Colonial Ken's New Year's Visit to Greenfield Village

Yep - I'm at it again! Since there are very few *real* opportunities to reenact the colonial era here in southeastern Michigan (outside of three or four events during the summer months), I have to make up my own. And with Greenfield Village being the only place around these parts with actual historic 18th century structures on its grounds, I find it to be the prime location for these colonial activities of mine.
And I am having so much fun!
I just wish there were others of the same mindset to join me, but then I'm probably the only nut out there who will do things like this on my own...oh well...
Anyhow, I had a great time visiting the Village on the day after Christmas wearing my new set of colonial duds, and I---wait!-----you didn't hear about my *new* 18th century clothing?
Well, let me tell you a little on how that came about before we continue on - -
A friend of mine notified me that there was a gentleman on Facebook who had left the reenacting hobby a few years ago and he (along with his wife) were giving  - yes, giving - away their period clothing. He had numerous garments from different eras in time, ranging from the 18th century through the early 20th century, and was looking for a good home for them. The only articles I was interested in were what he called his Patrick Henry clothes (for that's who he portrayed as a living historian). Our sizes seemed to match up close enough so, after private messaging each other a bit, I became the lucky  - bless'd, rather - receiver of this wonderful set of colonial-era clothing. And the best part is the package arrived on Christmas Eve day!
What a fine gift indeed!
The quality is top notch - the gentleman mentioned they were sewn by a professional seamstress from the northeastern part of these United States who specialized in Revolutionary War era clothing, and it's obvious, upon close inspection, that they were made very well. They look to be hand-sewn, in fact.
So I tried them on and...

...well...what do you think?  
What I found inside the package was a living historian's dream: a coat, waistcoat, shirt, breeches, socks, neckstocks, buckle shoes, and even a colonial wig; a prodigious collection of colonial clothing!
~(the hat seen here in this picture is mine, however)~
 And, they don't fit too bad, eh? 
Yes, I do need to have the breeches and waistcoat taken in slightly...maybe the coat, too, but I know numerous seamstresses who can easily take care of that.
I am truly bless'd and thankful.

And now, with a lantern to light my way, along with my cloak and scarf, I am ready to brave the winter weather of Michigan in my new duds.
 
(Thank you Lenore Jordan for taking this picture, and to my wife for crocheting my scarf!)

Ready to come along?
Let's go - - - - 

Last week, as you recall, in the Time Traveling Through Christmas posting, there was a possibility of an upset of the time-space continuum when Jillian and I, two Civil War living historians, found ourselves in the same room together, dressed in the clothing of historical time-periods other than our usual Civil War garb; she as a WWII nurse from the 1940s, and I as a 1770s colonial:

"Hey! Why are you dressed like that??"

There was great concern: our chronology may no longer have meaning, we might not easily tell if something has happened before or after, or even if there will be a cause or an effect.

"Hey! Why is he/she dressed like that??"

"Yikes – I must get back to my time, and quick! 
But...what time is my time?"

Swiftly I went, through the tunnel of time...er...covered bridge...

...and I found myself planted back to a period more suitable to my clothing: New Year's in the 1770s.
I scurried over to the breakback-style house (as it was known back east during the time) belonging to Samuel Daggett the housewright and his wife Anna. The couple knew me well, for I have visited many times before, and am always welcomed into their home.

The breakback-style house of the Daggetts - otherwise known in our modern lingo as a saltbox house - is one of my very favorite structures inside Greenfield Village. Not just for the architectural style, but for the accuracy in its set up, inside and out. The feeling one gets upon entering, especially while wearing suitable clothing of the era, is a sort of immersion, for all surroundings are period-correct and encompasses all five senses.

Being that it was New Year's, I was surprised there was not more activity going on, but knowing the Daggetts lived on a rural farm, with few neighbors nearby, it was easy to see why the commemoration of a new year was on the quiet side.

The Daggetts and their neighbors saw each other most frequently at church on Sundays, which allowed them to socialize as well as attend religious services. They also got together to help one another with building a house, spinning yarn or harvesting crops. Sometimes just men or just women got together with each other, but most gatherings included some element of fun. These events helped build a sense of community. But to travel a distance on a cold winter's night to watch a new year enter just wasn't going to happen.

Except for someone like me.

On such a winter's eve, I took a moment to rest in the cool darkness of the main (or great) hall, a room comparable to the modern living room.
The majority of us who live most of our lives in the 21st century are not used to the darkness of 18th century nightfall, nor are we used to the lack of central heating. For our ancestors there was nothing but candles for light and a fire in the hearth for warmth, with neither giving off very much of either.
"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 historic village, it is charming and peaceful."
~Quote from Old Sturbridge Village~ 

The warm glow from the hearth and the dim lights from the candles breaking softly through the darkness was actually very peaceful for me. Without all of the bright electric lights forcing me to dim my eyes, I rather enjoyed the solitude of a 1770s evening.

Imagine living in a time where only a solitary candle-lit lantern was used for a light, for to use more than that would be considered wasteful. Our ancestors did not just run up to the local store to purchase candles as we do for electric light bulbs in our modern day - each candle had to be made by dipping or by way of candle molds. Great care was taken to not waste any item, most of all food and candles.

For a long time candles were made only of animal fat, and housewives collected every scrap after butchering and cooking of meats was completed. These precious fats were hoarded carefully, protected in covered crocks. At candlemaking time, usually in the fall and during butchering, the fat was melted down and the dipping process began.

Fortunately for early American women with the wherewithal to get them, there were other candlemaking materials available to them. New England had bayberries, which have a aromic scent — quite a change from the stinky animal-fat candles. Bayberries were introduced to the Colonial women by their Native American neighbors, who also showed them how to get the wax out of the berries. Another source of candle wax was beeswax, and many farm families, such as the Daggetts, raised bees, primarily for their honey and their pollination work, but also to get the sweet-smelling beeswax. Lucky was the Colonial farmer with a hive or two of bees!

Moving about from room to room, our colonial ancestors brought their light with them, just as I had brought my own light into the Daggett parlor looking for playing cards, checks, and other games to play to celebrate this New Year holiday.

The game you see with the dice and numbers is called Shut-the-Box, a traditional game of counting, addition, and probability. Shut-the-Box dates back to the 18th century, when this game was enjoyed by Norman fishermen after a long day at sea. Roll the dice and lay down any numerical combination of tiles that match your roll. Just keep on rolling until you can no longer match your roll on the remaining tiles. The lowest score wins the game. If you lay down all the tiles, then you've "shut the box." This version has 12 numbers, rather than the typical 9 numbers, bringing more numerical combinations into play. Game can be played alone or with any number of players. (Game and information from Colonial Williamsburg).
 
It was an honor to be welcomed into the Daggett home, and I would've loved to have spent more time there with the family, but time was a-wasting and I knew I had more places to visit before my connection to the past would dissipate. 

So, after spending the early part of the evening with the Daggetts, I then removed myself for a visit with another fine family, the Giddings family: John and Mehetable and their children.

Mr. Daggett, as he had done before, allowed me use of his fine steed on which to travel in the cold dark winter night, so it was off to visit the Giddings for their New Year's celebration:

As I moved closer to the Giddings home I couldn't help but consider what this new year of 1776 would bring. 
“Posterity who are to reap the blessings will scarcely be able to conceive the hardships and sufferings of their ancestors.” Abigail Adams

I was welcomed into the home with open arms and glad tidings by members of the Giddings family, including eldest daughter Mary, who willingly gave an explanation of their plans for the evening:

Since I was invited to this gathering, there was no need for me to leave a calling card.
Calling or visiting cards, a tradition brought over from England, was popular with the colonists in the 18^th century, and almost everyone had calling cards with their name printed upon them.

When a gentleman visited a lady at her home, he would leave a card with one of the family members. If the lady was not at home, a card would be left to inform her that a friend – usually a gentleman or a possible suitor, or even another lady friend – had stopped by. As many as twenty calls could be made in a day, and people kept track of everyone who called. The cards served a number of social purposes, such as a means of introduction, to further acquaintanceship, to express congratulations or condolences and to provide notices of arrival or departure (which was what my intentions were as a visitor). Generally, the bearer waited in a carriage, enlisting a servant, friend, or maybe a family member to deliver the calling card. The bearer folded a corner if delivering the card in person. This first call rarely resulted in a face-to-face meeting as the conveyor generally expected to deliver the item to a servant and leave.

Calling cards on the tray

The receiver replied with their own card in a few days, inviting the initiator back for an in-person visit, if so desired, for if the aspiring socialite received the answering card sealed in an envelope or did not receive a return card, it meant to maintain social distance.

New Year’s Day was a popular day to call on the ladies of a community. Cards were left on a table near the door, and in the week that followed, ladies called on each other and compared the number of calls they had received by the number of calling cards that were left. It was a good opportunity for ladies to talk about all the men in their community, and the men bragged about the number of calls they were able to make.

This practice continued on into the 19th century and early 20th century.
I did happen to see numerous cards upon the tray in the front hall of the Giddings home when I entered. Hmmm...possibly from suitors for Mary and Dorothy mayhaps? I'm sure there will be a couple of giddy Giddings girls when they catch a glimpse at the numerous cards in the tray!

With guests due to arrive, I helped to build up a welcoming fire in the hearth.

Being that we were on the eve of 1776, I would love the chance to tell the Giddings family of what was on the horizon for the coming year, including an intensified war, a Declaration of Independence, and, due out on January 10, the pamphlet known as Common Sense that would rile many to strive for this independence, but I bit my lip and said nothing. They would certainly have thought of me as a soothsayer, and we would not want that!

I very much enjoyed my visit with young Miss Giddings as she took a break from the New Year's preparations to speak with me about her wintertime aspirations. She also spoke of the excitement for the New Year's party at hand and of her prospects toward a certain young suitor she had hoped would show.

I am certainly glad I purchased and studied the book "18th Century English as a Second Language" before travelling back to the 1770s, for it helped me greatly to converse with young Mary Giddings

 Mr. Giddings hired a chocolateer as a special New year's treat for his guests.
When speaking to the chocolate maker I learned that the raw cocoa seed is not edible; that it must be fermented, roasted, and winnowed to remove the shells. The beans are then heated slightly and ground into a paste that hardens into cakes. When cocoa was needed, the cakes were scraped, and the chocolate was mixed and heated with milk (or water) and sugar to become a beverage.

The chocolateer (aka as Roy) shows us the art of making chocolate as was once done in America's colonial era.

Let's hear from the chocolateer himself:

Chocolate was initially a treat for the wealthy, but soon was available to the every man. Benjamin Franklin sold locally produced chocolate in his Philadelphia print shop. In 1739, he was selling bibles and other books, pencils, ink, writing paper, and "very good chocolate."

By 1773, the demand for chocolate in the colonies resulted in the importation of over 320 tons of cocoa beans. Drinking chocolate was affordable to all classes of people and was available in most coffee houses, where colonists would gather to talk about politics and the news of the day.

John and Abigail Adams were very fond of chocolate. In 1779, John Adams, while in Spain, wrote, "Ladies drink chocolate in the Spanish fashion. Each lady took a cup of hot chocolate and drank it, and then cakes and bread and butter were served; then each lady took another cup of cold water, and here ended the repast." Abigail Adams, writing to John Quincy Adams in 1785, described drinking chocolate for breakfast while in London:  
London Sepbr 6. 1785 Grosvenor Square

This Morning went below to Breakfast, the Urn was brought up Boiling, the Chocolate ready upon the table, Enter Mr. Spiller the Butler…and after very respectfully bowing with his Hands full “Mr. Churchs compliments to you Sir, and has brought you this pacquet, but could not wait upon you to day as he was obliged to go out of Town.” Up we all jumpt, your Sister seized hold of a Letter, and cry’d my Brother, my Brother. We were not long opening and perusing, and I am so glad, and I am so glad, was repeated from one to an other. Mamma did not fail remarking her old impression. The Chocolate grew cold, the top of the tea pot was forgotton, and the Bread and Butter went down uneaten, yet nobody felt the loss of Breakfast, so near akin is joy and grief that the effect is often similar.

Is it chocolate yet?

Because chocolate could be transported in solid blocks without spoilage, it was used as a ration by the military. To ensure a supply of affordable chocolate for the military, the Continental Congress in 1777 imposed price controls during the Revolutionary War for chocolate and cocoa. It was also forbidden to export chocolate from Massachusetts as it was required "for the supply of the army". When the British unexpectedly launched an attack against Fort Ticonderoga in 1777, the defenders abandoned the fort, along with huge quantities of munitions and suppliers which included twelve boxes of chocolate. Captain Moses Greenleaf had chocolate for both breakfast and supper to maintain his energy during his desperate retreat from the British. And it was in 1785 that Thomas Jefferson predicted that chocolate would become the favorite beverage in North America over coffee and tea. This prediction came after the Boston Tea Party and the rejection of tea by the colonists, and prior to the widespread consumption of coffee in North America.

Wouldn't you love to try some original colonial-era chocolate to compare with our modern waxy bars of today?

Dutiful Mary kept the fire stoked to ward off the blustery winter weather outside.

Though the exchange of Christmas gifts was not too common along much of the east coast, observing the ritual on New Year's was. And most in the colonials also took time at the beginning of each year to asses their situation in life and consider their many blessings.
A fine example of such New Year's traditions of gifts, thankfulness, and calling cards/visiting can be found in the Diary of Anna Green Winslow:
1st Jany, 1772
I wish my Papa, Mama, brother John Henry, & cousin Avery & all the rest of my acquaintances at Cumberland, Fortlaurence, Barronsfield, Greenland, Amherst &c a Happy New Year, I have bestow'd no new gifts, as yet. But have received one very handsome one, viz. the History of Joseph Andrews abbreviated. In nice Guilt and flowers covers. This afternoon being a holiday I am going to pay my compliments in Sudbury Street.

Well, time marches on, and the time had come for me to bid farewell to my host and hostess, for there were more visits and stops for me to make on this New Year's night.

Thank you for a pleasant occasion, my dear Friend. And may 1776 bring nothing but happiness and fortitude to you and all of your kith and kin.
"I wish you a happy new year, and many happy Years---and all the Blessings of Life. Who knows but this Year may be more prosperous for our Country than any We have seen. For my own Part I have hopes that it will. Great Blessings are in store for it, and they may come this Year as well as another..."
Letter from John Adams to Abigail dated January 1,1779

Many thanks to Greenfield Village presenter (and friend) Jordan for willingly posing for and with me during my colonial excursion here at the Giddings Home (built around 1750). It means so much to me when I can have an extra presence in my photographs.

Off to my next time-travel adventure...
But if I may step out of my little story for a minute or two here to tell of an actual magical reenacting moment: on the last night for the Holiday Nights at Greenfield Village - December 28 - it was a very ugly, mucky wet night filled with a wint'ry mix of ice and snow, then sleet, then a turning to a cold rain with high winds, leaving the ground thick with a wet slushy mess. Those of us who were working there during this weather were soaked from head to toe, especially while we performed our old world Christmas music outside. Now, being a born and bred Midwesterner, I love snow, but this mix was totally blecchh. And because the weather was so bad, only a small amount of the ticket holders showed up, so by the end of the evening the place was virtually empty. 
But I had a very high point in all this slop: after we were done performing, I had time to walk around a bit before closing, and so I did. Unfortunately, the unrelenting icy-cold rain continued to fall with the harsh wind blowing. That and all of the slush on the ground prevented me from enjoying one last walk around the historic Village, for my boots soaked up the water. However, upon seeing smoke coming out of the chimney of the 1780s log cabin that once belonged to the parents of William McGuffey, I decided to go inside. 
I am certainly glad I did!

A scenic daytime winter picture of the birthplace of schoolbook writer William Holmes McGuffey.

What my wondering eyes beheld as I stepped through the door was as warming to me as any sight I could have seen that night:

This was the first thing I saw as I stepped through the door of the 230 year old log cabin. My mind immediately went to imagining how our ancestors must have felt upon seeing the same thing in the same situation. 
No matter that inside the cabin was cooler than what we're used to, this sight was warming to the soul.

I asked Rachel, the period-dress presenter stationed there, if I may enter to warm myself, and she was very agreeable and obliged me to stay for as long as I needed. So I sat on the bench and stretched my feet toward the warming glow of the fireplace hearth. 

I could hear the wind howling outside, beating the rain against the logs and the lone window as I tried to rid myself of the numbing cold from my toes. It was such a hard rain that a stream of water trickled down through the chimney.

Needless to say, it was actually pretty cold in that old cabin, for the only warmth came from the fire in the fireplace. But it was dry, and that's all that mattered to me. And my icy toes enjoyed the warmth from the hearth. My senses were engulfed - immersed - into the spirits of the past of this cabin. We would have been ghosts to any visitors that may have stepped in, though most patrons had already left. 
It was as if...well...was I there?

Rachel stoked the fire for me - my cloak did a fine job keeping the rest of me dry, but period shoes have nothing against the cold and wet like modern shoes do.

The night time pictures you see here of the fireplace, candles, & lantern were taken there on this sloppy night, as were the pictures of the young lady holding the candle.

Oh the weather outside was frightful, but the warmth in the cabin was so delightful.

It actually was, as you can probably guess, magical - the very best part of the night for me. In fact, it was one of the highlights of the entire Christmas season.

Miss Rachel - - with a light from the past...

Yep - this sort of thing does not happen too often...

Okay, well, let's continue on before we head back to the future, to the home of Noah Webster, America's great lexicographer and Founding Father, who, with his own family, was also enjoying a New Year's feast.

Though a little later in time than where we've been - 1822 - it was still a very good visit, and since I sometimes portray Paul Revere, I felt the wearing of my out-of-fashion clothing (1770s) in comparison to Mr. Webster's (1820s) was keeping with the situation since Mr. Revere himself “in old age, when young men began to wear pantaloons and top hats, continued to dress in knee breeches and a cocked hat.”

So I guess I was dressed as I should have been!

~Noah Webster near his New Year's feast~
Once again, we see that our Founding generation enjoyed entertaining guests and feasting on extravagant meals for New Year's.

Webster published his first dictionary in 1806, and it included an essay on the oddities of modern orthography and his proposals for reform. Many of the spellings he used, such as music, color and center, instead of the British musick, colour and centre, would become hallmarks of American English. He also added American words that weren't in English dictionaries like "skunk" and "squash".

In 1807 Webster began compiling an expanded dictionary. This was the one he completed in the house featured in this posting and was published in 1828. Although it drew some protest, the reformed spellings were gradually adopted throughout the United States.

Mrs. Rebecca Webster, wife of Noah, through the dining room window.

I did not stay very long at the Webster home, for there was another experience waiting for me:
off to the nearest ordinary (tavern) I rode, where Christmas was still welcome and New Year's was being celebrated, and I enjoyed a warming tankard of flip, which was a blend of beer, rum, molasses (or dried pumpkin), and eggs (or cream), mixed in a pitcher and then whipped into a froth by plunging a hot fire poker.

~A rural 'ordinary' stop for the night~
A person did not have to be traveling a great distance - according to our modern definition of what a great distance may be - to be in need of a tavern. A trip ten miles beyond the nearest town required spending the night.

Methinks the tavern owner has an "in" with the Patriots, for I found copies of items of sedition lying about upon a table, along with other anti-Tory notions, that would be cause of a war of words or worse between the Patriots and the Tories:

Though it was a bit difficult to see in the dark, some of the reading material on the table inside the tavern was not of the subject matter of which the King would be pleased: here was the Common Sense pamphlet, a copy of Paul Revere's sketch of the Boston Massacre, and an angry letter of disgust in which the writer wrote of the British obliteration of Falmouth (now Portland) Maine from this past October (of 1775): 
"In a few minutes the whole town was involved in smoak and combustion. About a thousand men in arms attended this scene of devastation, besides a prodigious number of both sexes, without attempting any repulsion. The bombardment continued from half after nine till sunset, during which all the lower end and middle of the town was reduced to a heap of rubbish. Several houses in the back street and in the upper part, together with the church shared the same fate. The front of the Meeting house was torn to pieces by the bursting of a bomb, and the buildings which were left standing had their glass windows broken, and both walls and apartments terribly shattered. In a word about three quarters of the town was consumed and between two and three hundred families who twenty four hours before enjoyed in tranquility their commodious habitations, were now in many instances destitute of a hut for themselves and families, and as a tedious winter was approaching they had before them a most gloomy and distressing prospect."

Enjoying my time inside the ordinary.

Fueling the want - the need - for independence was Thomas Paine, the son of a Quaker corset maker from England - a trade, by the way, in which he himself failed at.
But he certainly made well for himself as a sort of 'rabble rouser.'
Who would have thought that a pro-independence pamphlet Mr. Paine wrote called "Common Sense" (seen in the above picture) would ignite an explosion of popular support throughout the colonies for such a radical idea as becoming an independent nation?
'Twill not be long before "Common Sense" will be the talk of the colonies and, before the year is through, eventually sell over a half-million copies, gaining much support from all walks of colonial life, all the while angering those who cry "treason" at the very thought.
In fact, as I enjoyed my tankard of flip inside the tavern, folks were already speaking of the pamphlet:

Trying times as these may be, it was still New Year's and the folks here wanted to enjoy their time during this holiday, and so, besides the political speak, a rousing game of cards commenced to remove thoughts of war only to be replaced with gaming strategy.

  What an opportunity it was for me to see the year 1776 come in while amongst American colonials. Little did they know what the year ahead had in store, and little do they know they will be a part of the most special group of people in our Nation's history: the Founding Generation!
Picture courtesy of Seven Trees Farm

After a night's stay and a warm breakfast, I had to return Mr. Daggett's horse. It had snowed overnight and my ride back was filled with the splendor of a New England countryside covered in a blanket of white.

Leaving the tavern and all of its political company, I headed east, back to the home of Samuel Daggett.
(This is not New England, though Henry Ford based his Village Green on those he saw in New England).

Across the time-travel bridge - the Daggett farm is only a short jaunt from here.

A cold but safe return.
I had quite an experience in my time-travels, and I learned quite a lot. I also enjoyed my visitation with friends and even the strangers inside the ordinary.
Unfortunately, my stay here had ended and I needed to head back to the future.
But I will return, on that you can be sure.

Time to return the horse to Mr. Daggett's stable, and time for me to return to the 21st century.
But I'll be back. Soon.

It's not very often patrons can visit Greenfield Village during the evening darkness, or even when it snows, so when an opportunity arises, I latch onto it. Though I am a contracted performer there for numerous nights during their wonderful Holiday Nights event, I still take one evening during the season where I attend as a paid visitor so I can roam the Village streets and take the whole Christmas past scenario in.
And for two years now I have dressed in my colonial clothing when doing this.

My 15 year old daughter is a wonderful photographer - if I am in the picture, chances are she snapped it (unless otherwise noted) - and willingly follows my directions for the type of image I wish to create.
And, yes, not all is as it seems in a few of my photos.
The photographs herein, then, were mostly taken on December 26 and 28, 2015, at Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Michigan, though there are a few that were snapped a year or two earlier (and two that were taken elsewhere).

Sources and quoted material for this posting:
Historical Presenters at Greenfield Village
Early Family Home by Bobbie Kalman
Chocolate info comes from Colonial Williamsburg
Diary of Anna Green Winslow
My Dearest Friend: Letters of John and Abigail Adams
History of the Calling Card web site
Journal of the American Revolution web site

Links:
Eighteenth Century English as a Second Language
For more about colonial taverns and traveling, click HERE
To learn about colonial cooking, click HERE
Click HERE for my writings on how the colonials celebrated Christmas
For an overview on everyday colonial life, click HERE
Colonial Ken Visits Greenfield Village in the fall - click HERE
Colonial Ken visits Greenfield Village on Patriot Day - click HERE
A little told (but great) Revolutionary War civilian story, click HERE






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