Conyers Farm Then and Now

by Mary A. Jacobson

Clock tower and part of garage of Converse estate. Courtesy of Frances Benjamin Johnston Photograph Collection, Library of Congress (Reproduction #LC-USZ62-110482).

In 1977, the land that now comprises the 78 luxury homes of Conyers Farm, was described as “desolate and overgrown…I have no desire to see the place in its present state of neglect.” These words were spoken to interviewer Penny Bott of the Oral History Project by narrator Eleanor Enright as she decried the condition of the once-beautiful estate where she had worked from 1934 to 1950.

Eleanor Enright worked as a secretary to Carlyle Gowdy, manager at Conyers Farm. Her mother, Grace Sullivan, preceded her years before in the same position for then-manager, George Drew. Eleanor shared vivid memories of the history and times of the original estate, which comprised over 1,400 acres. In her words, “I am glad to have experienced this life cycle of a place.”

Greenwich at the turn of the twentieth century was a farming community. By 1904, Edmund Cogswell Converse, steel industrialist and first president of Bankers Trust Company, assembled his estate by purchasing and consolidating approximately 20 farms in North Greenwich and the neighboring town of North Castle, NY. He then began work on converting the property into Conyers Manor. (“Conyers” was purportedly an Old English spelling of “Converse.”)

Edmund Converse. Courtesy of Greenwich News and Graphic, September 22, 1916.

According to Eleanor, “They used hundreds of workmen . . . artisans of every type. At that time horses were still in use, and many teams hauled the materials from the (railroad) station…It was like the building of a village.” The original gatehouse was on the corner of Lower Cross Road and North Street. A mile-long driveway led to the 52-room manor house, which was situated on the highest point of land, “with a perfect view of the surrounding countryside and Long Island Sound.” Along the driveway were specimen trees “planted in every variety you could imagine…There were all kinds of bulbs and flowers and flowering shrubs blooming in spring and summer.”

There were approximately 40 structures on the estate, many designed by Donn Barber, a well-known architect. Buildings included the stone manor stables that housed Converse’s own horses and carriages. Other structures included a farm garage with a fire engine. There were also eight greenhouses. “One was a palm house, a large round glass building like the one at the Botanical Garden in New York, where they grew nectarine, palm trees, orange trees, and flowers of all description.” In addition, there was the blacksmith shop, a boarding house for a number of the workers, a one-room schoolhouse, an icehouse, a boathouse, a 30,000-gallon water tank, and a cold storage building with a capacity for “at least forty or fifty thousand bushels.”

The farm barn had stone walls and a steeply pitched shingled roof. Its wings housed the cow barn and the horse barn; in the center were the wagons. Guernsey cows grazed in the fields. “The milk was so good…You could see that the cream filled at least half the bottle.” In addition to the farm barn, there was an overflow barn “used to store all of the extra hay and farm equipment, and so forth. Also, they had a poultry department where fresh eggs and chickens were produced.”

One of the signature structures on the property was the clock tower. “It was absolutely beautiful. It would remind you of a windmill.” At approximately forty feet tall, one could see the Empire State Building from the balcony under the face of the clock. “There was a bell in the tower, and the bell would ring the hour and the half hour…It just sounded all over the countryside, like a fire bell. In fact, that was the bell they used as a fire alarm and that bell would sound all over the Stanwich area.”

A number of the original farmhouses that comprised the estate were maintained by house employees. Many of the homes were referred to by the names of the families who had once lived in them. “We always spoke of the McCann Cottage, the Powers Cottage, the Buckout Cottage, the Albert Close and Gilbert Close houses, and the Mead Farm.”

Approximately four hundred acres of the property were developed into orchards. “Conyers Farm apples, pears, and peaches became known throughout the East coast. People used to drive out on Sundays from New York…We shipped pears and apples many times across the country to customers and to our boys in the service.”

Edmund Converse died in 1921. The property was unoccupied until it was purchased in 1936 by Lewis Rosenstiel, founder of Schenley Corporation. His hopes to reduce the zoning regulation from four acres per lot to half-acre lots for 83 acres was rebuffed by the town. The proposal of office buildings on the property was also denied. Over the years, few improvements were made to the neglected estate and a number of buildings were ravaged by fire.

When Eleanor Enright was interviewed in 1977, Conyers Farm had not yet been purchased by Peter Brandt and developed into the minimum 10-acre residential properties, arts center (repurposed from the original cold storage stone barn), and polo fields we know today. At the time of her interview, Eleanor’s closing remarks were, “And so what will the future hold for this wonderful place? I hope I live to see a bright future for it.”

Eleanor Enright. Courtesy of Miss Enright.

The book “Conyers Farm” may be read at Greenwich Library and is available for purchase at the Oral History Project office. The OHP is sponsored by the Friends of Greenwich Library. Visit the website at glohistory.org. Mary Jacobson, OHP blog editor.

Home of Edmund Converse. Courtesy of Frances Benjamin Johnston Photograph Collection, Library of Congress (Reproduction #LC-USZ62-110479).

Horses and wagon exiting the cold storage barn. Courtesy of the Greenwich Library, John Gotch Photo Collection.

Greenwich Symphony Orchestra

by Mary A. Jacobson

Mary and Dick Radcliffe, 2007 photograph from Mary Radcliffe personal collection.

Music! Music! Music! How wonderful to have the Greenwich Symphony Orchestra resume its performance schedule on September 10, 2022, after its programming was interrupted by the pandemic. Its inaugural concert was played to an appreciative audience at the Performing Arts Center at Greenwich High School. The concert also introduced the orchestra’s new conductor, Stuart Malina.

In 2011, the Oral History Project published “The Greenwich Symphony Orchestra: 53 Years of Superb Performances,” a compilation of several interviews of board presidents dating from 1976 to 2011.

The history of the Greenwich Symphony Orchestra dates back to 1958, when a local orchestral group became the Greenwich Philharmonia, conducted by Ken Wendrich, head of the music department of Greenwich High School. A board of directors was formed with Catherine Felding (Mrs. Allen Converse at the time) as its first president who served until 1967. The orchestra held three concerts a year.

The year 1967 is considered a watershed year for the GSO by many, the year the orchestra transitioned into a fully professional one with growing prestige. That was the year that a search for a new conductor led to a young man, John Nelson, “straight out of Juilliard, who had been highly recommended,” according to Marianne Jeffrey, board president at the time. John Nelson was the first of twelve applicants to audition. “Each conductor was to take the orchestra, first rehearsing a piece they had once performed, and then work on something they had never performed…His rehearsal technique was even then really remarkable, how he brought out more than they thought they could do… A survey was taken from all the orchestra members, which showed the orchestra also felt how marvelous he was, how very fine a musician he was, but they were also a little worried whether they could live up to such a conductor.” No more interviews were conducted. “We gave up after that first night because it wasn’t needed anymore.”

Mary Radcliffe, who began her thirty-seven-year tenure as president of the board in 1975, stated that John Nelson “was with us for seven years, and he made the orchestra a professional orchestra. Everybody was now being paid. He also had a lot of contacts with Juilliard. He got wonderful soloists…That was a turning point for the orchestra. Also, he enlarged the orchestra’s string section. So, it became a real symphony orchestra.” In 1975, the orchestra changed its name to the Greenwich Symphony Orchestra. That year it also welcomed David Gilbert as its conductor and music director. He remained in that position for the next 45 years.

One aspect of the orchestra of which its musicians and the board are particularly proud is that there is no paid management. According to Mary Radcliffe, aside from the librarian, personnel and concert managers, and the musicians, “the orchestra has never had an executive manager or a paid manager…Every other orchestra in the American Symphony Orchestra League, every other orchestra with this budget size has a person like that, but we have a symphony board, which is a volunteer board, that manages the orchestra.”

The Chamber Players of the Greenwich Symphony, in existence since 1971, is an independent ensemble, whose musicians are drawn primarily from the principals of the GSO. They present four sets of subscription concerts each season. “It’s really a wonderful program. They do all kinds of chamber music. Not only strings –woodwinds, harp…they program that… we advertise each other,” explained Mary Radcliffe.

The Young People’s Concerts have been a source of pride for the GSO. In collaboration with the community’s music educators, children in the Greenwich public and private schools are provided with a unique musical experience which includes a pre- and post-concert curriculum. “We present professional orchestra concerts to every child in this town, grades two through seven…This is not an outing for these kids…they come absolutely fully prepared,” explained Mary Radcliffe.

The pandemic had a disruptive effect on the programs and concerts normally performed by the GSO, from the spring of 2020 until this month’s inaugural concert. The Oral History Project has embarked on a “COVID Project” to document the effects of COVID-19 on the people and institutions of Greenwich. Volunteers of OHP have conducted more than sixty interviews in this endeavor. Daniel Miller, personnel manager of GSO, was interviewed by Connie Gibb, and described the impact of the pandemic on the orchestra. In his words, “Everything stopped. I mean, it was astonishing. And that’s really a big shift…Our whole organism, our whole life is geared up towards spending these hours in the evening being at our top form and performing. Our days are kind of balanced around that. And so that kind of performance…that was just taken away.”

Now that the music and performances of the GSO have resumed, the Greenwich community can once again appreciate and support this community gem. As Danny Miller expressed, “… music is kind of like time travel. You can go places, you can visit other centuries, other settings through music. And to do that together in this community is precious. And I think that’s something that’s transcendent, and I think that’s what the audience wants, as well as the performers. It is a communal experience, which is very important. And I think people long for it.”

The book of interviews entitled “The Greenwich Symphony Orchestra: 53 Years of Superb Performances” may be read in its entirety at Greenwich Library and is available for purchase at the Oral History Project office. The OHP is sponsored by Friends of Greenwich Library. Visit the website at glohistory.org. Mary Jacobson serves as blog editor.

The Hurricane of 1938

The unnamed hurricane of 1938 is purported to be the first major hurricane to strike New England since 1869. It was one of the most powerful and destructive hurricanes of the twentieth century.

Moving at 47 miles-per-hour, its center made landfall at the time of an astronomical high tide and fueled storm tides of fourteen to eighteen feet across the Connecticut coast. In addition, in 1938 there were no advanced meteorological technologies such as radar, radio buoys, or satellite imaging to warn residents of an oncoming hurricane.

Paul Palmer after he joined the 
U.S. Navy in 1942. Photo lent by 
the Palmer family to the Oral 
History Project.

Paul Palmer, aged fourteen and living on Willowmere Avenue at the time, experienced this storm first-hand. His vivid recollections were recounted to Barbara Ornstein of the Oral History Project in 1975.

On September 21, 1938, Paul and his classmates were dismissed from school at noon as heavy rain had been continuously falling for several days. “I remember coming home and how hard that wind was blowing. I can see the trees going over, you know, but there was no mention of a hurricane.” Once home, Paul and his friend, John [Buster] Clarke, helped Paul’s dad pump out the flooded cellar. Paul recounted, “Then I remember it started raining again that afternoon. The tide was due to come in at night. It was an afternoon tide. I’d say around five o’clock…That wind was blowing; man alive, that wind was blowing. And then, all of a sudden, the rain had let up. I guess the eye had come through, you see, and we thought everything was all over…And that’s when we all took off.”

Paul and Buster heard police and fire engine sirens coming down the street; they ran out to follow them and saw a boat aground on Great Island. “And so, Buster and I said, ‘Well, gee, we can get closer than this. Let’s walk the wall around’… and we crossed over to Quigley’s Island [then part of the Martin J. Quigley property]. We went out on the end out there, and we were watching them try to get the boat off and get the people off the boat.” By this time, the rain and howling wind resumed as the back end of the hurricane was coming around. The boys decided they had better return home.

They crossed back over the bridge connecting the Quigley property to the mainland and realized the water was to the top of the wall. One of their neighbors, Mr. Pitcher, called to them saying, “Boys, you better come in here for a minute. This tide is coming in awful fast.” Paul agreed to go into the house, but Buster decided to run home. “He ran around the corner of the house, and the water came up over the wall, and I heard him holler and his feet went out from underneath him, and he went down the wall with the wave… He went down alongside the house, and he grabbed ahold of that telephone pole stay out there when he went by it, on the side of the driveway.”

Flood waters on Arch Street during the 
September 1938 hurricane. Courtesy of the  
Greenwich Library Local History Collection.

Paul’s training as a Boy Scout helped prepare him for this emergency situation as he waded into the garage. “I found a barrel and some line. So, I tied the line to the barrel. And I went over to the side of the house, and I threw it out in the current, and let it float down to the telephone pole. Buster grabbed a hold of it, and I said, ‘All right now, I’ll tie it to the car, and you pull yourself in the lee of the house.’” Unfortunately, at that point, the car started to float out of the garage.

Destruction caused by the hurricane in the
Island Beach area. Courtesy of the
Greenwich Historical Society.

With help from other adults in the house, Buster was pulled into the relative safety of the Pitcher home in which the water was waist high. “I remember the [dining] table was floating around. The candles were lit on the table and the table was floating around with all the candles lit on it.” A neighbor, Doc Roper’s son Edward, came over in a rowboat and “we all got out of the kitchen window into the rowboat… We were scared to death to go home. We said, ‘Oh, boy, are we gonna get it.’”

Like any parent, Mrs. Palmer was beside herself with worry. “…and man alive, did we get it! My mother was having a fit. She didn’t know where we were, where we had gone.”

The hurricane of 1938 and Mr. Pitcher’s 1921 Sears and Roebuck house on Willowmere Circle in Riverside played a significant role in Paul Palmer’s life. Paul had always admired the home, and after Paul returned from naval service in World War II, Mr. Pitcher “put in his will that if he died before he could sell me the house, that I would get it through his estate at the assessed valuation. It was to be sold to me. I pretty near flipped.”

Eventually, Paul purchased the home and proudly described the many improvements he had made to it, most notably, putting the furnace and the washer and dryer on the second floor. In addition, “I rewired everything overhead. You see where the base plugs are? [waist-high] Well, I know how deep it can get!”

The book “The 1938 Hurricane in Willowmere” may be read at Greenwich Library and is available for purchase at the Oral History Project office. The OHP is sponsored by the Friends of the Greenwich Library. Visit the website at glohistory.org. Mary A. Jacobson, OHP blog editor.

By Mary Jacobson, OHP Blog Editor