This is a story with an unusual
cast of characters: some civic-minded townspeople, a wealthy
ship captain, a respected man of letters, a hermit, and a bulldozer
operator. And the State of California.
The first name in the story is that of Captain Nathaniel Randall,
who between l8l0 and l840 maintained a circulating library in
his house, using his own large collection of books. A smaller
collection was kept and lent out by Augusta Lyon, who established
a district library in the building that housed the original
Bridgewater post office.
The Bridgewater Library Association was established in l904,
but it wasn’t until l909, when a room for library purposes
was established at the recently built town hall, that the first
public library in Bridgewater was born. Mabelle Sanford, a member
of a prominent Bridgewater family, was a driving force behind
this effort. She sent out subscriptions to many people who were
associated with the town. Among them was Captain William Dixon
Burnham.
Captain Burnham, who was born in Litchfield in l847, had lived
in Bridgewater and in Sharon as a boy and all his life he retained
fond memories of these towns. When he was fourteen years old,
he went to sea and ultimately became a shipmaster. Burnham made
many voyages around the world and, after the annexation of the
Hawaiian Islands in l898, was instrumental in establishing the
American-Hawaiian Steamship Company. As the fortunes of this
company prospered, so did those of Burnham, who was the general
manager.
But Captain Burnham wasn’t just a successful businessman.
He was also a well-read man, fond of English fiction and poetry.
These pursuits, coupled with his affection for Bridgewater,
led him to make a will leaving the bulk of his estate, after
the death of his wife, to the Town of Bridgewater. The money
was to be used for purposes of an educational nature -- specifically,
for a school and a library.
To carry out the provisions of the will, a building committee
was established, which included David C. Sanford, Charles G.
Sanford, and Burton E. Canfield. Land was purchased, Harden
De V. Pratt, a Boston architect, drew the plans, and the construction
of the new library was awarded to H.H. Taylor & Son of New
Milford. Construction began in l925, using Mine Hill granite
from nearby Roxbury. The Greek Revival style building was capped
with a green slate roof.
The new library’s dedication took place on August 26,
l926, with a lunch served from the town hall, the unveiling
of a plaque honoring Captain Burnham, and a keynote address
by The Honorable Hiram Bingham, U.S. Senator from Connecticut.
He declared, “I know of no greater pleasure than to browse
among books.”
For several decades, the new library had ample room on its two
floors for its growing book collection, but by the early l960’s
more space was needed. The impetus for a fundraising program
for a new library wing came with the death in l963 of the man
of letters mentioned in this history’s first paragraph.
This was Van Wyck Brooks, a biographer and a critic. He was
an esteemed resident of Bridgewater, and a library wing seemed
a most fitting tribute to him. The Van Wyck Brooks Memorial
Fund Committee was established for this purpose.
Unfortunately -- despite publicity in such places as The Saturday
Review and The New York Times, and despite the sponsorship of
such luminaries as Pearl Buck, Archibald MacLeish, and Samuel
Eliot Morrison -- the fundraising effort was not a success.
After eight years, and the expense of publicity, there was just
about enough money to commission a bust of Mr. Brooks and to
install some of his memorabilia -- his desk, his books, etc.
(These items can be found in what is now the library’s
Biography section.) The small amount left over was set aside
for the purchase of books and Van Wyck Brooks bookplates. The
Committee disbanded in l972, and that seemed to be that.
Then, in l973, there came a long-distance telephone call to
the library that changed everything. It turned out that the
Van Wyck Brooks Memorial Fund was the recipient of a bequest.
Details were slow to emerge and even as they did, the news they
brought was as puzzling as it was gratifying. The testator,
Charles E. Piggott, was a hermit and a miser who had lived in
a slum in Los Angeles. He was a misanthrope and he was considered
by those who knew him to be a pauper. He had no connection to
Bridgewater. He had never even been east of the Rocky Mountains.
Yet he was leaving the Fund some $300,000. It was indeed a mystery.
His will was found only by accident, when the bulldozer operator
who was razing his shack (a municipal nuisance) happened to
notice something shiny. It was a bottle, and in it was Mr. Piggott’s
holographic will. Naturally, the State of California gave the
Burnham Library a hard time, arguing that the Van Wyck Brooks
Memorial Fund was not entitled to receive distribution of the
Estate. With the help of able counsel the Burnham Library prevailed.
Court fees and legal expenses cost a considerable amount, but
the library was finally able to receive $2l0,000.
Construction of the Van Wyck Brooks Memorial Wing began in l979,
thanks in large part to the tireless and determined efforts
of Elmer F. Garrett, a leading citizen of the town. And the
addition, dedicated in l980, served to double the size of the
library, providing space for stacks upstairs and for an additional
room downstairs in the children’s library.
And why did Mr. Piggott leave his money to a library in a town
that he had never visited and where he knew no one? The connection,
fittingly enough, is a literary one, and it was pieced together
by Burton Bernstein, a longtime Bridgewater resident. His article
on the Piggott Bequest appeared in the December 18, 1978, issue
of The New Yorker. (The article is available at the library.)
It emerged that Piggott, who left school at the age of sixteen,
was a voracious reader on any number of subjects. He loved public
libraries (they were free, after all), and it is very likely
that at a library he came across Van Wyck Brooks’ The
Flowering of New England, in which one Henry David Thoreau is
so lovingly described. Piggott saw himself as a kind of latter-day
Thoreau, especially when he read: “The mass of men led
lives of quiet desperation… Did they not know that the
wisest had always lived, with respect to comforts and luxuries,
a life more simple and meagre than the poor?… Poverty
had given him all this wealth.”
Mr. Piggott had also surely come across some of the publicity
for the Van Wyck Brooks Memorial Fund, recognized the name,
and thought, Yes, that’s where I want to leave my money.
(This money was made, by the way, through many years of his
own careful research and investment in good stocks.)
If there is one common thread among the individuals who are
part of this uncommon library history, it is the love of books
and learning. The Burnham Library today is a far cry from its
origins in the town hall. It has added computers and Internet
service, DVDs and CDs. Still, it remains true to its original
mission, which is to foster the educational, personal, and cultural
interests of the community. The library also serves as the resource
center for the students of the Burnham School and as a meeting
place for various Town organizations. It stands today as a vital,
integral part of the Bridgewater community. As such, it would
certainly win Captain Burnham’s approval, and perhaps
Mr. Piggott’s, too.
