THE ARROW OF CONFISCATION LAST CHANCE TO VISIT REVOLUTIONARY DOOR!

As the events of our nation's 250th Anniversary Celebrations' wind down, it's time to reflect on both our past as well as our future. The American Revelation was not that far in the past as there are people today who recall grandparents who certainly knew, as youngsters, those who remembered firsthand stories of the struggle which created our nation. Our story begins when a New Jersey merchant, Robert Blackwell, married Mary Manning and purchased two properties - Roosevelt (then Blackwell) Island and the Queens shoreline which faced the island. The Roosevelt Island property was a simple two-story clapboard farmhouse with a kitchen wing and a lovely back porch. Sold to the city for institutional use in 1820, it was restored in 1974 and remains a popular tourist destination on the island. A son, Jacob Blackwell (1692 - 1744), probably built the stone house in Queens at the foot of 37th Avenue on the East River - which was torn down in 1901. A grandson, Jacob, expanded the property to 140 acres and extended it from Sunswick Creek at Broadway down to 38th Avenue. Jacob, joined the Newtown Militia, participated in the French & Indian War (1754-1763) and during the Revolution (1776) rose to the rank of Colonel. He played an important role in helping raise the local militia. When the British advanced through Astoria in September 1776 he was forced to flee. The British seized the house and prepared a report on members of the local resistance. Colonel Blackwell's name was undoubtedly near the top of the list. As custom, they carved an arrow mark on his door on his house. Dubbed the Arrow of Confiscation, it was an infamous symbol throughout the colonies as it represented an item seized by the Crown. For example, if team representing the Crown went through a forest looking for trees which would make strong masts for sailing vessels, they would find good candidates and hack an Arrow of Confiscation on their trunks. By doing so, the tree ownership automatically went to the Crown. There is no instance that an owner was compensated under this system. Colonel Blackwell, as member of the Provincial Convention, was both a person of respect and a member of the upper tiers of society. He decided to trust the proclamation of Lord Howe, a Royal Navy Officer who was Admiral of the Fleet, and was also given the task of Peace Commissioner with the American rebels. Blackwell believed he would be respected and would be able to return to his home and family. He arrived too late. The Arrow of Confiscation was carved on his door which not only branded him a known rebel sympathizer, but all his house and estate were now confiscated by the Crown and was already handed over to loyalists. British officers, who already occupied the stone house, despoiled its furnishings. Blackwell and his family were likely forced into a small basement room - perhaps the coal cellar. The abusive treatment broke his spirit, and the strain must have been too much for him for Colonel Blackwell died on October 23, 1780, three years before the treaty which ended hostilities and could have restored his property. He was not alone. Peace came too late for many Patriots. The Arrow of Confiscation, carved into the door remains to this day. With no source of income or restoration of stolen property, before the end of the decade, on April 25, 1787, his widow and heirs sold the Blackwell farm to a relative, Joseph Hallett, who in 1791 conveyed it to his son-in-law Major John Delafield. The once beautiful estate of 20 riverfront acres along either side of 41st Drive became a shorefront used for industrial purposes. The former house was used as a school until it was sold at auction in 1885 to Edward Cooper of Cooper's glue factory. In December 1905, a fire destroyed the old two-story homestead. It is thought that either purposefully or accidentally set the house on fire by a refuge to homeless wanderers and rough characters. A reporter painted a sad picture Although the house is well gutted, the walls stand intact as they are made of rock and are nearly two feet thick. It still bears evidence of being very well built and it was undoubtedly once a splendid home, delightfully located on a high, sloping grassy bank that leads right down to the water's edge. It is not known just how old the house really was, but it was described at the time that it was one of the several old homesteads which 'once made Ravenswood one of the prettiest spots on all Long Island.' A writer from the time wrote 'the place had been allowed to fall into decay lately, owing to encroachments of factories that are steadily crowding out all the old landmarks in that section.' The house was unceremoniously torn down about 1900. However, one piece - and its story - remained! Several local lumber merchants, whose families had lived in the community since the earliest era of European settlement, preserved the Door and occasionally displayed it for special events. Concerned about its uncertain future, Queens Parks Commissioner Walter Graeme Eliot removed the knocker, which was ultimately donated to its current home, the F.D.R. Presidential Library. As to the door, it quietly sat in storage at the Brooklyn Museum, its very presence mutely telling of a narrative which spanned centuries. After discovering the door's story, the Greater Astoria Historical Society asked if we could borrow it for display. The Museum suggested we could keep it! We did! It was soon on display, in a place of honor, at the historical society's gallery in the Quinn Building. It was by far the most popular display we have hosted. Over the course of a decade, a steady stream of members, visitors, and students made it our most admired exhibit ... until the Quinn Building closed, At eight feet tall and five feet wide, weighing at least 400 pounds and hewn from pine, the door is undeniably imposing. Yet, it is not its impressive size that makes it remarkable, but the crude arrow carved into its wood and the story behind it. The door has been on display for the 250th anniversary of American Independence, beginning in July, at the Advance Service Mizpah Masonic Lodge. Still bearing scars after 250 years, it serves as a testament to what a person - or object - would go through to narrate stories of sacrifice. Visitors can view the door on Sundays from 11 - 6 at the Advance Mizpah Temple at 21-14 30th Avenue in Astoria. The exhibit closes on August 31, 2026.