As a life long resident of our little community, I have had the advantage of witnessing some fascinating history as it occurred. Times I will always remember, perhaps history was not as important to the young child within me, but history it was. I have been fortunate to walk the same streets and trails as my great great grandfather, swimming in the same ponds and experiencing the same seasons that he once did almost two centuries before. I have walked Rattlesnake Hill and enjoyed refreshing days swimming in our long-abandoned quarries. I have even spent time with my own father looking out at Spain Quarry, the small quarry owned by my great grandfather on Rattlesnake Hill. Moments spent at the long abandoned Spain Quarry are especially pleasing to me, to stand where grandfather spent his days toiling over the masses of granite that he harvested from beneath the earth. All of this so that he could provide for his family.

There are other times when I travel around Concord and our surrounding communities and gaze upon such wonderful historic artifacts. I cross covered bridges picturing the people that crossed a century before. I see old property bounds and town line bounds where slabs of granite mark the place where the next parcel does begin. Some bounds are engraved in a primitive manner, dating back to the colonial period. I view homes and barns that are still grand, many summer homes to the wealthy that summered there, venturing from the large cities for months of refreshing relaxation in the hills of New Hampshire. There are stone walls galore too, we pass them every day during our commutes.

As I have always ventured I find myself captivated by unknown curiosities. Perhaps simply an ancient anchor in a piece of granite or the many holes drilled into that granite block as the process of cleaving it into smaller pieces began. I wonder about the quarryman that bored those holes deeply into the granite block, did he expect to finish this job of cleaving the granite smaller? Why did he leave this job unfinished, standing in this state for future generations? I look at the rails running about our city, imagining the old steam locomotives that once ran free, some old buildings associated with the railroad still stand, others do not.

As I continue my travels, I notice the monuments dotting our community. I have always been known to stop and read a newly discovered piece of engraved granite to see what it might have to tell. We have some organized granite monuments marking our original garrisons when we were known as the town of Rumford. The small obscure granite marker located on Iron Works Road speaks volumes to me. Local iron ore was gathered and smelted in this area to create early iron pieces. It was on Iron Works Road that workers created cannon balls destined for the Continental Army as they battled the British soldiers that stood in the way of their independence.

We do have some local artifacts that boast rich histories that remain unnoticed; police call boxes, old fire call boxes and most recently our forgotten pay phones. There are abandoned water bubblers at White Park, which that once quenched the thirst of residents during the century before. We have historic granite steps on Main Street, just south of the Waters Funeral Home. The steps do not lead to a house, but once they did. In fact they led to the front door of the last residence occupied by President Franklin Pierce. Pierce passed away in that house, holding the hand of his servant. Pierce summoned her saying he did not want to die alone.

Of particular interest to the curiosity I held as a young boy was the pile of horse shoes along Hopkinton Road. As we would travel by car from Concord to Hopkinton I would always watch for this massive pile of horse shoes, stacked in front of a building near the pond. I often wondered about that pile of rusty old shoes, my young mind assuming it might very well be the end of the rainbow.

As the years continue to pass, I sometimes think back to those old curiosities with amusement. I visit again and remember fondly the years from long ago. Recently I passed the old pile of horse shoes in Hopkinton. The pile is not as tall as I remember it, there is a chain link fence now surrounding it. My curiosity did get the best of me last week, and I did some research to see if I could discover the true meaning of the pile of rusty horse shoes in Hopkinton.

It was over a century ago the pile of horse shoes was created. John E. Derry was the Hopkinton village blacksmith. I have learned John Derry is the man that created this old tribute, as he shoed horse after horse he simply piled the discarded old shoes in front of his blacksmith shop. One shoe led to another, the days turned to months and the months turned to years. Blacksmith John Derry started to witness the pile growing each and every day, soon he referred to his pile of discarded horse shoes as his “good luck pillar.” In case you are wondering, at one time this pile contained 25,000 discarded shoes and weighed about ten tons. It is said that during local celebrations this “good luck pillar” attracted many crowds, certainly good for a village blacksmith eager to make a profit.

John Derry has been quoted as saying over a century ago, “if one horse shoe outside the door brings good luck my pile of horse shoes should cause my business to jump.”

As I look at the pile of horse shoes left behind by blacksmith John E. Derry I can certainly confirm the pile is a shorter stack today. Perhaps it was reduced in size due to concerns for safety, fear that it might topple over upon an unlucky lad. I personally like to think the missing horse shoes were picked from the pile one at a time for a century or more, bestowing good luck and fortune to all that gathered and recalled the memory of blacksmith John E. Derry.

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