When Essex Lost Its Head: Part I
The Saga of Old Baldy (1811–1868)
Thomas Marshall Burnham, Jr. was born in 1786, in the part of Ipswich that would soon be called Essex. A local trader with a downtown store, in 1811 he purchased a piece of property next to the causeway over the Essex River. He hired a local fellow named Moses Andrews (1774–1853?) to dig the cellar hole for the house Burnham planned to build. Excavating the cellar, Moses was roughly ten feet deep when he found a large (14”) rock in the dirt. Now, finding a granite rock deep in the dirt isn’t anything special. But this was no ordinary rock. Andrews freed the stone from its loamy tomb. He showed it to Mr. Burnham. They agreed: this was not an ordinary rock. It was, in fact, an extraordinary rock. It was a sculpture, a bust of with two eyes, a nose, a big forehead, one ear and an enigmatic mouth that gave a smile or a frown depending on the light.
So Thomas Burnham stored it in a barn and when his house was finished, mounted the head on gate post in his front yard. He painted the face a fleshy pink, the lips red, and the eyes bright blue. Local kids thought it was a hoot — they put hats on it, wrapped scarves at the neck, and every Fourth of July eve put a chamber pot on its head to celebrate.
And they gave it a nickname: Old Baldy.
(They gave it alternate nicknames too: The Roman Head, The Indian Relic, but for this account we’ll refer to the boulder as Old Baldy)
Other than Tom Burnham’s cellar, nobody knew where this head came from, or who sculpted it. Of course there was much speculation. Some said it was Native American. Others said it looked Roman, like the Emperor Nero. Some said it was from an ancient settlement. Others say that it was probably part of a ship’s ballast that somehow got tossed overboard and buried, since Main Street is a stone’s throw (literally, pun intended) from the waterfront.
Up on his fence post, old Baldy didn’t say anything.
In 1825, Tom Burnham moved to Boston. He became a furniture dealer, but pivoted quickly to selling books, especially used books. He also sold ephemera, coins, shells and all sorts of odd, old stuff. He was the first antiques dealer from Essex. His store, Burnham’s Antique Bookstore, was one of the first, if not the first, second-hand bookstores in the United States.
Burnham’s store was on Cornhill Street. The address and the street no longer exist; it was where City Hall Plaza/Government Center is now. Old Baldy was in the display window, drawing passers-by to stop and stare. Old Baldy stared back. The people came in. Burnham’s bookstore became an absolute success, eventually filling two four-story buildings with merchandise.
Eventually an unknown, neighboring book merchant down on Washington Street stopped by Burnham’s. He offered to buy Old Baldy. Burnham refused at first. But the merchant, convinced this enigmatic rock would bring him good fortune, offered $200 — a fortune at the time. This time, Burnham said yes.
This is where the history gets a little fuzzy.
That neighboring merchant displayed Old Baldy at his store. Perhaps Old Baldy did bring good fortune, at least for a little while. For a foreign gentleman or gentlemen — Danes — stopped by and made inquiries. Where did he get the head? The bookseller laid it on thick. It’s a Roman sculpture. Or it’s a Viking sculpture. It’s very old. It’s very valuable.
“We’ll buy it!” Said the Danes.
Old Baldy travelled across the Atlantic, to Copenhagen. Where he was displayed at a “cabinet of curiosities” as a Roman statue. Or maybe a Viking statue. Until one day, mariner from Essex, MA, a ship captain, saw it on display.
“Hey, that’s Old Baldy!” He said.
The museum staff were nonplussed. This is a Roman bust! Or a Viking bust! From Europe!
No it’s not, the captain said. That’s Old Baldy, and he was dug up in Chebacco, now Essex, where I’m from.
This account is from the Reverend Robert Crowell and David Choate’s 1868 History of the Town of Essex. They end the tale with this:
If imposition was practiced upon a traveller from abroad, it is some satisfaction to know, it was by no Chebacco man. The original find of the head, indeed, was verified by the finder, Mr. Andrews, who signed and swore to the affidavit setting forth the facts…But no opinion of his made any part of his affidavit. It is now said, that on being sent back to Boston, damage was demanded for deception. Of this, however, nothing certain is now known.
With that, Old Baldy disappears from the historical record.
Or does he?
(Read Part II)
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