The Mill, The College and The University: Rowland and Caroline Hazard, 1804-2010

Date: Monday, May 10, 7:00 p.m.
Location: Peace Dale Library, Route 108, Peace Dale, RI

America’s first woolen manufactury, the Peace Dale Mfg. Co. on the Saugatucket River, was opened for business in 1804 by Rowland and Joseph Peace Hazard.

Caroline Hazard (1856-1945), Rowland Hazard’s granddaughter, was Wellesley College’s fifth president, from1899 to1910. In ten years, she cancelled the college’s debt, established its endowment and opened nine buildings.

Georgia’s Albany State University opened in 1903 as the Albany Bible and Manual Training Institute, thanks to a personal check for $2,500 from her brother. He had met Joseph Winthrop Holley, a young seminarian working at a summer hotel in Narragansett. Eight of his school’s first nine buildings were Hazard gifts, each dedicated by his sister, “Miss Caroline”. The school became a state college in the 1950’s. Martin Luther King’s “Albany Movement” drew from its students. Selma and Montgomery followed their protests and punishments. Dr. King was jailed in “the filthiest jail I had ever seen”.

Harvard Business School holds sixty-one linear feet of Peace Dale Mfg. Co. records. Helen Farrell Allen, continuing work on a 2008 NEH grant, is surveying them. Northern archives have been joined with Albany, bringing honor to Caroline Hazard on their recent Founder’s Day celebration. Albany boasts a museum devoted to the civil rights story.

Murray Gates, entrepreneur and Wakefielder has a purchase and sales agreement on the Hazard mill. He’ll be with us, to hail the mill’s future, as well as praise its past.

Program sponsored by NewportFed.

Colonel Washington, Hero of the Monongahela and his "Journey to Boston"

Mom and Pop's Bookstore, on Robinson Street in Wakefield was a treasure trove. Three battered leather-bound volumes of the five-volume biography, The Life of George Washington, Commander in Chief of the American Forces, During the War Which Established the Independence of his Country, and First President of the United States turned up there, for me, some years ago. "Mom" being Mom, gave them to me.

John Marshall wrote the biography, published in Philadelphia by C. P. Wayne in 1804. Washington died in 1799. Marshall's work was "compiled under the inspection of the Honourable Bushrod Washington, from original papers requested to him by his deceased relative, and now in possession of the author". We know Marshall as the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court for thirty-four years, following his service as one of Washington's officers, a delegate to the Constitutional Convention and John Adams's Secretary of State.

Marshall accounts for the defeat of Lord Braddock by the French and their Canadian Indians in July of 1755. Two regiments of Irish troops, about two thousand men, were shipped from England to secure the western borders of English settlements against the French, ancient enemies of Albion. They, with their native allies, were bearing down from Canada to what is now Pittsburgh, the juncture of the Monongahela, Ohio and Allegheny Rivers. "Braddock's Defeat", called then "the Dismal Tragedy" is unknown to many (1776 yes, but any American date earlier than that seems not to have been taught these last thirty years). Braddock's Defeat was Washington's first triumph.

Marshall captures the tragedy succinctly. Having led hundreds of men, horses and hauled their cannons across from Virginia, through Maryland's mountains and the Alleghenies of Pennsylvania , Lord Braddock, a veteran if forty years service for the King found himself, Marshall reports, "within about seven miles of fort du Quesne". Young Washington had "advised Braddock to "scour the woods and discover any ambuscade which might be formed for him". Braddock brushed off advice from the young Colonel and pushed on, in the July heat and the silence of the wilderness. The sun slanted on a narrow mountain river curving into the distance. The forest bore in. A command went out to halt the van, to pause and gather their forces. Silence. "We began our March again, Beating the grannadiers March all the way. Never Seasin. There was Never an Army in the World in more spirits than we were," wrote Robert Chomley's batman, full of British pride.

Marshall takes up the story. "Immediately after crossing the Monongahela the second time, in an open wood thick set with high grass, as he was pressing forward entirely unapprehensive of danger, his front was suddenly and unexpectedly attacked by an invisible enemy." Colonel Washington, of three mounted aides to Braddock the only one to survive had warned him: the ambush by the French and their Indians was upon theml. Braddock, "the bashaw" as Washington called him in a letter to his brother, marched right into it that fateful July afternoon. Marshall, in a style befitting 1804 reported, "The general who possessed personal courage in a very eminent degree, but who was without experience in that species of war in which he was engaged . . . was, in the present crisis, extremely unfortunate in his choice of measures'.

War in America the British would learn again in April of '75 at Lexington and Concord, was not waged in set pieces according to rules learned at Sandringham for campaigns on European fields.

"In his fruitless efforts to restore order, every officer on horseback, except mr. Wash-ington, was killed or wounded; and at length the general himself, after losing three horses, received a mortal wound, and his regulars fled in the utmost terror and confusion. . . . The provincials exhibited an unexpected degree of courage and were among the last to leave the field". Washington wrote both his mother and his half-brother Augustine back in Virginia, "I luckily escap'ed with't a wound, tho' I had four Bullets through my Coat, and two Horses shot under me".

"The defeat was total, and the carnage unusually great. The artillery, military stores, baggage, and even the private cabinet of the commander in chief . . . fell into the hands of the enemy . . . the general was brought off the ground in a tumbril . . . to an appro-aching camp, where Braddock expired of his wounds".

The following winter, known to all as the "Hero of the Monongahela", Colonel George Washington, Virginia Militia, crossed Rhode Island through the Narragansett Country on the Boston Post Road, to Newport. He had been dispatched by Governor Didwiddy of Virginia, to travel with Captains Stuart and Mercer and the party's two servants to Boston.

There, Washington pled the case for rank for the American officers within the British command. "The provincials", after all, "were among the last to leave the field" in the battle of the past July, continues Marshall. The men of Virginia and North Carolina were particularly remarked upon for their bravery.

Shirley's own son, like Washington was an aide to Braddock. He had been killed. Imagine Governor-General Shirley, evaluating young Washington as he pled the case of the colonial militias before him. He had defended British holdings against the French in Nova Scotia, he knew that the English could not hold their American colonies with-out giving them, the men of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, Virginia and North Carolina rank amongst His Majesty's regiments.

Shirley heard the Colonel, deliberated and decided. "It is my wish that General Washington shall command". These words in a dispatch to Governor Dinwiddy at the Governor's Palace in Williamsburg preceded the Colonel's men on their return, down the coast, returning to New London, New York and Philadelphia.

We have only the Colonel's private expense account of the three-week's journey. A letter, not published until 1978 from Joseph Chew, New London's postmaster and a comment in the local diary of Joshua Hempstead describe the five mens' passage through that port. Hempstead's dairy runs from 1711 to 1758; it was published in 1901 by the New London County Historical Society. Mond 8 fair and windy . . . Colln Washington is Returned from Boston all bound to virgenia, Powers' sloop He hath been to advise or be Directed by Governor Shirley who is chef General of the American forces . . .".

"It is my wish that Colonel Washington shall command", wrote Shirley. Our young Colonel, who had on his safe return from the battle in Pennsylvania, "heard . . . a cir-cumstantial acct. of my death and dying speech", had assured his brother that "I now exist and appear in the land of the living".

Our Colonel was on his way, his sense of humor and his devotion to Virginia intact. His future was bright as he boarded Powers's sloop with Captains Stuart and Mercer, and John Albro and Charles Bishop, "all bound for virgenia" and for the new America.

Forgotten Hero of Independence

A granite block supporting a bronze tablet stands before a Victorian house outside Westerly, where Langworthy and Shore Roads meet. It hails Samuel Ward, Jr., Lieutenant-Colonel of the Continental Army. I’ve long wondered why the father, not the son, is hailed.

Samuel Ward, Sr. governed Rhode Island during the Stamp Act controversy, but his resolutions for Rhode Island’s Committee of Correspondence and his leadership in both Continental Congresses are almost forgotten. He died “at his meridian”, as his admirers wrote. Smallpox took him, in Philadelphia in March of 1776. He would have “Signed”.

Ward was born in Newport, son of Richard Ward, Rhode Island governor in the 1740’s. He followed his father to that post in 1762-3 and 1765-7. He was a delegate to both Continental Congresses, that of September, 1773 and the Second, following the conflict at Lexington and Concord: “April the Eighteenth of ‘75”. He died, as it is carved on his grave in Newport, “on station” in Philadelphia, March 26, 1776.

At twenty-five, Ward married Anna Ray of Block Island, daughter of Simon Ray a leading proprietor of the Island. They settled on her dowry land, some six hundred acres called by the Ninigret Indians Tushcottock, in Westerly. Ward frequently wrote to Anna as his “better half”, and that she was, sharing the business tasks of the farm with him. In 1765, 2,000 pounds of cheese were shipped to Boston.

Anna died, perhaps of cancer, in 1770. Of their eleven children, all lived to adulthood except Hannah, their second daughter. She joined her mother in the graveyard on September 8, 1774, shortly before Ward’s return from the First Continental Congress. A long and sad ride that must have been, accompanied only by Cudjoe, one of three family slaves.

A night for George Washington? I maintain that Colonel Washington stayed at Tushcottock en route to Boston in late February, 1756. He travelled, with four men, on a matter of Lord Braddock’s “Dismal Tragedy”, his defeat in the Pennsylvania forests, via Newport. Geoffrey Malbone, the resplendent Virginian, Newport’s leading merchant, awaited them. A Westerly stop following a New London night with Post Master Joseph Chew verified in The Letters of George Washington would be logical. Dr. Joshua Babcock, Franklin’s correspondent would have recommended Ward, for fresh horses would be on his farm, ready for the next stop, “Sugar Loaf Hill”, (later Wakefield) and the Narragansett Ferries beyond. Dr. Babcock’s house stands today, the pride of Westerly, on US 1, the old Post Road.

In the morning, Washington might well have been introduced to Rhode Island’s own Narragansett pacer, small but smooth-riding for the long uphill journey to the Bay. We know he bought a “golden Narragansett” in 1799, the year he died and that Ward was well-known for breeding them.

As taxes grew and threats to their rights as Englishmen developed, Ward was among the first, in 1773 to propose Committees of Correspondence among the colonies. Resolutions were respectfully addressed to the Ministry, not the Monarch. The closing of the Port of Boston in 1774, however, triggered the First Continental Congress. From each Colony, the men hastened to Philadelphia. Ward quickly impressed his fellow delegates. They named him Chairman of the Committee of the Whole that met in camera and controlled agendas. The Congress closed in late October; Ward and Cudjoe negotiated the long return to Westerly, with the dismal realization of his daughter’s death.

The Second Congress was called, with greatest alarm, after the events at Lexington and Concord. Ward was made chair of the “secret committee” immediately charged with obtaining munitions from France, the Caribbean or anywhere else. Franklin, Robert Morris and Silas Deane joined him in that enterprise.

In June Ward’s committee proposed Colonel George Washington of Virginia as Continental Commander. He alone could moderate Yankee, Quaker and plantation interests. Granted, he was the only delegate in uniform (mothballed from the Braddock campaign), but other qualities quickly became apparent.

Ward’s elder sons, Charles and Samuel had joined the forces in front of Boston in March of ’75. His namesake was captured on the disastrous Quebec expedition that saw the death of General Montgomery, a young leader of such promise. Samuel Ward was taken and held prisoner until August of 1776.

Two daughters had husbands under Rhode Island’s James Varnum, defending Boston: Christopher Greene, brother of General Nathanael Greene and Captain Ethan Clarke of Westerly. Imagine keeping Ward’s farm going. The younger children were left in the charge of a Newport cousin. Governor Ward’s letters from Philadelphia parallel those from Washington to Mount Vernon.

A Philadelphia widow intervenes before tragedy strikes. Mrs. Mary House, a well-to-do Philadelphia widow let rooms in her Lodge Street house to delegates to the Congress. Ward, most fortunately, was one of her boarders, for both of the meetings. He became more than a boarder, it appears. Silas Deane wrote Mrs. Deane on December 12, “Governor Ward has, in a formal manner laid siege to Mrs. House, and I am apt to think the fortress will surrender on the first serious summons”.

Nathanael Green, from Rhode Island’s camp in front of Boston wrote Catherine Ward Greene, the Governor’s eldest daughter on January 13, 1776, “I hear (your Daddy) is paying his addresses to a very Rich Widow worth Ten thousand Pounds Sterling. How does it (sit) with you? Mother in Law (editor’s note: stepmother was a parallel term) has an ill sound, but a father’s happiness doubtless will qualify the Evil.”

Smallpox arrived in Philadelphia in the winter of ’76 and held the frozen city captive. Ward, berudging time from Congress, refused inoculation, at that time a danger in itself. Lister’s cow-pox serum was years away. “There never was a sick person more assiduously attended in any part of the World than Mr. Ward”, writes Thomas Young, one of the five doctors that attended him.

“Besides the tender and affectionate Mrs. Mary House with whom he lodged,” Doctor Young reports, “he had constant attendance every night by some or other of the most respectable persons in town.”

Congress mourned him for a month, “with crepe upon the arm.” Young continues, “One at least of the mighty advocates for American Independency is fallen in Mr. Ward, to the great grief of the Protopatriot, Samuel Adams.

The bereaved Mrs. House sent a letter to Mary Ward Clarke, packed in her father’s trunk that Cudjo brought north in April. “Permit me in the most affectionate manner to Sympathize with you in the loss of your tender and truly respectable father . . . the sorrow in which he has left his surviving Relations, friends and Country can only find relief and consolation in a pious Reflection upon the Example he has set and how much he lived and died the Christian.”

John Adams wrote to Abigail on March 29, “We have this week lost a very valuable friend of the Colonies. . .” In 1821, Adams responded to a letter from his son, Samuel, Jr., the thriving founder of the Bank of New York, “When he was seized with the smallpox, he said that if his vote and voice were necessary to support the cause of the Country he would live, if not, he would die.”

Ward now lies in Newport’s Common Burial Ground, moved there from Philadelphia by the State of Rhode Island in 1860. The marble table monument flanks his fathers. Governor Richard Ward’s plaque boasts his family’s arms and Tudor roses. No heraldry for the son: his American record stands as Governor and as delegate to the Congresses, “on station at the General Assembly.”

Not far away in the crowded cemetery stands the tomb of William Ellery, Esq. He was called to Philadelphia upon Ward’s death. He and Stephen Hopkins signed for Rhode Island. Ellery’s grave is surrounded by an iron fence, secure and grand. It is opened only on the Fourth of July when, with the glory of the Newport Artillery and the Sons of the American Revolution in attendance. Ribbons and flowers shine.

Squinting through the iron pickets, one can make out the grave of a daughter. Her name is Philadelphia. The family thus marked its glory. But nearby, in the earliest part of the cemetery lies Samuel Ward, known to the few today who know his letters. No biography exists; a few letters were published in 1952. He deserves more, and perhaps more is to come, dear reader as we conclude his story.

Credits: Mrs. Houses’s letter is held by the Rhode Island Historical Society

Dr. Young’s letter and the Silas Deane and John Adams quotes are in The Correspondence of Governor Samuel Ward, May 1775-March 1776, Bernhard Knollenberg, editor, Providence Rhode Island Historical society.

Nathanael Greene’s quote is in The Papers of General Nathanael Greene, Vol. 1, Richard K. Showman, Editor, University of North Carolina Press, 1992.

This article appeared in Rhode Island Home, Living and Design, Volume 5, Issue 2.

An Article for Wellesley, on their President Caroline Hazard, 1899-1910, of Rhode Island

A century ago, President Hazard retired. She was a fine student, a canny businesswoman and a romantic.

Your Chapel’s iridescent marble relief by Daniel Chester French commemorates Alice Freeman Palmer, “in the heart of the college she loved” upon her death in 1902. President Palmer brought Miss Hazard to Wellesley; she cherished the love that required Miss Freeman’s retirement.

President Angell of Michigan supplied Henry Durant excellent graduates for his faculty. In 1879, Miss Freeman arrived, only twenty-four years old, to teach history.

Angell was the closest of college friends of Rowland Hazard, whose father established the first American woolen manufactury. His daughter Caroline, born in 1856, was stringently educated. German was spoken in her nursery; she attended Providence’s best “classes”. At fifteen, was taken en famille on a glorious four-month tour of Europe, crossing to Liverpool on the Scotia, the last ocean-going side-wheeler. In Florence, a winter of piano teachers, a singing coach for her brothers and lectures amongst the galleries, palaces and museums awaited.

In Providence, Mrs. Hazard arranged for Caroline and her friends to be tutored by J. Lewis Diman, Brown’s distinguished professor of history. He died, mid-career. Such was Caroline’s grief, that Mrs. Hazard suggested she com-pose his biography. Horace Scudder (whose wife taught at Wellesley) published the memoir for Houghton Mifflin, and then brought out her Rhode Island history and ballads. Soon, she was established in Boston intellectual circles. President Freeman invited her to join a visiting committee.

In 1887, Alice Freeman resigned to marry a Harvard professor of Greek, George Herbert Palmer. Despite weak health, she travelled widely, as a senior academic. Upon Julia Irvine’s 1899 resignation, she and her husband nominated Miss Hazard, and courted her (and Rowland, her business-man brother) for months, bringing success.

Miss Hazard dedicated ten buildings in ten years. Some have, of course, gone, among them the Hemenway Gymnasium, so much ahead of its time. The four Elizabethan dormitories of your “Hazard Quadrangle”; your white marble library; and “Oakwoods”, an outright gift as the president’s house, recently converted for admissions use stand. The library graces “Rhododendron Hollow”, enhanced by President Hazard, whose estate in Rhode Island boasted a species, early introduced to America.

Miss Hazard treasured your landscape. She contracted with Frederick Law Olmsted, Jr. and “when the time came”, according to your fine survey, The Landscape and Architecture of Wellesley College, “she sent her personal check”. She led the buildings and grounds committee into the 1920s.

Her friendships, with George Herbert Palmer who presented rare books to Wellesley upon each anniversary of his wife’s death and with Katherine Lee Bates, with whom she shared her 1906 sabbatical in the Holy Land, enrich Wellesley today.

Her introduction to An Academic Romance, Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1940 pairs the Palmers’ letters with the Brownings’. Caroline Hazard bought those, including the “caskets in which they were kept” on the New York market in 1930, for your college.

Other treasures arrived: a Florentine manuscript, bearing its book-sellers stamp, indicating it was bought by President’s mother on that glorious family venture is one. The royal-white caparisoned ceramic elephant, reputed to be one of four minister’s seats in the court of Cathy stood guard in the foyer of her Santa Barbara home, “Mission Hill”.

Miss Hazard’s pilgrim’s scallop shell of St. James of Compestela appears on the cornerstone of her library and in her quadrangle. It formerly graced the mantel in the president’s house. The faith she had in Wellesley, sustained by Alice and George Herbert Palmer’s lives and of all the college scholars she admired enriches us now.

October 1, 2009

Supported by the Rhode Island Council for the Humanities

Colonel Washington’s Wakefield Ride, February, 1756

What a boost for Rhode Island tourism if we had another “Washington Slept Here” site. Maybe we do.

There’s no document, but there are many who believe that Colonel George Washington, with his Captains Mercer and Stewart and servants John Alton and William Bishop slept on Sugar Loaf Hill, outside Wakefield, at a hostelry later known as “Ye Olde Tavern” in 1756. The five were headed for the Narragansett Ferries, at URI’s Bay Campus. Editors at the University of Virginia, have long assumed the five men, headed for Boston, sailed from New London to Newport, through the infamous “Race”, and around Point Judith, challenging waters indeed..

“Why, we wouldn’t take a horse out in your weather”, Beverly Runge politely demurred. Horses were left with Thomas Chew, New London’s postmaster, whose letter received by Washington in Boston, the University of Virginia editors published in 1976. I suggested, “you don’t know our waters, or the “Race” off Long Island and the perils awaiting at Point Judith”. More likely, the five men, led by the “finest horse-man in Virginia” took fresh mounts from Chew and continued up to Westerly, up to Sugar Loaf Hill, and on to Jamestown and Newport.

My friends in Virginia have no document, “it was simply too long ago,” Mrs. Ringe wrote. Washing-ton’s own three-page budget proves the young Colonel grandly visited Philadelphia and New York. In Newport, the officers were elegantly entertained by Geoffrey Malbone. The budget records, “by Cash to Mr. Malone’s servant, to a bowel broke: eight pounds in Virginia currency”. Fare is next recorded for progress on a “British man-of-war”.

“Every officer on horseback, except mr. Washington, was killed or wounded”, Justice John Marshall, reports in his Life of Washington, in 1804. This was “Braddock’s Defeat”, the July, 1755 ambush of the English troops out in Pennsylvania, at a fort later named for Lord Pitt. The French and their Indians demolished the British force of 1,300. “The general himself, after losing three horses, received a mortal wound, and his regulars fled in utmost terror and confusion”. Washington buried General Braddock between the tracks of their cannon, preserving his corpse from marauders.

In January, Washington was sent from Williamsburg to Boston to convince Governor-General Shirley that Pennsylvania must be retrieved. Joshua Hempsted, New London’s diarist records his return on March 8, “Col. Washington in town. He hath been to Boston to advise or be directed by the governor”. Shirley’s letter that preceded his return to Williamsburg proves that he “directed”. The men of Virginia, Maryland, the Carolinas and Pennsylvania armed again. Out they went, that second summer, to find the French stronghold deserted, the French returned to Quebec.

But what of the Wakefield stop? A change of horses from New London may well happened on Samuel Ward’s Westerly farm. Ward had Narragansett Pacers: his mare, Betsy was immediately bought out of his estate in March of 1776. The horses were small, but sure, and chosen despite Washington’s size. Ward was a Newporter, son of a Governor, who settled over “on the mainland” around 1745, having married a Block Islander with dowry-land ashore.

Up the old Queen’s High Way the five men rode. At last the hostelry stood out, on Sugar Loaf Hill. The largest building for many miles, it was a central gathering place. We might assume that settlers rallied there that night in the ample upstairs hall, to hail the hero of Pennsylvania.

The proud old building appears as the “Willard Hazard place” up to 1910 in the South Kings-town deeds. Thomas O’Neill Gordon. was born there, he told me, in its front room., in 1917. His mother and her sisters maintained the place as “Ye Olde Tavern” up to its demise in 1958. Despite State preservation recording, down it went. The 11/25/57 document states, “Washington slept here” But, we must remember, there is no document.

“There wasn’t a fall when we didn’t have a chimney fire in the Old Tavern,” I gathered from Leona Kelley, social worker, teacher and long-time legislator. Mr. Gordon, in his nearby house where he lived with his eldest son, anxiously showed me a brass plaque, an eagle. “Do you think this was on their uniforms?” How much I wished I could assure him, but the Roman eagle was no British emblem in 1756. Mr. Gordon died that fall of ’93. He had been sent a letter from the Ladies of Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association, keepers of the home of Washington, thanking him for his care of the story. It was on his couch, ready to show to all, the last time I visited him.

Mr. Gordon described the June day the beloved old site went down. “It was put together without a nail . . it just wouldn’t go down, it was that strong. It was taken down, not torn”. Its great oak timbers were taken away; some flooring was installed nearby, across from Wakefield’s Larchwood Inn. Wooden pegs were saved, some given to Neil Mahoney, with the promise that there”would be a place for Tom” in the nursing home the Mahoneys had recently established.

Friends with a chain-fall saw that the great granite lintel, nine feet by four and one-half, eighteen inches high, was reset in the new house built for Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, not far away.

In 1960 a house went up on the triangular plot. It’s still lived in by the original owner who encouraged the mounting, on her land, of a granite fence post from the tavern, also removed that hot June day to the Gordons’ new home. Funds from the Washington Trust Company enabled the South County Tourism Council to emplace it. Its bronze plaque saves the story. A patriotic Wakefielder sees that its Stars and Stripes is renewed each year.

“Will you go with me to the banks of the Monongahela, to see your youthful Washington, supporting, in the dismal hour the ill-fated Braddock; and saving by his judgment and his valor, the remains of a defeated army?” So asked Henry Lee, memorializing his friend and cousin in his “First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen” speech to Congress. We celebrated here that young Colonel here, on Sugar Loaf Hill, and the scholars in Virginia, admitting no document, were pleased.

* * * * *

Compiled by Tempus Fugit as a souvenir of the “Washington Rides” originated by the South County Tourism Council and the Washington Trust, and then carried on by NewportFED in 1996, 1999 and 2002. Was offered to South Kingstown schools but, except for a 1994 presentation at Wakefield Elementary, never adopted.

Appearing here curtsey of the Pettaquamscutt Historical Society

Pausch's Colonel Washington & Westerly's Smith Granite Co.

The Danish sculptor, Edward Pausch, was brought to Westerly, Rhode Island to execute this statue from stone quarried by the Smith Granite Co. It is the only granite equestrian statue of Washington. The Junior Order of United American Mechanics of Western Pennsylvania commissioned it for Allegheny City, above the meeting of the three rivers above Pittsburgh, site of "Braddock's Defeat", July, 1755. Colonel Washington was the "officer on horseback to survive."