Hydeville Mill: The Rise and Fall of the Phoenix Woolen Company

If you judged Hydeville Mill by its exterior today, you would not call it a historic producer of fine doeskins or cassimere. You would call it a graveyard for heavy machinery. When my exploring partner J and I arrived, the parking lot looked less like a monument to industry and more like a waiting room for rusty backhoes, paratransit vans, and tractors in various stages of decay. We did not linger outside.

We slipped inside, expecting empty floors or rotting looms. Instead, we found a vintage red Chevy jacked inexplicably high toward the ceiling. It is a strange phenomenon I have noticed in my travels. Whether I am in New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, or Delaware, abandoned mills seem to come with a peculiar side dish. They almost always hide a vintage automobile tucked away in some forgotten corner. It happens so frequently that it has become a running theme in my work, as if these industrial giants simply swallow cars whole.

We documented what we could see, but we missed the most fascinating part of the structure. It was right beneath our boots. Years later, J discovered that the mill concealed a covered raceway under the floorboards. We had walked right over it without a clue. As the building deteriorated over time, the rotting wood eventually revealed the secret. If we had checked the old Sanborn survey maps beforehand, we would have known it was there. The maps clearly show a water channel deftly squared away beneath the center of the mill. Originally, this space housed a water wheel to catch the flow of the tail race, though it was later upgraded to a turbine. It remains one of those frustrating missed opportunities in this line of work. I never got the chance to return and document the raceway before time took its toll.

History

Long before Hydeville Mill became a resting place for old trucks and forgotten equipment, it was a serious place of work.

The earliest section rose in 1860 along Hydeville Road, built for the Hydeville Company at a time when waterpower still ruled New England industry. Eight years later, the property was sold to a new venture, the Phoenix Woolen Company. Its mission was clear. Produce cassimeres and doeskins, the sturdy, fine wool fabrics that clothed working men and businessmen alike.

The company’s early leadership reflected the tight circle of 19th century industry. Charles Holt served as treasurer and agent. Cyril Johnson oversaw operations as superintendent. By 1880, Holt had bought out Johnson and taken full control. Six years later, he brought in E.C. Pinney and Christopher Allen. Within a year, Holt stepped away, and the new partners carried the mill forward.

Under Allen and Pinney, Phoenix did not stand still. The company expanded its line to include kerseys, a coarse ribbed cloth used for hose and workwear, meltons, a heavy wool with a smooth finish, and vicuna blends prized for warmth. Around 50 workers once tended five sets of carding machines and 17 broad looms. By 1895, business had doubled. The workforce grew to roughly 100 people running 35 looms. The mill still had only five carding machines, so management ran two shifts to keep pace with demand. It was a place that hummed from dawn into the night.

The buildings grew with the business. The original structure featured a three-and-a-half-story main block and a four-story wooden stair tower that once reached six stories high. A dye house was added in 1870, along with wool storage. In 1897, one-story additions lined the north side for picker rooms, an engine room, and a cloth dryer. A brick-carding building rose in 1911. Inspection and shipping rooms followed in the next decade. Each addition told the same story. Orders were coming in, and the company intended to fill them.

Like many mills, Phoenix survived by adapting. When World War I broke out, it shifted its entire output to fabric for Navy overcoats. After the war, fashion changed. Heavy woolens fell out of favor. The company pivoted again, producing cloth for billiard tables and automobile interiors. Around 1930, it introduced a line of women’s wear, hoping to stay ahead of the market.

This red Chevy has seen better days.

But by 1934, the strain was too great. The mill was sold to the Swift River Woolen Company of Westerly, Rhode Island. Swift River focused on lightweight fabrics for women’s clothing. In December 1942, a two-hour fire tore through parts of the complex, damaging the picking room, machine shop, woolen room, and a picking machine. Losses topped 100,000 dollars, a steep sum at the time. Even so, operations continued until 1955, when the Stafford plant closed and was auctioned.

The next chapter belonged to the A.W. Dolge Company, founded in Hazardville, Connecticut, in 1952 by Albert W. Dolge and his partners. Dolge processed wool and initially employed just over 30 workers. By the late 1960s, that number had dropped to about twelve. In 1976, the company shut its doors. The age of large-scale wool production in Hydeville was over.

What followed was a patchwork of smaller industrial tenants. From 1977 to 1987, Raytech Industries produced lapidary equipment at the site. Other businesses shared the space, including a foam company, a plastics recycler, and a film recycling firm. Raytech’s work involved sheet metal pressing, machining, welding, and degreasing with industrial solvents. In 1988, the property was purchased by Roger Lemonde, who held it until he died in 2011.

Through the late 1980s and into the 2000s, the mill housed Church Pew Restoration and Wilson Woodworks, which produced wood flooring and continued operating there until at least 2014. Nearby, the once industrial landscape had already shifted toward residential use. A gun and knife shop called Gun and Blade opened in one section. Kay’s Ceramics operated out of another. Jennings General Contracting, one of the few remaining industrial businesses in the area, now owns adjoining property.

The covered race is described in this 1921 Sanborn map.

Architecture

At first glance, Hydeville Mill looks like one long building. It is not. It is a puzzle of eight connected sections, each added as business grew and changed.

Together, the complex covers about 86,300 square feet. The heart of it dates to 1860. That main block rises three and a half stories. The lower level is built of solid granite blocks. The upper two and a half stories are wood-framed. On the east side stands a wooden stair tower that now reaches four stories. It once climbed to six, a reminder of how much taller and prouder the mill used to be.

By around 1870, the original structure had already outgrown itself. A wooden dye house was added to the rear of the west side. At the northwest corner, a two-story brick and granite addition provided more space, likely for storage and processing. The mill was expanding with the times.

Around 1905, two more additions appeared. A one-story wooden drying building rose alongside a one-story red brick structure north of the main building and the mill race. These spaces housed gauze and picker rooms, an engine room, and a cloth dryer. The work inside was becoming more specialized. The layout followed suit.

By 1915, the mill added yet another layer. A two-story red brick and wood shipping building was constructed on the northeast corner. On the south side, a one-story red brick section went up. Around 1940, a one-and-a-half-story wooden shipping building was built in the southwest corner. Sometime before 1942, a red brick boiler house anchored the northwest edge of the complex.

Unlike many mills of its era, this one reportedly sits on a slab foundation, with no basement or crawl space. That detail matters. Much of its power once came from water.

Furnace Brook runs west along the southern border of the property. To the north, a mill race flows in from Hydeville Pond. The water travels west toward the building, then exits through a sluiceway near the southwest corner before emptying into Furnace Brook. That steady flow once turned a water wheel and later drove a turbine. The layout of the site was shaped by that current.

The largest section is known as Building No. 1. It has a Z-shaped footprint and sits along the north side of the property. Timber framing defines its structure, from the walls to the second-floor supports. The roof is flat, practical, and unadorned.

Building No. 2 served as the boiler house or powerhouse. It is square, with a chimney stack rising near the southeast corner. Though faced in brick, it relies on timber framing inside for its walls, floors, and flat roof.

Building No. 3 forms an L shape between Buildings No. 1 and No. 4. It features timber walls and a gable roof. At the front stands a four-story tower, attached to a two-story side section. Most of the structure rises three stories, with a one-story wing extending from the southwest end.

Building No. 4 sits on the south side of the property. It is a single-story structure with timber walls and a flat roof, finished with a brick exterior.

Taken together, these sections tell the story of steady growth rather than grand design. Each addition answered a need. More storage. More drying space. A new engine room. A shipping wing. The result is a layered complex shaped by decades of industry and by the water that once powered it.

So many light and heavy commercial vehicles rust away on the property.

Inside has deteriorated substantially since my first and last visit.

Environmental Hazards

The story of Hydeville Mill is not only about wool and waterpower. It is also about what may have flowed out of the building long after the looms fell silent.

Environmental assessments paint a troubling picture. The mill race that once powered the machinery reportedly ran beneath the central portion of the structure. That same waterway, which eventually feeds into Furnace Brook, may have carried more than just clean runoff.

Reports suggest that former tenants, including A.W. Dolge Company, Raytech, and Warwick Refinishing, may have discharged industrial waste directly into Furnace Brook. Several floor drains inside the mill were also identified. According to assessments, those drains led straight to the stream.

One former tenant, Plastics Recycling, allegedly accepted hazardous waste from an off-site business known as Stafford Printers in 1982. The materials reportedly contained methyl ethyl ketone, trichloroethane, and metal chromates. Instead of being handled at a licensed facility, the waste was reportedly taken to the town landfill for disposal.

Another tenant, Church Pew Restoration, operated in the 1980s and performed furniture stripping. That work often relied on strong chemical solvents. Records indicate that methylene chloride waste was generated on-site during that period.

For decades, the mill was a place of production. First wool. Later, lapidary tools, recycled plastics, and refinished wood. Each chapter added to the building’s layered history. But industrial progress in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries often came with little oversight. Waste was treated as an afterthought. Drains led to brooks. Brooks led to rivers. Today, Furnace Brook still flows past the southern edge of the property.

Source(s):

1. Phoenix Woolen Co, Connecticut Mills

2. (1921) Sanborn Fire Insurance Map from Stafford Springs, Tolland County, Connecticut. Sanborn Map Company, Sep. [Map]. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/sanborn01180_005/