady was “positively irrepressible,” the Irrepressible Society was born.</p><p>Nineteenth-century Rhode Island was a world dominated by men. Until 1874, married women had no control over their own earnings. Until 1917, women could not vote. Nonetheless, the women of the Irrepressible Society exerted their independence, refusing to allow men to serve in the society in anything other than an advisory capacity. Initially, even married women could not hold offices within the society, reflecting its inclinations as a “spinster society.” </p><p>By the early 1870s, the Irrepressible Society had expanded beyond its humble beginning as a ladies’ sewing circle. They even had a coat of arms: two pairs of scissors rampant on a gold field, crowned by a thimble. Now, most of the actual sewing work was done by needy women compensated for their labor by the society. Although the Irrepressible Society’s mission included “charitable work of the city” more generally, they were particularly concerned with the plight of women without means to support themselves. Providing instruction in hand and machine sewing, the society made it possible for disadvantaged women to find gainful employment and improve their lives.</p><p>The Irrepressible Society was also remarkably forward-thinking in regard to the its finances. Acknowledging the impossibility of funding their work solely through donations, the ladies of the society endeavored to make it as self-supporting as possible. By 1929, half of the society’s revenue came from the sale of its goods and clothing. Although some items were made available to impoverished residents of the city at little or no cost, the Irrepressible Society also operated a small retail store. In addition, the society cultivated clients who placed large wholesale orders. For example, the Providence Lying-In Hospital purchased thousands of layette bundles for newborn infants over the years.</p><p>Part charitable society and part social club, most of the ladies of the Irrepressible Society were members of well-connected Providence families. Fundraising events hosted by the society were the talk of Providence. In 1884, the society hosted an elaborate “Charity Ball” that quickly became an annual winter tradition. Reviewing another society event, a local reporter began thusly: “The tea party of the Irrepressibles – we have been obliged to write that word three times, because our pen would slip into Irresistibles, as anybody’s would after coming from the blaze of matron beauty and maiden loveliness that lighted up the nice old rooms in which this society held its housewarming last evening.”</p><p>In 1929, the Irrepressible Society merged with three other social service agencies in Providence to form the new “Bureau for the Handicapped.” Seven years later, the society officially disbanded, turning all of their remaining funds over to the bureau. Although the new agency would continue to provide many of the same services – including job training, temporary employment, and financial relief – the days of the Irrepressible Society’s croquet parties and elaborate theatricals were over.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/26">For more (including 3 images&#32;&amp;&#32;1 video) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-06-03T01:00:51+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/26"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/26</id>
    <author>
      <name>Rebecca Soules</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;Rosy Cheeks and Cheery Voices&quot;: Lakeside Home and Preventorium]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/5c760470ef679d0c2df1e9262619bb04.jpg" alt="Lakeside Home" /><br/><p>In the early 1900s, Rhode Island was in the grip of a deadly epidemic – the great white plague. Each year, thousands of Americans died from tuberculosis; for children under the age of five, the disease was one of the top ten causes of death. Highly contagious, tuberculosis spread rapidly through crowded urban tenements in cities like Providence. Early tuberculosis symptoms overlapped with many other diseases – fever, weight loss and lack of appetite, fatigue – but as the disease progressed, the most identifiable feature was a persistent cough. By the time a patient was coughing up blood and sputum they were highly infectious. In particular, children, living and interacting with infected adults, were at great risk of contracting the disease themselves.</p><p>Sanatoriums for tuberculosis patients sprang up across the country. In Rhode Island, adults with active tuberculosis were sent to a clinic at Wallum Lake in Burrillville. Initially, no provisions were made for children who had been exposed to the disease but were not actively infectious. A Providence Journal reporter noted: “We have no proper hospital accommodations for tubercular children under 14 years. They must, therefore, remain in their tenement homes regardless of the lack of good food, fresh air, and proper care. The need for an all-year-round home for crippled and debilitated children is great. Perhaps no one knows this better than the tuberculosis worker.” Without careful medical supervision and a healthy diet, exposed children’s chances of developing active tuberculosis dramatically increased.</p><p>In 1912, the Providence League for the Suppression of Tuberculosis finally addressed this issue, opening a “preventorium” at the Lakeside Home in Warwick. At this bucolic location, tubercular children were treated to a regime of fresh air and exercise. During the summer, children slept on open-air sleeping porches and spent their days playing outside. The children even received their schooling outside, using an open air shelter as their classroom for all but the bitterest days of winter. Only when the “rosy cheeks and cheery voices of the children denote[d] returning strength and vigor” were they sent back to their homes in the city. </p><p>A regiment of doctors and nurses supervised the children at the Preventorium. With neither an inoculation nor a cure for tuberculosis, doctors focused on improving the children’s overall physical well-being. Many of the children arrived at the Preventorium underweight for their age. After several months of care on the Preventorium’s simple, wholesome diet, children often found themselves sprouting up overnight, returning home several inches taller.</p><p>Two other groups of underprivileged children were also accommodated at the Lakeside Home, strictly isolated from the potentially infectious children of the Preventorium. Each week during the summer, a repurposed Red Cross ambulance stopped at the Quaker Meeting House in downtown Providence. Families gathered at the site hoping that their children might be approved for a vacation at the Lakeside Home. Children who passed the medical inspection piled into the ambulance with their luggage – by a dint of “scientific packing,” the ambulance could accommodate thirty-five children. At the Lakeside Home, these children from Providence’s urban core enjoyed several weeks of swimming, hiking, and playing games. Year round, the Lakeside Home also accommodated a small number of children who were convalescing from illnesses or operations.</p><p>Through the 1940s, The Lakeside Home continued to offer itself as a center for convalescents. However, children’s hospitals and better medical services slowly changed the face of medical care in Rhode Island. By the 1950s, modern antibiotics could now effectively treat and cure tuberculosis. The Preventorium grew obsolete.</p><p>On September 19, 1950, the Providence Tuberculosis League ended their operation of the Lakeside Home and Preventorium, transferring the property to Children’s Friend and Service for operation as a temporary shelter for homeless or neglected children.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/27">For more (including 4 images&#32;&amp;&#32;1 video) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-06-03T01:13:59+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/27"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/27</id>
    <author>
      <name>Rebecca Soules</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;To Rescue from Evil and Misery Those Deprived of their Natural Protectors&quot;: Providence Children&#039;s Friend Society]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/8265d94b769a87cbbb0650c9f65536af.jpg" alt="Tobey Street Home" /><br/><p><p style="text-align:left;">For sixty-one years, an imposing, three-story building on Tobey Street operated by the Providence Children's Friend Society provided shelter and refuge to the children of Providence. Hundreds of children without hope – orphaned, neglected, abandoned – entered through the doors. Within the safety of the brick walls, they dreamed of second chances, aspirations, and life with new foster families.</p><p>Constructed in 1863, the Tobey Street Home had been a model of modern construction. Now, in 1926, the building was a creaking relic of a bygone age. The worn stairs sagged from generations of pounding feet. The basement boiler gurgled and leaked, fitfully heating the drafty building. Finally, the doors of the Tobey Street Home closed for the last time.</p><p>The Providence Children’s Friend Society did not end with the closure of the Tobey Street Home in 1926 – today it remains the oldest social service organization in the state that addresses the needs of neglected, orphaned, or abandoned children. Founded in 1834 by Harriet Ware, a young, idealistic schoolteacher in Providence’s India Point neighborhood, the institution has continually reinvented itself over the decades.</p><p>Initially, Harriet Ware offered assistance and makeshift accommodations to children in need, soliciting donations from churches and community institutions all across Providence. Upon the official incorporation of the Providence Children’s Friend Society, the founders expressed their principles regarding the care of dependent children:</p><p><em>The design of the institution embraces all children who are in condition of orphanage and that this is the only institution in the State, where any provision is made for their support and education. More comprehensive, however, in operation than a restricted orphan asylum, it is intended, also, to extend its blessings to those who are equally destitute, and perhaps more afflicted, than the bereaved and fatherless.   </em></p><p>Most importantly, the society welcomed all children in need, whether they were officially considered “orphans” or not, and  dedicated itself to providing the children in its care with an education. With the support of many prominent citizens of Providence, a small orphanage was opened, where children might stay for a time before being placed out with a foster family.</p><p>The orphanage moved several times, necessitated by the growing number of children in the society’s care, until the spacious Tobey Street Home was constructed during the Civil War. By the 1920s, however, the expense of running the orphanage and the changing nature and philosophy of child welfare convinced the institution’s directors to reconsider their approach.</p><p>Children’s Friend Society began to focus on other work, including general casework, adoption, and foster care placement and supervision. In 1949, the society merged with the Rhode Island Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. Now known as Children’s Friend and Service of Rhode Island, the merged organization honors its long history by operating offices in both Providence and Central Falls and by continuing to provide assistance and advice to families with children in need.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/45">For more (including 4 images&#32;&amp;&#32;1 video) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-06-19T01:21:06+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/45"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/45</id>
    <author>
      <name>Sandra Enos, PhD</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[&quot;Watchman, what of the night?&quot;: Watchman Industrial School]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/fc1049c908a30ce2bfe4614147554ed2.jpg" alt="Smithville Seminary" /><br/><p><div style="text-align:left;">
By the early 1900s, race relations in the United Sates had grown increasingly tumultuous. Despite the abolishment of slavery, post-Civil War America was laden with barriers for people of color. Prominent Black leaders disagreed about how best to move forward. On the one hand, W.E.B. DuBois urged his supporters to challenge racial segregation and Black disenfranchisement directly. However, Booker T. Washington, a famous former slave, advocated for a less confrontational approach. Only education, argued Washington, could lead Blacks toward economic prosperity and ultimately give them an opportunity to attain true American freedom and equality.</p><p>Heeding the words of Booker T. Washington, a young Providence minister and his wife decided to open their own institution of learning for Black Rhode Islanders. Reverend William S. Holland, the son of a Virginia slave, had come to Providence in 1902, to take the pulpit at Ebenezer Baptist Church. He quickly realized that the racial realities of the twentieth century – namely, the lack of educational and economic opportunity – threatened his congregation and the Black community at large. In 1908, the couple founded the Watchman Industrial School on Codding Street in Providence, naming the school after the Reverend’s favorite biblical passage:
<p style="text-align:right;"><em>“…Watchman, what of the night?</p><p>The Watchman said, ‘The morning cometh, and also the night…”</p>Isaiah 21:11-12
Young men at the institute were offered academic instruction as well as courses in carpentry, masonry, and machine repair. Such tremendous learning opportunities were intended to increase young Black men’s chances of gainful employment. Interestingly, Reverend Holland recruited many of his students from Providence’s juvenile court. He defended youth who committed acts motivated by poverty – such as food theft – by asking judges to place them in his care at the Watchman Industrial School rather than sending them to the Sockanosset School for Boys<em>.</p>The Watchman Industrial School became a beacon of hope for Rhode Island’s Black community. The variety of vocational and academic courses offered, in addition to the child care services that the school provided for working-class parents, made the Institute extremely popular – so popular, in fact, that by the early 1920s, it had outgrown its Codding Street location. Miraculously, by 1923, Reverend Holland had scraped together enough funds to purchase a spacious estate in North Scituate, Rhode Island.</p><p>The four acres that came with the new property allowed for the addition of courses in agriculture, blacksmithing, shoe repair, cooking, and sewing. Additionally, Reverend Holland established a summer camp that utilized a nearby lake. Unfortunately, the Watchman Institute’s move to rural Rhode Island brought an entirely new set of problems.</p><p>Within a decade of moving to North Scituate, the Watchman Industrial School was plagued by a rash of unexplained fires – vicious attacks attributed to Rhode Island members of the KKK. The hate group terrorized the Institute and its young Black residents relentlessly, hoping to force them out, or burn them out. While the Watchman Industrial School was never physically destroyed, the repeated arson succeeded in financially draining Reverend Holland’s dream.  After the Hurricane of ’38 further damaged the deteriorating buildings, the year-round school closed. Reverend Holland continued to operate the Institute’s summer camp until his death in 1958. His wife continued the program until a lack of funds finally ended it in 1974.
</div></p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/43">For more (including 5 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-06-18T15:18:15+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/43"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/43</id>
    <author>
      <name>Ariana Alicea&amp;#32;&amp;amp;&amp;#32;Sandra Enos, PhD</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[“4 or 5 Active Lads to Serve in Cotton Factory”: Child Labor at Slater Mill]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/25db9dc23edd964c8cd0335d250d00bc.jpg" alt="Old Slater Mill" /><br/><p>On January 3, 1791, Ann Arnold walked into the newly founded Slater Mill and onto the pages of history as one of the first nine employees hired by the mill. She was probably about ten years old.</p><p>As the industrial revolution swept across the western world, many factories, including Slater Mill, capitalized on child labor. Pliable young children could be easily taught the skills needed to operate the mill’s spinning frames, could be paid less than adults, and were less likely to incite trouble than adult workers. Some factories hired children as young as four years old. At Slater Mill, Ann Arnold joined a workforce made up of boys and girls between the ages of seven and twelve who worked six days a week – twelve hours a day in the winter, sixteen hours a day in the summer. They spent more than twice the amount of time that today’s kids spend in school working at the mill each day.</p><p>Ann Arnold and her fellow workers picked cotton clean and worked the mill’s carding and spinning machines. The roar of the Blackstone River and hum of the water-powered machinery filled the air. Fine cotton lint coated the floor, clung to the workers' clothes, and clogged their throats. If the mill supervisor thought the children were not working hard enough, the children were fined, further reducing the small paycheck that they took home each week. The children were expected to spend Sundays, their one day of rest, at a mill-sponsored Sunday school where Brown University students provided basic schooling.</p><p>For her hard work, Ann Arnold brought home a regular salary: a luxury compared to farm life. The rest of her family toiled all day on the family farm, working just as hard as Ann did in the factory, but without the assurance of a regular paycheck.</p><p>As Slater Mill expanded, more workers were needed to run the carding and spinning equipment. Mill operators adopted the “Rhode Island System” of labor where entire families were hired to work together in the factories. Nonetheless, children remained a key source of labor. In 1830, fifty-five percent of all millworkers in Rhode Island were still children. </p><p>Long after Slater Mill closed its doors in 1895, child labor continued to be a contested issue. In the early 1900s, organizations such as the Consumer's League of Rhode Island fought to limit child labor. Early legislation restricted the number of hours that children could work and set age requirements for factory work – unscrupulous mill owners seldom enforced these rules. In 1938, the Fair Labor Standards Act made it illegal to employ any child under the age of twelve in the United States. However, children like Ann still work in factories throughout the world today, enduring harsh conditions to support them­selves and their family.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/30">For more (including 3 images&#32;&amp;&#32;1 video) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-06-05T23:05:25+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/30"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/30</id>
    <author>
      <name>Amelia Grabowski</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[“Deliver me from the Oppression of Man.”]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/8dccdbf9eff7226a8f9ec53b16e609d3.jpg" alt="Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society" /><br/><p>The worn wooden collection box, passed from hand to hand, slowly made its way through the crowded Quaker meeting. Many looked away, while some murmured angrily . . . <em>radicals . . . disturbing the peace!</em> A few people contributed coins, perhaps moved by the plaintive sentiments inscribed on the plain wooden box of the Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society.
Founded in 1836, the Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society tirelessly advocated for the rights of African Americans – with limited success. Despite New England’s reputation as a hotbed of abolitionist activity, the efforts of the Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society were far from welcome in a state whose economic interests were closely interwoven with slavery. Southern plantation owners supplied Rhode Island’s textile industry with raw materials like cotton and indigo. In return, many mills produced low-quality, inexpensive fabrics – generically marketed as “negro cloth” – deemed suitable for clothing enslaved peoples. Rhode Island also had strong social ties to the south. A number of plantation owners summered with their families in luxurious Newport mansions, and intermarriage with Rhode Island residents was not uncommon. For many Rhode Island elites, it was easy to condemn the Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society as a radical, fringe organization.
The most egregious offense of the Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society was their call for “immediate, unconditional, and universal” emancipation. At the time, many abolitionists favored “gradualism” or the slow emancipation of slaves over many years. Instead, the Rhode Island organization supported the views of Bostonian William Lloyd Garrison, who, from 1831 until 1865, published <em>The Liberator</em>, a highly controversial newspaper<em>. </em>Due to some states’ laws banning any anti-slavery speech, it was not unheard of for people to even be arrested for possessing an issue of <em>The Liberator</em>.
The Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society’s decision to ally themselves with the radical “Garrisonian abolitionists” cost them the support of some other anti-slavery supporters. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, most Quaker meetings banned their members from owning slaves and advocated for gradual emancipation. As the abolitionist community became more divided, however, some Quaker meetings began to expel radical Garrisonian abolitionists from their ranks. In Rhode Island, abolitionist Elizabeth Buffum Chace didn’t wait to be banned from the congregation – when her Quaker meeting refused to take a more radical and active stance against slavery, she stopped attending meetings, turning all of her attention to the Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society.
Chace became a tireless advocate for immediate emancipation, even harboring fugitive slaves in her own home. She and other women managed most of the day-to-day aspects of running the Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society, particularly after a scandal and political conflict weakened the organization’s male leadership. As fellow abolitionist Daniel Mitchell remarked: “I must say that it is mainly by their efforts that the office is sustained…The devotion of these women to the cause of suffering humanity is probably second to none, and none labor more assiduously for its support than does this little band.”</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/49">For more (including 3 images&#32;&amp;&#32;1 audio file) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2015-02-24T17:19:47+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/49"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/49</id>
    <author>
      <name>Rachel Himes</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[“God’s Free Gift to Man and Beast”: Henry Cogswell’s Temperance Fountains]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/50c12f7e5add8c818558b55aa6bb37ac.jpg" alt="Cogswell Fountain" /><br/><p><p class="BodyA">All across America people ridiculed and smashed Henry D. Cogswell’s fountains, but this one survives in downtown Pawtucket.</p><p>Cogswell – a dentist, millionaire, and crusader in the temperance movement against alcohol – had not always been a wealthy man. Born in Connecticut in 1820, young Cogswell sunk into poverty after his parents died. As a teenager he walked fifty miles to Pawtucket to start work in the mills. He managed to become a dentist, and in 1847 he set up a local practice. Lured to California by the Gold Rush, he made a fortune in real estate.</p><p>The newly-minted millionaire assumed an ancestral coat of arms and began to call himself a “capitalist,” but he never forgot his penniless past. He determined to uplift the working class through charitable deeds.</p><p>As Cogswell saw it, drunkenness led to pauperism. If poor people had an alternative to alcohol – like clean, cold water to drink – they might renounce liquor. And so, starting in 1878, Cogswell arranged to send free drinking fountains to towns throughout the United States.</p><p>Cogswell’s actions might have been well-intentioned, but he made some regrettable design choices. His fountains often came topped with a statue that resembled Cogswell himself. This figure, which he referred to as the “Guardian of the Fountain,” held a scroll in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Engravings at the base commanded passersby to work hard and avoid dissipation.</p><p>The fountains proved irresistible targets for vandals. Drunken revelers, rowdy art lovers, and citizens who deemed the statues to be in poor taste all moved to destroy them. Wherever he appeared, the “Guardian” suffered attacks, including topplings with a lasso, lake immersions, and a kidnapping.</p><p>When Mark Twain spotted a Cogswell fountain in Rochester, New York, he remarked, “It has a putrid, decomposed sort of a look that is offensive for a delicate organism.” Others agreed. In 1885 an unidentified party dispatched the Rochester statue by bashing it to bits with crowbars.</p><p>The Pawtucket fountain escaped the mobs, perhaps because it came decorated with a heron rather than Cogswell himself. Residents welcomed it with speeches and song when it arrived in 1880. The fountain provided water, “God’s Free Gift to Man and Beast,” from high spouts for humans and lower spouts for horses, dogs, and any other animals in need of refreshment. On the foreheads of the cat-like gargoyles, one can still see marks made by rings where drinking cups once hung.</p><p>When the fountain became inconvenient downtown, the city transferred it to Oak Grove Cemetery. But mourners deemed it too cheerful for that spot, even after they had the word “Welcome” removed from the bottom of the base. The fountain moved to Slater Park in 1904 before the city finally restored it to its original location in 1990. At that time, a time capsule found embedded at the top of the column yielded soggy papers and an Indian Head penny.</p><p>Today Pawtucket’s Cogswell fountain is one of few still in existence. It stands defunct, a monument to a man who excelled at making money but botched giving it away.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/31">For more (including 5 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-06-05T23:49:36+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/31"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/31</id>
    <author>
      <name>Kathrinne Duffy</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[“Mashapaug Pond is Sick”: Polluting the Ecosystem]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/bcee834d31efc718ab71cdeb3b026167.jpg" alt="Algal Bloom in Mashapaug Pond" /><br/><p><p class="normal">Mashapaug Pond is at the center of a complex freshwater ecosystem. Underneath the pond’s calm green surface is a strange world of toxic carp, three-eyed frogs, and rusting refuse. Many people think of cities and the wilderness as completely separate spaces, but Mashapaug Pond is the perfect example of urban wilderness. At the pond, the natural ecosystem, or community of living things, overlaps with the human-built city.</p><p>Mashapaug Pond has suffered from a long history of pollution. During Providence’s industrial heyday in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, people were largely unaware of the consequences of releasing industrial chemicals and other pollutants into the soil and water. At Mashapaug Pond, the Gorham Manufacturing Company – a major employer – <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/19#.U2UXJ8dX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">was also responsible for a significant amount of pollution.</a> Neighborhood resident Ed Hooks recalled: “You didn’t have too many ecologists back then. You didn’t have too many people that were concerned about that type of thing. So, when it comes to Gorham, people just saw Gorham as probably a place for employment more than anything else. If they’re dumping stuff in there, so what. They’ll give me a paycheck today.” Millions of dollars have now been spent to remediate Gorham’s pollution.</p><p>The major source of pond pollution today comes from stormwater runoff.  In urban areas, paved roads, parking lots, and driveways creates impermeable surfaces that water cannot pass through. When it rains, the water isn’t filtered through plants and soil but flows directly into Mashapaug Pond, carrying with it car oil, animal feces, garbage, road salts, and other contaminants.</p><p>Mashapaug Pond’s unusually green water is also a clear sign of the pond’s sickness. Storm water runoff causes algal blooms in urban, fresh water ponds by picking up pet waste and fertilizers from lawns and landscaping and carrying them into storm drains that empty in urban ponds, promoting excessive growth of cyanobacteria. This bloom gives the pond its green tint. Cyanobacteria can create toxic conditions for humans, animals, and plants. Signs posted by the Rhode Island Department of Health warn humans of these toxins, but it is impossible to protect plants and animals from the poisonous environment.</p><p>Residents have worried about the impact of human activity on Mashapaug Pond for a long time. Local lore alludes to three-eyed frogs, two-headed fish, and other sea monsters that swim in the toxic, green water. In 1905, city park commissioners warned the Rhode Island General Assembly: “it is essential to the health of the neighborhood that they be not polluted by dumping or the crowding of buildings on [Mashapaug’s] shores.” One hundred years later, it is quite clear that the report was ignored. The pond is ringed by large shopping plazas, <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/20#.U2UXYcdX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">the Huntington Expressway Industrial Park,</a> and multiple highways. All of these things disrupt the ability of storm water to soak into the ground and continue to contaminate Mashapaug Pond at a detriment to the plants, animals, and humans that share its ecosystem.</p><p>Today, groups like the Environmental Justice League of Rhode Island and <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/14#.U2UXfsdX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">the Urban Pond Procession,</a> as well as <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/15#.U2UXl8dX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">many teachers, students,</a> and residents, are taking action to make sure that conditions at the Pond do not get worse.  Hopefully one day the signs warning that “Mashapaug Pond is Sick” will be unnecessary.</p><p><strong>Discussion Questions</p>How might you be contributing to the pollution of the urban watershed?</p><p>What are some steps that might reduce the amount of impermeable surfaces in cities?</p><p>How have people’s views on pollution changed in the last century?</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/12">For more (including 4 images, 1 audio file,&#32;&amp;&#32;1 video) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-05-01T21:35:23+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:10+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/12"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/12</id>
    <author>
      <name>Frannie Brittingham</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[“Rhode Island Knows Now - THE NARRAGANSETT STILL EXISTS!”]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/10620cc89d9383608d58ceb17c3c9ce5.jpg" alt="“Through Our Eyes” Collage" /><br/><p><p class="normal">Native peoples had already lived on the land near Mashapaug Pond for many centuries when Roger Williams arrived in Providence in 1636. The pond’s very name comes from two Algonquin words: ‘massa’ and ‘pug’, meaning ‘large standing water’. In Pre-Contact time the pond provided local Narragansett, with a wealth of resources. Families built weetooash<em>, </em>or temporary dome-shaped homes, on the shores of the pond for summertime usage as they fished in the pond and gathered plants and herbs from its sandy banks. Nearby, gardens of squash, corn, melons, and sunflowers flourished. Along with daily lifeways such as hunting, fishing, gathering the Narragansett enjoyed the pond for community celebrations that included storytelling, dancing and drumming.</p><p>Although native families were displaced from around the pond as Providence’s Euroamerican community expanded in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, some of them managed to retain their connection to the land. Tall Oak Weeden, who shares both Pequot and Wampanoag ancestry, recalls visiting family members who lived near the pond. In the early twentieth century, his great-grandfather had moved from Connecticut to Providence, <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/25#.U2UH98dX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">settling in the ethnically diverse community of West Elmwood.</a> Beautiful cherry trees and small gardens once filled the neighborhood, and in their free time, <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/22#.U2UIFcdX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">his family members enjoyed fishing and ice skating at the pond.</a> The <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/24#.U2UINsdX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">Pond Street Baptist Church</a> served as an important space for the Native American community to come together. To Tall Oak Weeden, “It was like the Indian town reconstituted itself in a sense, from the original Indian town that was there that the settlers felt needed to be moved.”</p><p>By the 1960s, new development, <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/20#.U2UITMdX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">such as the Huntington Expressway Industrial Park,</a> again forced Native American families away from the pond. The Pond Street Baptist Church relocated, and the neighborhood of West Elmwood, where African American, Native American, and Euroamerican families had lived side by side, was bulldozed. Contamination of the local environment, through <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/19#.U2UIcsdX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">Gorham’s pollution</a> and <a href="http://www.rhodetour.org/items/show/12#.U2UIisdX7Oc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer">storm water runoff,</a> also had a direct impact on Native American families’ ability to interact with the pond.</p><p>Mashapaug Pond continues to be an important site of memory for the Indigenous community including the Narragansett, Wampanoag and other local tribes of the southern New England region. The Rhode Island Indian Council and the Tomaquag Indian Memorial Museum serve as important spaces for community life and cultural preservation keeping these memories alive through programs, exhibits, books and other cultural education opportunities. As such, memories of the community’s connections to Mashapaug Pond are preserved. The name of the pond, and nearby street names such as Niantic, Algonquin, and Narragansett, serve as testimony to the deep connections that Native Americans have to the region.</p><p>In September of 1936, the editorial in <em>Narragansett Dawn</em>, a monthly publication by and for the Native American community of Rhode Island, ended with the statement: “Rhode Island Knows Now - THE NARRAGANSETT STILL EXISTS!” Although weetooash no longer dot the shores of pond and the lush gardens are gone from the vacant lots in West Elmwood, the Narragansett presence still exists near Mashapaug Pond as well.</p><p><strong>Discussion Questions</p>Why do you think people chose to live around Mashapaug Pond? Why do you think people today choose to live there?</p><p>Imagine the area as an early indigenous settlement before Providence was founded in 1636. What images, sounds and smells come to mind?</p><p>How did the establishment of the industrial park affect the indigenous community in ways different from others living around the pond? Why do you think this is?</p><p>What are contemporary efforts by Native people living in Providence to preserve their culture?</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/13">For more (including 2 images&#32;&amp;&#32;4 audio files) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2014-05-01T21:39:18+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:10+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/13"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/13</id>
    <author>
      <name>Lara Savenije</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[“The Freedom to be Womanly” at Pembroke College]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/07806a89fb3e24754ebdcef3e1e0e33b.jpg" alt="Women in front of 3rd floor library fireplace" /><br/><p>For 100+ years, students have been discussing the history and role of women in this exact seminar room. Imagine writing on the chalkboard. Feel the history in the dark wood chairs, revel in the gaze of the figures lining the ceiling. Each frieze highlights the ways women have participated in various types of education. Today, every honors thesis from the Gender and Sexuality Program is safely housed in these cabinets.</p><p>Pembroke Hall was the first physical building erected for the Women’s College at Brown University and became the social and educational hub for its students. In his inaugural address in 1899, Brown University President H.P. Faunce celebrated the value of the “separate but equal” educational experience for women: </p><p>“When the collegiate life of women is left free to organize itself, neither excluded from the privileges of men, nor forced into their social tradition -- and the latter is now our danger -- it will create its own ideal, and around it will crystallize all educational activity. In this realm imitation is suicide, and freedom to be womanly is the only safety.” </p><p>However, this “freedom to be womanly” was full of double standards and narrow expectations -- there was a forced separation between men and women but also the opportunity to create a separate culture. While women were offered the same courses as their male counterparts, it was expected that the needs of men always came first. Local women and alumnae had to raise money to support the inadequate funding given to the Women’s College. And even though the classes were the same, women had to take them in a separate location, at Pembroke Hall. Some electives could be taken with men upon instructor permission, but according to Nettie Goodale, Class of 1895, a dean told the women to be “inconspicuous” and “dignified” when they took classes on the men’s campus. But despite their efforts to be invisible, the presence of women on an all-male campus nevertheless raised men’s attention:</p><p>Here she comes,</p><p>There she goes,</p><p>All dressed up</p><p>In her Sunday clothes. </p><p>Centuries of struggle, triumph, and trailblazing can be captured in the space where you are standing. However, while the seminar room has been preserved, the $9 million 2008 renovation has largely modernized the interior and left few traces of the building’s rich history. In contrast, the redesign of nearby Smith-Buonanno Hall by William Kite Architects, Inc. has won a historic preservation award for its sensitive renovation from Sayles Gym to current classrooms. If you take the time to look, traces of history can be found through the lines of the wood panel basketball court on the first floor. Pembroke Hall and Smith-Buonnano Hall are examples of adaptive reuse on Brown’s campus. Sheila Bonde, Professor of History of Art & Architecture, defines adaptive reuse as “the adaptation of buildings to new functions.” She taught in the seminar room before the remodel and knew Sayles Gym before the renovation.</p><p>While Pembroke College has folded into Brown University, the building itself is a site of continual learning. Today, Pembroke Hall continues the legacy of women’s studies through providing a home for the department of gender and sexuality studies, which continues to ask questions about various forms of inequality, oppression, and identity. Asking these questions is necessary for the critical examination of relevant issues including the #MeToo movement, new laws about family leave, and current leadership in the U.S. and globally. How does the gendered experience matter in the world in terms of policy, pay, and power?</p><p>Contemporary, cutting-edge research about women happens here. And, you don't have to be a woman to take a class, concentrate in gender and sexuality studies, or engage in a deep conversation about these issues. They impact you, no matter who you are. Click the video to hear Drew Walker, Director of the Program of Gender and Sexuality Studies and Assistant Director of the Pembroke Center, discuss the importance of diversity in the classroom when engaging with issues of difference, broadly defined. </p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/349">For more (including 4 images&#32;&amp;&#32;4 videos) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-03-21T03:27:55+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:15+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/349"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/349</id>
    <author>
      <name>Maya Omori</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[“To Henry Paget Esq. for 29 Days Work of Pero”]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/11eea1733de4693b12765368d59727b1.jpg" alt="A S.W. View of the College in Providence, together with the President’s House &amp; Gardens" /><br/><p>Pero, slave. Job, Native American. Mingow, free African. Have you heard about these men on the admissions tour? These individuals were three of at least four slave laborers who built University Hall, then called the College Edifice for the College of Rhode Island, but they aren’t often discussed. </p><p>While Pero was forced to work, his owner, Henry Paget Esquire, received his pay. Paget was a wealthy merchant who used to live in an elaborate home on South Main Street where the Providence County Courthouse currently stands. The ledgers from Nicholas Brown and Co. that document their names are uncomfortable yet critical reminders of Brown’s ties to the institution of slavery. </p><p>Slavery greatly contributed to New England’s economy for 150 years, yet it is often silenced in the narrative of the region’s past, as white northerners are often morally elevated and positioned in direct contrast to whites in the South. Divorcing New England from the legacies of slavery leads to a harmful erasure of blacks not only in the story of New England in the 18th century but also in present-day society. Click on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWmK314NVrs">this video</a> from the University of Minnesota to learn more about historical trauma and why the past informs the present. </p><p>Even though the word “slave” was never used, naming conventions in the ledgers strongly suggest that at least four slaves were indeed used to build University Hall. Because last names were seen as depicting status and potentially legal standing as a free person, we can conclude that names with last names were primarily whites, and names without last names were slaves. In addition, to further distinguish them from whites, slave owners gave African American slaves particular names. They often were classical names such as Caesar or Jupiter, names derived from African words, or mocking titles such as Prince or Duchess. Furthermore, racial descriptors such as “negro” were sometimes used to identify workers. And lastly, the ledgers reveal that slaves’ wages were diverted to their white owners. For example, one entry from February 8, 1771 reads: “10 days work of Mary Young’s Negro Man at 3 shillings, to her account.” </p><p>Through the stripping of a last name, special names to make their status even more inferior than whites, and the diversion of wages, the slaves who built University Hall were deeply deprived of their personhood on many levels. This exhibition continues the conversations about Brown’s ties to the slave trade. Pick up a copy of the official report and take the opportunity to see the ledgers in person in the University Archives at the John Hay Library.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/344">For more (including 2 images&#32;&amp;&#32;1 video) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-03-21T02:14:14+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:15+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/344"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/344</id>
    <author>
      <name>Maya Omori</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[“Women! OBVIOUSLY!!” ]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/4fa339d2f610e3af8847a25b4b08dc65.jpg" alt="Berry-Jean Murray" /><br/><p><em>We have a show that hopefully gets out every woman’s opinion. Well, we can’t do every woman’s opinion, but as many types of views on the topic that we would like to display.</em> </p><p>With this, Berry-Jean Murray, Production Assistant and Interviewer, summarized the thinking behind the name of the 1990s public-access television show <em>Obviously Women</em>. As a March 1991 article by Mary Ann T. Rossoni in the Providence, RI based <em>The Third Wave</em> newspaper reported, Berry-Jean and her collaborators Toni Salisbury, Carol Dunbar Skoglund, and Nancy Harrison saw as their charge “to show women in a positive light everywhere doing everything,” as well as “being a forum to bring out issues of the day, not just issues that normally people would think would be a headliner.” Obviously! </p><p>The show had its beginnings in another format: Berry-Jean, along with Nancy and Carol, had been hosting a radio show, <em>Airwave Women</em>, on the University of Rhode Island’s WRIU station. The show primarily featured women’s music and news, and continues today with different hosts as <em>Voices of Women</em>. Rhode Island has always had the base of a women’s community, in which Lesbians have always played a critical part, and for Berry-Jean, feminism and Lesbianism always went together. Lesbians have always been a part of the “gay community,” as well, though differences existed between gay men and Lesbian women, especially around women’s issues. So Lesbian participation in Pride parades, for example, was tenuous, and Lesbians were present but not always prominent. </p><p>Thirty minutes long and commercial-free, the <em>Obviously Women</em> public access television show emerged because Berry-Jean and friends decided the community needed something more. They were so prideful of themselves as women and wanted to share that pride with anyone who would watch. As Berry-Jean remembers the feeling: “We exist. We’re here. Watch us!” </p><p>The <em>Airwave Women</em> group took production classes at the PEG - Public Access TV, and created a show for women with a feminist slant. Berry-Jean, a Black Lesbian, was the host of the show – making a statement that women of color were involved in the community. In news, entertainment, interview, and special feature segments, <em>Obviously Women</em> featured everyday women doing interesting things (for example, fixing a lamp) or in “non-typical women roles…women soldiers, women carpenters, women welders.” Stories centered on resources for local women, including the Women's Resource Center talking about violence against women; therapists talking about adult children of alcoholics; and speakers addressing the community issues of homelessness, religion and oppression. The women behind <em>Obviously Women</em> strove to create a public service to let community members know about the resources available to them. </p><p>This collective effort lasted approximately two-to-three years in the early 1990s. While the show may no longer be on the air, the bonds that created it remain. In a recent interview, Berry-Jean giggled as she looked at the 1991 article: “I’ll show this to Carol and Nancy and Beth. They’re still around and we all laugh when we’re together.”</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/432">For more (including 2 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2024-10-16T19:00:41+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:17+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/432"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/432</id>
    <author>
      <name>Mev Miller</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[(Still) Waiting for Washington]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/ec7ce2bc1a43401239f6addddbbcb110.jpg" alt="University Hall candlelight tradition" /><br/><p>“On the President’s landing, he was welcomed by a federal discharge of Cannon, and the Ringing of Bells. The Concourse of People was prodigious. The Procession was conducted with great Decorum, and exceeded anything of the Kind before exhibited in this Town.”  </p><p>- Providence Gazette and Country Journal (August 21,1790)</p><p>Have you ever seen the windows of University Hall illuminated by candles? We can thank George Washington’s stroll on the Main Green after Rhode Island joined the Union in May 1790 for this enduring tradition, which has persisted for 228 years.</p><p>You are looking at a plaque commemorating this momentous yet brief visit on the west side of University Hall. He was to stay the night on Benefit Street at one Mr. Daggett’s home, but before he retired for bed, he was told that the university students had prepared a special illumination of University Hall and that they would be honored if he witnessed the spectacle. Despite the slight rain, he climbed College Hill with a few friends and “there beheld the college building completely illuminated with candle lights in every window.”</p><p>The next day, Washington met President Manning at University Hall, where Washington said, “I am sure to find in the measures adopted by the guardians of literature in this place, for improving the morals of the rising generation, and inculcating upon their minds principles peculiarly calculated for the preservation of our rights and liberties.” From the year that Rhode Island joined the Union, Washington’s visit legitimized the University as a place for “guardians of literature” for hundreds of years.</p><p>The strength and endurance of the tradition is evidence of Brown’s high regard of Washington as a fundamental character in the history of the university. Founded in 1764 as the third college in New England and the seventh in the United States, Brown participated in and was impacted by  the Revolutionary War. British troops attacked Newport and President Manning was forced to close the college, which wouldn’t reopen for six years. Many students joined the war effort and University Hall served as military barracks for American troops and hospitals for French soldiers. Contrast the portrait of Washington through the candlelight tradition with that of a more traditional painted portrait. The John Hay Library has a famous portrait by Gilbert Stuart on loan, and the RISD Museum’s Pendleton House has a permanent one in their collection.</p><p>In addition, take some time to look at the other plaques on the outside of University Hall. One marks the building as a Historic Landmark and one commemorates Nathanael Greene, one of George Washington’s most trusted officers. Greene was born in Rhode Island to a Quaker family, and he struggled to reconcile the Quaker’s strict pacifism with his passion for military science. Think about University Hall’s connections and position in American history, which was designated as a Registered National Historic Landmark by the National Park Service in 1963. The Quakers had a large presence in Rhode Island and were known for their anti-war and abolitionist beliefs. Think about the multitude of lives University Hall has touched throughout its history -- slaves, George Washington, Quaker Nathanael Greene, and now you.</p><p>In addition, do we have a standard narrative of “Colonial America?” What is the story of Colonial America that is taught to us, and how much do we take the time to challenge that story? If we think about the language, how does the term “colonial” interact with that of “America” as born from revolution and independence?</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/345">For more (including 4 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-03-21T02:23:35+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:15+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/345"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/345</id>
    <author>
      <name>Maya Omori</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[<p>All Saints Memorial Church</p>]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><div style="text-align:center;"><em>A Gothic Revival Church</em></div></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/d99b11c73d90892da68824711cbfe757.jpg" alt="All Saints Memorial Church" /><br/><p>Providence was once a city of churches. All Saints' Memorial Church is one of the last of the religious communities that grew on “Christian Hill” in the 19th century. Within a stone’s throw were the Stewart Street Baptist Church, the High Street Congregational Church, the Union Congregational Church, as well as the Second Free Will Baptist Church and Mt. Zion AME Church, two anchors of the African-American community that grew here. All Saints’ Episcopal congregation was originally formed as St. Andrew’s in 1846 but relocated here in 1868 with a new name to honor Bishop John P.K. Henshaw, the first independent Bishop of Rhode Island. Edward Tuckerman Potter's Gothic Revival design was left without a tower due to financial difficulties. The exquisite interior features elaborate woodwork and remarkable stained glass windows, including the Sanctuary Window (c. 1875) over the altar by the Henry E. Sharpe Company of New York. Today's congregation embraces the diversity of the neighborhood, including many from Providence’s strong Liberian community.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/176">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2017-05-05T15:35:08+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:13+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/176"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/176</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[1638: The Pequot Trail]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><div style="text-align:center;"><em>An Ancient Native American Trailway in the Heart of the City</em></div></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/2637e509e6cc9d48451c93d6206cbaa0.jpg" alt="Map of Providence" /><br/><p>Right here in the heart of the city lies a trace of an ancient trailway used by the Indigenous Peoples who inhabited this region for thousands of years before the arrival of Europeans. This stop is located on a ridge of land looking east over the floodplain of a tidal marsh--today's downtown Providence. Much of downtown was an estuary, flooded at high tide except for a finger of land that pointed toward the east side about where the College Street bridge is today. </p><p>The Pequot Trail, leading from the tribal lands of the Pequots and Niantics in today's Connecticut, then through Narragansett lands, followed the high ground here into the marsh to that easterly pointing finger where you could wade across the river at low tide to reach the Wampanoag lands on the other side. The trail continued north to the lands of the Massachusetts, Nipmucs, and other tribes. </p><p>Weybosset (the street you're on) is a Narragansett word meaning the crossing or half-way point. </p><p>Narragansett villages, large and small, could be found every few miles along these trails and highways throughout Rhode Island. A complex network of Native communities existed across southern New England, estimated as high as 100,000 people when Europeans arrived. </p><p>This native society and its culture were disrupted by devastating conquest after the explorations of this region by Europeans in the late 16th Century. Just imagine the shock and confusion of the survivors of the "Great Dying" years of 1617-1619 when some coastal communities suffered mortality rates as high as 90%, the Wampanoag being particularly affected. Over the next fifty years, scholars estimate more than 30,000 English people arrived on the New England coast, establishing settlements, first trading and living peaceably with these First Peoples, and then as English encroachments increased, coming into greater conflict, culminating in the brutal and bloody King Philip's War of 1675-76. </p><p>Today, we still remember some of those First Peoples who lived on these lands. Massasoit and Metacomet, father and son and leaders of the Wampanoag people in peace and war. Narragansett leaders Canonicus and Miantonomi who sustained the English colonists but were ultimately betrayed by them. In 1638, Canonicus and Miantonomi made an agreement with Roger Williams over this land whose meaning is still debated today.</p><p>Despite conquest, disease, forced assimilation, and the impacts of industrialization and urbanization, the First Peoples of Southern New England have survived and continue to practice and preserve their history and tradition. Today, the Narragansett Indian Tribal Nation is one of many tribal nations that preserve their history, continue their culture, and pass down their traditions. For more information about that history, spend time exploring the <a href="http://rhodetour.org/tours/show/35" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"><em>First Peoples of Rhode Island</em></a> Rhode Tour.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/365">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-10-23T15:29:43+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/365"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/365</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[1710: The Plainfield Road]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><div style="text-align:center;"><em>A Colonial Roadway Buried by Mid-Century Redevelopment</em></div></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/e85966609c9054b9bc9e2f4340605c58.jpg" alt="John Hutchins Cady&#039;s Map of 18th Century Providence" /><br/><p>Colonial era roadways tell us something about the story of Providence. </p><p>Over the course of the 17th century, the English village settlement on the banks of the Moshassuck and Providence Rivers grew, and other settlements were established on Aquidneck Island, in Pawtuxet, and to the west. New roadways were developed to connect these farming settlements to the trading center of Providence. </p><p>By 1730, the settlement around Providence had close to 4,000 people, including 81 Native Americans and 128 people of African descent. The town was governed through town meetings and an assembly composed of men of property, all descendants of the English settlers. Administration and enforcement were communal acts. Slavery existed in Rhode Island at this time, both of indigenous peoples as well as individuals forcibly brought from Africa.</p><p>In 1708, a highway to Plainfield, Connecticut, was deemed necessary, and here, up on the high ground coming out of the salt marsh that became downtown Providence, the roadway split off of the Pequot Trail, today's Weybosset and Broad Streets. The old Plainfield Road ran along the rim of land that surrounded the Great Salt Cove like a bowl, and then headed up over Christian Hill across the plain to the west, today's Westminster Street. </p><p>At the time, Westminster Street in downtown Providence barely existed, coming just west of Turk's Head into the marshy lowlands at the edge of the Cove. Throughout the 1700s, obstructions were cleared and the marsh filled in so that Westminster Street crept gradually westward in a straight line, finally intersecting around 1763 with the Plainfield highway to form what would later be known as Cathedral Square. </p><p>When I.M. Pei's plan for the redevelopment of the western edge of downtown was implemented, that old pattern of roads, of forks that split or joined together, were replaced with a grid of streets, obscuring the old, organic pattern. Imagine standing at this intersection in 1900 and looking northwest along the Plainfield Road, filled with streetcars, horse-carts and people moving back and forth from the busy harbor to the mills of Olneyville amid the whistles, bells, clangs and clatter of the industrial city.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/366">For more (including 4 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-10-23T15:45:20+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/366"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/366</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[1812 - 1864: Reverend Edward Scott]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><div style="text-align:center;"><em>An African-American Civil Rights Activist in Providence Before the Civil War</em></div></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/77665363cfd0f65941086dff3c77497e.jpg" alt="Plat Map of the Pond Street Area" /><br/><p>Reverend Edward Scott was a political activist and anti-slavery agitator who had, himself, escaped from slavery in Virginia before becoming a minister and community leader.</p><p>Scott was born a slave in Virginia around 1812. He freed himself as well as others, eventually settling in Maine where he became a Baptist preacher. He led the Second Free Will Baptist Church (also known as the Pond Street Baptist Church) from about 1846 until 1864, living first on Angle Street as a boarder with the Gears family, also members of the church, and eventually with his wife at 54 Pond Street. Scott also worked as a clock and watch repairer with a shop at 98 High Street (today's Westminster Street).</p><p>In 1848, Scott led a public meeting that was widely attended to protest the expulsion of an African-American passenger from the Stonington and Providence Rail Road, one of the last unintegrated rail systems in New England. After 1854, he led the August 1st Emancipation Day celebration that promoted abolition in this country. The event included an invitation to all to march in a procession through the city and ended with speeches and a collation on Smith Hill. After Federal troops captured the South Carolina coastal islands during the Civil War, Scott travelled there to work with the Freedmen's Aid Society--helping the newly emancipated people adjust to freedom. </p><p>Reverend Scott died in South Carolina around 1864.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/367">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-10-23T15:59:53+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/367"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/367</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[1828: High Street Bank]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><div style="text-align:center;"><em>Early Banking in Rhode Island Fed the Industrial Revolution and Made Providence a Center of Finance in the 19th Century</em></div></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/98cd38e07ff1bcb4f5500c8e8f40ee87.jpg" alt="The High Street Bank Around" /><br/><p>In the early 19th century, the agricultural and mercantile economy of Providence was transformed by the Industrial Revolution in America, begun in nearby Pawtucket at Slater Mill. One essential ingredient for this transformation was capital. Money. The ability to gather funds from investors who were willing to extend potentially risky loans to entrepreneurs who were developing new methods of production. </p><p>Here, in <a href="http://rhodetour.org/items/show/175?tour=22&index=20" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Canonicus Square</a>, there still remains one such institution formed at the time of the early industrial expansion that was driven by cotton and woolen mills. Citizens Bank now sits at the intersection of Westminster and Cranston Streets on the site of the old Hoyle Tavern (another institution of finance and exchange from another age). Citizens Bank, however, got its start just a few dozen yards east where the High Street Bank was established in 1828. The first bank established in Rhode Island was the Providence Bank in 1791, organized by local merchants who took advantage of the young country's new banking laws to pool their capital to fund ventures in shipping and industry. </p><p>By the early 19th century, smaller mechanics and entrepreneurs were opening banks to aggregate capital for their projects. Around the time the High Street Bank was formed, Rhode Island had more than 60 commercial banks, the largest number of banks per person in the country, and the highest per capita amount of funds and notes in circulation. This capital greased the wheels of the Industrial Revolution. </p><p>By the late 19th century, New England was the most capitalized region on the planet. Local merchants and leaders of the new industries were the founding partners of the High Street Bank, like Amasa Sprague, owner of a number of cotton mills and a governor of the state. Within a few steps of the bank, original founders Duty Greene and Robert Knight had stores that were also places of exchange and deal-making. Robert Knight's two nephews, Benjamin and another Robert, later became the most significant cotton mill owners in the country. Having an uncle on the board of a bank would have been a valuable connection for these early entrepreneurs. </p><p>Around 1800, Rhode Island banks reported capital stock from investors of a few hundred thousand dollars. By about 1860, the Rhode Island banking system had capital stock of $18.7 million; over half a billion dollars in today's money. As the city's economic fortunes declined in the mid-twentieth century, so did its financial sector, leaving only a few traces of this crucial component of Providence's once spectacular economic growth.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/368">For more (including 4 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-10-23T16:17:37+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/368"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/368</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[1830: Arnold-Palmer House]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><div style="text-align:center;"><em>An Historic House Is the Last Remnant of Cathedral Square's Merchant Elite of the Early 19th Century</em></div></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/d29c3e8c86feb02b538089e152c3631e.jpg" alt="The Arnold-Palmer House Today" /><br/><p>The redevelopment of Cathedral Square in the late 1960s left few traces of what this busy city intersection once was. One of those remaining traces is the Arnold-Palmer house, moved in 1967 through the prescient preservation efforts of the Beneficent Congregational Church, to its current location at the corner of Pine and Chestnut Streets.</p><p>When the house was built, Cathedral Square was changing from a place where farmers weighed their produce on a hay scale to a posh residential district. The local economy had been transformed by the rise of finance and industry in New England. The need for labor drove immigration. All the new people and new jobs created new markets. The newly wealthy from this economic expansion were merchants and mill owners who built fine brick homes like the Arnold-Palmer House.</p><p>Daniel Arnold did well in the economic expansion of the 1820s and 30s. His trade focused on flour, but he speculated in cotton as well, as did almost all of the merchants who built their homes in the square at this time. Around 1830, five Federal-style brick mansions were built in a row on the north side of the square. Architectural historian Norman Isham has attributed these residences to skilled and prolific Providence builder John Holden Greene, whose signature monitor roof and fine craftsmanship argue for this attribution. Another merchant, Orray Taft, built his house at the corner of Jackson Street. His business focused almost exclusively on the cotton trade with Southern ports like Savannah, Mobile, and New Orleans. Emma Taft, Orray's daughter, remembered that her father had spent his early business years in Savannah where he had met Greene, who was there to build a church. </p><p>Connections between Southern cotton ports and businessmen like Taft and Arnold--as well as architects like Greene--demonstrate how tightly bound Rhode Island's industrial economy was with Southern cotton and the enslaved people who produced it. Those ties would remain as long as there were cotton mills in Rhode Island.</p><p>By the 1850s, Arnold's house was sold to Joseph Palmer, who, through the firm of Palmer & Capron, manufactured gold rings in Providence's growing jewelry business. By the 1950s, the demographic and economic decline of the city altered Cathedral Square from the wealthy residential square and busy commercial district it had been. The house had become the Grace & Hope Mission, a nonprofit focused on providing support and services for the most vulnerable in the city. By the late 1960s, the wrecking ball threatened, and thankfully, the congregants of the Beneficent Congregational Church preserved this rare piece of the past.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/369">For more (including 7 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-10-23T16:31:42+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/369"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/369</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[1836: High Street Congregational Church]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><i>The Lost History of a Church that Hosted the First Statewide Anti-Slavery Convention in Rhode Island</i></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/9b24883dc077dd188d1d6600c2dfbddc.jpg" alt="High Street Congregational Church" /><br/><p>While redevelopment often erases a city's past, the constant re-building of a city over time also leads to the loss of historical memory. One such site is 755 Westminster Street, a historic building from 1899, which replaced the High Street Congregational Church originally built in 1835. </p><p>In the 1830s, Providence was still in the first phase of industrial expansion, growing from less than 7,000 people around 1800 to almost 20,000 by the mid-1830s. At the time, churches were often at the center of people's lives and informed how they understood their place in the world. </p><p>Congregationalism is a Protestant sect that still exists today and was born out of the Puritan faith brought to this area with the English immigrants of the 17th Century. By the 1830s, Congregationalists were one of the leading faiths in Providence, along with Episcopalians, Baptists, Methodists, and Universalists: all Protestants. The Second Great Awakening, a religious movement that was spurred--in part--by anxiety around changes in society caused by industrialization, revitalized religious life in the early 19th Century. At the time, many churches focused not just on an afterlife, but on reforming the living world through moral practice and belief. They often supported the education of women, the strict observance of the Sabbath day, total abstinence from tobacco and alcohol, and notably, the abolition of slavery. </p><p>While the economic expansion of Providence was tied to the cotton produced by enslaved people in the South, that expansion also reshaped society and produced social movements that targeted the roots of those changes. Many Protestant sects, following the early moral leadership of the Quakers, became staunchly anti-slavery. In 1836, this movement gathered itself for the first meeting of a statewide organization dedicated to the abolition of slavery. They met at the High Street Congregational Church, newly built on this site. Over 200 people gathered here for speeches and lectures and famous Boston abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison made an appearance. </p><p>The Rhode Island Anti-Slavery Society continued to agitate for the end of slavery until after the Civil War when the U.S. Constitution was amended to abolish it. After the war, the High Street Church reorganized, and the building became the home of the State Normal School, a teachers' college that eventually became Rhode Island College. For a short time in the 1890s, the church was the Star Theatre, which burned in 1899 and was replaced by the brick business block that still stands at 755 Westminster Street...another layer in the evolution of the ever-changing city.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/370">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-10-23T17:43:42+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/370"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/370</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[1838: Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><i>The Cathedral Church of the Diocese of Providence Also Tells the Story of the Catholic Irish Immigrant Experience in Providence</i></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/f6da67152288e38252c23494af5291d3.jpg" alt="The First Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul" /><br/><p>During the early 19th Century, textile mills, like <a href="http://rhodetour.org/items/show/173" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Grant Mill</a> in the city of Providence, were being built across Rhode Island. The textile industry required hands to work the many machines that produced the new wealth, and Providence’s population grew dramatically with this industrial expansion. From 7,000 inhabitants around 1800, the city had near 20,000 in 1835 and 50,000 in 1860--seven times the 1800 population in three generations.</p><p>The pull of the new industries drew people from not just local and regional farms and towns, but from across oceans too. A new wave of immigrants began to pour into Rhode Island in the 1820s, first to build canals and railroads, and later to labor in the mills. This wave was drawn largely from Ireland, reaching a peak during the Irish Famine of the 1840s. In 1860, about 10,000 (or 20%) of the inhabitants of Providence had been born in Ireland. When American-born children of Irish immigrants are included, they made up about 40% of the total population of the city, a radical transformation.</p><p>Back in the 1830s, when there were only a few hundred Irish families in Providence, the first Catholic parish in the city was organized to serve the spiritual needs of these new arrivals. Father John Corry, an Irish immigrant himself, was appointed parish priest and began to look for a site to build a church. He found it impossible to buy a plot of land himself. Protestant-dominated Providence did not want to sell land for a Catholic church. Prejudice against Catholicism--and Irish immigrants in particular--was widespread. Francis Hye, one of the few Irish arrivals to become a citizen at the time, was able to purchase a plot along High Street where the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul stands today. He bought the land from Isaac Mathewson in Duty Greene’s store near Hoyle Square, today’s <a href="http://rhodetour.org/items/show/175" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Canonicus Square</a>. When Mathewson learned that Hye intended to transfer the land to the Catholic diocese, the story goes, he offered to buy back the lot at a significant premium, but Corry refused, realizing the value of the land and its position in the westward growing city.</p><p>The first Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul--the first Catholic parish in the city serving these new immigrants from Ireland--was dedicated in 1838. In 1872, when Rhode Island was elevated to a Catholic diocese, the newly appointed bishop planned a grand new cathedral to serve the ever-expanding Catholic population of the city. The Cathedral became a monument to the Irish Catholic experience in Providence, facing hostility and prejudice, but ultimately reweaving the fabric of the city to become central to its civic life.</p><p>---------------------</p><p>I want to thank Diocesan Historian Reverend Robert Hayman for his hard work assembling a history of the Catholic Church in Rhode Island and his generosity in sharing that work.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/371">For more (including 4 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-10-23T18:06:39+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/371"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/371</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[1842: Second Free Will Baptist Church]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><i>One of the Oldest African-American Congregations in Providence Tells a Story of Activism, Community, and Resilience</i></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/0c4b801310935c98e09d3ebfe7a107ef.jpg" alt="The Four Buildings of the Second Free Will Baptist Church" /><br/><p>The Second Free Will Baptist Church (SFWBC) is one of the oldest Black congregations in Providence, formed around 1830 by a group who left the African Union Meeting House, itself formed from the departure of African-American congregants from the white-dominated First Baptist Church in 1819. By the early 1840s, the SFWBC had a church on the west side of the growing city, and in 1842, a new church building was erected at the corner of Pond and Angle Streets, where it would remain for over one hundred years. From its origins, church members were politically active, choosing to join the Free Will denomination because of its opposition to slavery rather than the Baptist convention, which countenanced bondage at that time. </p><p>From 1846 until the Civil War, <a href="http://rhodetour.org/items/show/367" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Reverend Edward Scott</a>, himself a man who escaped slavery in Virginia, led the congregation and organized annual Emancipation Day parades to agitate for abolition in this country. Reverend Scott also led the community in action to advocate for equal rights for people of color. Another notable congregant included <a href="http://rhodetour.org/items/show/59" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Sissieretta Jones</a>, the most famous African-American soprano of the late 19th Century, singing at the White House and Carnegie Hall as well as internationally. The activism of the church continued into the 20th Century with pastors like the Reverend Dr. Samuel DeWitt Proctor, an educator, college president, and political activist. Congressman Joseph E. Newsome was also a member of the church, chair of the Board of Trustees, and church organist. While attending a conference in Ivory Coast, Newsome learned of the struggle of Liberian students in the midst of civil war and organized an exchange program that brought many Liberian students to Providence. Many of those students became residents of Providence and members of the church. They continue the church's tradition of providing a haven for immigrants and refugees in a dangerous world.</p><p>When the city announced in the early 1960s that it would purchase and demolish the church's home on Stewart Street, the congregation entered a period of crisis and uncertainty. Deacon Ralph Simmons was among those who chose to keep the congregation together and build a new home on Chester Avenue in South Providence. Deacon Simmons is the living memory of the church. He joined the congregation in the 1940s and has been gathering, preserving, and sharing the church's history since that time. </p><p>Today, the church building contains the pews and old woodwork of their former home on Stewart Street and embodies a long tradition of activism, community, and welcome. </p><p>------------------------------</p><p>I want to thank Deacon Ralph Simmons for his hard work over many years gathering and preserving the archives of the church and for his generosity in sharing that work.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/372">For more (including 4 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-10-23T18:25:08+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/372"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/372</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[1848-1929: Maritcha Lyons]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em><div style="text-align:center;"><em>A Young African-American Girl Helped Desegregate the Providence Public Schools in 1866</em></div></em></strong></p><img src="https://rhodetour.org/files/fullsize/0f7b8a09ee8f3987f1e1944d4e5ea4be.jpg" alt="Maritcha and Pauline Lyons" /><br/><p>Maritcha Lyons was an African-American teacher, writer, and activist who testified before the General Assembly as a 16-year-old girl to desegregate the Providence Public School System. In 1869, she was the first African-American to graduate from Providence High School.</p><p>Lyons was born in New York City in 1848. During the New York City Draft Riots of 1863, Black people, homes and businesses were targeted and attacked, including Maritcha's family. The Lyons fled the city, ultimately resettling in Providence. Her father made and sold ice cream and other frozen desserts and her mother was a hairdresser. They lived at 16 B Street, two doors down from the celebrated painter Edward Mitchell Bannister and his wife, Christina Bannister, also a successful hairdresser and activist. The Providence public school system was segregated at the time, and there was no high school for students of color. Black community leaders like George T. Downing had petitioned for equal access to the city's schools for years, but the requests did not gain traction until the end of the Civil War. Because of her testimony, Maritcha became the first African-American graduate of Providence High School in 1869. She went on to become a civic leader, educator, writer, and activist in Brooklyn, New York. Lyons supported African-American anti-lynching activist and journalist Ida B. Wells and co-founded the White Rose Mission in Brooklyn, New York, an organization that offered support to Black immigrants from the South and West Indies. </p><p>Maritcha Lyons died in Brooklyn in 1929.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/373">For more (including 6 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2019-10-23T18:47:20+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:57:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://rhodetour.org/items/show/373"/>
    <id>https://rhodetour.org/items/show/373</id>
    <author>
      <name>Taylor M. Polites</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
</feed>
