Electric Edison

Thomas Alva Edison built his winter estate in Ft. Myers, Florida in the 1880s, before the train even came to the region. His house was built with pre-cut timber shipped from Maine, delivered to this pier on the Caloosahatchee River.

The Edison and Ford Winter Estates are a window in time, with inventions and living spaces dating back to the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The light bulb, the phonograph, the motion picture and the storage battery are only a few of Edison’s inventions. In the museum, I was taken with this interpretive sign:

Edison and the Storage Battery
1872 to 1931
When he applied for his first storage battery patent in 1872, Edison believed travel by horse was doomed. An electric car would soon serve the nation’s transportation needs. Thus, he sought to perfect a storage battery to propel such a vehicle.

Two decades later, Edison’s vision of the future began to emerge. Steam and electric vehicles first appeared on the scene in the 1890s (the internal combustion, gasoline-powered engine would not enter the fray of the automotive era until the 20th century). Another display in the Edison & Ford Winter Estates Museum reads as follows:

Advantages of Motor over Horse Vehicles
I. ECONOMY
(a) OF MONEY
1. Cheap upkeep.
2. Consumes nothing while idle.
3. Requires less stable room, permitting smaller housing.
4. Requires fewer men to care for, or groom.
5. Longer life.
6. In light small package delivery it does the work of two or more wagons, reducing force of men to deliver same, because it carries more load and goes twice faster than a horse.
(b) OF TIME
1. Delivers in much quicker time than a horse.
2. Return trip to distributing centre at high speed.
3. Can work unlimited portion of day.
4. Requires no days of rest.
5. Easily handled in congested traffic, at good speeds.
6. As garages are permitted where stables would not be, it permits more convenient and nearer stabling, nearer to distribution centre.
7. Develops power despite weather and road conditions.
8. Can be worked overtime for holiday trade.
(c) OF SPACE
1. In stable.
2. In street.
3. In loading space at warehouse, permitting mroe wagons to load at same time.

II. OTHER ADVANTAGES
(a) INTENSIVE
1. Fewer wagons, on account of higher speed, will do work.
2. Fewer men will take care of same delivery unit.
3. Consumes only when in actual service.
(b) EXTENSIVE
1. Permits larger radius of delivery, meaning possible extension of free delivery limits, yet at low cost.

III. AND SOME GOOD REASONS
1. Motor transportation would go far to solve traction and congestion traffic problems for everybody.
2. Less damage to roads.
3. Dirt, dust and manure would disappear.
4. Permits the accurate and easy determination of costs.

At the museum as I ogled this display, a gentleman beside me chuckled. “Aha, I too see the advantages. No more horse apples.”

Leafing through old books

When my father downsized from his house into a retirement center, he sent my brother and me a list of books, and from afar, we chose which ones we wanted.

Years have passed, and I hardly remember what I picked out, except that I had an eye for old books. The other day I came across an especially old one, dated 1867. I know it came from my childhood home due to the bright orange bookmark tucked inside, Dad’s code for “Claire.”

Old books can be like treasure hunts. In The Psalms of David In Metre I was captivated by the subtitle: With Annotations explaining the Sense, and Animating the Devotion, By John Brown, late minister of the Gospel at Haddington. This John Brown was an Anglican minister who lived from 1722 to 1787. It turns out he was a self-made man, a shepherd in Scotland who taught himself to read Greek, Latin and Hebrew. In the songbook in my possession, each Psalm of David begins with Brown’s notes about content and meaning.

But there’s more. Tucked in the pages was also a postcard from 1911 advertising the celebration of the 100th anniversary of the First Presbyterian Church of Cleveland, founded in 1811.








In the heat of a big move, or at the end of a parent’s life, we might find ourselves in a hurry to get things squared away, to shuttle boxes off to the donation center without a second glance, oblivious to the treasures inside. Moral of the story: leaf through those books, including the ones you hang onto. You just never can tell what you’ll find inside.

Carriage history collaboration: An Interview with Thomas A. Kinney

I first learned of Thomas A. Kinney‘s research on horse-drawn carriages when roaming around the The Encyclopedia of Cleveland History. In the section on the Wagon and Carriage Industry, I discovered a fascinating write-up about the prevalence of German carriage-makers in Cleveland, Ohio in the 19th century. Dr. Kinney had written the article. The information supported what I was learning from the letters of my ancestor, Michael Harm, once a carriage-maker in Cleveland, and so I emailed Dr. Kinney to share with him my photos of Harm & Schuster Carriages. We have been in correspondence ever since. Recently, Thomas A. Kinney spoke at the International Carriage Symposium in Williamsburg, VA.

INTERVIEW WITH THOMAS A. KINNEY

Thomas A. Kinney is Associate Professor of History at Bluefield College in Virginia and author of The Carriage Trade: Making Horse-Drawn Vehicles in America (Johns Hopkins University Press). He earned a B.A. in History from the University of Maine, then went on to Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland to earn his M.A. and Ph.D., also in history.

How did you first become interested in the wagon and carriage industry?

My research specialty was the history of technology. I came from Maine, a state with deep roots in the timber industry, and from a family with some involvement in that as well as in woodworking. I wanted to research something to do with logging, the woodworking trades—something like that. Acting on a chance conversation with a fellow graduate student, I began investigating wagon and carriage making. This was a woodworking trade, which like most crafts, underwent the process of industrialization. I became interested in the craft-to-industry transition, and it appeared horse-drawn vehicle manufacture would be a good candidate for such a study. I wasn’t disappointed.

No doubt you found a whole lot more than you bargained for. The Carriage Trade does such a great job of exploring more than woodworking: blacksmithing, painting, trimming, the growth of the industry on the eastern seaboard and in the midwest. But you started with Cleveland?

Yes, my dissertation “From Shop to Factory in the Industrial Heartland” looks at the industrialization of wagon and carriage manufacture in Cleveland. I focused on Cleveland partly because that was where I was living, but also because it was an iconic Midwestern industrial city—-one I hoped would have sufficient sources for my study. The end result, my dissertation, explained how the craft of wagon and carriage making became a full-fledged industry there.

The thesis was not published in book form, but my research attracted the attention of Johns Hopkins University Press. On the basis of their interest, I ended up taking my dissertation’s interpretive structure and expanding the focus to include the entire United States—-in other words, several more years of research, in this case in Washington D.C. and New York. Johns Hopkins University Press published The Carriage Trade: Making Horse-Drawn Vehicles in America in 2004.

And you had a best seller on your hands …

Well, that would have been nice, but that usually doesn’t happen with research monographs. It was well-received–co-winner of the 2005 Hagley Prize in Business History, and I’ve received numerous compliments from readers and fellow historians since then. Most books on wagons and carriages concentrate on the vehicles themselves, an artifact-based focus. The Carriage Trade is the first to focus exclusively on how they were actually built, a manufacturing-based focus. I think this fills some significant gaps in our knowledge of horse-drawn vehicles, but also in our understanding of nineteenth-century crafts and industry. So I’m pleased with it.

It filled in significant gaps in my knowledge. I was delighted to come across it in my research about my great-great-grandfather. Now, about the Third International Carriage Symposium, held at Colonial Williamsburg last month. What is this, and how did it get started?

The Carriage Association of America (CAA) is an organization of horse-drawn vehicle enthusiasts—-people who collect, restore, and drive wagons and carriages. Established in 1960, the association has sponsored driving events, competitions, tours of public and private collections, in addition to publishing an informative illustrated journal. They’ve always had an historical focus, but in 2008 they decided to try hosting a scholarly symposium where professional historians and museum curators could share new research on horse-drawn vehicles. Working in conjunction with the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, they held the first such event in 2008 at Colonial Williamsburg. They even started a journal, “World on Wheels,” to publish the papers. It’s become a well-attended event, held ever other year.

Who attends? Scholars? The general public?

The Carriage Symposium is a venue for scholarly research, and while some like myself are professional historians teaching at colleges and universities, others are museum curators, vehicle restorers, preservationists, and the like. But it is also open to the general public, whoever has an interest.

Colonial Williamsburg is an important contributor in a number of ways, not least of which are staff members who present on eighteenth-century carriages and related subjects. The CAA aims for an even mix of American and European presenters, the latter including historians and curators but also those in charge of horse-drawn vehicles owned by various royal families. The latter have fascinating hands-on experience with working vehicles in addition to a deep knowledge of carriage history. So the presenters come from a wide background, the common denominator being serious research on the history of horse-drawn vehicles.

There are also “horse people” who participate in competitive equine events, horse-drawn vehicle collectors both casual and advanced, and just ordinary individuals with an interest in historic transportation, horses, farm wagons-—that sort of thing. It’s a really worthwhile experience: first-class researchers from around the world, an engaging assortment of attendees, a marvelous conference setting, and the opportunity to not only see Colonial Williamsburg but also to take a behind-the-scenes looks at that vast operation.

And you spoke at this year’s Carriage Symposium, drawing from your research on commercial carriages? Business wagons and such?

Yes, I had the privilege to be invited to speak. I say privilege because it’s such a delight to speak to large audiences of people who are really interested in your work, and because both the Carriage Association and Colonial Williamsburg are such generous hosts. I spoke on horse-drawn commercial vehicles, focusing on their increasingly forgotten role in American cities. “Looking Back at Horse-Drawn Commercial Vehicles” draws heavily on my Cleveland research, both old and more recent, and I was pleased to include newly-identified photographs from the Smithsonian Institution as well as images from private collections. The Carriage Association will be publishing the conference papers as well as a summary of the event in their journal, but they’ve meanwhile posted some photographs on their blog.

I understand my great-great-grandfather made an appearance.

That’s right! One of the pleasures of publication is the unexpected letters one receives from readers who have something to share. I can’t say enough how thrilled I was to hear from you, a descendant of one of those Cleveland carriage makers I researched in graduate school. In the course of that project I studied more than a hundred small firms, and it’s funny, but the names still rattle around in my head: Jacob Hoffman, Kredo & Ott, J. J. Eberle, Schoonard & Dulin, Gustav Schaefer, Griese & Deuble, Jacob Lowman, Stoll & Black—-a veritable lexicon of European names. So when you said “Harm & Schuster,” not only did I recognize it, I knew I had a file on it—-just like I do on dozens and dozens just like them. But while I had information from the trade literature, the only visuals I’d managed to locate were fire insurance maps. To see photographs of the outside of the shop and of the men who worked therein—-well, that’s just priceless. Like putting a face to a name you’ve known for a long, long time. Since Michael Harm made commercial vehicles as well as passenger carriages, I used two of those images in my presentation: one of the workmen and proprietors holding representative tools of their trade, the other showing the shop hands around an express wagon. It looks like they’ve just finished resetting the tires and are about to remount the wheels. Great stuff, and a perfect example of the things that can happen when collectors and ordinary people share their resources with scholars. I spent years combing libraries and archives for material on the Cleveland trade, but I never found anything quite like what you shared with me.

Nice to hear. So what’s next? Are you working on another book?

I’ve been accumulating material on the Brewster companies for several years. In fact, at the first Carriage Symposium in 2008, my presentation was “Beyond the Builder’s Plate,” a look at Brewster carriages from a manufacturing standpoint. Carriages built by a couple of different firms of that name were some of the leading luxury brands in the trade, and they retain an avid collector interest today. I’m in the process of researching them for a second book. However, in order to write that I need to get back to New York to finish researching some important sources there. It’s a matter of obtaining grant money and such.

In the meanwhile, I continue to write on related subjects. I’ve just completed an article on the history of ready-made paint; that contains some information about the wagon and carriage industry as well.

Well then, you’ll want to hear about my grandfather, who worked at Sherwin Williams in Cleveland for fifty years — haha. Seriously, thank you for taking the time for this interview.

You’re most welcome. Thank you for taking an interest in my work and for sharing your rich family history. I think we all benefit from such collaboration.

A brief history of the Palatinate

To imagine one might write a “brief” history of the Palatinate seems grandiose, but I think Larry O. Jensen has done a pretty good job, in “Articles of Interest” in a 1990 issue of the German Genealogical Digest (Volume VI, No. 2). I summarize the contents of his article below.

The Palatinate? Known in Germany as the Pfalz (from the Latin term palatium meaning palace or castle). Also called the Niederpfalz, the Pfalz am Rhein, “Palatinatus inferior”, “Palatinatus Rheni”, Rheinpfalz, and Rheinbayern. Why so many names for one relatively small stretch of land along the Rhine River? Perhaps because this charming locality has seen a whole lot of history.

HISTORY OF THE PALATINATE

3rd century – Inhabited by Alemannic tribes
6th century - Conquered by the Franks, who established tribal districts, otherwise known as “Gauen”
9th century - Under Charlemagne, earls were established to rule the Gauen
12th century - King Friedrich I became the ruler.
1214 – Ludwig of Bavaria, of the House of Wittelsbach, became ruler of the Palatinate, by marriage
1410 - Four sons of King Ruprecht III divided the region into four parts. Ludwig III, the eldest, received the Rheinpfalz
1508-1544 – King Ludwig V introduced Protestantism, although he himself remained Catholic
1618-1648 – Thirty Years War. At the start, the Pfalz was ruled by King Friedrich IV, leading supporter of the Evangelical Union. In 1622 Heidelberg was conquered and plundered, and the Pfalz turned over to Bavaria’s Duke Maximilian. Spinola of Spain then invaded the Pfalz. The plague hit at around the same time, wiping out as much as two-thirds of the population. The Thirty Years War established the right of three religions to exist: Catholic, Lutheran, and Calvinist.
1673-79 – War between the German Empire and France, in which the Pfalz had to pay 250,000 florin in war tax. (1683, Pietists emigrate, establish Germantown, PA)
1688 – War of the League of Augsburg. King Louis XIV of France invaded and burned most of the region to the ground.
1697 - Treaty of Rijswik made the State Church Catholic, although Catholics were outnumbered 5 to 1.
1705 - Calvinist and Lutheran churches re-established.
1707 – Palatinate destroyed in the Spanish War of Succession. (1708 – another emigration led by Joshua von Kocherthal, many of whom settled in Neuberg on the Hudson River.)
1742 - The Palatinate grew and prospered in trade, agriculture, arts, and science.
1799 – France moved in to occupy the Palatinate, Napoleon officially took the region over in 1801.
1815 - Paris Peace Treaty gives the Palatinate to Bavaria. Thirteen districts were created: Bergzabern, Frankenthal, Germersheim, Homburg, Kaiserslautern, Kirchheimbolanden, Kusel, Landau, Ludwigshafen, neustadt, Pirmasens, Speier, Zweibruecken
1832 - Hambacher Festival – enormous gathering of peasants and intellecuals from all over Europe at Hambach Castle to advocate for a democracy – the tricolor black, red and gold flag was first flown. The rulers quickly put down the movement, and forbid political assemblies.
1849 - Democratic Revolution of 1848 crushed by Prussia and Bavaria (prompting a wave of emigration from the region)
1871 - The Palatinate joins the united German Empire.

There are many twists and turns in between, but were I to include them, this history would not be brief. Not at all. When I visited the Palatinate a little over a year ago, a member of the Bad Dürkheim history club noted they had suffered more than 20 wars between 1610 and 1850. No wonder the Spätlese (late harvest wines) are so popular — no doubt they take off the edge. These days, the people of the Palatinate are a fun-loving people, in a fertile, enchanting land.

German children’s tale: Der Struwwelpeter – Shaggy-headed Peter

While we’re on the subject of dolls, on my visit to the Rosalie Whyel Museum of Doll Art (see previous post) I was delighted to see a doll version of Shaggy-headed Peter, a German children’s book character. Der Struwwelpeter, oder Lustige Geschichten und drollige Bilder für Kinder von 3-6 Jahren (“Shaggy-headed Peter, or funny stories and amusing pictures for children aged 3-6 year”) was written by Heinrich Hoffmann, and first published in 1847. Note not only the long hair, but the untrimmed fingernails.

The link above is to a Gutenberg Project e-book of an English translation of STRUWWELPETER. Mark Twain enjoyed the humor of Hoffmann, and also translated his poems. Below is Mark Twain’s version of one of the stories in the collection, “The Story of the Thumb-Sucker.” (For illustrations, follow the link above.)

Story of the Thumb-Sucker
“Konrad!” cried his mamma dear,
“I’ll go out, but you stay here.
Try how pretty you can be
Till I come again,” said she.
“Docile be, and good and mild,
Pray don’t suck your thumb, my child,
For if you do, the tailor’ll come
And bring his shears ands nip your thumb
From off your hand as clear and clean
As if of paper it had been.”

Before she’d turned the corner south,
He’d got his thumbkin in his mouth!
Bang! here goes the door ker-slam!
Whoop! the tailor lands ker-blam!
Waves his shears, the heartless grub,
And calls for Dawmen-lutscher-bub.
Claps his weapon to the thumb,
Snips it square as head of drum,
While that lad his tongue unfurled
And fired a yell heard ’round the world.

Who can tell that mother’s sorrow
When she saw her boy the morrow!
There he stood all steeped in shame,
And not a thumbkin to his name.

(translation by Mark Twain)

Rosalie Whyel Museum of Doll Art is closing

Dolls were an especially big deal in Germany, a full-fledged industry. This photo, taken in Freinsheim, Germany around 1870, shows Elizabetha and Margaretha Harm, the daughters of Philipp and Susanna Harm, holding their dolls. I thought of this photo recently on a visit to the Rosalie Whyel Museum of Doll Art in Bellevue, Washington.

I attended with my historical fiction writer friend Michele.

“I hear the museum’s going to close its doors,” Michele said, “and I’ve always meant to go back. It’s an amazing resource for historical clothing styles and customs.”

What a great idea. At the Museum of Doll Art’s front counter, Michele zeroed in on a gorgeous book called The Rose Unfolds: Rarities of the Rosalie Whyel Museum of Doll Art.

“See? This is what I mean,” she said, pointing at a photo of one of the treasures, a doll from the Regency era. “You can learn so much about the clothing and fabrics of the period.”

“That book is half-off right now,” the woman at the counter said.

“I might just buy it. Are you really closing?”

“March 1st.”

“What’s going to happen to all the dolls?”

“We’re not sure yet — they’ll probably go into storage for a while.”

Photography was not permitted, and it’s hard to capture the marvels of that doll-populated world. Imagine the best doll house you ever saw, each room meticulously arranged with rag rugs, tiny stuffed furniture, glowing logs, a porcelain cat by the fireplace, father, mother, and kids posed in various rooms, and take it to the nth power. Circus dolls, peddler dolls, international dolls, Kewpie dolls, dolls made of wax and wood and bisque and cloth. Dolls in toy Studebaker wagons and riding on horseback. Dolls of England’s royal family, dolls selling miniature hospital supplies, even opium-smoking dolls. Many of the dolls on display were created by German artisans: J.D. Kestner, Hertwig, Heubach, and Simon & Halbig.

I learned from one display that, in the days prior to the fashion plates in magazines, dolls were used as models of the latest fashions. They were dressed in haute couture, crated, and carefully shipped on the open seas. In naval confrontations, there even existed a prohibition against firing on ships with the valuable doll cargo in their holds. The photo here — one page of The Rose Unfolds — is of a wooden doll used for smuggling — she has a compartment in her back for hiding contraband.

Charles Dickens: for the patient reader

I come from a family of readers. Over the years, as the old people have passed away, their books have sifted down to me. Anthony Trollope, George Eliot, Darwin, Browning, Milton, Moore. Two sets of the complete works of Charles Dickens. This February, in honor of the 200th anniversary of the birth of Charles Dickens, I wish to champion not only his writing, but how much he wrote. “He was the Spielberg of his day,” my friend Michele said recently. Here’s one example, from an article in the most recent Smithsonian.

The two and a half years that the Dickenses spent on Doughty Street [London, 1837-1840] were a period of dazzling productivity … Dickens wrote an opera libretto, the final chapters of The Pickwick Papers, short stories, magazine articles, Oliver Twist, Nicholas Nickelby, and the beginning of Barnaby Rudge.

(Smithsonian, February 2012, Joshua Hammer)

To his credit, the writing stands the test of time, for the patient reader anyhow. A new film version (the 12th?) of Great Expectations, this one directed by Mike Newell and starring Ralph Fiennes and Helena Bonham Carter, is currently in the works. And did you know? There’s a Dickens World Theme Park. (Where have I been?) Next Dickens read on my list is Martin Chuzzlewit, since I hear it’s based on the author’s 19th century travels in America.

Meanwhile, a popular author of the mid 18th-century languishes in relative obscurity: Oliver Goldsmith. Who? The author of The Vicar of Wakefield and the play She Stoops To Conquer. Duh. There’s a terrific write-up of this Irish author at Editor Eric. In Editor Eric’s opinion, the writing in The Vicar is less than stellar. Still, as described by Oscar Ameringer, 19th century German immigrant to Cincinnati, Goldsmith’s book had redeeming value as a teaching tool:

What a marvelous teacher that spinster lady [Cincinnati librarian] was! “You are young enough to learn to read English,” she told me one day. “Unfortunately, there are no schools for your kind and you haven’t got the money for private lessons, but if I give you an English book I think you can almost read, will you try?”

I would. The book was The Vicar of Wakefield, by Goldsmith. There were many words in it I could not make out; sometimes whole sentences and paragraphs were too obscure for me. But when I got to the end I knew fairly well what the story was about. I had even—and oh, what joy—caught a fine joke in the book. It was the one when the vicar told how he rid himself of unwelcome friends and relatives by simply lending them a sheep, a little money, or a pair of boots, whereupon they usually remained absent for a long while.

Goldsmith has endured in print for centuries, too, just not as prolifically as some.