Edmund Boldero (1767-1839) emigrated from England in 1801 with Reverend Evan Johns (1763-1849) and the two, with their families, shared the house at 1022 Worthington Ridge in Berlin, built c. 1801. According to Catharine M. North’s History of Berlin (1915):
In 1801 the Rev. Evan Johns and Mr. Edmund Boldero, with their wives, who were sisters, came to America from England. The pulpit of the Second Congregational Church of Berlin had been without a settled minister since the death of Mr. Goodrich in 1799. Mr. Johns was called to be his successor and was installed June 9, 1802. He was a man of good ability, but he had a high temper, so poorly controlled that he and his people were kept in turmoil until, to the relief of both, he was dismissed February 13, 1811.
He chose as the text of his last sermon, the words “The Devil is the father of liars, and ye are the children of your father.” He went on to say, “You are all liars, and the truth is not in you.” One good brother, in righteous indignation, rose in his seat to go up and pitch Mr. Johns out of the pulpit, and was hardly restrained from his purpose. Mr. Johns desired to preach one more Sunday in order that he might finish what he had to say, but he was not allowed to enter the pulpit.
The two English families, Johns and Boldero, lived together, in the house lately owned by S. F. Raymond, situated next south of the Horace Steele place. Mr. Johns had one son, Thomas, who, for fear of contamination, was not allowed to go to school, or to play with other children. When Tommy was out in his yard, the little boys of the neighborhood would go and peek at him through the pickets. Then Mrs. Johns would appear and say, “Tommy, come away. I do not wish you to speak to those children.” It was said that as soon as Tommy came to his majority he plunged into all manner of dissipation and went speedily to “the bad.”
The Bolderos remained after the dismissal of Mr. Johns until the death of Mr. Boldero in 1839. Then Mrs. Boldero boarded in the family of Charles A. Goodrich until her death in 1842. […]
There was a mystery about the Bolderos that was buried with them. Some said Mr. Boldero had offended the king and that he came to America to avoid arrest. They lived a secluded life and kept their house locked. Whenever anyone came there, a door would be opened a crack, or a chamber window might be raised, to inquire what the errand was. The children of that generation used to think it great fun on Thanksgiving day to dress up and go from house to house making calls. A party of them once stopped at the Bolderos and knocked at the door. Mrs. Boldero opened a window and asked what they wanted. They answered: “It is Thanksgiving day and we have come to call upon you.” She replied: “Every day, with me, is Thanksgiving, and you’d better run right along.”
When Mr. and Mrs. Boldero left England they supposed they were coming to a wilderness and they brought chest upon chest of clothing, all made up, sufficient to last a lifetime. Mrs. Boldero used to wear to church a pink silk petticoat and a blue silk long shawl. After the service they would wait until all the congregation had gone out, when Mrs. Boldero would say, “My dear, I think we may venture now.” Then she would lift her skirt daintily, take her husband’s arm, and step down the aisle. They always walked about the yard arm in arm. There were two or three young ladies in the village to whom Mrs. Boldero took a fancy and these favored few were occasionally invited to take a cup of tea with her. The Boldero house was afterward occupied by Sherlock C. Hall, who about 1852 was postmaster. The office was kept in the south front room of the dwelling.
