George Sumner

When long-time Providence resident George Cady Sumner died in 1893, the city lost a man the Providence Journal called “a well known apothecary of this city.”

But Sumner was more than a druggist. In fact, there was a time when his own father worried he might not take up the family business. In his 50 years, Sumner distinguished himself in many ways and walks of life: as a soldier in the armed forces, as the author of a book about his service in the Civil War, as an influential figure in the city’s social circles and as a loving husband and father of three boys.

Born in 1843 to Ossian Sumner, proprietor of a small drug store at 237 Broad Street, on the city’s South Side, George Sumner was raised just a few blocks from his father’s shop, which opened a year after his birth. Though he remembered his mother Elizabeth fondly, his childhood fascination was with his father and the business he managed alone. More than just a store, the neat, cleverly organized shop became the magical center of his childhood. As an adult, George recalled pouring over the contents of his father’s carefully organized shelves and cabinets, which lined one entire wall of the shop that the city’s business directory called “a model of attractiveness, tastefully and conveniently arranged.” 

George’s fascination with the fresh, reliable stock of drugs, chemicals, popular remedies and everyday household items turned his daily visit to the apothecary shop into perhaps his most lasting childhood memory. Sometimes, George recalled as an adult, he and a friend would “play shop” when his father was busy stocking the shelves or helping a customer. At other times, when the store filled with neighborhood clientele seeking products that ranged from cough remedies to toilet paper, George would tie his father’s apron about his waist and assist his father by fetching the items he could reach from the shop’s lower shelves.

Though George initially showed great interest in his education, by the time he reached his early teens his fascination had drifted into boredom. At the same time, he began to lose interest in his father’s apothecary business, which had lost the magical luster it once held for a young boy. He later recalled that, as a young teen, he sensed his father’s apprehension at his waning interest in the business. From his first trips to the apothecary shop as a young man, he remembered his father’s enthusiasm for bringing his progeny into the shop, and would often remind the boy that as a grown man he would join and work side by side his father. For a time, at least, it appeared Ossian’s dream of running the business with his only son would never be realized.

By 1858, when George turned fifteen, he had cut out school altogether. His father’s shop had moved one year earlier to the intersection of Broad and Chestnut streets. At the time of the move, his father also formed a business partnership with another Providence native, William Emerson. Though the new building was bigger and more prominent, and his father’s business flourished, George rarely spent time in the shop. Restlessly, he awaited an adventure that would present him with new challenges and different surroundings.

His departure from the familiar South Side community came at last at the age of 17, when, at the height of the Civil War, George enlisted in Battery D of the First Rhode Island Light Artillery. In his account of the battery, Recollections of Service, he recalled visiting the Marine Artillery Armory on Benefit Street with his friend John. 

“It was announced that Battery D needed only about a dozen men to finish its complement,” he recalled in his book. “John said to George, ‘What do you say?’ George replied, ‘It is a go;’ and down went our names for three years of the war.” 

It was the break George had been looking for — though he later recalled his fear at not knowing in the least what exactly he was getting himself into. 

The decision had been spontaneous, and its immediacy left him little time to say goodbye to his parents. Hastily, George collected his belongings and set out to begin his term of service. He was assigned to training at Camp Ames near Pawtuxet, then shipped out to Washington, D.C., still under construction at the time of the war.

The war experience brought about a climax in George’s youthful curiosity. He absorbed every detail of his battery’s daily actions, which are scrupulously recorded in his written history of the company. During his few moments of free time, he scrambled for new sights and yearned to see more of the world.

“I used frequently to go to the Capitol,” he wrote in Recollections of Service, “climb to the top of the unfinished dome, and take a look over into Virginia, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rebels.”

As it turned out, his vantage point from the Capitol dome was as close as George ever got to the rebels, as his battery never saw open combat. But his three years as a private in Battery D left him with a profound respect for the armed services, and for the country he served at such a young age. He remained proud of his service in the war and active in veterans’ groups throughout his days, even after he returned to civilian life and focused his attention on business concerns.

George’s homecoming eased the tension between he and his father that had built up during his teenage years. By the time George was discharged from Battery D, his father’s partnership with William Emerson had disintegrated, and Ossian was pleased to have his son’s help at the store.

In 1867, the shop changed locations again — but, again, moving only down the street, to 267 Broad Street. That same year, George married his wife Sarah and a year later Harold Sumner, the first of his three sons, was born. They lived together in a comfortable house in the same neighborhood off Broad Street where George had grown up. 

In those days, as the restlessness of his war days became a memory, George poured his energy into his family. In his memoir he recalled the excitement he felt at the birth of his first son. In a way, he recalled, it was that excitement that led him, in the following years, to put pen to paper and record the memories of his youth and his time 

in Battery D. He had wanted to pass along what experience he had garnered to the sons he dearly loved.

In 1870, at the age of 27, George officially became a partner in his father’s business, which was renamed Ossian Sumner & Son to reflect the change. He settled into a comfortable life working alongside his father at the drug store — seemingly the realization of his father’s dream and his own childhood fantasy. Under their joint leadership the enterprise continued to grow, moving for a third time in 1889, again only down the street, to 326 Broad Street, which later became 326 Weybosset Street. 

Meanwhile, two more sons, Robert and Richard, were born to Sarah and George in 1877 and 1881 respectively. 

But George was not destined to see the business he had stewarded through three moves within the same neighborhood change locations for a fourth time. In 1893, he passed away at his summer home in Buttonwoods, leaving his father to carry on the business alone once again. 

A stroke victim at the age of 49, George had suffered partial paralysis of his left side a year earlier and had retired to Buttonwoods to recover and regain his health. But another stroke a year later left him dead at the age of 50. 

He left behind his beloved wife Sarah, who outlived him by more than 35 years and was buried alongside her husband when she passed away in 1928 at the age of 84. His three sons, none of whom followed in his father’s footsteps to assume the proprietorship of the family business, also lived long lives, and were buried in Grace Church Cemetery alongside their parents when each passed away well into the mid-20th century. 

In 1930, after Ossian’s death, the venerable apothecary business closed its doors. Though the business may not have lived on, George left a legacy of community service and involvement in his cherished Broad Street neighborhood that long outlived him. He was vice president of the Soldiers and Sailors Historical Society as well as a member of the What Cheer Lodge. 

Though by George’s own admission he was primarily a druggist and only dabbled in the literary arts, the Providence Journal called his memoir and account of Battery D “an invaluable work.” Despite never being finished, it remains in historical libraries across the country.