You’re driving through the quiet, rolling hills of Greenfield, Massachusetts, and suddenly there it is—a massive, weathered wooden structure stretching across the Green River. It’s the Eunice Williams Covered Bridge. Most folks see it as just another pretty New England photo op, a "Pumping Station" relic of a slower time. But honestly? This bridge is basically a monument to one of the most heartbreaking and bizarre chapters in American colonial history.
It’s named after a woman who never actually saw a bridge there. She died in the water beneath where the current timber stands, and if you believe the local teenagers or the paranormal investigators who swarm the place every October, she never really left.
The Tragedy Under the Timbers
To understand why this bridge matters, you've got to go back to February 29, 1704. Leap Year. It was freezing. A massive force of French soldiers and Mohawk and Abenaki warriors descended on the tiny settlement of Deerfield. It was a massacre.
Among the 112 captives dragged out into the snow were Reverend John Williams and his wife, Eunice Mather Williams. Here’s the thing: Eunice had literally just given birth the day before. She was exhausted, grieving a baby that didn’t survive the initial raid, and forced to trek through waist-deep snow toward Canada.
💡 You might also like: Why the Old Summer Palace Yuanmingyuan Still Breaks Hearts in Beijing
She didn't make it far.
While crossing the icy Green River—the very spot the Eunice Williams Covered Bridge spans today—she stumbled. She fell. According to her husband's later accounts, she was simply too weak to keep up. Following the brutal logic of the march, a Mohawk warrior struck her down with a tomahawk right there in the water.
Wait, Which Eunice?
This is where people get confused. There were actually two Eunice Williamses. There was the mother, who died in the river, and then there was her seven-year-old daughter, also named Eunice.
✨ Don't miss: Spider-Man Times Square: Why That Selfie Might Cost More Than You Think
The younger Eunice survived the march to Canada. She was adopted by a Mohawk family in Kahnawake, converted to Catholicism, and totally assimilated. She forgot English. She took the name Marguerite Kanenstenhawi. Despite her father’s desperate, lifelong attempts to "redeem" her and bring her back to Puritan Massachusetts, she refused. She chose her new life. She even married a Mohawk man and only returned to Deerfield as a visitor, speaking through an interpreter.
The bridge bears the mother's name, but the daughter's story is the one that usually ends up in the history books as the "Unredeemed Captive."
The "Screaming Bridge" and Those Ghost Stories
If you’re into the paranormal, you’ve probably heard this place called the "Screaming Bridge." Locals have a very specific ritual for this. They say if you park on the bridge at night (back when you could still drive on it), turn off your headlights, and honk your horn, you’ll see Eunice’s ghost.
Some claim she’s looking for her lost children. Others say she appears as a white misty figure near the dam.
Is it true? Probably not. But the vibe at the Green River pumping station is undeniably heavy. Even on a bright July afternoon, the way the shadows hit the Howe truss interior feels... off. The bridge has been rebuilt so many times that it’s essentially a "Ship of Theseus" situation, but the ground itself—that rocky riverbank—is where the history is buried.
📖 Related: Bangkok Art and Culture: What Most People Get Wrong
Arson, Hurricanes, and Rebuilding
The bridge you see today isn't the original. Far from it. The first covered bridge at this spot didn't even show up until the 1870s, long after the colonial wars were over.
- The 1969 Fire: On Halloween night, vandals torched the original 100-year-old bridge. It was a total loss.
- The 1972 Resurrection: The community rallied. The Carpenters Union Local 549 donated labor, and local wood producers gave the timber. They built the current 94-foot span at no cost to the town.
- The Irene Disaster: In 2011, Tropical Storm Irene absolutely hammered the area. The floodwaters scoured the east abutment so badly the bridge settled six feet into the mud. It looked like it was going to snap.
- The 2014 Lift: They actually had to bring in massive cranes to lift the entire 1972 structure, fix the foundations, and set it back down.
Why You Can’t Drive Across It Anymore
Don't expect to take your SUV through the rafters. The bridge has been closed to cars since 2002. It’s strictly for feet, bikes, and the occasional ghost hunter.
The town also put up a bunch of fencing and "No Parking" signs recently. Why? Because the pumping station is part of the local water supply. People used to treat the river like a giant party spot, leaving trash and jumping off the dam. Now, it's a bit more restricted. It's frustrating if you wanted a quick swim, but it’s kept the site from being trashed.
How to Actually Visit
If you want to see it, head to Eunice Williams Drive in Greenfield. It’s about a 10-minute drive from the I-91 rotary.
- Parking is tight. There’s a tiny pull-off area, but don't try to squeeze in where it's marked "No Parking"—the local cops are pretty on top of it.
- Check the stone marker. There’s a memorial plaque nearby that tells the story of Eunice’s death. Read it while standing by the water; it hits different when you realize the river hasn't changed its path in 300 years.
- Photography: The best shots are from the downstream side where you can get the dam and the bridge in one frame.
The Eunice Williams Covered Bridge is a weird mix of New England charm and frontier trauma. It’s a place where a 1970s Howe truss bridge sits on top of a 1704 tragedy. Whether you’re there for the architecture or the ghosts, just remember that the "unseen" history is what actually holds the wood together.
Next Steps for Your Visit
Start by visiting the Memorial Hall Museum in nearby Deerfield before heading to the bridge. They house actual artifacts from the 1704 raid, including the famous "Indian House Door" with the hatchet marks still in it. Seeing the physical evidence of the violence makes the quiet of the bridge much more impactful. After that, park at the west end of Eunice Williams Drive where there’s slightly more room, and walk onto the span to see the Howe truss craftsmanship up close.