Our Steeple Bell

Home » About » History » Steeple Bell

Ladders, Light, and Lost Things

Exploring the hidden corners of Union Congregational Church

Rediscovering the Steeple Bell

A hidden piece of our church history—climbed, uncovered, and heard again.

It began with a simple idea during worship planning:

“Let’s ring in the Easter service! It’s been so long since we’ve heard the steeple bell.”
“Wouldn’t it be great to capture it on video for those watching the livestream?”
“Has anyone still living in our congregation even seen the bell?”

That spark of curiosity set off a joyful, slightly dusty journey into the hidden heart of Union Congregational Church.

The Climb

Our group of explorers—equal parts brave and nostalgic—climbed from the sanctuary balcony into the attic above the sanctuary ceiling. There, we found the small porthole that led into the steeple floor. Bob was the first to climb through.

Person climbing a steep wooden staircase from the church balcony toward a bright doorway leading up to the steeple
Our group of explorers—equal parts brave and nostalgic—climbed from the sanctuary balcony to the attic.
Person climbing a wooden ladder through a square hatch into the upper section of the church bell tower
Wooden ladder leading into a square opening in the ceiling, with one person climbing through the porthole while another looks up
We opened the porthole into the steeple floor.

Craftsmanship in Wood and Stone

Inside, we were struck by the incredible craftsmanship. Massive hand-hewn beams form a double support system, built entirely without power tools, designed to hold a 1,200-pound brass bell. Standing among them gave us new appreciation for the labor and vision of those who built this church nearly two centuries ago.

Massive hand-hewn wooden beams forming a cross-braced corner support inside the church steeple
Inside, we found incredible craftsmanship: massive hand-hewn beams and a double beam support structure, built entirely without power tools, designed to hold a 1,200-pound brass bell.
Close view of heavy double-beam supports inside the wooden frame of the church steeple

The Writing on the Wall

On one wall we discovered painted initials and dates: 1946. At first, we guessed perhaps the steeple had been painted then.

Later, Carl and Pattie Ingelstrom confirmed the story. Carl’s father, Ivar Olaf Ingelstrom, was a painting contractor in Peterborough. In 1946 his crew repainted the entire church exterior. Among his workers were Waine Lammi (“Waine”) and Ernest Brassard (“ELB”), who left their initials in the steeple.

Photographs from that summer show men perched high on the spires with no harnesses and no OSHA oversight—just balance and courage. We also found another signature painted onto the wood near the roof panel: H.M., 1926.

Vintage black-and-white photo of a painter on a ladder working on the upper section of the Congregational Church steeple, with the brick façade and windows visible below
Wooden beams inside the steeple with white painted initials ‘H.M. 1926’ visible on a support near the roof access hatch
At the very top, near the access panel to the roof and spires, we found a signature painted onto the wood:
H.M., 1926.
One of many quiet echoes from the past.
Names and initials painted on wooden boards inside the steeple, including WAING 1946 and other faded signatures
Vintage black-and-white photo of a man standing atop the church steeple spire, painting the railing near the pinnacle against the sky
Handwritten letter in blue ink on lined paper describing painting work on the Congregational Church in Peterborough, NH, in 1946.

First Glimpse of the Bell

Finally, from the ladder, we caught sight of the bell itself. A magnificent sight, aging beautifully at nearly 180 years old.

Large brass church bell suspended in the steeple, mounted within a wooden support frame
If you look closely, you can see two white spots where the bell hits the clapper—evidence of years of joyful ringing.
View upward inside the steeple showing the church bell framed by heavy wooden beams
From the ladder, we finally saw it—the bell itself, resting high above our heads.

The Bell’s Mechanics

When the rope in the attic is pulled, the clapper inside remains stationary. Instead, the entire 1,200-pound bell rocks side to side on a massive wooden wheel. If you look closely, you can still see two light spots where the bell has struck the clapper for generations.

We also discovered the tolling arm, a wooden lever shaped like a sledgehammer, attached to a rope in the balcony. Tolling produces a gentle, solemn ding. Ringing, on the other hand, sets the whole steeple in motion—the bell swooshing, beams groaning, sound reverberating, deafening in its joy.

Wooden toll arm with sledgehammer-shaped head attached to the bell frame, used for striking the bell
We found the tolling arm, shaped like a sledgehammer, connected to a rope in the balcony.
● Tolling the bell gives gentle, singular dings—perfectly tolerable.
● Ringing the bell? Deafening! The bell sways, the wheel whooshes—and the entire steeple sings.
Bell rocker and wooden support frame inside the steeple, showing weathered beams and metal fastenings
The bell is rocked using a large wooden wheel. The clapper inside stays still as the entire bell swings side to side.
Close-up of the church bell with the engraved maker’s mark ‘HOLBROOK EAST’ visible on its side

Who Made the Bell?

The bell bears the casting mark Holbrook East. Church records confirm it was purchased in 1841 for $375 from George H. Holbrook of East Medway, Massachusetts. Holbrook apprenticed under Paul Revere, and his son, George H. Holbrook Jr., improved the musical tone of these bells.

Other Holbrook bells nearby include those at All Saints’ Episcopal (Peterborough), St. James’ Episcopal, and the UCC in Keene. The Holbrook National Registry oddly lists one at Union Congregational Church in Greenfield, NH, supposedly installed in 1848. But our Greenfield members note that bell is actually a clock bell, not a Holbrook. That suggests our bell may not yet be included in the registry—a bit of unfinished history we might claim for it.

Discoveries in the Attic

The climb also revealed treasures tucked away in the church attic—silent witnesses of worship long past:

  • A cloth-lined offering basket on a long handle, once passed through pews.
  • A decorative carved arch panel, likely from a window or interior feature.
  • Antique brass candleholders once clipped to pews for Christmas Eve.
  • A carved pew end, resting near a wall etched with sexton signatures from the 1800s.

Each of these is not graffiti but a signature of care, devotion, and the daily labor of the church.

Person in a red vest and mask standing by a window, holding a tall wooden candlestick holder with a cross-shaped top
In a nearby closet, we found antique brass candleholders once clipped to pews for Christmas Eve services, lighting the sanctuary with flickering warmth.
Triangular stone resting on the attic floorboards near a white wall and doorway.
A dusty wooden panel with a carved pointed Gothic-style arch design leaning against a wall, showing wear and scratches
Leaning carefully against a beam stood a carved wooden panel—its elegant lines suggesting it once adorned a wall or window. Artistry tucked away.
A dark-stained, ornately carved wooden pew end featuring curved scrollwork and a circular rosette, leaning against a wall with its shadow cast.
A dramatically shadowed pew end caught our eye
Person in a blue coat and mask holding an old offering basket on a long handle, lined with red fabric
Carele found a cloth-lined offering basket tucked among storage—a quiet, lovely artifact that once passed from hand to hand.

The View from Above

From the steeple we looked down through two ladders stacked one above the other, saw shafts of light cutting across beams, and gazed out over the long slope of the church rooftop. Even the attic itself told stories—dusty pews, forgotten furniture, brick pillars, and shafts of mysterious light falling into hidden corners.

Dim attic space above the sanctuary ceiling, filled with stored wooden pews and lit faintly from the far doorway.
Light filters in only from the street side, illuminating dust-covered pews, forgotten furniture, and a sense of reverence. Closets hold remnants of church life that once bustled—light fixtures, tools, mystery pieces.
Dark attic space with a brick chimney and a partially drywalled wall section under the slanted roofline
Through two large attic openings, we looked down into the ceiling over the choir room and saw brick pillars flanking a mysterious shaft of light. Was it from the Sunday School attic? No one was sure. But it was striking
View through an old window looking down over the gray-shingled church rooftop toward the snowy parking lot and surrounding trees
From the top of the steeple, the full length of the church roof stretches into view. Its quiet slope reminds us: this place has sheltered a century of stories.
Looking down through two stacked wooden ladders leading from the steeple toward the attic below
High above the sanctuary, a dizzying view reveals two ladders—one leading to the steeple, one to the attic below. Seen from above, it’s a geometric maze of beams and rungs, shadow and light.

The Bell Rings Again

On Easter morning, the steeple bell rang out once more. Not only as a sound of worship, but as a symbol of joy, remembrance, and worship.

Scroll to Top