The Man Who Made a Lot of Noise Part 2 of 5

Robert Parker Parrott was born on the 5th of October, 1804, in Lee, New Hampshire. Especially notable during that particular year had been two historic episodes if indelible imprint on American history: Meriwether Lewis and Wm. Clark, on May 14th, had begun the first exploration of the northwest region of the U. S., from St. Louis, Missouri. Then, just two months later, Alexander Hamilton would be fatally shot by vice president, Aaron Burr, in a duel at Weehauken, New Jersey. Scarce is local knowledge of Robert’s earlier life. Perhaps his later day sense of modesty, unforwardness and quiet reserve may have bloomed from an arduous rural upbringing; simple, rigorous and stern. Such an environment may have molded Robert into a trait that might have sheltered him from sharing with others his early youth and subsequent young adult years.

Between 1829 and ’31, Parrott had been stationed in the Hudson Valley’s Fort Constitution, later renamed Constitution Island. Technically, the island was considered a peninsula back then, protruding westward from the Hudson River’s eastern shoreline, a short distance below the hamlet of Cold Spring, N. Y., and directly opposite the military academy at West Point. Severing the peninsula from the mainland had been the laying of the railroad which was being tracked through Cold Spring around 1848. Aged 31, Parrott, in 1835, had been ordered to participate as part of a force in retrieving Cherokee Indian ground in the southland’s state of Georgia. Gold had been discovered on such land, prompting the U. S. government sending the Cherokees west across the Mississippi River, in late December, to search for a new homeland.

Conflicting dates have Robert being hired as an inspector of ordinance at the West Point foundry. Most probably he accepted the position shortly following his performance of duty in Georgia. His introduction to the then 17 or 18 year old iron foundry, situated in Cold Spring at the western extremity of Putnam County, would develop into a business relationship that spanned nearly four decades. There appears also something of a two or three year variation concerning exactly when Parrott was promoted to general superintendent of the foundry, though generally conceded he assumed responsibility for his new post between 1838-’40. One of Robert’s more dominant character traits, fully developed at this moment in time, exposed him as being a man who apparently preferred listening rather than talking, whether socially, politically, or in business. Based on a keen ability to learn from listening, Parrott could express a judgment, or present point, oftentimes with greater and quicker perception than those with whom he had been conversing. Such a mark would doubtless stand him well in his new assignment at the continuously energized iron factory. And it can be reasonably fair to suppose that it was from this point in his tenure with the foundry when Robert began mentally germinating the seed for his “rifled cannon.” Whether out of choice, or necessary compliance with military regulations, Parrott had resigned his colonelcy commission in the army to attend more dutifully to his foundry role. One of those duties as head superintendent would dictate the continuing erection of houses for laborers, mechanics, draughtsmen and machinists from Germany, Ireland, Wales and Scotland. Many such structures stand today throughout Cold Spring and Nelsonville.