In the Eye of the Creative Storm

I'm in the eye of the perfect creative storm. (And if you're reading this post, it means I've completed one of my To Do items - redesigning this blog.)

It's totally self-imposed and it's not a bad thing. In fact, I'm energized but exhausted. There just aren't enough hours in the day to do everything I want to do - sewing projects, genealogy, paper crafts and more.  Craft season, as my husband calls it, doesn't follow the calendar. It kicks off in late October when I begin the mad scramble of Christmas creativity.

I love old ephemera - handwritten letters, bills and invoices, ledger pages, cdv and cabinet card photos. I've adopted hundreds of Instant Ancestors - bought on eBay, purchased from baskets in antique stores. This year, my craft gift was created using my stockpile of photos, paper and trinkets - altered art shadowboxes.

Since each was made for a specific person, I wanted them to represent something about the recipient. It meant finding the right photo, the right accents, the right background paper and the best tag line to pull it all together.

   

A droll girl atop a vintage laxative was perfect for my sister, who can be a real pill (but I love her anyway).  "Loyal Subject" was built around an old dog tag and given to my dog loving sister-in-law. And for my younger sister, who works in finance, a girl in a plaid dress sitting on a brass scale for a piece I titled "Check and Balances".

I made 10 shadowboxes for family and friends. I had such a great time creating them, it was hard to give some of them away! And now, I need to find the time to finish my stays!

Read More

Staying in Character

There are two elements key to historical interpretation – knowing your subject and dressing the part.

During Weston’s 300^th anniversary celebration, I had the opportunity to meet Steph Smith and Hattie Larkin, both beautifully (and authentically) costumed in 1770’s attire. While chatting with Steph, I learned about The Hive, a living history community group with a focused interest on the Minute Men and Battle Road, the scene of the first shots that launched the War for Independence here in Massachusetts. The Hive helps people develop, improve and grow their 18th century impressions through workshops and meetings. Steph said if I was interested, there was a workshop scheduled for early December – stays, in the neatest fashion.

Of course, I was.

Stays were the foundation of 18^th century women’s clothing. The predecessor to the corset, girdle and the fashionable but not necessarily functional bustier, stays were an essential undergarment stiffened with whalebone (baleen), wood or reed. They helped create the straight-backed posture and conical-shaped silhouette that was popular throughout most of the 18th century.

1770's stays from the Snowshill Wade Costume Collection

While in Williamsburg over the Christmas holiday, I spent some time with the milliner and mantua-makers, chatting about stays and the stay making process. Making one’s own stays is outside the norm. Eighteenth century women had their stays were fitted and made by skilled stay-makers, primarily male, who would have made nothing else. – 10 pieces that were to be cut from linen, hand-stitched, boned and sewn together.

Eighteenth century stays were laced up the back, and how a woman living alone was able to get herself in and out of them still remains a mystery to me. Eighteenth century stays were meant to support the body; frankly, my dear, they were not meant to be pulled tight to accentuate a tiny waist (No apologies for the Gone With the Wind reference, and despite Mammy and Scarlett’s on-screen demonstration, stays weren’t pulled that tight in the antebellum era either.).  Women of all classes wore them – upper classes for fashion and working class for support.

My stays pattern was fit to my body, just like it would have been done in the 18^th century. The 10 pieces were transferred onto linen and a worsted wool and I basted through the three layers to outline the shape of each piece. And then the real sewing began.  I’ve logged about 60 hours sewing tiny stitches with waxed linen thread, about 10 stitches per inch, to create more channels than I care to count. Reed was slid into each channel. The 20 eyelets lining the back were made with an awl and stitched by hand before the finished pieces were whipstitched together.  But, I’m not done yet. There’s seam binding, top and bottom binding and lining still to do.

Front of my 1770's stays

Stays interior

Close-up of the eyelets

While it seems like a significant undertaking and investment in time, I actually found the process quite cathartic, and am every excited to see them actually taking shape (no pun intended). The stays are needed to properly fit a gown, and that class is scheduled for February 8!

Read More

Keeping Up with the Joneses

My dream job, whether it involves a paycheck or not, is to be a costumed interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg.

And until I get there, I’m practicing. When we lived in New Jersey, I was really involved (Jason will say too involved) with the Hackettstown Historical Society. For three years we hosted a fund raising Ghost Tour, parading about the town Victorian garb telling tales of the town’s history and mystery.  I dis the research, wrote the scripts, and made sure the participants were treated to the right balance of fact and theater. It was great fun – lots of walking – but there’s nothing better than the sparks of genuine interest and enthusiasm you from the people on your tour, especially when someone says they’ve learned something new. But the Victorian era is a whole different century – literally. 

One of the great things about living here in Massachusetts, the cradle of the Revolution, is the opportunity to get involved with groups and societies that help promote the history of the area and events that shaped our country. Lots more practice, as I see it, to help me prepare for the calling of the fife, drum and cannon in Virginia.

The Golden Ball Tavern, right here in Weston, was my first volunteer opportunity, and my first foray into the late 1770’s.

Josiah Jones founded the Town of Weston in 1713. The Jones family, including Josiah, his sons and grandsons, featured significantly in the town’s business and political affairs. The Golden Ball Tavern, now a living museum and beautifully proportioned example of Georgian architecture, is at the center the town and its history.  Built circa 1767 by Isaac Jones, grandson of the town’s founding father, the Golden Ball Tavern sits prominently on Boston Post Road, the town’s main thoroughfare.  From its rooms, the townspeople had a front row seat to significant events in the war for independence.

Golden Ball Tavern c. 1936
Image courtesy of the Library of Congress

Isaac Jones became one of the wealthiest men in town, but his loyalties and sympathies lay with the British. The tavern At the Sign of the Golden Ball, was widely known as a Tory tavern, something the British were to discover in 1775, and they continued to use the tavern as a stop on their routes into the Massachusetts countryside.  The tide was turning; the battles at Lexington, Concord and Bunker Hill, followed by the British evacuation of Boston left Jones isolated. From 1775 to 1777, few traces of him even exist.  By 1777, Isaac had changed sides, signing the Oath of Allegiance and accepting a contract to haul goods for the American army.  He was back in business – literally, and by 1778 had once again regained the respect of his neighbors.

Golden Ball Tavern  2013

The Golden Ball Tavern continued to operate after the war and Jones served in several public offices, retiring from business and politics in 1793 at the age of 65. The inn “At The Sign of the Golden Ball” ceased operations in 1793, but Isaac had begun to make significant structural changes to the house, and it would be home to the next six generations of his family. Isaac Jones died in 1813 and is buried in Weston Central Cemetery. Ralph Frost Jones, the last male descendant to live in the home, died in 1963 and left the home and estate to the Town Library Trustees.

The town has done a phenomenal job of preserving this historical treasure, with lots of help from the Jones family themselves. Seemed they never threw anything out. Unlike many living museums, the house is full of furniture, bedding, tableware, ledgers, paintings and more – all belonging to the Jones family,

With more than 300 years of history, I’m excited to learn more, but it’s going to take a lot to keep up with these Joneses.

Read More

Martha. Martha. Martha.

Any child of the 70's should recognize the title of this blog as a play on the old Brady Bunch lament, "Marsha. Marsha. Marsha." when poor middle child, Jan, exasperated with her old sister, Marsha,  could do nothing but sigh her name in frustration.

Sometimes I feel that way with my research into the personal history of the early Brock ancestors, as it continues to fascinate, and to a degree, exasperate and frustrate me.

The ancestral Brock men, John, the fisherman (identified as such to differentiate him from his son, grandson and great-grandson, all of whom were also named John), and his son, John, left the amateur, albeit tenacious genealogist, (read: me) little in the way of personal documents to help paint a picture of their lives in 18^th century Gloucester, Massachusetts. Both, it seems, were men with little to no property, real or personal. Without the benefit of influence or prosperity, the personal history of these two men is limited to vital or Town records, and only when it was recorded or preserved. True, there's always the hope of finding the occasional mention in local history, but for these gentlemen, those references are as scarce as hen's teeth.

Much of what I’ve been able to gather about the first two John Brocks and their wives has been stitched together with a thread of assumptions, based on life in Gloucester during their lives and the scant few documents that acknowledged their existence.

Sadly, I’ve not fared much better with their wives.  Abigail Elwell, the wife of John the fisherman, was the daughter of Eleazer Elwell, a man of some means in early Gloucester. She is mentioned in a few more records than her daughter-in-law, Martha Tucker.  Martha Tucker was the daughter of John Tucker, Jr., another Gloucester resident of influence and means. In both cases, it doesn't surprise me that much more is known about the fathers than the daughters.

The only other Brock wife who is more of an enigma than Martha Tucker Brock is Susannah Crandall, the wife of the third John Brock. But that’s a blog for another day.

Martha Tucker, as mentioned, was the daughter of John Tucker, Jr. and his wife, Mary Lane. The Tucker, Lane and Riggs families were early, well-to-do residents of Gloucester.  Besides her pedigree, nothing much else is known about Martha.  Rev. Mr. Benjamin Bradstreet of Gloucester’s Fifth Parish baptized her on November 13, 1737. She and John were married in Gloucester. Their Purpose of Marriage was listed in the Town Records on November 5, 1763; the marriage, performed by Rev. Ebenezer Cleveland, was recorded on December 6 of the same year.

The Fifth Parish Church marriage, Baptism and Death records, page 538, lists the marriage of Patty Tucker and John Brock on December 6, 1763. Another entry, an index for the same marriage record, identifies Martha as Mrs. Patty Tucker. While Patty was a common nickname for Martha, this was the first time I’d seen Martha referred to as a married woman prior to her marriage to John. Was it a mistake in the records? Perhaps. It certainly wasn’t unusual.

Church records document the baptism of John and Martha’s children were baptized in the Fourth Parish. Records show dates for Martha on August 26, 1764, John, Jr. on August 31, 1766, William on March 20, 1769, and finally, Mary, child of the Widow Martha Brock, baptized on October 6, 1771. The assumption? John died before his fourth child was baptized, and perhaps even before she was born.

The acknowledgment that Martha Brock was a widow when Mary was baptized is the only record I’ve found which provides any insight into John’s death. He would have been approximately 31 years old.

Martha, aged 34, found herself a widow with 4 young children.  I don’t know how she supported herself or her children in the years after John’s death, but she remained in Gloucester until early 1777, when in March.  In March 1777, Martha, identified as “of Glocester”, along with other heirs of John Tucker, Jr., convey property to Edward Higgins.

John James Babson, in his book Notes and Additions to the History of Gloucester notes that Martha Brock and her children removed to New Gloucester in (1777). Perhaps Martha used the proceeds from the property sale to move her growing family.

Nothing more is known about daughter Mary, they youngest of Martha’s children. William, John Jr. and Martha all left New Gloucester as young adults and settled in the Buckfield, Maine.  Martha married Ebenezer Cary in 1793. William married a woman named Sarah, and John Jr. wed Susannah Crandall. 

Nothing more is known about Martha Tucker Brock. Did she remarry after she got to New Gloucester? It’s one assumption. She was still a relatively young woman in 1774, but to date, I haven’t found any records to substantiate that assumption.  

I guess, for now, she'll remain an enigma.

Oh, Martha. Martha. Martha.

Read More

Kitchen Renovation Homestretch

Because Once in a Lifetime Isn’t Enough

We’re about 98% complete on our new kitchen renovation. It’s been a long road since we had our demolition party in February, but the hard work (mostly by others) and investment is paying off.

The cabinets are beautiful. The honed granite counter tops are awesome. The island, black with a teak counter is superb.  Jason did a great job with the bead board around the window (Getty's new favorite lookout perch) and in between the beams in the ceiling. 

It's a kitchen anyone would love to have.

Last weekend, we installed the baseboard molding and put in the baseboard heat. All that’s left is to hook it up, get the pot filler installed and call Mark to come back and finish painting.

There’s something to be said about standing back and saying, “Wow… we’re almost there.” It’s an equally scary statement. Despite best intentions, it’s August, dare I say the end of August, and we’re still not done.  Sure, there are only a few things left, and by and large, they are left for the contractors to finish, but knowing there are only a few things left instills fear into my heart.  Our old (literally – 1868) house in New Jersey always had “only a few things left” to do. In the seven years that we lived there, we restored it back to its original grandeur and it seemed like, well, we really were, always renovating. It was a labor of love, yes, but a labor nonetheless, and we were never able to get to a point where we could walk into a room and say with certainty, “It’s done.” All of those “few things left”, and a few additional things that weren’t even on the list, got done in something of a mad scramble when we put the house on the market and moved to Massachusetts.

It looked terrific when it was done. I wish I could have enjoyed it.

And now we’re here, in the throes of another renovation we swore we’d never do, down to the completion wire.  I really like this house, and actually think we’ll get it done this time.  I certainly hope so. We’ve got three bathrooms and a garage to do next!

Read More