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Stories of Cape Cod

Chapter 3: SANDWICH——
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About This Book

A collection of short historical sketches and anecdotes organized town-by-town across Cape Cod, blending colonial-era planning and maritime lore with local industry and personalities. Chapters recount early efforts to create a canal, coastal hazards and shipwrecks, and the rise and decline of regional trades such as glassmaking, fishing, and meatpacking, alongside vignettes about notable residents and community customs. The work pairs practical milestones and technological firsts with human-interest stories to create a mosaic portrait of place, character, and changing daily life along the Cape.

SANDWICH——

Joe Jefferson Described It As
“The Handsomest Town Out of
England”

Joseph Jefferson, great actor of his time, called Sandwich, Cape Cod, “the handsomest town out of England.” And even today it is interesting to note that Sandwich—the first town settled on Cape Cod—imparts more of the nostalgic feeling than any other community on the Cape.

Massive trees shade her quiet streets, with their beautiful old homes, and the stranger is conscious of a serenity that places her apart from the modern world. But, Sandwich, founded in 1637 and with a present population of less than 2,000 has much to talk about.

The ancestry of President Franklin D. Roosevelt is traced to the historic Freeman Farm, at a junction on Route 28. Alvin Page Johnson of Swampscott, Mass., an accredited genealogist, definitely connects the President with Cape Cod ancestry and beyond to John Howland, a Mayflower passenger. Edmond Freeman was among the ten men who came from Saugus and settled Sandwich. He, according to data discovered by this genealogist in 1934, was found to be one of the early American ancestors of our President. Back of the Freeman Farm are boulders with bronze tablets marking the graves of Edmond and his wife, Elizabeth.

DANIEL WEBSTER’S HAVEN

“Rip Van Winkle” lies in another Sandwich grave. Joe Jefferson had a strong desire to live in Sandwich. Both he and his friend, President Grover Cleveland, negotiated to buy houses there, but were unsuccessful. Historians drop the hint that this might have been because the righteous Puritans of the community did not want an actor in their midst. At any rate it is recorded on good authority that Jefferson remarked to a friend: “They wouldn’t let me live in Sandwich, but they can’t prevent my burial there.”

Daniel Webster, great statesman, spent some of his pleasantest hours on annual fishing and hunting excursions to the streams and marshes of Sandwich. Daniel Webster Inn, the first stagecoach stop for Cape Cod travellers of yore, and still providing food and good cheer, was named for him. Webster put up there. He drank his rum straight and when he was not engaged in camaraderie with the townsmen in the inn’s quaint little taproom, the jug was delivered by a lift direct to his room.

Millions of American kiddies of this and past generations can feel indebted to Sandwich, for here, also, is the birthplace of one of their favorite authors. Thornton W. Burgess was born in Sandwich in 1874 and here he discovered the beloved little characters of his animal kingdom, whose adventures he put into print and which have lulled many a child into slumberland. Thornton Burgess had to put a little boy of his own to bed after his wife’s death, and that’s how he first began discovering his delightful little characters of the woods and fields.

The great meat packing industry, Swift and Company of Chicago, stemmed from the brain and tireless toil of Gustavus Franklin Swift, who was born in Sandwich in 1839. Gustavus’ ambitions came to light in early boyhood when he bought hens from his grandfather at 40 cents each, then sold each hen at a profit. At 16 he bought a heifer, slaughtered it and peddled the meat. At his death Swift and Company was capitalized at $25,000,000. Building the foundation for the business on Cape Cod, Gustavus would drive pigs through the streets of Hyannis, aided by a well-trained Collie dog. A housewife would come to the door, single out the porker she wanted, and the dog and master would then thread through the procession and work together to corner the pig until the transaction was completed. The Swift family moved to Barnstable in 1861. Tools used on Cape Cod in the beginning of the great meat business were collected in Barnstable some years ago and now form a prized collection at the Swift plant in Chicago.

FAME OF SANDWICH GLASS

Sandwich, herself, was in the big industry bracket. Indeed, the products of the Boston & Sandwich Glass Company have given the community national fame, and this fame lives on today. Sandwich glass, by virtue of design and distinctive colorings, is prized by collectors all over the country. Here the largest glass-works in the country flourished in 1850, with 500 master-craftsmen and a weekly output of 100,000 pounds. There is the legend that the first skilled glass blowers were from England and were smuggled into this country in barrels at a time when they were forbidden to enter this country. The famous plant is in ruins now. It closed down after a strike in 1888, though, at that time, machine-made glassware, turned out in Pittsburgh and Chicago, was entering into competition with the wares fashioned by the original Sandwich artificers.

Humor and curious laws and prejudices lighten the pages of Sandwich history. A story that always gets a chuckle is that of “Seth the Peddler” who, in 1669, was ordered out of town “lest he might become a public charge.” Seth Pope shook the dust of Sandwich, but before he left he announced he would be back and he would “buy up the town.” Which is exactly what he did. Thirty years after making his bitter departure, Seth, no longer the humble peddler, strode back into Sandwich and proceeded to purchase nearly all the land in the town. He built two houses and gave one each to his sons, Seth and John. Then Seth Pope left Sandwich for good after letting it be generally known “he would not live in the damn town.”

And, romancing was decidedly different in those olden days of Sandwich. Richard Bourne, minister to the Mashpee Indians, lost his wife, Bathsheba. Not long after, he wrote to a widow who was to be his second wife: “I have had divers motions since I received yours, but none suits me but yourself, if God soe incline your myndie to marry me ... I doe not find in myselfe any flexableness to any other but an utter loatheness.”