Fall River History

Lizzie Borden's story has been told endlessly in many different media: books, television, theater, opera, ballet, graphic novels, and even rock songs. Regardless of whatever license the story teller takes with the story, fanciful solutions to the murders, or modifications to Lizzie's character, the tale is always placed in its proper setting of Fall River, Massachusetts, an industrial city of some significance in American history. The Borden family settled there in the 17th Century, gaining distinction and wealth in the 19th Century during the rise of the textile industry, a phenomenon that put Fall River on the historical map. No re-telling of Lizzie Borden's story can exclude Fall River as a virtual character. But few of the renditions give us any real glimpse into the rich and varied past of the town on the stream which, as its textile industry significantly expanded, would effectively compete with other great regional textile centers, such as Lowell and Providence.

We are typically told that Andrew Jackson Borden, Lizzie's father, was the wealthiest man in town, and that the Borden family was Fall River's most powerful clan. While it is true that Andrew prudently, and often with great indifference to the well-being of his fellow humans, amassed a considerable cache of wealth (his estate at his death was valued at well over $300,000, a princely sum in those days), he was by no means a tycoon on the scale of his relations Richard and Jefferson Borden. These two brothers, who shared a great-great-grandfather with Andrew, were leading manufacturers who had built several of the more successful mills and established the Fall River Line, the steamship passage along the East Coast that became world-famous. These were ventures that made many a Fall River Borden quite wealthy, but Andrew Jackson Borden had to amass his money through his own sweat and diligence. While Andrew's cousins lived in opulent homes in the upper-class highlands looking down at the town center, he kept a modest Greek Revival Home on Second Street. Compared to Richard and Jefferson, as well as to M.C.D. Borden and N.B. Borden (other leading capitalists who helped to build the town to its grandeur), Andrew was not too much better than a rather-successful cabinet-maker who had done well with some real estate and mill investments. Indeed, it is unclear whether Jefferson Borden would have even troubled to acknowledge Andrew on the street, being that Lizzie's father could hardly be said to move in the same social circles, financial or otherwise.

While it is true that the Borden clan played a crucial role in the city's history, they shared that glory with other families as well. The Bordens may have benefited from their ownership of the water resources of the Quequechan at the time that the mills were first erected, but the textile industries were also developed and managed by several other powerful families. These included the Anthonys, Durfees, Remingtons, Bradfords, and Buffingtons, names that fill the pages of city history and the lawns of Oak Grove Cemetery with great prominence.

Fall River is named after the Native-American Wampanoag name for the Quequechan, which means, literally, "Falling River". Located in an arm of Narragansett Bay called Mount Hope Bay, the Quequechan connects a great inland pond with the Taunton River, one of the three rivers that geologically form the Narragansett estuary and its varied islands. The bay was naturally defensible and the falling water of the Quequechan, which boasted spectacular waterfalls due to its sudden drop in elevation, made it a good site for manufacturing. In fact, the cotton mills that rose along its banks starting in 1818 were so numerous that they virtually covered the river, forcing it underground. Today, the river is largely covered by Interstate 195, having been re-engineered as a major transportation corridor, after the once-crucial textile mills became eclipsed by global competition and closed.

King Philip's War and Colonial Settlement

Fall River has a rich and varied history that goes back almost 200 years before the building of the first mill on the stream. The Native-American history, primarily of the Wampanoag Confederacy, a coalition of Indian tribes which dominated the region for centuries, goes back much further.

The Wampanoags were an Indian tribal group who were united more by language than by any consistent political bonds. These tribes included the Pokanoket and the Narragansett, who dominated what is now the Southwestern Coast of Massachusetts. The sachem or chief of the Pokanoket was Massasoit, a great leader who was the first to make contact with the Mayflower Pilgrims after they landed in 1620 to establish Plymouth Colony. Massasoit was at first highly suspicious of the British newcomers, since a terrible illness had wiped out as much as eighty per cent of his population, and the British were rumored to be bringing more plague in their cargo. Since his warriors had been greatly reduced, the Pokanoket were vulnerable to attack from their neighboring rivals, the Narragansett, who threatened to attack them with their superior numbers. It was thus in Massasoit's interest to form an alliance with the Plymouth colony, and he did in fact help them through their first winter; that aid ultimately ensured that the colony didn't perish from starvation. When we celebrate Thanksgiving today, we are recreating a feast that celebrates the alliance between the Plymouth colonists and Massasoit's Pokanoket tribe.

For several decades, the peace was held between Massasoit and Plymouth Colony, but then several circumstances strained the groups' amity. These included the arrival of the much larger and better-funded Massachusetts Bay Colony, a legal and financial venture that was not as warm to the Indians as the Pilgrims had been. The shifting allegiances between the various Indian tribes, the betrayals and assassination attempts, the land swindling and livestock thefts, the take-over of the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam by the British, and finally the death of Massasoit in 1661, were all elements of transformation in the power relations between the natives and the Europeans. When Massasoit's son Wamsutta, who had succeeded his father as Sachem, died under mysterious circumstances, Massasoit's younger son Metacomet believed that the British had to be driven back into the sea or else his people's country would completely vanish. Metacomet had his name legally changed to Philip and demanded to be treated as an equal to the King of England, earning him the moniker of King Philip. The savage conflict known as King Philip's War erupted in 1675, a war that was perhaps inevitable considering the fifty-five years of unrelenting tension in the area. The Indians had systemically reduced their own land, selling large tracts to the ravenous real estate needs of the British, and Philip wanted to reverse that process. At the start of King Philip's War, the Pokanoket leader forged alliances with other tribes who, facing assault from the British themselves due to war hysteria and political paranoia, were forced to choose sides in the conflict.

The fighting was brutal and bloody, a war of attrition where military victories were paid for with high death tolls. The Indians' attacks on the British colonists were unrelenting: entire towns were ransacked, Providence was burned to the ground, and the entire colony of Rhode Island had to retreat to Aquidnick Island for protection. But soon the tide turned, and the Indians slowly began to lose their advantage. King Philip was hunted down and killed and the main hostilities ceased, with the Wampanoag Confederacy virtually destroyed. Several hundred Indian captives were sold as slaves and shipped to Bermuda, including King Philip's wife and son. The Sachem's severed head was put on display in the Plymouth Colony for several decades, a testament to the European dominance of the region and the violence with which it had been achieved.

Shortly before the war in 1659, the first land sale occurred on the soil that was later to be known as Fall River. This sale was transacted between Wamsutta (Massasoit's son and King Philip's brother) and residents of the Plymouth Colony. Known as the Freeman's Purchase, the transaction gave the British the land north of the Quequechan River, although they were not able to settle the land until after the war. The Pocasset Purchase, which granted lands south of the Quequechan, was transacted between Plymouth Colony and a few Indians who had been loyal to the British during the fighting. In this regard, it seemed more like a war spoil than a legitimate sale. By 1692, all of Plymouth Colony was annexed into the Massachusetts Bay Colony, including the lands that had been previously purchased around the Quequechan. By this time, the Borden family, all descendants of the brothers John and Richard who had come to America in 1635, had begun to occupy the lots of these purchases.

By the time Andrew and Abby Borden met their deaths in 1892, the Borden family had been on American soil for over two hundred and fifty years, and the descendants of Richard and John were quite numerous. The Bordens originally hailed from France, from the town of Bourdonnay in Normandy. They migrated to England with William the Conqueror in 1066, and settled in the County of Kent for over six hundred years before fleeing to Wales in order to escape England's religious intolerance. It was in Wales that Richard and John were born; but they both died old men in Plymouth Colony, before King Philip's War was to ravage the area.

One of the veterans and heroes of the war, Colonel Benjamin Church, bought lots in the Pocasset Purchase and began to erect a few mills on the Quequechan River. Eventually, Colonel Church sold his property to the Bordens, giving that family a monopoly on the land both north and south of the river. For a long time, however, the community remained largely agricultural, and the 18th Century passed with little change in the area's agrarian character. The way of life was largely self-sufficient; the game, fish and farmland were quite plentiful, providing the residents of what was then known as Freetown with a comfortable existence. A large abundance of lumber made for some enviable homes, and the families of Freetown, with their modest number of mills, quaint farms, and protected status as part of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, comprised a community that was typical of a settlement of its day. Ferries were established, newspapers were founded, roads and bridges built; and a school for Indians who had converted to Christianity was started. The population was largely Quaker and Congregational, and the Sabbath was strictly observed. A big political concern was a dispute with Rhode Island over the boundary lines between Tiverton and Freetown, a controversy that was not resolved until 1862, nearly 200 years after its inception.

The Revolutionary War

Faced with the aftermath of the Boston Tea Party, the population of Freetown was forced to confront the inevitable forces of revolution in January of 1774. At first, the Tories and Loyalists of the community decried the act of rebellion that threatened the "Vengence of an Affronted Majesty"; but by September, the town had taken an about-face, and the people were more favorable to a rebellion against the Crown. A committee was formed to consult with other towns about what the proper common course should be, and soon a militia was being raised to help protect the colonists' lives and property against attack by the British. On July 15, 1776, Freetown held a town meeting at which those present upheld the principles and resolutions of the Declaration of Independence, and promised to support the newly-formed General Congress in its proclamation that the American colonies were free and independent states. This was a bold step, and one that potentially carried severe consequences, as both Freetown and the hundreds of other towns across the New England colonies were all-too-well aware.

As it turned out, the fighting in Freetown was confined to a single but significant incident on May 25, 1778. Colonel Joseph Durfee had rallied a militia under his command, setting up a watch on the western shore of Mount Hope Bay to monitor the British troops on Rhode Island. The property that was most vulnerable to attack was Borden land, at the location where the Quequechan emptied into Mount Hope. When the British did attack, they let loose with their cannons at the "little band of Spartans", as Colonel Durfee characterized his men, forcing them to retreat. The British then proceeded to set fire to Richard Borden's mills and home, even taking the old man captive. When Durfee and his men learned of the captivity of one of their own, they fought back with ferocity, ultimately forcing the British back into their boats.

According to Colonel Durfee, the British tried to get Borden to stand up in the boat, hoisting him upright in an effort to discourage the rebels from firing. The old man, however, was too shrewd to permit that; he pressed himself flat against the bottom of the boat, refusing to play their game. In the face of the determined fire of Colonel Durfee's men, Borden's gesture helped force the British into total retreat. Eventually, they sent Borden back, realizing they could not get any information out of him. The total cost of the battle had been two British soldiers killed and they were promptly buried with dignity.

Such was the Battle of Freetown, but its significance lies more in the fact that the patriotic zeal of the community was encouraged by a defense of their lands against what was to them, unquestionably, a foreign invasion. As a consequence, several of the more prominent loyalists in the area were converted to the patriotic cause, furthering weakening the British attempts to salvage the colonies from Independence.

With the successful outcome of the Revolutionary War, tumultuous changes were unfolding across the colonies due to the freedom of independence. Freetown, which by 1800 had grown to over 2,500 inhabitants, began to feel growing pains and there was an increased need to split into two communities. The division was strongly opposed by many who perceived the Quequechan River as the area's most valuable geographical and economic resource, and were reluctant to give up ownership of it, but the state senate, after carefully consideration, signed a bill enacting the split and the town of Fall River was incorporated on February 26, 1803.

A petition to change the name was immediately drafted, pleading that "Fall River" was generally associated with the land about the Quequechan, and that the men who were charged with dividing the town all conveniently happened to own property along the river. This, the petitioner's contended, would result in subjecting those who lived more remotely from the water course to prejudices that would "seriously disturb the minds & peace of the inhabitants." Whatever merit these arguments may have had, the petition was eventually successful and the name of the town was changed to Troy on June 18, 1804. That name was chosen because a leading citizen of Fall River had recently visited Troy, New York and had been much impressed with the burgeoning city he found there.

The change was short-lived however. The town was renamed Fall River in 1833 after citizens complained that their mail was being misdirected to other towns and villages in the area named Troy. It was felt that Fall River, after all, was a better name for the town's civic identification. Besides, the Village of Fall River, a community of small mills and increasingly prosperous capitalists, had manufacturing potential that would come to dominate the area's economy over the course of the next century.

The Rise of the Textile Industry

By 1804, the area known today as Fall River had been settled by Europeans and their descendants for almost 150 years. There had been mills along the stream and elsewhere in the area, but industry in the town did not impress any more or less than typical New England towns of their day. The advantages of Fall River lay largely in the excellent source of hydraulic power that the Quequechan provided for millwork and the growing giant of 19th century industrialism would demand such power. It was in the second decade that this power was effectively exploited, leading to an unprecedented growth in the application of industrial technology, wealth and culture. Fall River was passing out of its childhood and entering into its early adult years, fueled by the vast enterprising energy that the Industrial Revolution was unleashing, and by the conversion of America's agrarian society into an uninhibited capitalist experiment.

It was in 1811 that Colonel Joseph Durfee, the Revolutionary War hero who had distinguished himself at the Battle of Freetown, built a cotton mill in Globe Village in Tiverton. While Durfee's was an enterprise that still relied upon outsourced help to clean the raw cotton and to weave the final cloth from the yarn, the mill set a precedent for other industrious townspeople. In 1813, two new mills were erected in Fall River, setting off an economic spark that would continue to ignite throughout the rest of the century. The two businesses were called, respectively, the Troy Cotton & Woolen Manufactory and the Fall River Manufactory. The year of the new mills' construction was not insignificant: the War of 1812 had halted the import of foreign cloth, and domestic production was thereby stimulated. The growth of mills in Fall River would continue unabated throughout the entire 19th century, and would give birth to the Fall River of Lizzie Borden's day.

As the decade progressed, mill technology for textile manufacture improved dramatically. Power looms were introduced, centralizing the cloth assembly process. This change, in turn, caused a need for more and more skilled labor to work in the mills themselves; hence, boarding houses for the mill workers were built. This system, perfected in nearby Lowell with great success, had proven a superior production model. The first generation of workers were mostly young women from Yankee farms who were promised a work environment and life-style that avoided the evil excesses of European industrialism, in particular child labor and starvation wages. Working in the mills was promoted as healthy and improving; the factory girls could learn skills, attend lectures, live in boarding houses that provided for their material needs and send their earnings back home to the farm so their brothers could attend college. This utopian dream started to decay as the demands of manufacturing became undeniable and immigrant labor began to flood the workforce, turnouts closed down assembly lines, and an aggressive movement for a ten-hour work day divided people along class, sex, and ethnic lines.

By mid-century, all aspects of the textile manufacturing process had been absorbed into the mills which had grown in complexity, introducing carding rooms, weaving rooms, spinning rooms, and other specialized structures, like dye-houses. With this specialization also came a sociological alienation of labor experienced by the workers: an artisan whose creative artistry was previously essential to the manufacturing process was now only needed to perform repetitive and mechanized labor. This in turn made the overworked and underpaid worker a virtual slave to the mill owner. Young women who came to Fall River to make their start in the world were often assigned to oversee multiple power looms in a mill, their safety endangered by the machinery, their hearing destroyed by the roar of the looms, and their aspirations ultimately crushed by the long job hours and highly repetitive tasks.

Throughout the next few decades, Fall River was to experience an exponential growth of industry that was to reshape the town from its agrarian incarnation of the 1700s into the city of wealth and power which Lizzie Borden and her generation called home. The Borden family was to play a major role in this growth, rising from their modest social status as store clerks, carpenters, and farmers to became the managers, directors, and agents of some of the most lucrative and powerful mills in New England. Unlike the capitalistic power investors of the textile industry (the best known of which was the Boston Associates), the Bordens of Fall River started only with their work ethics and water privileges. They ended up, however, by re-shaping the society in which they lived. By the end of the Civil War, the textile industry of Fall River was to have significant national prominence, with the Borden family unquestionably an integral part of the industry's development and a vital linchpin of its on-going success.

Entrepreneurial men like Holder Borden and his uncles Richard and Jefferson Borden, all helped to establish cloth and print works, a world-class steamship line, a railroad, an iron works, and several banking institutions. These men were key figures in the history of Fall River industry, as well as leading members of its society. From our historical perspective, however, these industrial pioneers were also excellent examples of the enterprising mentality that abstracted labor, alienated workers, and justified the use of inhuman means to achieve profit driven ends. One of the Borden brothers was quoted as saying: "I regard my work-people just I regard my machinery. So long as they can do my work for what I choose to pay them, I keep them, getting out of them all that I can…When my machines get old and useless, I reject them, and get new, and these people are part of my machinery." Such a comment reflects the capacity for heartless abstraction exhibited by the American industrialist of the mid-1800s. By comparison, Andrew Borden's rational and cold approach to his clients and tenants seems rather mild.

The wealth and power of the Borden family continued into the next generation. Richard's son M.C.D. Borden, and Jefferson's son Spencer Borden, were equally crucial to the post-Civil War expansion of industry in the 1870s. By the time that Lizzie Borden was a young high school girl and living at 92 Second Street with her affluent father, the Borden family had thoroughly infiltrated (and in some cases had created) the means of production, transportation and finance in Fall River. Indeed, the Borden family's pivotal role in so many aspects of Fall River's industry made them one of the most powerful families in the industry. To the elite of Boston, Providence, and other textile manufacturing cities like Lowell and Waltham, the Bordens must have come across as a rural and untamed upstart clan. Andrew's membership in that clan, however, did not reflect in his own social status; such stature as he had, was one that he had to painstakingly build for himself with his furniture business and investments. Andrew inherited his ancestors' determination to maximize financial growth, even if achieving that single-minded purpose meant legally, but heartlessly, exploiting his tenants or business partners.

Lizzie Borden was born in 1860, just at the start of the Civil War, but was to come of age in a post-war Fall River boom that surpassed even the days of Holder Borden. More than a dozen new mills came into being, and the population of the city swelled from 17,000 in 1865 to over 43,000 in 1874. This exponential growth of the city was, of necessity, also accompanied by a complete upgrade to its infrastructure. Roads were improved, widened, and graded; a public water works, new schools, firehouses, and a new post office were built. A bridge over the Taunton was constructed, as were the beginnings of a sewer system. Also of note was the erection of an Academy of Music, an impressively-large palace of art and culture, just one block from Lizzie Borden's front porch. We are tempted to speculate on what musical and theatrical programs she enjoyed at the Academy during its first decade of operation.

By the time the hatchet came swinging down on Andrew Borden on August 4th, 1892, Fall River had existed in one form or another for over 250 years. The town's successive generations had seen many stages of its evolution: the primitive wilderness days of Massasoit and King Philip; the colonial elegance of the pre-Revolutionary days; Fall River's inclusion as part of the United States of America, and the start of its large-scale industrialism; and, most recently, the final growth spurt that had created a major American city. From Lizzie Borden's perspective, Fall River in 1892 must have seemed a modern world of technological and financial achievement, one that had she could justifiably view as having been built, in large measure, by her own family.