I didn’t waste anytime checking out of my hotel Tuesday morning in Concord. This trip had been a long time coming since I first started talking about it some twelve years ago and after driving across Massachusetts and New York to get here, my mind was reeling with anticipation. I know that sounds silly, after all, what is there to do in Concord? Not much really. It’s a small town after all and believe it not, I don’t think they have a McDonalds or a Walmart and that’s the way it should be for the city with a legacy of American independence.
It was a beautiful morning when I drove through downtown Concord for the first time and parked behind the visitors center. There was no reason to go inside because it was too early…they weren’t open yet. The sun was golden coming through the orange and yellow trees and the first thing I saw…cemeteries. They’re everywhere in Concord. Unusual stones too made of slate and some still have pagan motifs, but what surprised me was their age. It’s not unusual to see headstones with dates from the late seventeenth century.
Concord has the feel of a small village with most of the businesses on each side of the downtown streets and you can find plenty to keep you busy within the small four or five blocks in the historic district. The centerpiece is “The Jethro Tree” which stands in the middle of town. From the historical marker, you can appreciate the beginnings of early Concord as it reads “near this spot stood the ancient oak known as Jethro’s Tree beneath which Major Simpson Williard and his associates bought from the Indians the “6 myles of land square” ordered by the General Court for the plantation of Concord on September 12, 1635.” The price – one parcel of wampum (shell money), some hoes and hatchets and some clothes.
It’s no exaggeration to say this town has a historical relic around every corner and it all of the town’s ancestors are either buried here, working in the shops and businesses or – watching from the hillsides (quietly) that surround downtown.
Studying Concord’s history, you’re sure to find a good glimpse into the past because these folks were dedicated to recording events and walking around, every building beckons to tell a story – one of my favorites from my morning survey was The Colonial Inn. I read about this inn before the journey because according to its past, this had been a storehouse for British munitions during the Revolutionary War and Thoreau and his family would live here at different times. All of these tales made it almost irresistible to spend the night and enough for me to trade up from The Quality Inn on the outskirts of town.
Inside the Colonial Inn there are creeky wood floors, old dark oak beams/rafters and wood accents that not only look old, they smell a bit musty. Not a bad thing, but you could tell this place has experienced its share of history. The rooms were a bit steep at $175.00 per night probably because this place is on the National Register, but I went ahead and reserved one for the evening and would come back later and check in. With that taken care of, I gathered my bearings and began the walk toward my destination – Emerson’s home.
One of the most striking buildings on Lexington Road is Wilson Tavern. It’s easy to imagine this warm brown cottage as an old tavern – home to plenty of tales and trials from the war with the British at The Battle of Concord. This building was a meeting place on that fateful day at the North Bridge. It’s still operating today as a spiritual center surrounded by other more stately churches, white and regal with their tall steeples and lapping staircases.
The morning was heating up as you might expect on an autumn day and I removed my coat walking more quickly now down the street. The homes are absolutely gorgeous (totally New England) and step by step I imagined Bristol soldiers and the early patriots running through the forests and Emerson and Thoreau walking to and from Concord on this very road.
It wasn’t long before I crossed on to the Cambridge Turnpike and walked the last few steps beyond a unkept forest and there it was – the home of Ralph Waldo Emerson. I was a little hesitant to take things too quickly and caught the first images on camera. After driving over 1000 miles and coming all this way, I had a surprise too. As soon as I came to gate, the sign out front was painted with tourists hours and said…”Closed.” Evidently, Emerson’s home is closed on Tuesday and Wednesday and I felt silly. Reminded me of Chevy Chase at Wally World – just my luck!
No big deal really and it became evident that this might wasn’t that bad after all. The Pollyanna in me considered this may have been what was supposed to have played out today and from the front gate I entered alone to walk up to Emerson’s door.
My steps were slow and surreal because I’d come all this way to walk right up to the doorstep of one of America’s most celebrated authors. After reading his prose for over 15 years now it’s easy to feel like you know a man. His words have influenced me and my state of independence more than any other influence – I’m a zealot for self-reliance indeed. The sign in the front yard in addition to communicating their hours, it also refered to Emerson as “Philosopher, Author and Poet” and that’s the way it should be. Emerson himself would probably have preferred the reverse order, but any one of the three is a noble classification.
Sticking my nose to the window and rising on the tips of my toes, I couldn’t see much through the window, but the study was open and that’s the main room in the house were Emerson penned his work and entertained guests. I stood there with my camera trying to get a few good shots and enjoyed the dark book cases, mythological etchings on the wall and the round table in the middle of the room surrounded by a sturdy rocking chair. Emerson’s study evidently was moved in its entirety to the Concord Museum down the street, but for me this spot was hallowed ground.
Walking around the side of the house, I could hear someone in a distant garage working, but he seemed to ignore me as I traced the paths into the backyard where I found clusters of songbirds and a chipmunk racing into a down spout. One of my many quirks on trips like this is to scarf a stone –a simple rock that commemorates my visit – and just under the back porch of Emerson’s home, I grabbed a large smooth stone – that sits in my home today.
Sitting down on a chair beneath a canopy of dried grape vines in Emerson’s back yard, I watched and listened as morning turned into noon. There was no one around and silence was my host as this garden sang another melody and this morning could have been any morning – then and now. I wrote a few notes in my journal and gathered as much as I could from this home place before making my way down the street just as Ralph and his family must have done many times before.
The Concord Museum is a short distance from Emerson’s home place and after soaking as much as could from this old home I headed down the street to visit their historic collection. It’s there they have the lantern that Paul Revere used when he made his famous ride from Lexington to Concord to herald “the British Are Coming” along with Emerson’s study, Thoreau’s artifacts from Walden and several other Indian and historical artifacts. I bought a few things from the gift shop too including my Granny’s favorite gift (a refrigerator magnet) and a book about Concord by Ruth R. Wheeler – I was to later visit this historians grave at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.
Another interesting fact about this little town is the concentration of American authors who have lived here and a few blocks down from Emerson’s home, I visited the brown Tudor home (Orchard House) of Louisa May Alcott – author of Little Women. I didn’t spend a lot of time here, because after walking all morning, I was hungry. After visiting the gift shop, I did take a few moments to photograph the “Church of Philosophy” which her father began near her home. This was an interesting notion – a church for philosophy – and the old chairs and lectern must have inspired the intellect of this era when it was erected in the early 1800s. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s home was much further down the street, but instead, I returned to town to grab some lunch at a cafe and then checked into the Colonial Inn for the afternoon.
I’ll admit the room was underwhelming for the $175/night rate. It was located in Room 109 in the basement and inside was a small queen size bed with early American decor, tweed-like berber carpet and a window just under the sidewalk at street level. It seemed more like a basement warehouse than a hotel, but the ghosts that seemed to walk the hall and the romance of staying at an old inn like this seemed intriguing enough to keep my mouth shut.
It was late in the afternoon when I finally made it back out into the Concord Streets and I started walking North just past the Colonial Inn toward the Old Manse and the North Bridge at Concord. These historical sites are only a few blocks away on Monument Street and the Old Manse is situated on hallowed ground in Concord. Emerson’s father, William Emerson built this gorgeous home in the early 1700’s. This chaplain and revolutionary man would raise his son Ralph Waldo Emerson, witness the birth of the American Revolution and later Nathaniel Hawthorne and his wife Sophia would live in the home too. It still overwhelms me to think all of the important works that came from this location and the family discussions that must have carried on here.
On the grounds of the Old Manse is a vegetable/flower garden designed by Thoreau and almost directly in the backyard is the Concord River and the bridge at North Concord where “the shot that was heard round the world” was fired as British soldiers met the rag-tag team of local militia or “minute men.” These early patriots of mainly farmers met the British on this bridge and you can easily imagine the smell of gun powder, dust, smoke and images that must have played on this day in history – April 19th, 1776. There is still a gravestone with a British flag (supposedly marking where a British soldier fell) that documents this day and victory for the Colonial Army. Defeated at this bridge, the British would retreat to Concord and the fighting would continue, but it was this spirit of patriotism here in Concord that set the stage for the rest of the Revolutionary War.
I had taken plenty of pictures and was beginning to feel tired from walking the streets, and before returning to the Colonial Inn, I watched the sunset across the backdrop of downtown Concord from the cemeteries near the church. After dark, I went back to the room for a nap and got up later to have dinner at the Colonial Inn restaurant. Earlier in the day, I had bought a collection of Emerson’s books at an old used bookstore in Concord. Although I had most of the volumes, this single collection was hardbound in black boards and for $30 I had a hard time resisting. Since I was headed to Sleepy Hollow the next day, I enjoyed prime rib, a bottle of Cabernet and read the dedication of the cemetery that Emerson gave in 1829 when they consecrated the opening for the community. The food was good, but the atmosphere was even better. After dinner I decided to go for an evening walk in Concord on a Tuesday night. The streets were quiet and my mind was aglow as I walked towards Emerson’s home in the dark.
I returned to the room and had one of the most restless nights I’ve had in a long time. Not sure if it was the meal, the ghosts in the basement or the retro accommodations, but nevertheless, it had been a long day. I had spent time with Emerson, logged a few miles of walking and covered centuries of history about this great town and couldn’t wait til tomorrow for Sleepy Hollow and Walden Pond.