By Granite State Report – New Hampshire’s History
The Forgotten History of NH Mill Towns
Walk down the main streets of Berlin, Claremont, or Franklin and you’ll find echoes of a different New Hampshire—one where smokestacks defined the skyline, rivers powered the economy, and whole communities pulsed to the rhythm of textile looms and paper presses. The story of New Hampshire’s mill towns is a story of industry, immigration, and resilience, but also one of decline and reinvention. Too often, it’s a history left to crumble alongside the red-brick mills themselves.
The Rise of the Mills
In the 19th century, New Hampshire’s rivers—swift, cold, and plentiful—made the state a perfect incubator for water-powered industry. Textile companies in Manchester, Nashua, and Dover transformed sleepy farming towns into bustling urban centers. The Amoskeag Manufacturing Company, at its peak, was the largest textile operation in the world, employing over 17,000 workers. In Berlin and Franklin, the paper industry reigned, feeding America’s appetite for books, newspapers, and packaging.
These mills didn’t just create jobs; they created entire cultures. Boarding houses, churches, schools, and even company-owned stores rose up to serve the workforce. Town identities became inseparable from their industries. To be from Berlin was to be from the paper mills. To be from Manchester was to live in the shadow of Amoskeag.
Immigration and Community
The mills drew waves of immigrants—French Canadians, Irish, Polish, Greek, Italian—each leaving their imprint on the towns. Catholic parishes sprouted alongside Protestant meetinghouses, bakeries sold pierogis next to whoopie pies, and Franco-American culture thrived in enclaves like Manchester’s West Side and Berlin’s “Little Canada.” These workers built not only the mills’ fortunes but also the social fabric of New Hampshire.
The Fall
By the mid-20th century, globalization and industrial shifts spelled disaster for the mills. Textile production fled south and then overseas, where labor was cheaper. Paper mills, squeezed by automation and competition, shuttered one by one. Whole towns were hollowed out. Berlin, once thriving, became one of the poorest cities in the state. Manchester’s Amoskeag, which had symbolized New England’s industrial might, declared bankruptcy in 1935.
The closures left scars—abandoned brick husks along rivers, unemployment, declining populations, and a sense of loss. The same rivers that once powered prosperity now reflected economic stagnation.
Reinvention and Memory
Yet mill towns are more than their ruins. In Manchester, the massive Amoskeag complex now houses apartments, tech startups, restaurants, and college campuses. Nashua has transformed mills into lofts and offices. In Claremont and Franklin, grassroots revitalization projects aim to repurpose historic sites while fostering new industries.
The question remains: how do we honor these towns’ industrial pasts while building futures that don’t erase their identities? Preservationists fight to save historic mill buildings, while local leaders look for ways to blend history with innovation. Berlin’s story has taken a turn toward renewable energy, with biomass plants rising near the old paper mills.
Why It Matters
Forgetting the history of New Hampshire’s mill towns means forgetting the sacrifices of generations of workers who built the state’s economy. It means losing sight of the role immigration played in shaping our culture. And it means missing the lessons of boom, bust, and adaptation—lessons that are relevant today as New Hampshire faces economic shifts in technology, healthcare, and climate.
The mills may no longer thunder with machinery, but their legacy echoes through the towns, the people, and even the bricks that line the Merrimack and Androscoggin rivers. Remembering that legacy isn’t just nostalgia—it’s a compass for understanding who we are, and where we might go.
