UNUSUAL TALES FROM CONNECTICUT’S COLORFUL PAST The Barkhamsted Lighthouse Shines On A SMALL COMMUNITY OF OUTCASTS IN THE WOODS SERVED AS A BEACON TO OTHERS. Although Connecticut is known for its rocky coast and the plethora of venerable harbor lights that guide sailors to safety, it is one particular, little-known “lighthouse”—landlocked at the fringe of the Litchfield Hills—that has a history like no other. Unlike its coastal brethren, the Barkhamsted Lighthouse was not actually a tall, shining edifice, but a tiny settlement of outcasts. The story starts around 1740, and as many do, really gets going when a young man meets a young woman. In this case, though, the young man was a Narragansett Indian by the name of James Chaugham, who arrived in Wethersfield to make a new start for himself. The woman he met is Molly Barber, a white colonist, which made for a relationship that was heavily frowned upon at the time. Although there is some question as to whether Molly was genuinely from Wethersfield or not—the historical record doesn’t list her as having been born there—the traditional telling goes that James, who trekked up the Connecticut River after possibly having escaped slavery or servitude in Rhode Island, met her there after taking work from her wealthy father, Peter Barber (of whom there is also no clear, documented evidence). After failing to connect with any of the numerous suitors deemed worthy by her father, Molly was said to have declared that she would marry the next man “whether white or any color” who asked for her hand . . . which turned out to be James. Echoing the plot of every forbidden romance from Romeo and Juliet to Dirty Dancing, Molly defied her father’s wishes and ran off with her “bad” boy, minus the tragic suicides or anyone being put in a corner. Or so the story goes. The reality of their mixed-race relationship was most likely much less melodramatic, but still damned by the convention of the time. The bottom line is that James and Molly ended up together, and eager to get away from disapproving stares (or authorities, if James was indeed a runaway slave), they left the “bustling” town of Wethersfield to set up house in the more sparsely populated, and thus more secluded, area on the lower slopes of Ragged Mountain in what is now Barkhamsted. Although the facts of how Molly and James originally met and the details of the early years of their relationship have been lost to time, thanks to extensive historical and archaeological research (spearheaded by Dr. Kenneth L. Feder, an archaeology professor at Central Connecticut State University who has led numerous excavations at the site of the Barkhamsted Lighthouse settlement, as well as Chaugham descendants), more is known about the couple’s later lives. Apparently, the social scorn didn’t stop the Chaughams from being fruitful and multiplying. Once they had carved out a small settlement in the mountainside forest, the couple had eight children: Solomon, Samuel, Mercy, Meribah, Hannah, Polly, Elizabeth and Sally. All but Sally survived into adulthood, and of those children who did, both sons and all the daughters except Elizabeth married and had families of their own. A few stayed nearby, helping the small community continue to grow, with subsequent generations adding to the mix. Unfortunately, due to the nature of their heritage, most of the Lighthouse Chaughams were relegated to live in abject poverty. As for James and Molly, they both lived long lives. James was believed to have been in his early eighties when he died in 1790, while Molly passed away in 1818 and was said to have been 104 years old. Both were buried in a small cemetery, headstones of which still stand near the original Lighthouse site. As many as 30 Chaughum family members continued to live at the settlement until well into the mid 1800s, when the need for better economic opportunities gradually forced them to leave for greener pastures. After more than 120 years of occupancy, the Lighthouse was abandoned altogether, and slowly faded back into the woods—and history—for nearly a century until the efforts of Feder and other researchers brought it back to light. The site of the Barkhamsted Lighthouse was officially designated a State Archaeological Preserve in 2008 by the Connecticut Historical Preservation Council, and is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is part of the Peoples State Forest and is open to the public. Oh, and the name Barkhamsted Lighthouse? As the state’s population began to grow, others followed Molly and James into the more rural areas of the state, resulting in better blazed trails and eventually, transportation routes. A trail that passed near the Chaughams’ settlement became part of a stagecoach line, and it was said that the drivers used the glow of the home fires there as a signal that they were only a few miles from New Hartford, a key stop along the journey where horses could be watered and passengers could rest. Thus, the settlement was used as a “beacon”—a metaphorical “lighthouse”—to guide them to their destination . . . and the name stuck. The Barkhamsted Lighthouse may not “shine” any more, but it’s still a bright part of the state’s landscape.