Bay View Park (City Point Park)

Click link to view photos with descriptions: 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/29599422@N07/sets/72157643111488533

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.citypointnewhavenconnecticut.net/bay_view_park_city_point_park

Composite MAP: Bay View Park (City Point Park)

Postcards & photos (scroll down for more)

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More Bay View photos

The Story of the Ducks & a Poem ‘In Memoriam’ (scroll down for history of Civil War monument)

The park was always very neat and maintained by an old timer by the name of Steve Knup.  Steve and family lived in the last house at the end of Sea St.  [No. 21]. He raised chickens and ducks.  The ducks in the pond were his.

Every morning he walked his ducks to the pond, and every evening he walked them back to their coop.  He cut the grass, he raked the leaves and shoveled the snow. He maintained the waste barrels and took care of the flowers and trimmed the bushes.

The back of St. Peter’s (“The Oval”) was for ball playing, but sometimes a group of teens would try to play ball on Steve’s grass–but they would be chased from the park as soon as Steve saw them!

[submitted by Doug Kelsey, Oct. 3, 2008, a City Point resident from 1925 to 1942]

                                                            Of all the places everywhere,
                                                            why did it have to be,
                                                            our beloved City Point Park,
                                                            to yield to destiny,
                                                           
                                                            A little corner all its own,
                                                            of our beloved city,
                                                            where oystermen long years ago,
                                                            helped make   
                                                            New  Haven  history,
                                                           
                                                            Beside the path in open fields,
                                                            the pink wild roses grew,
                                                            today the rumble of machines,
                                                            has cut our park in two.
                                                          
                                                            The road was white with oyster shells,
                                                            as horse cars jostled through, 
                                                            and friendly elms and maple trees,
                                                            shaded the Avenue.
                                                          
                                                            Our lovely park where twin lakes flowed,
                                                            and ducks swam to and fro,
                                                            beneath the little rustic bridge
                                                            we crossed long years ago.
                                                          
                                                            We skated on the silvery ice,
                                                            on a cold and frosty night,
                                                            and sang gay songs of olden times,
                                                            in the flickering moonlight.
                                                          
                                                            Time marches on and all things change,
                                                            but an answer please,
                                                            if they must uproot our monument,
                                                            our flowers and our trees.
                                                           
                                                            Our monument where longlong                                                    ago our  forefathers of old,
                                                            welcomed home a weary group of soldiers to the fold.
                                                          
                                                            And if they destroy houses and leave folks with no home,                                                                                                                                                             and cause untold unhappiness, who can for this atone.
                                                           
                                                            Tho’ wheels of progress ever grind,
                                                            ’twill never be the same,
                                                            that tranquil little point of land,
                                                            in keeping with it’s name.
                                                         
                                                           Yet somehow comfort may we find,
                                                            that our forefathers true,
                                                            never lived to see the day,
                                                            that came to me and you.
                                                         
                                                            There is one consolation,
                                                            I’m sure you will agree,
                                                            in mourning for City Point
                                                            we used to know and see.
                                                         
                                                            Tho’ they tear down our houses,
                                                            our flowers and our trees,
                                                            never can they take from us,
                                                            our happy memories.
                                                         
                                                          Written by: Miss Louise Nichols
                                                          (during 1950s construction of Conn. Turnpike/I-95)
                                                          Kindergarten teacher at Kimberly Avenue School,
                                                          & former resident of Sea St.
                                                          [Friend of Douglas (“Duke”) Kent Kelsey who submitted
                                                          this copy]

Civil War 9th Regiment Monument

Click the following link for a detailed history & description of the park’s monument:

http://www.chs.org/ransom/078.htm

Camp Lyon was named after Gen. Nathanial Lyon of Conn.: the first Union officer killed during the Civil War (Aug. 1861). In addition to the 9th Regiment (for whom the monument is dedicated), the 15th Connecticut Volunteer Infantry (known as the Lyon Regiment) also encamped here, its Company D being comprised mostly of New Haven residents.

Gerard Hallock owned the land at this time and volunteered its use for this purpose–despite his being an ardent pacifist and therefore adamantly opposed to the war. His newspaper editorials criticizing the Lincoln administration’s refusal to negotiate with the South after the seizure of Fort Sumter—editorials which resulted in the US Post Office refusing to deliver his newspaper to customers, thereby forcing Hallock into retirement–and his insistence on upholding constitutional law & procedure (and therefore his opposition to northern “personal freedom” laws) earned him the reputation as being pro-slavery. In fact, prior to the war he purchased the freedom of approximately 100 southern slaves, and believed (rather naively we can say today) that slavery could be ended gradually by converting slave owners to a “more authentic” Christianity.  City Point’s Hallock Ave. was named after him by his heirs a year after his death in 1866.



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