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George May Phelps and the Magic of Smartphones George May Phelps and the Magic of Smartphones
Are smartphones magic? As you hunch over your smart phone and scroll through your social media feed, do you ever stop for a moment and think just how in blue blazes does this thing work? Probably not. That is, until it *doesn’t* work. Thanks to this job, I actually think about it a lot. As I continue opening boxes and cataloging the Rothschild patent model collection, each day I look at these steampunk-like contraptions and try to figure out how they work. I am constantly amazed by the genius of some of these men and women and the lasting impact of those old jumbles of wood and metal. One of these “magicians” was George May Phelps. I recently discovered that Hagley owns the patent model for one of his most celebrated inventions, the Combination Printer. Not only is it the ancestor to that printer sitting there in your office, but many of the devices so critical to our Information Age owe a debt to its inventor—including that smartphone glued to your hand. In the age of the telegraph, there were two ways to receive messages: write it down or connect the telegraph to a printer. Trouble was, both used Morse code. At least one trained operator was needed to send and another to translate the message. If the printer was used, another person called a “Grinder” turned a crank that powered the printer. The printers were complicated machines that often broke down, were difficult to repair, and slow and expensive to build. Phelps fixed all that. An expert machinist that manufactured and assembled those ornery telegraph printers, Phelps was hired by The American Telegraph Company (later part of Western Union) in 1855. They recently bought the rights to a new type of printer and asked him to fix its problems. He took the best of the old machine, some of the new one, and added components of his own. In a rare moment of humility in the Age of Invention, he called it the “Combination” printer thereby recognizing how the other machines influenced his design. Phelps’ improvements increased the speed, reliability, and durability of the machine. Best of all, no special operators were needed. Instead of Morse code, it used a lettered keyboard, printed in regular type, and its powerful electromagnets could be hooked up to any power source. It sent messages at about 60 words per minute on some of the highest traffic lines in the nation for decades. Even after printing over 5,000 miles of paper, the components showed little wear. One Phelps printer was still working into the 1920s! Do you expect *your* printer to work for 50-plus years? Phelps is remembered as one of the leading inventors of early communications components. He worked closely with Thomas Edison—even going so far as to build some of his patent models. Besides the telegraph, Phelps’ designs ensured the success of the telephone and the stock ticker. Phelps even set New Yorker’s watches by creating a device that used a telegraph signal to drop a ball mounted on a pole high above the city skyline precisely at noon. Ta-da!
Seth Green’s Patent Model Hatched a New Industry in North America Seth Green’s Patent Model Hatched a New Industry in North America
Cataloging the patent model collection continues to be an interesting journey. A remarkable object crossed my desk earlier this month: Seth Green’s patent model for a Device for Hatching the Spawn of Fishes. Excuse the pun (or don’t), but this model allowed me to dive head first into the world of *pisciculture*: the controlled breeding and rearing of fish. Seth Green, known today as the “Father of fish culture in North America”, was born on March 19, 1817 in Rochester, New York. As a young man he struck up friendships with the nearby Seneca Native Americans, who taught him about hunting and fishing. With a profound respect for nature instilled in him, Green learned about the lifestyle of fish through diligent observation. Through his observations, Green realized that fish were not a limitless resource. For this reason, he dedicated much of his life to ensuring the rivers of New York State were restocked with fish for market and sporting purposes. His first endeavor was a fish market in Rochester, which he stocked by fishing the shores of Lake Ontario. During these fishing trips he observed the spawning of Atlantic salmon. That observation set him off on a path to open his own hatchery in Caledonia, New York. He worked to propagate salmon and brook trout at first, but then in 1867 moved on to other species such as American shad. That same year is where our patent model comes in: his Device for Hatching the Spawn of Fishes (Patent No. 68,871).[Patent Link](https://patents.google.com/patent/US68871A/en?oq=us68871) Green says in his patent document that the apparatus “should be anchored in a current, for shad, but may be anchored in still water for certain other varieties of fish, and for frogs… The case must be open after dark, for shad, as the smaller fish which would take the young shad only feed during the day. This gives the young shad an opportunity to take care of themselves as nature dictates.” Concurrently, Seth Green became the first New York State fish commissioner, working alongside Robert B. Roosevelt and Horatio Seymour. The trio worked together to create a regular restocking program for the state, using fish from Green’s Caledonia hatchery. But Green’s efforts weren’t just concentrated to New York State. He introduced shad down the East Coast as far as the Savannah River in Georgia, and even sent 12,000 shad to the Sacramento River in California. Green passed away in 1888, but his name still lives on through the hatchery in Caledonia, which was listed on the National Register of Historic places in 2015. You can visit his grave in Mount Hope Cemetery in Rochester, where you can also find the resting places of Susan B. Anthony and Frederick Douglass. [Seth Green](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seth_Green_%28pisciculture%29#:~:text=Seth%20Green%20%28March%2019,%201817,Town%20of%20Caledonia,%20New%20York.)
Paging Doctor Thornton: New Discoveries about the First Superintendent of the Patent Office in Hagley’s Collections Paging Doctor Thornton: New Discoveries about the First Superintendent of the Patent Office in Hagley’s Collections
As a recent hire, I am still becoming familiar with Hagley and its collections. Sure, I spend most of my time laser focused on patent models, but the models are only a part of the museum collection. And I have not had the opportunity to explore the library collection. That all changed after a random database search that served as an example of the richness and depth of Hagley’s holdings. At the time, I was working on a presentation and researching the first Superintendent of the United States Patent and Trademark Office, Dr. William Thornton. Who is Thornton? To even touch upon his biography would take up too much space. His Forrest-Gumpian talent for being present at important moments during the formation of our early republic warrant a book of its own. For this article, it is my research into an object in our museum associated with him that established a surprising connection between Thornton, the DuPont Company, E.I. du Pont, and Thomas Jefferson. It all started when, on a lark, I simply typed Thornton’s name into our museum collection search engine. To my astonishment, we had an object associated with him in the collection! It is pictured here. It is a tiny, three-inch tall tin container with a label that reads: English Canister Pdr. from a Blocktin Can. Presented by Dr. Thornton/Novb 1824. This container entered Hagley’s collections through the old DuPont Company Museum. How did it get there? Who did Thornton send this to and why? Did it contain a sample of powder for testing or was the container itself unique enough? All these questions inspired me to do some more digging. Unfortunately, there was little information in the museum object files. If this was presented to the DuPont Company, was there any other documentation in the company’s archives? If I struck gold in Hagley’s collections once, could it happen twice? Spoiler alert: Yes! Just like before, I typed Thornton’s name into a search engine. But this time, I focused on the library’s holdings. Not only was there a book in the stacks written by Thornton with a personal dedication to E.I., but the archives contained 16 letters written by Thornton to E.I. and others in his circle! Could these letters provide any information about the powder container? Well, no. But they did highlight a shared interest between Thornton, E.I., and Thomas Jefferson. While I already knew Thornton advised E.I. on his patent application for a gunpowder graining machine, and I knew that Jefferson was critical to helping E.I. with his gunpowder business, the letters proved there was more of a personal connection between these three men. The focus of that connection was the breeding of merino sheep. All three were passionate about these animals and the potential for developing a domestic market for their wool. Thornton stated that Jefferson was sending “a thorough bred ram to every County in Virginia”. E.I. allowed his prized rams Don Pedro and Don Ferdinand to pay conjugal visits to Thornton’s flock. Thornton, who in addition to being a physician, knew a great deal about animal husbandry and veterinary care. He offered E.I. advice on how to care for Don Ferdinand after he became ill. Thornton also received a gift of French sheepdogs from Jefferson and promised to set aside one for du Pont. Thornton shared some rather interesting viewpoints on Jefferson’s mountaintop home, Monticello. I shared the existence of these letters, as well as Thornton’s impressions, with the folks at Monticello. They were thrilled to hear about the letters and requested digital copies. Hopefully together our two institutions can continue to reveal new information about the relationship between these three men who contributed immensely to the growth of American industry. And it all started when I simply typed “Thornton” into our search engine. Who knows what new connections we can trace? Isn’t technology grand?
Dog Days of Summer Dog Days of Summer
As I looked around for a blog topic during the dog days of summer, I thought why not focus on dog artifacts in the museum collection? What immediately drew my attention was a group of thirteen watercolor framed paintings of sporting or bird dogs which are beautifully portrayed in their hunting stances. You might ask why Hagley has paintings of dogs? The answer is that they are part of the 1954 DuPont Museum Collection that established Hagley’s collections. Split into both the museum and library’s collections, it represents the early history of DuPont. The dog paintings specifically were used as advertising artwork which in this case was used to promote the use of smokeless gunpowder for hunting. These dogs represent the National Field Trial Champions (or the National Bird Dog Championship) from 1896 to 1910. All were Llewellin English setters except for “Manitoba Rap” who was an English pointer. Well-known sporting artist Edmund Henry Osthaus (1858-1928) was the artist of these paintings. Born in Germany, Osthaus immigrated to the United States in 1883. He became the Chief Instructor for the Toledo Academy of Fine Arts in Ohio and later was promoted to Director from 1886-1893. One of his hobbies was hunting with bird dogs so he was very familiar with them which led to his specialty of painting portraits of setters and pointers in lifelike hunting poses. He was the founder of the National Field Trial Association in 1895 and served as a trial judge. Osthaus began to work for DuPont in the late 1890s and produced hunting dog paintings for their advertising purposes. DuPont used these paintings in several ways. The best-known example is “The Champions” a highly collectable set of thirteen advertising postcards produced in 1917. All are marked “Shoot DuPont Powders.” The Hagley library has copies of the postcards. [Link](https://findingaids.hagley.org/repositories/2/resources/111) Another use they had was appearing on annual DuPont calendars. The 1898 winner “Tony’s Gale” was on the 1936 calendar; 1899 winner “Joe Cumming” on the 1908 and 1936 calendars; 1909 winner “Geneva” on the 1909 calendar and 1910 winner “Monora” on the 1913 calendar. And they were also used on DuPont envelope covers and lithographs suitable for framing. Much of this was used as customer giveaways to promote their products.
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