Old Boston Taverns and Tavern Clubs — Story, Setting & Ideas

From Institution to Address Book

The first chapter argues for the tavern’s institutional role, but the later excerpts reveal a different method. Drake shifts from argument to inventory: the Green Dragon’s history is traced through a fire in 1690, the rebuilding by Stoughton, and the succession of landlords like Abraham Smith. The Golden Ball section reads like a property title chain, naming Edward Tyng, Theodore Atkinson, Henry Deering, and Samuel Tyley. The book’s structure mirrors this shift—from a general essay to a series of building biographies. Readers should note that the opening’s broad claims are supported not by synthesis but by accumulated local records. The tavern as an idea gives way to the tavern as a plot of land with a sign and a license.

Named Rooms and Their Societies

A striking detail in the Green Dragon account is the naming of chambers: the Cross Keys, Anchor, Castle, Sun, and Rose. These were not just decoration; the Cross Keys housed the Scots Charitable Society, whose officers each kept a key to the money box. This concrete link between a room name and a club’s ritual is the kind of evidence Drake prizes. The same method appears in the Golden Ball section, where the sign itself becomes a relic—the original sign of the Bunch of Grapes and the Golden Ball are illustrated, and the Golden Ball sign is noted as being in the possession of the Bostonian Society. The book treats signs and room names as primary sources, not folklore.

Women, Widows, and Manumission

Drake’s sources occasionally reveal social history beyond taverns. When Abraham Smith died in 1696, his widow Mary Smith took over the Green Dragon. Her will freed two enslaved women, Sue and Maria, with deeds recorded in the Suffolk Deeds. This detail appears without commentary, but it shows how tavern records intersect with broader histories of gender and slavery. Similarly, the Golden Ball passed to Henry Deering’s daughter Mary Wilson, who devised it to a namesake. The book does not foreground these stories, but they surface in the property transfers. A reader attentive to such moments will find hints of women’s economic roles and the gradual manumission of enslaved people in Boston.

Maps, Plans, and the Shape of the Town

The book’s apparatus is as revealing as its text. The foreword thanks the Bostonian Society and lists works by Snow, Stark, and Porter. The illustrations include maps (Bonner’s Map of Boston, 1722), plans of Cole’s Inn, and photographs of signs. The appendix lists taverns and owners, drawing on Miss Thwing’s manuscript “The Inhabitants and Estates of the Town of Boston, 1630-1800.” This apparatus signals that Drake’s book is part of a larger documentary project. The reader should consult the maps and list alongside the chapters: the location of the Golden Ball at the south corner of Faneuil Hall Square, for instance, is clarified by a plan of the Corn Market. The book is as much a reference work as a narrative.

Drake’s method rewards a reader who moves between text and apparatus. The opening chapter provides a thesis; the later sections test it against deeds, fires, and signboards. The names of landlords and the dates of licenses matter more than atmosphere. To read this book well, treat each tavern as a case study in property and politics, and watch for the moments when a will or a society minute opens a window onto Boston’s social structure. The illustrations and appendix are not decorations but evidence.

There’s a particular ache in reading how the Green Dragon passed through so many hands, each fire and deed a small erasure. It made me think of Carlyle’s Frederick, another world of vanished certainties and stubborn legacies. Both feel like sitting in a lamplit room, watching old maps crease at the folds. History of Friedrich II of Prussia — Volume 13 — Story, Setting & Ideas holds a similar quiet weight, if you ever wander that way.