Tag Archives: history

Light, or Lack of It

15 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by in History

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

The Tea Party, 1824, MFA Boston

On Saturday evening, we drove up to Old Sturbridge Village for their “Evening of Illumination” tour. The village is by no means as fancy as the house depicted at left, but the gentle quality of the candlelight captured by Henry Sargent reminds me of the evening. I took no photos, because I just wanted to enjoy the experience…and learn from it.

Candles used in New England were usually home made, dipped, and of tallow. (See here for one reference.) The Browns of Providence had a spermaceti candle manufactory, and people in cities and towns often bought candles–by the pound, not by the stick. Spermaceti supposedly burns brighter than beeswax or tallow, but the only spermaceti candles I know of are accessioned museum objects and will never be lit.

In thinking about upcoming programs at two different sites, I’ve been thinking about what it was like to live in the dark, and to work mostly within the sun’s hours, and then judiciously by candle light. Sharon Burnston says, “Sew by daylight, knit by candlelight,” and if you think about process, you can imagine that  in low light, even the fine thread of sock knitting is far more manageable than fine sewing.

Large fireplaces provided both heat and light, and candles are surprisingly bright. I suspect that an evening by a fireplace, reading aloud by candlelight while a friend or sibling knit, was pleasant enough in a wool gown, or with a shawl over muslin. The trip to bed would have been another matter, and getting up something else indeed.

It is also well to remember that class difference would have created comfort differences: a servant would have been colder getting up than the master, for the servant would rise in a cold room and be expected to light a fire in the master’s bedroom. Rural workers would also have risen in a cold room, to cold or frozen water.

These are some of the things I’m thinking about as I read and look and get ready for programs, and for winter.

The Once-Forgotten Memorial

11 Sunday Nov 2012

Posted by in History

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

MHS PHO:23683

In the 1990s, when I worked in St. Louis, the Soldiers’ Memorial, central to the Downtown Memorial Plaza, felt more forgotten than anything else. Several wars later, it has a new life. Built to commemorate the dead of World War I, the Memorial had a central place in Progressive politics and the City Beautiful movement in St. Louis before it became a Federal Emergency Administration of Public Works project and was, finally, built and finished just in time for World War II.

FDR visited on October 14, 1936, and in his speech dedicating the site, declared, “We build monuments to commemorate the spirit of sacrifice in war- reminders of our desire for peace.”

Soldiers’ Memorial was built to commemorate men like Lieutenant Victor O. Crane of St. Louis who was killed at Soissons on July 19 or 21, 1918. His letters, excerpted below, are in the collection of the Missouri Historical Society, probably in the World War I collection , though I failed to note that in the draft exhibit script these quotes are from.

Lt. Victor O. Crane, Letter to his Mother, Feb 4, 1918: “I am mighty glad to be over here, so don’t worry mother dear for this is the most fortunate opportunity of my life, there is not a man back in the states that I would trade places with and you know ‘All things work together for good.’”

MHS PHO:33602

Letter to Lt. Victor O. Crane’s mother from 2nd Lieut. Cowing: “You were constantly in his thoughts, and just the night before the attack started he took me to one side and asked me to notify you in case of any accident to him. He took part in the great offensive and went over the top five times before his death. He did his part bravely and well. ”

Gold Star Ceiling

One of the most striking features of the memorial is the ceiling of the central area, dedicated to the Gold Star Mothers. It would be cold comfort, that tile ceiling, but the visual allusion is undoubtedly striking and a vibrant, brilliant, reminder of the human cost of war.

Universal Suffrage

06 Tuesday Nov 2012

Posted by in History

≈ Comments Off on Universal Suffrage

Tags

, , , ,

A Squelcher for Woman Suffrage“How can you vote if the fashions are wide and the voting booths are narrow?”

The 19th Amendment (6/4/1919) gave American women the right to vote, and with that, a kind of political power they had never had before.

On this Election Day 2012, if you’re an American, please vote. If you’re an American woman, thank the women who organized parades, tableaux and demonstrations to force the passage of the 19th Amendment.

Some of the images look almost silly now, but scanning the images at the Library of Congress (search term=woman suffrage) gives you a sense of the size of the demonstrations that they staged. This was massive, street theatre, direct action, unabashed politicking. In heels and hats, and even furs. Vote, and thank the women who came before us.

What Cheer?

13 Saturday Oct 2012

Posted by in Events, History, Museums, Reenacting

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , ,

20121013-062557.jpg

Here’s what cheer: the French backed out at just about the last minute, via email, citing “family events.” They have had this event on their website for 10 months. Surely they knew last fall, or last winter, or this summer, or a month ago, when their family birthdays or anniversaries were. Things that happened 50 or 60 years ago–seems like you had some advance notice on that one, folks.

Anyway, lucky for us they sent in notice before we gave a tour of the museum to the French Ambassador and the regional Consul, but not before we’d marketed this to the Alliance Francaise and the French American school. I think there’s crepe on somebody’s face. (Forgive the lack of accents: I’m doing this on the web on my iPad, so symbols are hard to insert.)

Overalls are done, though I did get a nosebleed last night and bleed on one of the ankles near the vamp, I think. Historic sewing isn’t done until you’ve bled on it at least once. Which brings me to the devil dress.

20121013-063230.jpgAh, yes, it is 34 degrees this morning, so my wool is packed into my runaway bag. (In my basket I will have the rosewood box and pewter creamer I stole from my master.) The devil dress fits, in its way, but I think I have not yet figured out quite how to apply it to, and keep it on, my body. Cassandra the dress form (she’s full of bad news I ignore) allows me to pin into her, of course, but my own flesh is so much less accommodating. For one thing, it bleeds, and for another, I say “ouch.”

This is the only picture I like, and I wish I’d taken off my watch. Rest assured I do not wear it in camp.

At 7:00, my ride will arrive and off we’ll go, safety tape and fire extinguishers in hand, with the hope that someone–anyone–comes to this crazy event. We do want to win attendance.

Remembrance of Transit Past

02 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by in History, Museums

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

Yesterday was staff day at work.  We went, by donated careening bus ride, to the Essex Steam Train & Riverboat. We did not get a ride in a steam-powered seaplane, but the combination of bus, train and boat was pretty entertaining. More sitting than most of us care for; one member of our party said, “This is an old person’s tour–it’s all sitting.” She’s practically a professional shopper, so she’s good on her feet in fairly high heels.

But what struck me, standing by the platform at the station is Essex, was that we were in a museum of transport past, and that it was somehow very strange to be in a place that historicized a means of getting around that many people still use every day. Except for the 6 tons of coal part, my husband takes the train to Boston every day, and has for more than 10 years. And when we first moved back East, I rode the train, too. In the dark ages of grad school, I commuted by rail. The last year at RISD, I had a job in Natick, MA, teaching at a boarding school as a visiting artist, and the question was, how to get there?

The answer was easy, the MBTA of course. I took the commuter rail to Back Bay or South Station, caught the Framingham line out to Natick and walked up the hill from the station to school. Sometimes I’d get there early enough for lunch, and pack extra grilled cheese sandwiches into my tool bag.

I liked the train commute and some of my favorite memories of pulling into Providence are from that year. The conductors were more lax, then, and would let me ride in the vestibule with them while the car door was open, watching the sunset over the west side of town. This was pre-Home Depot and Providence Place Mall and the 6-10 connector, pre-development along Royal Little Drive, pre-development in Pawtucket, so the view was a lot better. The Citizens Bank building was still under construction, it was just a steel frame that the sun would shine through at the end of the day.

All through school, I took the train to New York and then to Philly, enjoying the view of the CT coastline, its loneliness and isolation, the kind of romantic juxtaposition of the marshes and wetlands with the harsh rocks and cold grey skies of the coast. There was a little house the train passed, and every time I saw it I would think, “Someday I’d like to live in that house.”

That never happened, but when I got the job in RI, and we moved east from St. Louis, my father was working in Boston and New York, but living in Noank, CT,  just down the road from the little house. Providence was 45 minutes away by car, but Mr S and the Young Mr (then known as the Monkey) needed the car to get anywhere outside of Noank. The grocery wasn’t very big there and they needed to be able to get into Groton and Mystic, so how was I to get to work? On the train.

I took Amtrak from New London to Providence, and the train would get in around 9:10 (supposedly) and end up back in New London around 6. There were schedule changes, and the bridge at Old Saybrook tended to freeze, and there were coworkers who  didn’t get me to the station on time, and evenings spent at the RISD Library on the laptop waiting for the next train. It worked out, though, since I was writing a book at the time.

The monthly pass that was definitely cheaper than driving, and I walked around Providence when I needed anything. The conductors all knew me, and were very kind. Here’s a tip: be nice to the conductors, and you can ride free if you forget your pass. I’ve even gotten free trips to Boston when they were on duty. The view from the window was pretty much the same, though now there were McMansions and condos in Stonington. The wetlands were still there, and the coves, the nesting raptors and the shore birds. One morning I even saw a harbor seal swimming in a cove, whiskers poking up above the surface. That is definitely the coolest thing I’ve ever seen on a commute.

And then there was a museum to set all that in the past, as if to say that way of life is over. The train we were on was truly steam-powered, and that is a thing of the past. The car was from 1914, with seats that switched direction, though I remember riding on seats like that either on the MBTA back in the dawn of time, or else in Chicago.

What will I do next? Why, make a 1914-1919 traveling costume and go back to Essex to ride the train again, of course. Might as well be a museum exhibit if you’re going to travel temporally.