Second of a three-part series:
When we concluded last week’s Transitions column, pioneer settlers from Moody were engaged in a secret “vigilante” committee meeting. Frustrated after 15 years of unsuccessfully protesting the serious consequences and hardships of the uncontrolled dam level, these hardy pioneers were about to take matters into their own hands.
Before we review that dramatic activity, however, it should be noted that the dam was of substantial size – 300 feet long by 10 feet above still water high, with 14-inch timbers and 38,000 cubic feet of stone. It was built in 1870. Despite its massive construction in May of 1871, a heavy spring runoff caused the dam to gave way. John Snell, a prominent lumberman, killed a team of horses by driving them to death in order to get ahead of the flood and warn people in Potsdam. Note: It took 36 hours for the flood to reach that village.
The Potsdam Herald Recorder carried in its files an account of the incident. John Snell, uncle of long-time Congressman Bertrand H. Snell, was logging this region at the time. He started with is team of blacks for Potsdam from South Colton, “running his horses all the way,” the newspaper reported. He reached Potsdam before dark. The townspeople turned out and worked to strengthen the booms at the head of Oak Island. About noon on Saturday, the river began to show the effects of the freshet, the wreckage of a sawmill near Hannawa being the first evidence. The water flowed over Raymond Street, people moved out of their houses and machinery was taken out of the factories. Bridges and streets were crowded with sightseers.
About noon, a bulkhead guarding the water wall east of Fall Island gave way and the flood rushed through. The Wathins, Leete and Co. foundry was inundated, Gatchelders Mill torn from its foundations and the Sparrow and Swan machine shop crushed. Booms were carried out with a heavy loss of logs. Thanks to Snell’s dramatic ride, there was no loss of life and damage was held to a minimum.
Within a year, the Raquette River Reservoir Co. had fully repaired the dam, and millions upon millions of logs continued to be sluiced through its gates to downstream mills.
As mentioned in an earlier column, the Reservoir Co. was composed of influential Potsdam lumbermen. In reviewing the names of the members of that company, I was struck by the remarkable fact that all of them would later become not only residents of the community but also powerful and noteworthy contributors to our history and subsequent growth. Those principals were: Henry Day, John Snell, Luke Usher, Albert Hosley and George Sisson.
Henry Day was a founder of the Norwood Manufacturing Co. Later, when that firm purchased John Hurd’s “Big Mill” on Racquette Pond, he became its president. He was an original director and founder of the Tupper Lake National Bank and later became president of that institution.
John Snell and his brother, Hollis, owned much land here. Betrand Snell, Hollis’ son, would become a U.S. Congressman, whose power and prestige in the nation’s capital would be a major influence in Tupper Lake being chosen as the location for Federal Hospital #96, later called Sunmount.
Luke Usher was a former Potsdam banker (First National). He established the mill that would bring Piercefield into existence. Financial problems resulted in the Roswell Flower interests acquiring the Piercefield property that was then sold to International Paper Co. He also owned several farms here, including what was known as the Hayes Farm, where Sunmount is now located, and Usher Farm, located on what today is a pine plantation on lands leased to the No-Mis Hunting Club by the John Hancock Trust Co., and which are currently up for sale.
George Sisson was a member of the prominent Sisson family that had extensive land holdings here. Charles Sisson, sent here to manage the family firm, the A. Sherman Lumber Co., was the first mayor of this village (1900).
Albert Hosley was an officer of the Norwood Manufacturing Co., located on the shore of Racquette Pond. When that firm sold to the Santa Clara Co., Mr. Hosley retired and purchased the 160-acre farm once owned by associate Usher. He later sold that farm to this village for $20,000, and it was later offered to the U.S. Government for $1 as a site for the Veteran’s Hospital. Mr. Hosely was a vice-president of the Tupper Lake National Bank, and he was one of the founders of the highly successful Altamont Milk Co.
Readers may detect a certain duality in the above profiles. Here we have respected, vigorous, highly successful individuals on the one hand, yet whose methods of moving product to their mills was suspect and caused such wanton environmental destruction and harm to others’ properties. But I’ll let readers smarter than I resolve that conundrum.
The Moody pioneers didn’t wait for any “ethical awakening” from those mill owners. In 1885, armed iron bars, cant hooks and pick axes, a vigilante committee, in what must have been a Herculean task, tore the dam apart. This afforded temporary relief, but two years later, in 1887, the huge central pier that had been left intact had gathered logs, flood wood and debris, and it held a great amount of water in check (not unlike the current situation most spring seasons when the LeBoeuf Bridge piers collect such debris. Just don’t be downstream when the caretaker employs a crane to clear the mess and release everything to continue elsewhere).
The vigilantes made a second visit to demolish the pier. Unfortunately, this time a large section of the log-bound rock formation (crib) gave way suddenly, and Fred Freeman, one of the workers and 21-year-old son of Judge Freeman, was carried down the falling mass. He was still alive when taken from the river but died before his father and comrades could get him home across the three miles of water to the Moody landing.
With the dam no longer in place, the water level reduced the flooding of certain lands and made it possible for industry to locate along the Racquette Pond and present-day Demars Blvd. It also allowed the junction point for two railroads and the building of Faust.
There were, however, some new problems that surfaced. With no dam in place, there was no way to control area water levels. It was quickly realized that a dam was necessary if the water levels were to be kept to a “moderate fluctuation between high and low limits.” It would not be rebuilt, however, until 1933, when a new stone- and concrete-reinforced dam would be built on the site of the original dam at Setting Pole Rapids.
The dam, over the years, would prove to be a major headache to this community. Costly repair and maintenance items, lawsuits and controversy have plagued its existence. In addition, the dam stilled a free-flowing river, a section that had become famous as early travelers and writers extolled its extraordinary trout fishing and pristine surroundings. It had been a place where Indians, since the retreat of the ice sheet, had used setting poles to ascend and descend its shallow stretch of rapids on their way to summer hunting and fishing grounds. One of their favorite destinations was a place they called “A-rey-una,” or “green rocks,” now called Tupper Lake.