might be inclined to state that Buckminster had been handed a vague mandate that, when accompanied by the negligent oversight of Danforthâs heirs, may have led him occasionally to exceed the bounds of his authority. But the overall pattern of Buckminsterâs actions bespeak of such bad faith, greed and general cantankerousness that it is difficult to endorse such a conclusion. One need only consider that all three of the land tracts set aside by Danforth eventually became embroiled in a lawsuit stemming from Buckminsterâs mismanagement.
Due to poor construction or maintenance, or possibly both, after only twenty-seven years the 1698 meetinghouse was in danger of falling down. Despite the wishes of approximately two-thirds of the residents to rebuild on the same site, Buckminster was steadfastly opposed. He lived in the north part of the town, on the southeast corner of Millwood and Winch Streets, and wished the building located nearer his own residence. When the town voted to go ahead anyway, a supply of lumber was cut and delivered to the old site; Buckminster obdurately took possession of the timbers and used them to erect a barn on his own property. This ignited a ten-year debate and engendered numerous lawsuits and acts of the legislature before a new meetinghouse was finally erected farther north on the Framingham Centre Common. In the process, Buckminster successfully managed to confiscate 35 acres of the land Danforth had originally set aside for the ministry when he argued that the court should recognize the original estimated acreage (140), rather than the original boundaries (which actually contained 175), set forth in Danforthâs deed. Buckminsterâs son, Colonel Joseph Buckminster Jr., then built his house and tavern on this newly acquired acreage west of the old meetinghouse.
If Buckminsterâs handling of the ministerial lands seemed self-serving, his stewardship of the six hundred acres on Doeskin Hill and Nobscot Mountain held in trust for the Danforth heirs was nothing short of fraudulent. The land was held in common by Danforthâs heirs, and Buckminster had bought out the rights of some, but not all, of the heirs. Since the land had yet to be divided, he had no authority to dispose of any of the property, yet he sold off the best parcels for his own gain. His base criminality was exposed when it was discovered he had destroyed a tree marking the southeast border of the property and then marked a different tree more than a mile away in order to try to conceal his misdeeds. The Danforth heirs eventually sued Buckminster, and though he lost at every stage, he fought them tooth and nail. Even after Buckminster himself died at the age of eighty in 1747, his son continued to hold out. Finally, the land was divided for the Danforth heirsâ benefit in 1767, twenty years after Buckminsterâs own death, twenty-five years after the lawsuit began and a full sixty-eight years after Thomas Danforthâs death.
The fate of the Commons was similar. Buckminster had begun settling families on this commonly held parcel as early as 1693, when he directed the Salem End families to erect their farms there. (Since Danforthâs policy was to let families live rent-free for a number of years while they established themselves, Buckminster presumably did not want to allow them to settle on any land on which he might be able to charge someone else rent right away.) Once again lawsuits ensued, although this time Buckminsterâs son, Colonel Joseph, had had enough of losing lawsuits and wisely agreed to settle.
The actions of its progenitor notwithstanding, the Buckminster name eventually became both a prominent and well regarded one in the town. Similarly, despite the divisions and acrimony of its early years, in the first three quarters of the eighteenth century Framingham grew into a reasonably prosperous farming town on the fringes of the British Empire, before events just beyond its
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