This Old House

I've been in a bit of a thoughtful mood of late. The possibility (I said possibility not probability) of losing our home due to cuts in pay and possibly a cut in jobs has been playing on my mind. Things are getting mighty tough, and the stress level tends to be on the upswing. 
That being said, I suppose one can't help but be a bit melancholy, wouldn't you say?
This week's post reflects this mindset. It's not a downer...rather, more contemplative. And, yes, there is history in it as well.

I hope you like it.
I also hope you don't think I'm way out there...

There's a room in my father's house
Full of old heirlooms
Grandma's Bible, Grandpa's trunk
To a total stranger no more than junk
The closest ties I ever knew...

The Sixberry House at Historic Charlton Park in Hastings, Michigan from 1858. The front parlor...

Entering a historic home is so much more than the "Can you imagine what it was like to live back then?" comments one often hears, usually from a mother or a teacher making a feeble attempt to understand and explain the past.
I'll try to explain what I mean by this...

The house that I have lived in for (so far) 21 years is filled with, well, 21 years worth of memories. This is where three of our four children were born, where we had birthday parties, graduation parties, baptismal parties, Christmas and Easter celebrations, a Thanksgiving dinner with my family that had everyone wearing cardboard Pilgrim hats. The wonderful fragrance of baked goods - 21 years worth of my wife's wonderful cooking and baking - are still in the air (and she's still cooking, doncha know!). This is where Simply Dickens rehearses period and old world music every Wednesday evening, and has for 11 years. We've had years of period dress gatherings with our Civil War unit here. We even had a 1950's themed party, complete with an actual diner booth!

Easter time at my house always finds my extended family gathered together to celebrate with food, joy, and laughter

Television times with the kids: Blues Clues, Little Bill, All That, Hannah Montana, iCarly...and for the adults: Friends, Red Wing Hockey, Antique Roadshow, NCIS...
Movie nights where we all settle down on cold Saturday evenings in the fall, winter, and spring to watch a movie, whether it is The Wizard of Oz, Angels With Dirty Faces, American Graffiti, The Lion King, Pirates of the Caribbean, Gods and Generals, or countless others.
The sounds of laughter and good times echo through these halls and walls, and I can still hear the voices of special people who are no longer with us reverberate within.
In my 50 years I've spent more time in this house than in any other structure that I have lived in. As much as I dream (and sometimes wish) I could live in an old historic house, it would be very hard for me to leave here because of my own personal history to this 1944 bungalow.
And we haven't even touched upon those who lived here the 50 years before we did and what it was like through those decades of the '40's through the '80's.
When stepping into any historic home in Greenfield Village or Crossroads Village or any other place that may house old structures, there is a particular...um...consciousness (is that the word I'm looking for?) that I get; the feeling is a different sort of awareness of the everyday activities and living that took place in these structures years before they became historical museums.

Before it was a museum relocated inside Greenfield Village, the home of George Adams was alive with visitors of family and friends

I think of the laughter and discussions that were had in the parlors or at the dining room table. I think of what the women of the home spoke of while in the kitchen. I can even hear some of the clanging and clatter of the tools of the trade, whether used for baking or fixing. 
I can even sometimes feel the sorrow and sadness of the not so happy times. Yes, certain houses or antique objects seemingly speak to me in that very real sense.
This is what reading - engulfing - social history books can do to you, you know. When one gains knowledge beyond the school text books that are normally filled with war and politics of a certain time and place, you can gain an ethereal feeling that can overwhelm and bring alive those of the past. The social history books can make you much more aware when visiting something historical than the average visitor or, ahem, history buff. They put the meat on the bones, the flesh on the meat, and puts the ghosts of the past in their proper perspective.
Living history without the living...
To add to those wonderful social history books I recommend searching out diaries and journals that are also readily available in book form. To me, when reading the actual letters of someone describing home life of another time, it literally brings that home alive for me.
For instance, Noah Webster, in the early part of the 19th century, spent much of his time away from his family. He greatly encouraged his wife and children to write him letters and to include instances of their daily activities. Mr. Webster knew of the importance of describing everyday life in these letters. Noah especially treasured hearing of the minute details of domestic life that he missed while on far-away business travels.
His wife, Rebecca, willingly obliged and wrote about their lives as requested to her husband. On July 30, 1824 she wrote: "I wish you could take a peep at us in the present moment," and proceeded to describe, for example, her granddaughter, Mary "sitting on the carpet by my side studying her sabbath lessons for the next week...Harriet is drilling at her music. She plays 6 tunes very comfortably...and (grandson) William driving around with his stick." Rebecca, described herself as "enfeebled" but able to "engage in quilting bed quilts with only two or three to finish." Lucy Griffin, the free black servant had taken ill as family members "sit with her" until she can walk downstairs.
Rebecca also sent a letter to married daughter Eliza: "Papa longs to see you all. I heard someone conversing in the drawing room the other day and found him standing before your portraits. We often talk together of our singular happiness in our sons-in-law and daughters and such a promising bunch of grandchildren."

The paintings of daughter Eliza and her husband that Mr. Webster was found speaking to.

Because I've read numerous letters Noah and Rebecca Webster have written during the time they lived in their Hartford, Connecticut home, a home that is now inside and preserved in Greenfield Village, I can almost - almost - see and hear the family move about and converse when I walk through the very same structure and actual rooms the letters were written in.
Talk about spirits within walls!
But it doesn't have to be the home of someone famous, you see. Because I am in a constant state of historical reading, nearly every historic home tends to come to life when I step inside, or even when I see photographs.

I read at least a snippet from one or more of these books virtually on a daily basis, and the words just swirl around my brain throughout the day, especially while I'm at work (I'm a high school custodian with lots of time to think while I sweep). And it's these continuous daily bits of information that, after a while of building and swirling in my head, begin to form a cohesive picture of the past.
Of course, I incorporate this 'wisdom' into my living history presentations while at reenactments.
But it's more than that, which is what I was getting at earlier; using what I've learned (and continue to learn) from my social history books I have found myself looking at historical items, whether it's houses, pictures, antiques, objects in a museum, or even background items in historical movies, in a much different way.
I don't just look at them with only my eyes anymore...but with the knowledge of what life was like back then.
More than just imagining what life was like back then.
And sometimes even getting a feel for what it was actually like...to an extent.

Our parlor: filled with antiques from the 1830's through the 1890's. Yes, we use them.

From the outside, our 1944 bungalow looks like nearly every other house on my suburban block: all cookie-cutter homes built for the boys returning from fighting in WWII. But, if you've taken a gander at some of the photographs I have posted in previous entries (or maybe even on my Facebook page) of the inside of our house you know that we have decorated one of our rooms - an addition we had built in 1999 -  in a mid-19th century manner. Most everything in this parlor area are original antiques - antiques that we actually use. We sit upon a couch built in the 1850's, a sette' from the 1890's, or a rocker from the 1850's, we set our (clean) dishes and glasses on our circa 1830's corner cabinet, my wife spins on her 1830's great wheel, and, in my bedroom, my clothes are tucked in the drawers of my 1850's dresser. Knickknacks sit upon the 1860's/70's what-not-shelf, pictures on the wall are framed in 19th century frames of varying ages, and I write upon my 1860 desk while sitting in my 1887 chair.

Probably my favorite piece of furniture: my secretary desk from 1860 and chair from 1887. I've wanted a desk like this since I was a tiny tot!

We use our antiques.
A friend of mine who happens to work at Greenfield Village mentioned recently that when he enters this room he feels like he's in one of the Village's historic homes, only here he can touch or even sit upon the furniture whereas at the Village it's a hands-off policy.
Please understand, I am not bragging about all of my antiques, and I hope it doesn't come off that way. But because I use to ache - literally ache - whenever I would return home to my ultra-modern house after visiting a historic village or museum, I decided to take action on what many only talk about, which is how I got the parlor you see in the photos. And it's literally taken me years - my entire life, in fact - to 'build' this place of contentment. We often light our candles and oil lamps in the evening just to mind travel to another time. Patty will spin on her wheel, I'll write with pen and ink or read from a Harper's Weekly for fun or a modern newspaper. I might also read one of my history books - sometimes we'll even just sit and talk. It doesn't always have to be an 'event' in period clothing.
Because my home was built in the mid-20th century with all of the modern conveniences, and because it's been updated numerous times since, (and because we do live in the 21st century whether we want to or not) it would be nearly impossible to "live like they did back then." But that doesn't matter to me, because this room brings me solace. Some people find their get-a-way in books, in movies, gambling, or even in vacations. Well, this is my get-a-way right in my own home. It's my "happy place."
It speaks to me.

A journey to the past right in my own home...

My house may be a pseudo-Victorian (rather than an actual Victorian) home in the middle of modern 2012 suburbia, but it's MY home. And it is filled with memories that will last for as long as this house stands.
I'm sure sometime in the distant future, other owners may also hear the ghosts of the past...my past...

The following links are what I consider to be some of the best books on every day life of late 18th and 19th centuries. They have helped me to look at houses, antiques, and people from the past quite differently than I did before.
There are more books, of course, than what's listed here, but I tend to open these more often than any others...

Our Own Snug Fireside
At Home
American Thought & Culture 1860-1880 
The Cormany Diaries
Affectionately Yours
Village Life in America: 1852-1872
Notes on the Life of Noah Webster Vol. 2





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Victorian Detroit (Detroit Wasn't Always the Motor City)

Detroit.
The Motor City. Motown. Murder City. Car Capital.of the World.

~~~~~A Victorian Metropolis~~~~~

Wait-----what??
Yep. Detroit, this industrialized Rust Belt grunge town was once at the height of Victoriana.

Gas Street Light on Gratiot Avenue 1882

A frontier town in what was considered the west at the turn of the 19th century, Detroit grew in size as the decades progressed. However, as the town slowly turned into a city, the frontier town atmosphere prevailed and "a system of plank roads leading out of Detroit was established. They follow precisely the paths of today's main arteries - Michigan Avenue, Grand River, Woodward, Gratiot, and Jefferson. There were fine residential areas on its approximately ninety streets...
In 1851, gaslights began to replace the use of tallow candles or lamps which burned lard and whale oil, (and) the curfew bell rang at six in the morning, noon, and six and nine at night to give the citizens the time."
The first signs of major industry emerged in the 1840's and 50's as the value of Michigan's timber, iron ore, copper, and other natural resources became apparent. With all of this progress, it was only a matter of time that Detroit would get the modern transport system of horse-drawn streetcars, which made their first appearance in 1863 on Jefferson Avenue.

But Detroit proper was also surrounded by small villages, villages that eventually became part of the city itself. I'd like to tell of one in particular:

Leesville, a tiny hamlet built upon a cucumber farm owned by someone named Howcroft in 1853, was on the outskirts of the much larger *metropolis* of Detroit. The search for a church site led to the start of this village in the area of intersection of Harper (called Butler at the time) and Gratiot. Englishman Charles Lee is credited with founding the village with a Methodist church and a school. The church served the residents of Leesville for a number of years, and sources tend to affirm that this is the same church that was commonly known as "Lees Chapel," located at Gratiot and what is now Georgia Street. In those early years, church was a simple decision for the residents of Leesville: Protestants went to Lees Chapel and Catholics went to Assumption Grotto (built in 1832 and is still standing) in the nearby village of Connor's Creek.

Lees Chapel was among the few country-style churches of its time in this area.

A number of years later, talk of building another church occurred when a group of residents, dissatisfied with the Methodist faith, began discussion of the formation of an Episcopal mission in their town and planned to start their own small Episcopalian church. This is said to have taken place as early as the mid-1860's. The Church of Our Savior was officially founded in 1874, with Thomas Lee among the founders. The church building, located two blocks over from Lee's Chapel, was completed in 1875, and was designed by William Cooper, the eldest son of Henry Cooper, who supplied the bricks for the building. William Cooper was not a trained architect, but had worked in the building trades and trained himself to design and build. This is the small building in the classical church style that you see in the picture (that I took in January 2012) below. This brick church—now painted white—was designed and built by William Cooper who was, presumably, a resident of this area.

It is certain that the Church of Our Savior is the last remaining building of the town center, which included, among other things, a general store, butcher shop and a sawmill.

The former Church of Our Savior: the only remnants left from Leesville still standing

By 1876, Leesville had more than 100 homes and many large farms. Bricks for many of the Detroit area's new homes were made at the Leesville and Peter Hunt brickyards.

Leesville, as stated before, was built on the site once belonging to a cucumber farmer, and that reputation stayed with the area well into the later part of the 19th century. In fact, a road in the village was named Cucumber Lane. The name was later changed to Georgia.

This early village was also a major interurban and streetcar stop, eventually becoming the site of the Detroit United Railway (DUR) streetcar barns at the turn of the 20th century. It also had its own postmaster from the 1870's through the 1890's.

Leesville got its first electric street lights in 1902, and by 1915 became part of the ever-growing city of Detroit, though some sources say it became absorbed by Detroit as early as 1896. Maybe it did at the earlier date but change and acceptance was slow in coming. Just an assumption...

There were many early villages such as Leesville on what was then the outskirts of Detroit proper - more than 40, in fact - and they all sooner or later were swallowed up and became part of Detroit itself. I chose to write a bit about the village of Leesville for personal reasons: this was where I was born and spent almost the first decade of my life, though, as you may have guessed, it was no longer Leesville by that time. The best part? Our home was on Cucumber Lane...er, Georgia Street.

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I found another wonderful description of the motor city when it was still the carriage city:
"Detroit in 1889 was still seven years shy of the first automobile appearance on its streets and a full decade away from the opening of its first auto factory. Hundreds of companies, large and small, produced an array of products: shoes, stoves, varnishes, paints, drugs, cigars, patent medicines, boats, railroad cars, steel rails, brass fittings, soap....
Huge elm, maple, and chestnut trees shaded the streets, and gracious homes, most of the frame and painted either white or dark green, gave the new residential areas an air of comfort and well-being. The streets were paves with cobblestones and cedar blocks, and the sidewalks were made of wood. 

Photo taken on Jefferson Avenue in the late 19th century. Note the wood-plank sidewalk

The widespread use of electricity was literally just around the corner - garish 125 foot towers illuminated intersections throughout the city - but in 1889 homes and businesses still used gaslight, and trolleys still were drawn by horses."
(From the book Detroit Land by Richard Bak)
And it was only four years later - in 1893 - that the city's first electric streetcar ran along Woodward Avenue.
In 1889, Detroit celebrated its industrial growth and growing prosperity by holding an International Fair and Exhibition, located on 70 acres of land in the early village of Delray located just south of *Historic* Fort Wayne (which, like Leesville, would eventually become part of the city of Detroit in the late 19th or early 20th century). The main exhibit building was, at the time, the largest in the world, with a frontage of 500 feet and an exhibit area of 200,000 square feet. According to local historian David Lee Poremba, "there was 4.5 acres of glass in its walls to illuminate examples of Detroit's manufacturing might. Special trains and streetcar lines brought thousands of visitors to the fair. Steamship lines brought people from Canada and Port Huron to see the many events" which ran from September 17 through the 27th.

A bird's eye view of the Detroit Fair and Exhibition - 1889

The visitors had never seen anything such as this before. Stations for everything from a ladies temperance union to a racetrack were situated inside the fairgrounds. There was also a jail, a post office, a bandstand and "buildings drip(ing) with gingerbread bargeboard and colorful bunting...which were illuminated by soaring towers topped with electric lamps." (Richard Bak).
Local businesses set up shop as well, including retailer Mobley & Company, Detroit Soap Company (which sold there ever-popular Queen Anne Soap), and the shoemaking Pingree & Smith. There were hot air balloonists showing off, a wild west show, a carousel - it was a real carnival atmosphere. Again, Mr. Bak in his book  Detroit Land describes it best: "There was so much to take in: threshing machines, presses, and other machinery, and a seemingly endless succession of mechanical and industrial halls. Features included a palm garden, a floral palace, and miles of stalls displaying horses, sheep, cattle, pigs, poultry, and pets. There were band concerts and piano recitals and competitions of all sorts: yachting, riding, shooting, track and field, horse racing, baseball, and lacrosse. Attendees could gaze at giant prize squashes and pumpkins while being entertained by a clarion player performing an aria from Rigoletto or sit on the veranda of the main hall and try to bounce peanut shells off a passerby's derby.

The ascension of the great balloons was a major draw, as you can see from an actual photograph taken at Detroit's fair in 1889

The grounds were open daily except Sundays, from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. Admission was fifty cents for adults, a quarter for children. Steamboats and trolleys disgorged visitors to the exposition in five minute intervals. Keepers of boardinghouses cashed in by lodging strangers everywhere from the cellar to the garrett."
I wish I could have attended. Unfortunately, we were on the other side of town and had our cucumber farm to attend to. But what a time those folks must've had...

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George Washington Stark, born in 1884 and grew up near historic Elmwood Cemetery, noted in a Detroit News article that Elmwood “gave me my flair for the historical scene.” In 1951, for Detroit's 250th birthday celebration, he authored a pamphlet-type book entitled "Detroit At The Century's Turn." In this birthday celebration booklet, the recounting of the world of pre-automobile Detroit opens up to the reader in a wonderfully descriptive narrative:
"About 1890, when I was a small boy, one of the principal interests in my life was to watch the broad-beamed white mare, Nelly, walk a tread-mill. It was in Carrie and Conn's saw-mill located at the foot of Mt. Elliot Avenue, which was then the easterly city limit of Detroit. Nelly walked patiently, and by her endless walking she put in motion the big saw that turned cedar logs into neat paving blocks.
These block were hauled away from the mill in huge box-like wagons, and were dumped in piles at intervals along the dirt roads that served as streets. Soon workmen came and paved the street by laying the blocks side by side. The small spaces between the blocks were filled with tar which was poured from a large kettle that followed right behind the men who placed the blocks.
To a small boy, the tar kettle was almost, but not quite, as interesting as the cedar blocks and the saw mill. The blocks, while still in piles at the side of the streets, made wonderful play things. We children used them for our own building purposes: houses, sheds, and most often, castles in the air. We knew, of course, that sooner or later the pavers would come and knock down our lovely castles. But the blocks had to be laid and the tar had to be poured.
I now look on the cedar blocks as an emblem that represents an older way of life."

Another remembrance from Mr. Stark speaks of the delivery wagon from the same late 19th century era:
"In the warm months, Mr. Ritter, a stout German gentleman with fierce black whiskers, called around in a wagon drawn by a single horse. He had a triangular piece of steel, which he rang with another piece of steel, producing a sound that was real melody. It brought us rushing from the house with our milk pail, which Mr. Ritter filled without getting out of the wagon. The big galvanized milk cans were just in back of him, packed in ice. The milk was transferred from it to your own pitcher or pail by a measuring cup with a long handle. The process of ladling the milk from his big cans to the customer's pail or pitcher was a sort of domestic ritual.
Fresh vegetables and fruits in season were also delivered to our door. This was done by a dark-skinned farmer from beyond Mt. Elliott Avenue. He brought everything in from his farm, but I remember he was especially proud of his potatoes. He had a song about them which he continually chanted between clucking to his horse."

And then there was the local blacksmith. I have particular interest in this subject, for my great great grandfather, Wilhelm Lietz, was a blacksmith in Detroit in the 1880's and '90's. Here Mr. Stark gives his own story of the local blacksmith in his Detroit neighborhood:

"An exciting pastime for the youngsters was to look in the open door of Mr. Rivard's blacksmith shop, particularly on those days when he was busy with the big horses from Kling's Brewery. Mr. Rivard was a huge man, seemingly as huge as the horses, which he fitted with new shoes. He worked at his forge and anvil and there was no sight along our street to compare with this. The sparks flew in showers as he fashioned the new shoes with mighty blows. The shop was a long building, and in it Mr. Rivard kept rigs of all descriptions. Behind were barns where he had his own stable of fine horses. There he often rented to the people in my neighborhood."

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Folks generally ate their breakfast, lunch/dinner, and supper in their own homes. Going 'out to eat' was not a common activity for the greater majority of the 19th century populace. But it did occur and, being the timely newspaper that it is, the following notation is from the January 22, 2012 (yes, today - the day that I am writing this!) Detroit News:

This advertisement proclaimed a new enterprise in 1850:

Patrick Collins has opened a new Eating House on Griswold Street. Mr. Collins is a stirring man and of course will be successful. The arrangements are all "tip-top."

Eating houses featured specialties like "all-you-can- eat" oysters or green turtle soup; they usually announced "a good accommodation for victuals" such as soup, potatoes, beef, ham and so forth. Nevertheless, complaints about the food were common. With the famous French chef and cooking instructor Professor Pierre Blott moving to New York City and becoming America's first celebrity chef by 1865, Detroit newspaper editorials hoped that students of chef Blott could "relieve the country from the reproach of having but one gravy."
The earliest restaurants appeared in the 1870s in Detroit, and by 1899 the city had 169. People had come to rely on restaurants for lunch, dinner and throughout the night as night shift workers, many living in lodging houses with no kitchen, began to depend on restaurants as their only source of cooked meals.

Interesting stuff, wouldn't you say? But what about those on the go? What about the workers who didn't have time to sit in an eating house, or worked the graveyard shift when no eating houses were open? You know...fast food? Well, since there was no such thing as fast food as we know it to be  today, the next best thing would have been a lunch wagon.

In the 1890's, Henry Ford worked as an engineer for the Edison Illuminating Company, which supplied electricity to businesses and also to the few residents who wanted it. According to a Ford cousin, Ford Bryan, in his book Clara: Mrs. Henry Ford, Henry Ford patronized the Owl Night Lunch Wagon during his years working at Edison Illuminating. It was pulled to and from the curbside at Michigan and Griswold streets in Detroit by Reddy the bay horse, owned by John Colquhoun. There were stools inside the wagon and a window for take-out service. It opened at 6 p.m. and left at daybreak - this at a time when restaurants in Detroit closed up by 8 p.m. 

---------------------------

I don't know about you but when I read this information for the first time I looked at the city of my birth quite differently. Too many contemporary historians tend to concentrate solely on not only the automobile era, but its extreme crime-ridden blight.

In other words, the 20th century.

Detroit's history is so much more rich and full than most realize, and it's this history that needs to be told.

For further reading on Detroit's early history you might enjoy reading of its Colonial Roots


The information presented here about Leesville came from the following three sources:
Detroit Beginnings: Early Villages and Old Neighborhoods by Gene Scott
Michigan Place Names by Walter Romig
And from the Church of Our Saviour website.

Other Sources used for this post:
Yesterday's Detroit by Frank Angelo
Detroit: A Motor City History by David Lee Poremba




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Winter

~ A collection of notations from wintertime past~

WINTER STORM WARNING! 

cautions the scroll along the bottom of your TV set.

YOUR WINTER SURVIVAL STATION! 

declares the radio news station. 

POWER OUTAGES THROUGHOUT THE METRO AREA! 

screams the newspaper headlines.

~~~~~~~(don't you just love the media?)~~~~~~~

The weather is frighteningly cold outside: the temperatures are well below freezing, the wind is howling at your door, the snow is coming down at a blizzard pace.

But you? You are cozy toasty in your home with the forced-air furnace blowing warmth throughout each room, the airtight windows ensuring it does not escape. Light at the flick of a switch staves off the winter darkness. With help from the radio, ipod, or CD collection, along with the hundreds of cable channels – as well as a decent quantity of DVD's – your entertainment is almost limitless. The internet can take you “to infinity and beyond” at the click of a mouse, either on your home computer, laptop, or even on your cell phone.  Then there's skype and phones to allow you to "visit" nearly anyone without leaving the house. And if you run out of food, the local Circle K, CVS, or Rite Aid party stores are only a moment’s drive from your door (for many of us), even in this horrible winter weather. 
Yes, let it snow...modern technology has rescued you from fear of freezing and solitude. 

But, what if you should lose power? What then? 
I find it amusing that if the only light and heat comes from candles and fireplaces because of a power outage at your house, it is frustrating and annoying - but when it comes in the form of intimate tours of a 19th-century village, it is charming and peaceful.
(A quote from Old Sturbridge Village).

An outage would mean no TV, no computer, no music, no electric lights or even any electricity at all...oh my gosh! - - what now?  
Oh, how will we survive the winter months?

The coziness of a non-electric January evening...

Isn't this so true for the greater majority of us? I know it would be for me, for I have no fireplace...well, no real fireplace - to even give off a bit of warmth should we lose power. I could survive without the neat little electronics - I have actual books to read, not a Kindl - but a power outage certainly would be more than unpleasant, if only for a lack of a heat source. 
Have you ever given any thought to how the people many of us attempt to emulate during our reenactments survived the bitter winters in days of old? I have, and so I combed through a few of my books to see if it was as tough as I had heard.
In most cases it was far worse than I imagined.

Folks, I’m here to tell you we ain’t got nothin’ on our ancestors. What they had to live through each day of every winter and what they did to survive the bitter cold and snow in the pre-electric era makes everyone of us look like wimps.

And compared to them, we certainly are!

Currier & Ives "The Snow Storm" 1864

 Wintertime in the early 20^th century and before brought in discomfort and dread to most in the United States, especially to those living above the Mason-Dixon Line. Winter-wear stockings, flannels, double-layered gowns, petticoats, shirts, trousers, and jackets all had to be altered and repaired after being stored away for the summer months; new items had to be made to replace those worn beyond repair.  Anne Eliza Clark thanked her mother for the yarn mitts, which were of “great service to me when I sweep my chamber and make my bed.” Mittens were commonly worn inside as well as outside because, in many cases, there was little difference in the temperature.

Sleeping with another person was a way to generate warmth in the bed chamber. From earliest childhood, our ancestors had slept together – infants with their parents, then with their siblings, cousins, or even friends, and then with apprentices, or domestic help of the same sex. So used to sleeping with others that sleeping partners were often sought out.

William Davis recalled that “fires in chambers were, in my day, far from being universal, (and I) never slept in a heated chamber, except when sick, until sixteen years of age.”

Harriet Beecher Stowe remembered her Aunt Lois setting a candle in their room and “admiring the forest of glittering frost-work which had been made by our breath freezing upon the threads of the blanket.”

Mrs. Stowe also warned that “whoever touched a door-latch incautiously in the early morning received a skinning bit from Jack Frost,” while Harriet Martineau recalled those winter mornings when even with a good hot coal fire in her chamber stove “everything you touch seems to blister your fingers with cold.” James Stuart found it “difficult to preserve the body in sufficient warmth, even wrapped in two suits of clothes, and everyone kept on stockings and flannel garments during the night. The ink froze in my pen in lifting it to the paper from an ink-horn, placed within the fender in front of a good fire.” 

On the 19^th of December 1856, Caroline Dustan wrote, “Water in Mamma’s and my wash bowl freezing thick as half a dollar.”

During the coldest days of winter, families moved and lived in one room of their home, clustered around the fireplace or stove. It was in this manner that the family ensured survival. But that did not mean they were warm:  “A forest of logs, heaped up and burning in the great chimney, could not warm the other side of the kitchen. Aunt Lois, standing with her back so near the blaze as to be uncomfortably warm, found her dish towel freezing in her hand.”

Thomas Chaplin wrote in January 1857, “The thermometer is down to 20 degrees in the house at eight in the morning, and everything is frozen hard, including eggs, milk, and ink, and every piece of crockery that water was left in overnight is cracked.”

Now that’s cold!

It was unfortunate for the woman who attempted to do her daily chores such as spinning, for this necessary activity required ample amount of floor space and nimble fingers. There are numerous diary entries that tell of the difficulty in performing this task inside a crowded room with frozen fingers.

Small tin and wood foot stoves filled with an iron plate of glowing coals were used in both the parlor or for traveling. These little warmers were considered a woman’s stove, or an “effeminate luxury.” In 1819, Theodore Dwight declared his toes “comfortably bitten, which excited much sympathy: & I came near suffering the indignity of having a girl with gold beads offer me a stove.”

Victorians had their fun, too: "In much merriment the sleighing party is made up to dash along with chiming bells and song and laughter. An upset now and then is counted in with the amusements of the day, so that no one is hurt, and who ever is? by a fall into a yielding snowbank!" (Currier & Ives "A Spill Out on the Snow" 1870)

(From the diary of Samuel Cormany): January 14, 1861 - Sleighing is fine - "Charlie" the horse is a very fleet-footed little fellow, and my cutter is very light, about 100 lbs, and with a Buffalo Robe under me and another over me, and fur gloves - zero weather is not to be dreaded at all.

January was the month that the cellar was to be replenished with apples and late-season vegetables, packed in sawdust or sand. Pigs had to be killed, sausages made, and barrels of pork and ham put down. Pies were baked in large quantity to be kept frozen in the storeroom, the garrett, the guest chamber, or the closed –up parlor. Maria Church, on January 22, 1854, was happy to note that she “now completed all the winter jobs of sausages, pork, putting down hams, making candles, & mince pies.”

After a bit of rest from the arduous labor of the planting, growing, and harvest seasons, the Monday following 12^th Night (or Epiphany – January 6), known as Plow Monday, was the traditional signal to begin another work year. It was on Plow Monday that the farmer began to get all of his farm equipment into tip-top shape for the growing season.

 

The winter months of January and February were considered the best time of year for woodcutting, and the rising of the sun was often accompanied with the sound of an axe as fuel supplies were needed. Wood chopping had a dual purpose in the wintertime: it warmed the axeman as it was being chopped and warmed him again as it was burned for fuel. The men spent long, hard days in the woods, sometimes hiring out help to complete such a task. They would cut and prepare specific firewood for the many needs such as for cooking, warming, and laundry.

The amount of wood needed was impressive: a large family recorded in a journal that they burned forty four cords of wood within a one year period in a house with seven  fireplaces, a bake oven, and two chimney’s. Another family documented burning “twenty seven cords, two feet of wood” between May 3, 1826 and May 4, 1827.  One impoverished woman mentioned that she endured a Boston winter on twelve cords of wood “as we kept but one fire except on extraordinary occasions.”  Abigail Adams burned forty to fifty cords a year “as we are obliged to keep six fires constantly & occasionally more.”

We’re coming up to ice-cutting season, that time of year where those with the means to will head out to the frozen lakes, ponds, and rivers to cut blocks of ice to be used for the storage of meat during the warmer seasons of the year. 

Cutting blocks of ice from the river (Currier & Ives - "Winter in the Country: Getting Ice" 1864)

The previous year’s sawdust, old and pungent-smelling, was shoveled out and used for fertilizer and replaced with a new five-inch base in preparation for the coming year. The roads leading to and from the lakes, rivers, and streams saw teams of horses, oxen, and mules hauling blocks of ice.

Winter, by the way, was the best time to travel; the roads and paths were usually covered with snow, and that made it easy to glide over the smooth surface. Folks traveled in sleighs, cutters, and carioles, most of which had jingling bells attached to warn the pedestrians, who were bundled up head to toe and could not hear beyond the higher pitched ringing, to move out of the way since the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves were muffled due to the snow.  Instead of plowing the snow out of the way, as we do in our modern day, snow rollers packed it down. They rolled the roads, covering the bare spots so that sleighs could get through, and if they came to a covered bridge or an area cleared of the white stuff, they would shovel a layer of snow onto the bridge floor or the bare area so that the sleigh runners wouldn't stick.

This winter, when the wind howls at your door and you keep your thermostat to an oh-so-cool 66 degrees, when you feel boredom creep up on you, and your bed sheets feel cold against your body, and even when you must venture out to the local store a couple blocks away, fighting the slippery ice and snow covered streets the entire way, remember how your 19^th century self would have dealt with the months of January and February. That should warm you up a bit!

The information for this article came from numerous sources:

“Our Own Snug Fireside” by Jane C. Nylander

“At Home” by Elisabeth Donaghy Garrett

“Seasons of America Past” by Eric Sloane

“American Yesterday” by Eric Sloane

“Early Travel” by Bobbie Kalman

"Cormany Diaries: A Northern Family in the Civil War"



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Christmas is Past - 12th Night's the Last

The Christmas season is now officially over. 12th Night/Epiphany/Three Kings Day (otherwise known as January 6) marks the actual end to Christmas.
And it ended with a bang!
One of the Civil War reenacting units that I belong to had our annual period-dress Christmas party this past Saturday.
"'Period dress' you say?"
Yup!

Just a few of the sixty or so 21st Michigan members to attend our annual period-dress Christmas party!

We began to hold our Christmas parties in this way since January of 2006 (we have the party in January because December is much too busy a month for everyone), and it's truly a highlight for all that attend.
When I first suggested having a period dress Christmas party, many balked at the idea. There was no other unit that did this sort of thing, so why should the 21st Michigan? But to me it was a no-brainer - I mean, how can you be in a reenacting unit and not have a period Christmas party? It still surprises me to hear, as far as I can tell, that the 21st Michigan is the only unit I know based in and around the Detroit area that does this.
It's too bad for the reeanactors that don't. They don't know the fun they're missing.

The "white elephant" gift exchange is at hand with our very own Union Santa!

To me it is a shame because we really have a great time. Our Christmas party is held in an old school house that was built in 1872, and gives the perfect historic back drop to help bring the past to life. Seeing this vestige of the past filled with 60 or so people dressed in period clothing, one can easily understand that the makings for a night of 1860's fun is at hand!

Christmas carols sounded hauntingly beautiful on the pipes

One of our members, who normally portrays local Detroit politician Senator Jacob Howard, will don his Harper's Weekly (ca 1862) Union Santa suit to help pass out the presents. Yes, there are presents, too. President Lincoln makes frequent appearances, as he did this year. And we even had a bagpipe playing member serenade us all with Scottish Christmas carols!

President Lincoln speaks politics to one of his supporters

But the real thrill, besides the clothing and historic building, is all the good food that is brought by the membership: turkey, mashed potatoes, squash, venison stew, homemade bread, ham, corn...and a dessert table filled with cakes, pies, cookies, and other goodies.
Yes, it's a wonderful way to end the season.
But it didn't end there at the old schoolhouse...
Afterward, a few members stopped over to my home for sort of an afterglow. If you are a regular reader of this blog then you know my wife and I have a very-close-to period authentic 1860's parlor in my home where we will have gatherings and light the oil lamps and candles to help with a sort of immersion experience..

A cozy January evening with good friends in our parlor

I feel bad that I cannot invite everyone over (perish the thought of having 60 people in my home!), but my home is just not very big. And most cannot make it anyhow, what with their children and all and it being on the later side of the evening.

The glow of an oil lamp is enough light for the engaging conversation here

Those that do come, however, find themselves in another time - a time that is long gone.
This is perhaps one of my most favorite evenings of the year: having appropriately dressed people over in a dimly lit room relaxing and speaking as they might have 150 years ago is as good as it gets!
In fact, I may do it again in the late winter...maybe have a parlor game evening filled with song, games, and good conversation...

My wife and I had our tintype taken by a visiting photographer

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the photos I have posted here.

And for those of you tired of my Christmas postings...this will probably be my last one for a while. Notice I said "probably" - - - -

I've been working on a winter time post I believe you may find rather interesting. Stay tuned...




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How One Family Became Living Historians

How did we get here...

...from here?

I get asked every-so-often how and why did my family and I get involved in Civil War reenacting.
Here's our story, one that I wrote and originally posted three years ago but have updated since...

For years I have enjoyed visiting historical reenactments, seeing the participants wearing period clothing and living as if they were from the past. I envied those folks that were able to assume the role of a person from another era, and I would think about it quite a bit after returning home. But, I had always felt it was an exclusive club - that a plain Joe like me could not just join. This want I had to join those who brought the past to life would nag at me each time I would visit an event. Because of my love of history (And How Long Have YOU Been Into History?) I really wanted to be a part of this group of people! A big problem, unfortunately, was my job - my occupation at that time was in retail and that meant nearly every weekend was spent at work. This did not give me much of an opportunity to pursue reenacting.
After years of living the retail life, I wised up and found a new job - one that allowed me to have my weekends free. It was that same year (1996) that my family and I visited the Dickens Festival up in Holly, Michigan for the first time. What a great time we had, seeing street actors dressed up in Dickensian clothing, bringing the characters from Charles Dickens "A Christmas Carol" to life before my eyes. Now, you have to understand that "A Christmas Carol" is my favorite book and movie, and my wife, Patty, and I, years earlier, used to speak of having a Dickens Christmas party one day.
It never happened.
What did happen, however, was that the following year I contacted the entertainment director of the Dickens Festival and joined the troupe. Initially I did simple easy tasks that no one wanted such as selling raffle tickets. This wasn't my favorite thing but I knew it was an "in." A year or two later I became a chestnut vendor, which was actually great fun: I got to roast chestnuts over an open fire and speak to many visitors as a London street vendor just like in days of old. Then finally I got a small part in the play as a charity man asking Scrooge for a donation. To me, this was the big time.

At the 2001 Holly Dickens Festival -
velcro polyester costume - - - Hey! Ya gotta start somewhere!

My wife joined me that first year...she hated it! She absolutely found it not to be to her liking. She did not like being in the cold, she did not like the tight scheduling of events, and she did not like conversing with the public as an actress.
But, luckily for me, she never tried to prevent me from my participation. And, eventually, my two older children also took part, one as a vendor and a singer, the other as Tiny Tim. They, like me, enjoyed it immensely.
So, on the weekends between Thanksgiving and Christmas we donned our Dickensian costumes (for they really were costumes - far from authentic - purchased at a costume shop) and found a niche we never knew we had. We had a great time speaking in our pseudo British accent and joking with the patrons and the other Dickens characters, doing our best to make "A Christmas Carol" come to life.

Yes, that's me between Scrooge & Marley

The trouble was, it only lasted through the Christmas season, and I found myself thinking about the Festival throughout the year. I wanted more. In fact, I would even throw on the costume here and there when no one was home. It was clear to me that one month of pretending I was from the past was not enough - I really wanted more.
My family and I visited the 1999 Civil War Remembrance at Greenfield Village on Memorial Weekend. Again, the want - the need - to take part in such a historical presentation came to the forefront of my mind. I could just feel the entire of my mind and soul aching - seriously aching - to take part in this form of time travel, even more so than the Dickens Festival; I could tell this was the real deal where the Dickens Festival was more play acting. I inquired to a recruiter for one of the military units on how I could participate in such a cool activity. The unit I spoke with (which shall remain nameless here) was friendly enough and explained how simple it was to join, which my eldest son and I did on the spot (my wife was uncertain at the time). The man told us of an event coming up that we could attend with them that was small enough and would give us a chance to see what it was like. After explaining that my son and I didn't have clothing nearly as authentic as their's - that what we had were Velcro costumes from a costume shop - we were told to wear it anyhow, that it would be OK.
We did.
---mm---not a good move...........
Unfortunately, at this event, we were shunned.
Shunned.
We must've had the plague or something.
No one spoke to us. No one explained to us anything about reenacting; what we were doing wrong or right. In fact, there was plenty of whispering going on.
And staring.
At my son and I.
Until we felt we had had enough and decided these people could kiss our...
Well, anyhow, we concluded that it was time for us to leave.
Then - and only then - did a period-dressed gentleman speak with us to tell us how great a time Civil War reenacting was and that he hoped we'd return.
Too late. Yeah, I know I should have told this guy exactly what was on my mind, but I believe he could tell how we felt, for he had a very sympathetic tone to his voice.
My son and I were miserable and we both agreed that if this was the way people that reenacted were, then we wanted nothing to do with them.
Who needs 'em?
And I ached again. I mean really ached this time.
History was letting me down. This subject that meant the world to me - this subject that I had studied intently for nearly my entire life - blew me off.
*sigh*
The same year I joined the Dickens Festival I had also joined the East Detroit Historical Society and I helped to create programs for our 1872 schoolhouse, including having me every-so-often put on my costume and act as a 19th century superintendent to the schoolchildren that would visit during the school year. That was fun and it helped a bit during the off season, even if it only happened once or twice a year. And, I would also, at times, convince my wife to don her costume and play along with me here and there for the different historical society events we would put on. Sadly, it usually ended with her saying something to the effect of, "It was OK but once in a while is enough."
However, the fact that she was willing to dress 19th century (we didn't know about "farby" yet!) had always made me feel that there was some interest in this sort of thing for her. But, my question was...how do I get her to willingly portray history more often?
For me, though, even with these "extra" historical activities, there was just something missing...there was still this empty feeling...
Of course, the memory of my experience with a real reenacting unit was very fresh in my mind, and I knew that had my wife experienced what I did, she would never even consider reenacting.
Ever.
Enter an East Detroit Historical Society living history luncheon where Patty and I portrayed the famed author Charles Dickens and his wife Catherine. Yes, my wife willingly agreed to do this (!?!). As I researched information on the author and his wife I inadvertently discovered period clothing websites. Since my sister-in-law's sister was a seamstress, we ordered period correct (circa 1840) clothing patterns for Patty's dress and for my shirt and hired Miss Cathy to make them for us. The rest of what we wore was still costume.

Charles and Catherine Dickens -
we were trying...

Patty also learned as much as she could about Catherine Dickens so she could answer questions should any arise. However, at the garden party, the majority of the inquiries were not about Catherine Dickens, but of the period dress she was wearing. That seemed to spark a bit of an interest in her, and once the four-hour luncheon had ended, Patty remained in her dress for a couple hours after.
It was shortly after this time that me and two other members of our historical society were planning a historical timeline of the colonial era through the turn of the 20th century - one where all participants would dress in period "costumes". And, yes, I wanted my family to be involved. Patty actually offered to sew a dress for our two year old daughter, and, as for our only son that did not have anything period to wear (remember: my two oldest had their Dickens costumes), we would put together something we felt could "pass."
I had even found a ca 1900 jacket off ebay that I thought would work to improve my own impression.
Let us jump up eight months into the future, to the very next Memorial Weekend. The timeline event hadn't taken place yet. However, I had convinced Patty to dress up, once again, in a "period" dress - one that I found that I felt looked a bit more accurate to the 1860's, and we attended the Civil War Remembrance at Greenfield Village, dressed "period" as best as we could. This ensemble now included a hoop skirt of which she had never worn. (Looking at the dress now, it was far from accurate but better than the Dickens Festival costume).
Being the brave soul she is (and given the fact that she loves me very much) she ventured into uncharted territory. It helped that our friend, Lynn, who collects original garments and enjoys dressing period, came along with us.
Patty had a blast! She really did!

This was us making a first real attempt at wearing period clothing - not costumes - and we did it at Greenfield Village's Memorial Weekend Civil War event. No unit membership - it was totally on our own - but we continued trying. What brave souls we were...

It was on this weekend that I met a few members of the 21st Michigan Civil War reenacting unit - a group I had only conversed with through e-mail due to their participation in the timeline festival that would take place later that summer. I immediately felt a friendliness that was not present with the other unit from a couple years earlier. They even invited us to stay for the evening ball! We could not because my mother was ill in the hospital and we had to be home early, but just the idea that we were invited stuck with us.
It was then that I started on the "Let's give it another try and join a Civil War unit" plea. Patty replied, "No, I really don't want to - I like doing it how we've been." I told her I'd really like to give it another go and that it would be a great thing for us to do as a family - every trick I could think of.
She still shook her head no.
So I mentioned to my two oldest sons about joining the 21st Michigan, Robbie did not hesitate to respond with a resounding "Yes!" Tom, the oldest, remembering what had happened previously was a bit more cautious and responded with "Will I get to fire a musket?" When I answered in the affirmative, his response was a very un-Victorian "Cool!"
Yesssss!!! Now to work on my wife.
Well, in early July, the timeline event, now called Erin-Halfway Days, took place. Patty wore her 1840 Catherine Dickens dress and spent the day crocheting while I wore my Ebay purchased jacket with my Dickens shirt and pants. We all got to see first hand the 21st Michigan - soldier and civilian - in action.
I wanted to join so bad! That evening, after my wife had left, I spoke with a few of the civilian members and they agreed that it was a great family hobby. I knew Patty would enjoy it if she gave it a chance. But, I vowed to myself that I would not join unless my family joined with me.
Finally, I just confronted her.
"OK, Patty, here's the deal: you give it a try for three - just three - events. Why three? Because you cannot make a decision based on one or two events. The first may be good. The second not so good. The third one could be the tie-breaker."
That was my plea.
Believe it or not, she agreed. But, she had many questions: Did she have to play a role? What will she do all day at an event? What do we do with our youngest two children, especially Miles, who was autistic and didn't like loud noises, much less musket fire? And there were many more questions that I could not answer. So I told her to come to the drills that Tom and I planned to attend and maybe she could meet some of the women in the unit who could help her along.
She came, and I was ecstatic that she did. A couple of the women showed and made my wife feel totally comfortable, answering all of her questions openly and honestly. So much so, in fact, that we spoke positively of our joining the unit the entire 35 minute ride home. Patty actually showed signs of being excited about portraying a Civil War era woman!
Now, the real test would take place - we would attend our first reenactment, taking place at Historic Fort Wayne in July of 2004, just a couple weeks after Erin-Halfway Days. And I wore what I did at the timeline while Patty wore what she did at Greenfield Village. One of the female members rode to the fort with us, which helped to calm our nerves a bit - yes, we were very nervous. After my previous experience with an actual reenacting unit, how could I not be nervous? It also helped that we left our kids at home this first time out.
The day was a complete success! Patty had more fun and was more relaxed than I had seen her in quite a while, crocheting and talking with the other members of the 21st. We even had our photograph taken with an old glass-plate camera - the only picture of us taken at our very first event.

You can see just how farby we were - don't you just love photos from your first event?

Best of all was having the members help us along, giving us pointers, and generally accepting us.
We were not shunned at all!!
Even while wearing very farby (a word I learned earlier that year) clothing.
All the way home, after we returned home, and into the following days all conversations seemed to be about Civil War reenacting.
"All right!" I thought. "One event down, two more to go!"
Our second event was a big one - the Jackson event, which is the largest in the midwest. The whole family (sans Miles) was to come along this time. But in order for Tom to be a part (for he had been drilling with the military end of the unit) he needed a uniform.
Yep - Patty gave me the okay to order him one.
"I think she's hooked!"
If you have ever attended large events, then you know what Jackson is like. Virtually every Michigan unit, as well as some from Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, and even Canada, were there. Wall to wall reenactors - we had never seen anything like it. And, since Tom had received the OK from the drill masters and borrow the unit's musket, he was able to enter into battle.
Our heads were spinning!
Once again, the long drive home was filled with conversation of the day's events - all very positive. And Patty was on a Civil War "high" for weeks following.

Even though there was no need for a third event, we more than willingly attended a living history festival in Wyandotte that September, this time bringing Miles. Although he cringed when the military fired their muskets for the public, even he enjoyed himself! And when Patty realized this would be the last event of the season, she was, in her own words, "bummed."
The original three event test was now complete and it passed with flying colors.
That first winter I had made the decision to remain a civilian - much to the chagrin of a few of the military fellows - and studied period men's clothing intently. I found a number of living historians on line, including Bill and Glenna Jo Christen, and spoke with and learned from them. By the time the first event of 2005 rolled around, we were ready!

At Greenfield Village the following year - what a difference from the previous year, huh?

That spring we joined a second reenacting - actually, a living history - group, the civilian only Michigan Soldiers Aid Society (MSAS), whose membership thrived on and strived for authenticity and accuracy beyond any group I had witnessed. This wonderful group of social historians - especially Sandy Melcher Root - have taught me so very much about everyday life of the Civil War era, and I have applied what I learned to each reenactment I attend. They opened my eyes to first person presentations and, because of the early workshops and one on one conversations with them, I was now able to bring history to life for the visitors.

MSAS members at Walker's Tavern - a scene from the past!

I also remained with the 21st Michigan, and due to the ever-growing civilian contingency, I have been elected (for six or seven years now) as 'Civilian Coordinator' for the unit, where, like the MSAS, we are always working to improve our impressions, clothing, and speech.

Since our foray into living history, my family and I have immersed ourselves into the 1860's, applying much of what we learned from the past to our present day living. We have even attempted to recreate a Victorian parlor in our home:

We have also met some of the finest people one could ever meet and are proud to call them our friends. We have a like-mindedness like I've never experienced - a connection like no other. It's hard to explain.
And we continue to meet more and more...
My wife will now reenact without her dear old husband around - who'd a-thought, right?
I'm glad I never gave up on becoming a reenactor/living historian, for I can now live out my dream/fantasy of traveling to the mid-19th century pretty much as often as I'd like. The opportunities for our time-travel excursions have grown ten-fold over the years to now include Christmas and winter time activities as well.
And be with the finest folk on God's green earth.

Members of the MSAS, the 21st Michigan, and a few independents at Crossroads Village 2010: a fine group of living historians, if you ask me!

It just doesn't get any better.



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