Arnold Poole Avery (1874 – 1961), was my great uncle. We called him Uncle Arn. I was only nine years old when he died, but I have vivid memories.

 My brother and my cousins probably thought of Uncle Arn as a crotchety old man. White haired and hunchbacked, he was crippled by an automobile accident in his middle age which kept him in constant pain. I only remember seeing him in his chair in the corner of his living room at his house by the lake. We came summers to my grandfather’s cottage across the street. My grandmother (his sister-in-law) brought him special prescriptions from New York City to help ease his pain. I remember the word “laudanum.” Laudanum was an alcoholic solution containing morphine prepared from opium that was used as a narcotic painkiller.

 I was Uncle Arn’s favorite, perhaps because I was the only girl among the cousins who descended upon his house by the lake in the summers. He played with me and joked that I should put a clothespin on my nose to make it bigger to look more like the rest of the family. I usually laughed and told him I was special. He was always kind to me.

 I know only a few details of my uncle’s life. His father George Avery came from Pennsylvania and bought a farm on Coventry Lake in 1896, perhaps to join relatives already in Connecticut. I once compared notes with the descendents of the 17th-century Averys of Avery Point in Groton, Connecticut, now living in Willington. My Avery family and their Avery family share many common first names, like Lottie, perhaps coincidence, but maybe not. This bears further research.

I know that Uncle Arn was a licensed plumber and plumbing instructor in the New York City Public Schools. He installed the elaborate plumbing system in his house by Coventry Lake, including a separate pump to bring water up from the lake to water the gardens and lawn. He left lots of brass and copper pipes in the garage. I took them to the Pucker Street junk yard, and they suspiciously asked how I acquired them. Assured I didn’t steal them, they gave me $400. A nice gift from Uncle Arn!

Uncle Arn must have met my grandfather’s sister, Ethel, in New York City. She was an elementary school teacher in the New York City Public Schools. The married and eventually came to live summers, then full time in Coventry sometime in the 1930s after their dream house by the lake was built.

Recently, I found two letters. One letter was dated December 11, 1902, from the Inspector of Plumbing of Northampton, Massachusetts, regarding approval of his plumbing credentials. I don’t know why he would have been working in Northampton, but I also found a metal badge from the City of Hartford as a Registered Journeyman Plumber, Number 193.

The second letter, dated June 4, 1903, addressed to Mr. Arnold P. Avery, 33 Asylum Street, Hartford, Conn., was from his uncle J. A. Avery in Mont Alto, Pennsylvania:

 June 4th, 1903

My Dear Nephew,

     I received your letter and Photographs of your House and Boats on the Lake which look fine. I hope you will get enough people from the City to make the work Profitable for you: I give you Credit for your Plans And if you Make it Known you have a Summer Resort with plenty of Mild Spring Chicklings Strawberrys & so on it will be a Success: I would be satisfied to stay with you all Summer but Mrs Avery & I are in love with Hartford and when we make you another visit we will visit one of your Rooms in the City and Stay a Month or So: tell Minnie the Man I had for her in Florida was married last winter hope she will not be discouraged. When I go back to Florida I will try to find her another one.

     Give my kind love to your Father and Mother and all the family we would be glad to have any one of you to make us a visit any time will be glad to hear from you again.

                                 From your Uncle

                                         J A Avery

I had heard my Uncle Arn ran a boarding house at 33 Asylum Street in Hartford. My mother told me the pressed-back chairs in the garage were from the boarding house. In 1903, Hartford was a literary and banking center with the likes of Mark Twain and J. P. Morgan.  Thirty-three Asylum Street, not far from Main Street, the Old State House, the State Capitol and train station would have been a fabulous location for a boarding house.

I knew a little about my Uncle Arn’s plans for turning his father’s farm on Coventry Lake into a resort. I know he rented row boats in the summer. I have seen plans for a Ferris wheel and a golf course. In the end, the farm was sold to a developer. Many vaudevillians from New York City built summer cottages and performed local shows to help pay for the roads.

 What I don’t know is why Uncle Arn’s grand plan fell apart. Was it the Depression? Was it his automobile accident? Was it both? I do know, though, in spite of his outward crotchety appearance, my Uncle Arn settled to a very happy life at Coventry Lake with his beloved wife Ethel.

 I now live in the house my Uncle Arn built. I am usually sitting in the spot where he once sat.