Senior Moments: Susan Motycka Becoming Eunice Cobb Stocking

By Peter Marteka

Editor

Editor’s note: This is the first in a series of stories about Glastonbury’s senior citizens.

Susan Goodrich Motycka has been portraying and telling the legendary story of Eunice Cobb Stocking for years. The town’s chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution, founded in 1961, is named after Stocking.

Motycka portrayed Stocking in January during the town’s inaugural celebration of the United States’ Semiquincentennial, marking the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776.

Susan Goodrich Motycka performs as Eunice Cobb Stocking at the town’s inaugural 250 celebration. (Peter Marteka)

Here’s the story of Eunice Cobb Stocking in the words of Motycka:

I'm going to take you back 250 years. My name is Eunice Cobb Stocking. I was born in East Haddam on Jan. 27, 1727.
Now, maybe you've heard of me because the local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution is named after me. Some of you are members. So, I'm delighted, really, to be here and to tell you my story, which isn't always a happy one.

My husband, George, was born in Middle Haddam. We were married there on my 20^th birthday. George worked in his father's grist mill, and I worked there, too, when I wasn't having babies. We had 10 of them. Eight boys and two girls. Our first, George and Hezekiah died, and so we reuse the names when the next one is born. Our last child, Elisha, was born in 1770 in South Glastonbury.

It was shortly after we had moved there, because you see, George finally was living his dream.
He was going to build his own grist mill. His cousin, however, tried to convince him that he didn't want to build a grist mill.
He wanted to build a gunpowder factory. At the time, there were only three gunpowder factories in all of New England. George decided that was probably a pretty good idea, so he built his factory and he called it George Stocking and Sons.

Each holiday season, Sue Motycka and members of the Eunice Cobb Stocking Daughters of the American Revolution lay a wreath at the grave of Eunice Cobb Stocking at Still Hill Cemetery. (Submitted)

He made several kinds of gunpowder, the heavy kind, but especially he made the very light type of gunpower. It was a mixture of charcoal, sulfur, and potash. It was the kind of fine power, powder that would ignite the heavy powder in the flintlock.

You all know what a flintlock is, of course. You needed one for hunting, for food, and also for protection. As a matter of fact, the colony of Connecticut said that every man had to have a gun. If you were over 16, you had to have one for the militia.

But even if you were older, in your 70s or 80s or so, and couldn't be in the militia, you needed a gun and it had to be in working condition.
If it wasn't in working condition, you had to have it fixed. If you couldn't afford to have it fixed, then the town would pay for it. But if you didn't pay the town back within six months, it basically became the town of Glastonbury’s gun.

We were all aware of the time of the situation with the British - the tea, the closed ports, the taxes - and our hope for peace really changed in April 1775, when a rider came to Glastonbury and informed us that the British had attacked Boston.

My husband, George, and my oldest son, George Jr, were among the 59 Glastonbury men who went towards Boston to help. They'd got as far as Stafford Springs on the second day, and they heard that the British had retreated, so they came back again. Of course, they walked. They didn't have any other means of transportation, so it was a four-day trip. It was a trip that they maybe didn't need to take, but they did need to take it because war was inevitable. There were 369 Glastonbury men that fought in the Revolution.

We at home lived in the provision state. We supplied food and clothing, shoes, brandy, ships, and of course, gunpowder. George agreed to supply the gunpowder to Washington's troops, and I volunteered to deliver it. The trips were long and tiring, but I was so privileged to help for our cause of freedom.

I'll never forget that day. It was a Sunday morning on Aug. 23, 1777. I was returning home from making a delivery in Boston to the troops and making arrangements for another delivery to be made. I was in Bolton Notch, about 15 miles away, suddenly, the sky grew dark, and the earth trembled, and I knew it could only be one thing. My husband's gun Powder Mill.

I drove that horse so fast and so hard that by the time we reached the mill, he dropped dead.
My worst fears were realized. I lost my son, my husband, my son George, my son Hezekiah, and my son Nathaniel. Thank the Lord, seven-year-old Elijah, who had been there a little bit earlier that day, had been sent on an errand. Caleb was out of town. Ansel was home with his sisters, Eunice and Sabra.

In 1977, 200 years after the tragic mill explosion, members of Eunice Cobb Stocking Daughters of the American Revolution chapter dedicated a plaque along the banks of Roaring Brook. (Submitted)

Perhaps it was heat lightning. Maybe the works were too wet. No one knows, but the sparks set the gunpowder on fire and the whole thing exploded. Two other people were lost in that explosion.
Lieutenant Thomas Kimberly and 10-year-old Isaac Treat.

But there was no time for grief. We were at war. With financial help from Col. Howell Woodbridge we rebuilt the mill and continued to supply Washington's troops with gunpowder until the end of the war. And I delivered it all. 50 tons.

My stories have been passed on from many generations, but nothing was ever really recorded about it in the town books.
George owned the mill and the property and when it was rebuilt Howell put the deed in his name, not mine.

Our country had no money. We weren't paid for our supplies, but fortunately, George had planned ahead.
George had acquired the old Goodwill grist mill and that's what I did after the war. I ran the grist mill. I was basically a widow who had lost three children.

Money was tight and Connecticut had a ruling. As in the 20th of August, every year, every man had his taxes on provisions, income, whatever, his taxed. My husband and sons died three days after that date, and unfortunately, I was amazed when the 1778 tax bill came out. 
My husband and sons were on it. I had to go to general assembly and appeal. Fortunately, I was granted relief. 


The DAR has put plaques in the area. They decorate my grave at Christmas time, but even they can't prove I was a patriot. There's nothing written in the town records.
Thank you for giving me this opportunity to talk about a wonderful woman who, in my heart, is a patriot.