Sometimes good stories hide in plain sight. In this case, "plain" isn’t the right adjective because I’m talking about a Tiffany stained-glass window.

The Lawrence window in St. James Episcopal Church in New London portrays St. Sebastian’s martyrdom in Rome, where he was tied to a tree and shot full of arrows. The scene depicts St. Joseph and St. Francis standing nearby. Although church records don’t definitively document who donated this gorgeous work of art, it very likely was a gift from the heirs of Sebastian Lawrence, a New London millionaire and city benefactor.

The beautiful, though grisly, subject seems to have been chosen purposefully. The tableau portrays an elderly St. Joseph, probably representing Sebastian Lawrence’s father, a young St. Francis in his friar's robe representing one of Sebastian Lawrence’s brothers, and of course St. Sebastian who, according to local lore, bears the actual likeness of the New London philanthropist himself.

Sebastian was a second generation American, and to say he did well would be a vast understatement. When he died in 1909, he was one of the richest men in the state.

His father, Giuseppe Lorenzo, was born in Venice. In 1804 while still a teenager, Giuseppe immigrated to the United States during the Napoleonic upheaval. Shrewdly believing an Americanized name would be a business asset, he changed his name to Joseph Lawrence. Joseph became a sea captain, a merchant, and finally settled in New London, where he established the Lawrence & Company sealing and whaling agency.

Sebastian, Joseph’s youngest son, attended Bacon Academy in Colchester and, along with his brother Francis, took over the reins of his father’s business when Joseph retired. Besides sending out whalers, the firm managed a number of prime real estate properties in New London. Sebastian also served for years as the president of the National Whaling Bank in New London. (The building, still standing on Bank Street, is now occupied by Muddy Waters Cafe.) He was the moving force and financier behind erecting the Soldiers and Sailors Monument on the New London parade in 1896.

Before he died, Sebastian carefully crafted a comprehensive will in what seems to have been an attempt to micromanage his affairs from beyond the grave. Since he’d never married nor had children, he wanted to make sure that much of his multi-million-dollar estate would benefit the city that had been so good to him and his family.

Among his numerous gifts and bequests were: funds for the construction of the Joseph Lawrence Hospital (today’s L+M); a substantial endowment for the hospital’s maintenance; gifts for city churches including St. Mary Star of the Sea and St. James Episcopal Church; a fund for aged clergy; and money for the city alms house. Not one to leave details to chance, he specifically earmarked funds for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners for the alms house residents. He also commissioned a statue of a mother, father, and three sons representing his family to be placed in the hospital forecourt. (Apparently, it has since been moved.)

Sebastian’s generosity may have been prompted in part by a healthy ego, but he had a big heart and wanted, like most of us, to be remembered. While having himself portrayed as a saint seems a little over the top, I think you could argue persuasively that, as far as New London is concerned, he was one.

Years from now, our own photos and selfies may still be circulating out there in cyberspace, but none of those likenesses will be as lovely as Sebastian’s stained-glass window.