THE LONG SOCIETY MEETINGHOUSE

PRESTON, CONNECTICUT

 

Connecticut is, was, and will always be a thorn in the side of the Federal Government. That's because we pretty much made the model for it, and even that with dissent. We are the Bluest of Blue states, and it all has to do with education and debate.

We have a top-notch public educational system, and we like to argue amongst ourselves as to the best way to do things. Since we're all pretty smart, the arguments can open all sort of doors, as opposed to excluding  people and closing them.

 

Take the Long Society Meetinghouse in Preston.

 

 

Originally built in the first half of the eighteenth century, it was dismantled and rebuilt in 1817, using a lot of the same wood and set up essentially on the same foundation design. Why? Because those that used it wanted it better, that's why. Connectikittens are like that.

The town of Cornwall, in the Litchfield Hills of rugged northwest Connecticut, should have been satisfied with itself, but NOOOOOoooo. They split, split and split again, forming Cornwall, South Cornwall, and Cornwall Bridge. There are probably other varieties I can't find on the map. And Cornwall is not only not alone, it is one of many towns here that have split and resplit and re-resplit to make things more their own. Simply put, Connectikittens are restless and want to govern their own affairs. Even if it's only three people doing it, splitting from three others. We're always looking for something BETTER.

I'm a member of the Preston Historical Society, the town that surrounds The Meetinghouse, and even I don't know exactly what the hell "Long Society" is. I'm sure I'll be chided for my ignorance, probably right here in my own blog. Don't think I don't deserve it.

Anyway, The Meetinghouse is not a church per se. It may very well have been used as such, but even its outward design turns its back on the ecclesiastical. Most Colonial Churches have entries on their shorter gable ends, but not this building. Known as a "broadside" meetinghouse, its entry is on the long side, and the space inside does not focus on the preacher, altars, or God, but on the PEOPLE. I'm sure many a lively discussion was held in the original building back at the turn of the century. The Eighteenth Century.
Then it was rebuilt and the lively arguments continued.

The building went through many years of neglect, but certain members of the Preston Historical Society decided to press for ownership, and after many years of wrangling and discussion (SEE?), The Society now owns it.

Be careful what you wish for.

Now the efforts of the Society are, in addition to other things, geared towards the building's restoration, and they are doing a fine job. In the past four years, they've acquired it, repaired the rotted sills, corner posts and plates, replaced deteriorated trim, installed a new roof, had the exterior expertly painted, and just this summer, replaced the fixed windows with double-hung sash of excellent craftsmanship and original design. Most of the glass is old, wavy stuff that twists the eye upon looking through it, and, as can be seen in the picture, the 'locks' are traditional pieces of wood that are fit diagonally from the inside.

The rest of the building remains as intact as the day it was rebuilt in 1817, or very close to it as can be expected. There is no heat (though there is a chimney in older pictures), no electricity, and no plumbing. There have been a few weddings there (the Senior Center across the street furnished some of the missing amenities), and I can attest to the amazing acoustics of the interior, where a mere whisper can be heard anywhere in the room. No wonder so much was discussed and decided there; no secrets could be kept with such acoustics. I've played guitar and sung there, and I hope that the future will find some musical happenings occurring within its walls.

Much remains to be done, and if I know the strength and perseverance of the Society, much will be.

Looking beyond the north side, into the cemetery beyond. New England is pocked with small, intimate cemeteries dating back to the sixteen hundreds, and this is one of the nicest. Situated on a hill above a swift stream, its stones tell stories of the history of Preston's people. Or, at least of those that lived around Long Society.

Note the curved siding on the left of the picture. The building was restored, not straightened. Let the earth and wood do what they will, and follow both. Not a bad philosophy.

The ground just below the curvaceous siding was excavated by archaeologists last year during construction of a new drain system, and some interesting goodies were found, including a Spanish half real, a political pin from the Teddy Roosevelt era, and some flint points from those who have more claim to this land than anyone. In fact, the nearby Mohegan Tribe, owners of one of the largest casinos in the world, greatly contributed monetarily to the building's restoration. Thanks, Human Beings.

 

The south side, where the cemetery drops towards the stream. Those windows not only look good, but they will bring much needed ventilation during the warmer months.

This tomb fascinated me when I first saw it, and still does. Further down the hill than all the others, it is one of the oldest and certainly the most grand, though the simplicity of Old New England doesn't really warrant that word.

Apparently Captain John Smith resides here. Buried in 1780.

 

This Palladian window rises above the podium (there's no altar in the Meetinghouse), and is one of the new windows installed this year. It is fitted exclusively with old glass, and if you look carefully, you can see the distortion of the other window beyond.