Love is an arsonist. You never know when it will sneak up on you and set your heart on fire. Even straight-laced Puritans weren’t immune to its incendiary power. According to local legend, when love surprised Gabriel Harris, it engulfed him like a four-alarm blaze.

Gabriel’s father, Walter Harris, was born in England in the late 1500s. Around 1637 Gabriel’s parents sailed to New England with their entourage of three servants and six children. Two of the children were just toddlers, and Gabriel, the oldest of the siblings, was already a grown man. The family lived in Massachusetts for some time before moving to Pequot (New London) in 1652 where Walter was granted land and authorized by the town to open a tavern.

Business must have been good. When Gabriel’s parents died within a few months of each other, their last will and testament enumerated many heirlooms that show that they were a prosperous couple. The will, signed with an O-shaped mark by Gabriel’s mother, inventoried pewter candlesticks, silver spoons, brass pans, a silver whistle, a silk ribbon, damask cloth, a red waistcoat, petticoats, and a feather bed. As the oldest son, Gabriel inherited the house, land, livestock and the family business.

(Short digression: As late as 1691 the tavern was still in operation. I found a reference to a Harris proprietor who was reimbursed for providing 15 gallons of rum and 6 pounds of sugar for a New London town party. Residents were celebrating their successful resistance against French privateers and the work undertaken afterward to better fortify the settlement.)

Back to our story: One night in 1654 foul weather forced a ship bound for New Haven Colony to seek shelter in New London Harbor, right across from the Harris home. Seeing an opportunity to extend hospitality to the weary, rain-soaked English immigrants, Gabriel rowed out to the ship and invited everyone on board back to the house for a meal.

According to New London historian Frances Caulkins, as the dinner progressed a party broke out. Everyone enjoyed a night of “feasting and hilarity” and by the time the passengers returned to their ship, Gabriel, a middle-aged bachelor, was crazy in love with one of his guests, 20-year old Elizabeth Abbott. He probably never knew what hit him.

The attraction must have been mutual. One version of this story claims that the couple found a minister and got married that very night. The more probable version of the romance is that in the next few days Gabriel rigged out his father’s boat, spruced it up with a fresh coat of paint, and followed Elizabeth to Guilford where he claimed her for his bride.

Gabriel and Elizabeth enjoyed 30 years of married life and produced eight children. Like all couples then and now, love didn’t inoculate them against sorrow. Their first baby died in infancy and another child didn’t make it out of his teens, but I like to think that tragedy didn’t destroy the happiness they’d found in each other.

Harris Road slopes down to Pequot Avenue and offers lovely views of the Thames River. The good people at New London Landmarks bent over backwards trying to help me substantiate that the area was part of the original Harris land grant. The break-through came when they showed me information about a house on Pequot Avenue documented by the organization’s plaque program. The house was built circa 1785 by Nathaniel Harris and sits right around the corner from Harris Road. According to the genealogy website I queried, Nathaniel was Gabriel and Elizabeth’s great-great grandson, making it almost certain that Harris Road honors this specific family, and that it remembers the magical moment long ago when two people fell in love on a dark and stormy night.

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