News of Christmas past
Dec. 23—Exploring local history with The Day's new digital archive
The clatter of hooves was heard in New London on Christmas 1912, but it wasn't reindeer.
"A bull, destined for a slaughter house, escaped from its keeper in State street about 5:50 Wednesday evening," The Day reported. "It bellowed and pawed, furnishing excitement for a crowd of men and boys for several minutes."
A small child somehow tied the runaway to a telephone pole until the keeper arrived, but then the angry animal led the man on a chase all the way to Tilley Street.
This nugget from the past was retrieved with a useful new tool. Earlier this year, The Day's entire output — 142 years' worth and counting — was digitized by Newspapers.com and is available to anyone via subscription.
What was previously accessible only on microfilm is now just a keystroke away and searchable by date or keyword. It's also being updated constantly with the paper's most recent issues.
To celebrate the archive's new format, here's a look at news of Christmas past from The Day's first century. Click on the links to see the original stories.
1893
Christmas celebrations were still so new that older residents could remember the days before they were a regular custom.
J.N. Harris, a merchant and former mayor, claimed to have imported the first toys ever sold in New London, in 1838. Before that, "The old times must have been benighted indeed," The Day said.
"There was no especial good cheer, no giving of gifts nor exchange of goodwishes peculiar to the season and worst of all our grandfathers and grandmothers, when little children, knew absolutely nothing of Santa Claus."
1905
James M. Buddington, a retired whaling captain from Groton, recalled the Christmas a half century earlier when his ship, the George Henry, dropped anchor off Fort Trumbull after a notable trip to the Arctic. He had discovered the British navy vessel HMS Resolute abandoned in the ice and brought it home.
The Resolute had been sent in search of Sir John Franklin in one of many expeditions that failed to learn the Arctic explorer's fate. When the ship became encased in ice in 1854, it was abandoned and drifted until Buddington found it more than a year later.
"We resolved to rescue her if possible," Buddington said.
From New London, the ship was returned to the British, and when it was broken up years later, a desk made from its timbers was presented to President Rutherford B. Hayes. Today the Resolute desk is in the Oval Office at the White House.
1913
At 11:50 a.m. Christmas Eve, a crowd watched as workers from the T.A. Scott Co. drove a pile into the Thames River bed. That marked the state of construction on State Pier.
"As the heavy block fell, watches were taken out and the time noted. That first thud of the driver represented the real beginning of the pier building after two years of waiting and preparation."
Six Christmases later, after military activity during World War I, the first freighter, Western Glen, arrived with a load of flour, marking the start of commercial operations.
1923
Flames lit up the night in New London and Groton, one incident an unfortunate accident, the other an insult to the spirit of the day.
"Bells in the neighboring church steeples had scarcely tolled 12, ushering in Christmas morn," when fire broke out at Patterson's candy store, 76 State St., leaving the business a total loss.
At the same hour, "what are supposed to have been members of the Ku Klux Klan assembled on the grounds of old Fort Griswold in Groton. ... A fiery cross, about 12 feet high and eight feet broad, flaming up in the darkness, was the only sign left of the meeting."
1927
Sophia Kenerson of New London, who had just lost her son in the sinking of the submarine S-4, was visited by J.M. Rekos, his former shipmate.
"Learning that Mrs. Kenerson had but one photograph of her son, Rekos ... gave her some snapshots he had."
Less than a year later, the unfortunate sailor, Arthur F. Hodges, achieved local immortality when a stretch of Williams Street was named Hodges Square in his honor.
1931
Apparently unmoved by the worsening Depression, students at Fitch High School in Groton, polled by the school newspaper, showed extravagant taste in their hopes for Christmas presents.
"The majority of students indicated that they would like to have Santa bring them autos, with the brands ranging all the way from Rolls Royces to Austins."
1938
Three months after the 1938 hurricane, New London hadn't reached consensus on the fate of the ruined Ocean Beach. The Christmas Eve issue had drawings of dueling proposals, one of which would have featured a double-deck pier at the end of Ocean Avenue, an elevated boardwalk and an offshore music shell.
There was also an open letter to the City Council protesting the idea of bonding $2 million and creating a municipally operated park.
The writer claimed to speak for the average citizen, who "sees no advantage in a beach owned and run by the city, to which he must pay admission and for which he and his children must pay more in taxes. ... To restore Ocean Beach must we mortgage New London?"
1942
Christmas during World War II found New London swarming with servicemen and war workers, but there were also empty chairs at many tables.
People had money to spend, but "with war goods getting the right of way in all factories, the hard job was finding the gift you wanted to buy."
One festive element of the season was entirely missing. A dimout "eliminated strings of colored lights in the streets of the business section, and window candles and illuminated shrubbery and door decorations in homes."
1947
When a railroad police officer found Bert Keola of Philadelphia riding between baggage cars in freezing weather, he charged him with trespassing.
Keola explained that "he was penniless but was so determined to get home for Christmas to visit his mother that he climbed on the train even though he was in danger of losing life or limb."
Steve Krajewski, owner of Steve's Curiosity Shop in New London, heard the story and learned Keola was a fellow veteran, so he paid Keola's bus fare to Philadelphia after a judge suspended his sentence.
1959
The women of Noank Baptist Church finished decorating at 3:30 p.m. Christmas Eve, but a half hour later, someone saw smoke curling out from under the eaves.
By the time firefighters arrived, flames had spread from the boiler room, and the heat was "unbelievable," Fire Chief J. Halstead Brown said. It took six hours to knock down the blaze, leaving part of the interior in ruins. Five firefighters were injured, and another casualty was the pipe organ.
"Those pipes were reduced into little charred piles, just as though they'd been made of paper," Brown said.
1962
Mystic Seaport announced a $1.35 million, three-year expansion, its biggest ever, which would include a library, shops and a new entrance.
The date of the announcement marked 33 years since Christmas Day 1929, when the museum was founded as the Marine Historical Association by Carl C. Cutler, Edward E. Bradley and Charles K. Stillman.
That day, the three laid out their vision for preserving the nation's maritime heritage: "By the exhibition in a clear and dramatic way (of) the ships the American seafarers sailed ... the tools they used ... the relics. By recreating a typical New England Seaport of a century or more ago."
1969
Santa, wearing a Navy uniform instead of a red suit, was at work aboard the submarine tender USS Fulton at State Pier. No, really.
"Santa M. Claus, you see, is a 22-year-old sailor from El Campo, Tex. Not the 'jolly old elf' you might expect, but a personable young man who enjoys his name and is filled with the spirit of the season."
"I can't imagine myself having any other name," Claus said.
1973
The first report appeared on page 44 next to the obituaries. But in years to come the story would dominate the front page as few others have. A 20-year-old Mitchell College student named Kevin Showalter was struck by a hit-and-run driver and killed on Christmas Eve.
The initial details were thin. The victim had been changing a tire on Pequot Avenue in New London while the driver sat on a stone wall. A neighbor heard a loud bump and called the police while whoever was responsible sped away.
"I don't know how the person who did this is going to live with it," Police Chief John Crowley said.
But after decades of investigations, disappearing evidence, grand juries, half-accusations and deathbed confessions, someone did live with it. No one was ever charged, and the death of Showalter, 50 years ago today, became New London's most memorable unsolved crime.
1980
Christmas Day temperatures in Connecticut plunged to 13 below zero, then the coldest on record, making presents of power outages and frozen water pipes.
Garages were swamped by hundreds of calls for dead car batteries, and many people had to wait four or five hours for help.
"Even the sun looks as if it needs a jump start," The Day said.
