I've always harbored a mental image of Puritan ministers as tiresome scolds; cardboard figures without much zip. Naturally I knew this was silly - even pious Puritans had personalities - but that's what I pictured.

Then I read about the Reverend Richard Blinman, who wasn't a bit boring. He was an active, outspoken community leader who didn't mind hard work or getting his hands dirty. He sounds acquisitive, but he could be generous. I'd guess he had a temper, didn't handle disappointment well and lacked some useful social skills, yet he attracted a following of loyal friends. In other words, Richard was a real person.

Blinman Street is a great destination because the Shaw Mansion's there, headquarters of the New London County Historical Society. Yes, George Washington slept there, and privateering activities during the Revolution were orchestrated from the mansion.

The street is named for Richard, whose presence predates Shaw's by more than a century. In 1650, New London was Pequot Plantation and the United States wasn't even a glimmer in a Founding Father's eye. New London was primitive and dangerous. It took optimism, courage and a sense of purpose to be here.

The settlers had cleared land, cut roads and built a mill. They'd appointed fence-viewers, highway clearers and a constable, but they needed a minister. When a search committee extended an invitation to Rev. Blinman in Massachusetts, Richard seized the opportunity to leave Cape Ann, a place tainted by violence, vice and charges of witchcraft. Richard's pastorates there had been marred by dissension.

Richard had secular troubles too; he was charged with defying authority when he destroyed a writ issued against a friend. Richard testified that, no, he hadn't torn the writ up into tiny little pieces in a fit of pique. He'd destroyed it hoping the dispute could be resolved privately. The authorities dismissed the charges, but admonished Richard to control his impulsiveness.

On the bright side, Richard's major accomplishment in Massachusetts was the construction of Blynman Canal, a waterway he dug as a time-saving route around Cape Ann. The canal was ambitious for the times, and it must have been hard work. Today there's a picturesque bascule bridge over it, like the bridge in Mystic.

Many of Richard's friends came with him to New London - people who'd followed him from Britain. They settled on "New Street" (later Cape Ann Lane, today's Jefferson Avenue). New London awarded Richard a generous salary and built a meeting house, but this story doesn't end happily because a minister who gets into shouting matches with his parishioners and seems to have self-serving motives is on a troubled course.

For people living in Stonington, crossing the Mystic and Thames Rivers every Sunday to get to church was a logistics nightmare. When these residents petitioned to become a separate town and establish their own church, Richard was initially supportive but then flip-flopped when he realized his salary, contractually tied to headcount, would suffer in a spin-off. Hot words were exchanged, and Richard was accused of changing position based on financial self-interest.

When Richard heard that Massachusetts was being petitioned to accept Stonington into their colony, he resigned in a huff, went briefly to New Haven, then returned to Britain. Before leaving, Richard sold off most of his extensive holdings. He graciously gave a parcel to the Indian educator, William Thomson, telling William the gift was a token of his affection.

When Richard got home I wonder if people said, "We told you so. That New World business was bound to flop." I wonder if he understood that he'd caused some of his own problems, or if he blamed everyone else. I hope he was proud of his canal.

A road named for Richard is an important New London, no, American, address, and although this isn't an accomplishment, Richard brought my ancestor James Avery here, which is nice for me.

Carol Sommer of Waterford is a self-proclaimed history nut. She writes a monthly local history column inspired by street signs.