📜 UNEARTHED — This story has been assembled from separate events and narrative fragments. — A Southwick Time Machine Original On October 25, 1886, Jason Elbridge Stiles of Southwick, Massachusetts, was riding in a wagon near the train depot with Dr. G. W. Brace when their horse became frightened. Both men were thrown from the wagon and suffered severe bruising.   Southwick Railroad Station   Less than two years later, Jason Stiles found himself at the center of one of the most sensational scandals Southwick had witnessed up to that time. On Friday, June 8, 1888, Stiles—then single and living in Southwick—was arrested on a complaint sworn out by Franklin A. Osborne, a Southwick merchant and the town’s postmaster. Osborne charged Stiles with criminal intimacy with his wife, an offense under Massachusetts law at the time. A warrant was also issued for Mrs. Osborne on a charge of adultery. Franklin Osborne and Frances C. Miner married on April 6, 1881, but by 1888, Osborne ...

 — From The Southwick Time Machine Archives   In February 1950, New England was locked in a brutal cycle of winter weather. Snow fell across the Pioneer Valley, followed by sleet and freezing rain. On Tuesday, February 21, temperatures in Southwick, Massachusetts, plunged to as low as 11 degrees below zero, with wind gusts up to 15 miles per hour. Wednesday brought a slight moderation, with an average temperature just over 12 degrees, though it never climbed above 17 after starting the morning at just 8. By then, the town was sealed beneath layers of ice. Early Thursday morning, February 23, the accumulated weight finally proved too much. The roof of a large stock barn on the Hastings farm—part of the barn about 100 years old—suddenly gave way. The entire upper structure, including the roof and hay loft, crashed down onto the first floor, burying farm equipment beneath tons of hay, snow, and ice. The force was so severe that part of the first floor failed as well, sending heav...

  ⚠️ Content Warning: This story includes horrific themes of violence and loss.  Reader discretion is advised.   — A Southwick Time Machine Original | True Crime Lewis D. Fowler Jr. of Southwick, Massachusetts, was known to those around him as a man of a violent temper, one he seemed unable to control, especially toward his wife, Elizabeth (Mallory). Before mid-September 1862, her concerned friends had him arrested, and bail was arranged on his behalf. The bond was secured by two men: his brother-in-law, Ogden D. Griswold Jr., of the Hartford firm Hastings & Griswold, and Dr. Byington of Southwick. As a condition of his bond, Fowler was required to stay away from his wife and could only visit their home, located approximately half a mile from Southwick Center, at specified times.  An authentic Civil War–era envelope addressed to Ogden Griswold. At the time, Griswold himself was enduring profound personal loss. His wife, Mary A. (Mallory) Griswold, had died only...

— A Southwick Time Machine Archival Reconstruction On Saturday, July 15, 1809, four young girls from Southwick, Massachusetts, went to Southwick Ponds on what should have been a simple summer outing. Three of the girls were between fifteen and sixteen years old; the youngest was only eleven. Their original plan was to pick cherries along the shore. When few could be found, the girls decided instead to gather pond-lilies, for which the lakes were well known. To do so, they climbed into a small boat resting at the edge of South Pond and pushed off from shore using a setting pole. Shortly after leaving the shoreline, the girl holding the pole realized the water beneath them had grown too deep when the pole failed to reach the bottom. As she leaned over the side in an attempt to regain contact, she lost her balance and fell into the pond. The remaining girls rushed toward her, and the sudden shift of weight to one side caused the boat to overturn, throwing all three into the water. Clark C...

  — A Southwick Time Machine   Original True Crime Reconstruction   Westfield, Massachusetts  — Winter 1857   For more than a week, the house on School Street stood silent. It was a modest tenement dwelling, just six rods from the village green—close enough to the center of Westfield that its stillness should have drawn notice sooner. No smoke rose from the family's chimney. No light flickered in their windows. The last confirmed activity in the household had occurred on the morning of Tuesday, December 15, 1857. At first, neighbors thought little of it. Winter was a season of illness and travel. Families went visiting. Absences were easily explained away. But as the days passed, the quiet grew harder to dismiss. An Uneasy Silence Albert J. Stoub, his young wife Mary, and their two small children occupied the basement and first floor on the west side of the tenement house owned by Stephen Spelman. The building was shared with other tenants. In the other ha...