About Connections: Love it or hate it, history is a map. Those who hate history think it irrelevant; many who love history think it escapism. In truth, history is the clearest road map to how we got here: America in the twenty-first century.
It’s the old story: you successfully protect the chicken coop from the fox and the eagle swoops in and eats your chickens.
Lenox 1878: Attorney Thomas Post receives a letter from an agitated client.
Allen Comstock is a third generation Berkshire native, born Lenox 1813. He marries Sarah White of Pittsfield in 1836, and together they have 10 children.
Early in life Comstock goes west and with his older brothers William, Gilbert and George, establishes the Comstock Stove Company in Keokuk, Iowa. In May 1872, he purchases a house in Lenox – a second or summer home.
Now in February 1878, Comstock is 65 years old and he is in trouble. A Mrs. Cross contacts him and claims she has an infant child, Comstock is the father, and she wants money.
Comstock writes Post, “This Mrs. Cross is the woman who was housekeeper for me in the summer of 1876 when my wife was sick in Boston…She has become bold and…seems determined to make me trouble and annoyance.”
Comstock is vehement in his denial of the charge.
“She has not a scrap of evidence to make a case against me.”
The letters fly between attorney and client throughout 1878.
In his earliest letters Comstock claims there is no possibility that the charge is true. Because his wife was sick in Boston, he was not in the house but in Boston with her.
Comstock wonders “how far can she get on her word alone with no supporting evidence?”
But his wife dies and is brought home to Lenox for burial, Comstock’s anxiety increases.
“When my wife died, we were alone in the house.” There is opportunity.
“It looks bad…the presumption would be against me.” The accused is becoming nervous, “you know how I hate a scandal.”
Comstock offers $100 to dispense with the matter “but no more. I do not like to support another’s child.”
The offer is turned down, and Comstock is not surprised. “Those bent on blackmail are not easily satisfied.”
Comstock vacillates between certainty that they cannot establish a case and fear that they can. “There was a cook in the house who had an affair with the chauffeur. We had to discharge him. She had a baby out of wedlock.” He speculates that Mrs. Cross is using that infant and claiming it is his and hers. He is relieved “she [the cook] does not bring a charge as well.”
Cross and her attorney, “the Albany people,” continue to press for money, and Comstock fears for his house. He fears there will be a judgment in Mrs. Cross’ favor and the sheriff will seize his house.
He proposes they transfer title to Andrew J. Waterman, a Pittsfield justice of the peace and nephew by marriage. The deal is fairly tricky.
“I am about to engage in business in the west. [with the house gone] you could defy the Albany people…if my plans work here I will make the money to redeem the property in Lenox.”
Comstock writes Post, “I hope you will see Waterman at an early moment and fix matters.”
In 1878 “in consideration of $15,000” the property is transferred to A. J. Waterman of Pittsfield.
Safe!
“I plan to return East in the fall. Will I hear from the Albany people if I return? Tell me plainly.”
As far as we can tell from a distance of 137 years, Comstock dodges the bullet.
“May 22, 1878 I am glad to hear that the Albany matter is settled.”
Was he guilty?
“You and Waterman understood all of the circumstances of this mean and to me provoking affair.”
Apparently not but he was vulnerable nonetheless: “I so utterly abominate scandal that I am glad to submit to almost anything to avoid it. It seems to me that looking from my standpoint if I were not so proud…I would have fought this case to the bitter end.”
Luckily, his attorney and nephew fought in his stead because otherwise Comstock feared he would have to “stay clear of Lenox fearing talk.”
Mrs. Cross, her law suit, and her attorney disappear as soon as they believe his property is gone and Comstock stands on the threshold of bankruptcy. It was partly contrivance. The property is in the name of Justice Andrew J. Waterman but presumably a subsequent sale will benefit Comstock.
However, it was becoming increasingly true. As matters worsened out west, Comstock writes Post: “I lack the funds to get back east.”
He adds that his account at Lee Bank is overdrawn, and he owes Richard Goodman an interest payment on a mortgage of $35.
His ventures in the west were the Comstock Stove Company and the Big Horn Mine. Too bad it was not the Comstock Mine (the biggest strike in US history).
His finances could be put right if the Lenox property sold and Comstock writes Waterman, “I think Sands wants the place and would give a fair price if he knows there are other offers. He knows what it costs to [have] a place in Lenox. Winthrop paid $25,000 for 20 acres with nothing but a barn.”
The prospects are good and then in swoops the eagle.
Pursuant to a court order obtained by his older brother, William H. Comstock, Deputy Sheriff H. G. Wellington seizes the Lenox property and sells is at public auction. While Comstock focused on “the Albany matter,” the “business out west” went badly awry.
Philip J. Sands purchases Glad Hill. In advance of scandal, Comstock scurries out of Lenox, and ends his days living with his daughter in Newton.
Fox averted; eagle triumphant, and Comstock the chicken.
