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From the Object Files: The all too true tales and back stories behind some of Hagley’s most remarkable collections. (Part 4)
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If you spend a significant amount of time amongst museum collections there are bound to be some objects for which you develop a fondness and some you just fail to appreciate. One such object came to Hagley in the Amram/Brick Woman Inventor Collection. He is a Billiken and, to me at least, seems rather unpleasant. But does that impish grin truly disguise a fiendish heart? Or is he just misunderstood?
As it turns out this little guy has no sinister intention after all. In fact it is just the opposite. It turns out, Billiken, the self proclaimed “God of things as they ought to be” was created as a symbol of good luck and good fortune. His journey began in Kansas City where a young artist teacher named Florence Pretz had a idea for a small pudgy deity who would bring luck to all who worshiped him. Miss Pretz was awarded a patent on Oct. 6, 1908 for her “design for an image” [Patent Link](https://patents.google.com/patent/USD39603S/en?q=florence%20pretz&oq=florence%20pretz). And not long after that small plaster statues of Billiken were available to the public. In accordance with the lighthearted Billiken philosophy, he was not available for purchase but could be obtained on a 99 year loan with a deposit of 75 cents.
Within a few short months the little grinning god was everywhere. By that fall he had his own corporate force in The Billiken Company, who managed the use of his image. His smiling face appeared on cards, as jewelry, in books and toys, spreading happiness, hope and luck where ever he appeared, including as the mascot of St. Louis University.
The little totem had become an honest to goodness national craze. By Early 1909 one of members of the company designed and patented a small throne on which the statue could be placed. A fitting seat for a happy idol.
Like all fads, the Billiken eventually faded from the public imagination. But he lives on here at Hagley as a testament to one woman’s inventiveness. (Even if I think he is a little creepy.)
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Patent Models - This Inventor Played His Cards Right
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While reading through the patent document for Andrew Dougherty’s Improvement in Registering Mechanism for Printing-Presses, I was surprised to find his claim that the invention was “especially serviceable in printing… playing-cards” (Patent No. 178,608). [Patent Link](https://patents.google.com/patent/US178608A/en?oq=us178608)This was a very specific claim, so I decided to look up Mr. Dougherty to see if I could find out any more information on his life, career, or other patents. I was blown away by his story and success!
Andrew Dougherty and his parents immigrated to the United States from Ireland when he was only 7 years old. When he was a teenager, he held a variety of jobs. He worked for a time as a whaler off the coast of New England, and then at some point moved on to work for a playing card company. If you ask me, these are two of the most opposite gigs I can think of.
In any case, the playing card industry seemed to appeal to Dougherty, and at age 21 he had saved up enough money to open his own playing card business in New York City. This business would eventually merge with the Coughtry brothers and become Coughtry and Dougherty. This company created stencil-colored cards.
Once Coughtry and Dougherty dissolved, Dougherty went into business for himself again. By 1870 his company could produce three and a half million decks a year. Dougherty is also credited with developing and patenting two finishes for cards: the Linoid finish and the Pegulose finish. The Linoid finish was an extra coating that decreased stickiness, while the Pegulose finish allowed for the cards to be washed if soiled. Dougherty also patented Triplicates, which was a design feature that included two small depictions of the card in the top left and lower right corners.
Dougherty’s business was eventually purchased in 1907 by the United States Playing Card Company. One of Dougherty’s decks, named Tally-Ho, is still for sale to this day. The deck’s packaging has ‘A. Dougherty’ printed on it, and the cards are coated with the Linoid finish.
[# Andrew Dougherty 1848-1930](https://www.wopc.co.uk/usa/dougherty/index)
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Play Ball! Bobby Shantz, Willie Mays and Leo Durocher’s MLB Uniforms
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Since it is summer, it seems like every time I drive by a park, I see people playing baseball. That recently reminded me of some Major League Baseball uniforms we have in the collection. The DuPont Company connection is that they were all made from wool blended with one of their synthetic textile fibers. Each is labeled with the player’s name and year used.
The first jersey was worn by New York Yankees’ pitcher Bobby Shantz in 1957. It is his home jersey made by Spaulding. Early uniforms were made from wool, but Shantz’s is the first made with nylon. This “new” synthetic blend was 40% nylon and 60% worsted wool.
Next is the home jersey and undershirt worn by Hall of Famer Willie Mays when he played for the San Francisco Giants in 1961. His uniform was made by Tim McAuliffe, Inc. in Boston, MA. The fabric is a blend of 55% Dacron and 45% worsted wool.
Last is the 1962 home uniform worn by Hall of Famer and Los Angeles Dodgers’ coach Leo Durocher. It also was made by Tim McAuliffe, Inc. in Boston, MA, with the 55% Dacron and 45% worsted wool blend fabric.
At the time these were made, DuPont was promoting the use of their new synthetic materials in sporting equipment and uniforms. These are designated part of our DuPont “firsts” artifact collection, which means that they could have been made for promotional reasons but also for wear testing. How that worked is that DuPont would have supplied the fabric to the company making the uniforms and after wearing it, the person would have been asked questions about its wear and comfort.
These uniforms were donated to Hagley by Charles H. Rutledge who worked for the DuPont Company in the Textile Fibers Department. He gave a public program which showed what kind of objects were used in the past and compared them with the new modern objects including DuPont products whenever he could. Other items from his collection related to baseball include a baseball cap worn by the Philadelphia Athletics until the mid-1920s and a costume replica of a 1909 New York Giants travel uniform.
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What do bees, spiders, and sheep have in common? An inventor!
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On November 26, 1872, Alvah Washburn patented an Improvement in Paper-Folding Machines. His invention “consists of a series of light folding-frames hinged on the top of a table, and provided with operating-gear actuated by a cam-shaft, which said frames are arranged in such order and sizes relatively to each other that a printed sheet delivered on the table over all the folding-frames by the depositors of a printing-press will be folded in the order of folding it by hand and thrown off the machine by another frame similar to the folding-frames…” (Patent No. 133,393). [Patent Link](https://patents.google.com/patent/US133393A/en?oq=us133393)
I’m not exactly sure what attracted me to this model in the first place. Perhaps because it was visually interesting? This model is incredibly detailed with its intricate, latticed surface and different sized folding frames. Or perhaps because I liked the name “Alvah”? Whatever the case, the model and invention prompted me to perform a quick search on the inventor.
It turns out that Mr. Washburn was known as “the Tinker” within his hometown of Medina, Ohio. This nickname may be appropriate, as his interests and professions seemed to vary. He was co-founder of the Medina Foundry Company, but also at one time worked with the A.I. Root Company. The A.I. Root Company, still in operation today, specialized in bee keeping and bee products. Washburn is mentioned and praised in a monthly “Bee Culture” volume for his help in apiary construction (first column, last paragraph). The volume proclaims that his skills “are destined soon to make him better known to the world.”
And he certainly did have an impact on the world of invention. Washburn also held patents for a Machine for Grinding Spiders (Patent No. 244,010: don’t worry, not the arachnid, this was more of a polishing wheel for a mechanical part called a “spider”), an Improvement in Machines for Shearing Sheep (Patent No. 59,103), and a Machine for Dressing Feathers (Patent No. 65,782). Washburn also reissued his Improvement in Paper Folding Machines in 1873. Quite an array of patents!
Alvah Washburn is a wonderful example of the unexpected research potential of some patent models. Sometimes, it’s possible to become interested in a certain model by looks or patent document alone, conduct an internet search, and have nothing of great substance turn up. Some inventors have, unfortunately, been lost to time so far.
But, once in a while, you get lucky and find the town “Tinker”.
[Patent 244,010 Link](https://patents.google.com/patent/US244010A/en?oq=us244010)
[Patent 59,103 Link](https://patents.google.com/patent/US59103A/en?oq=us59103)
[Patent 65,782 Link](https://patents.google.com/patent/US65782A/en?oq=us65782)
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The du Pont Story on a Hooked Rug
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Many times, people have asked me what my favorite artifact in the collection is. But I have too many to just give one. Here is one of my favorites. This artifact is an incredible work of art. Not only is this magnificent, hooked rug visually interesting, it combines both of our collecting areas admirably. It represents important icons from the history of the du Pont family in America and was made from DuPont Company’s nylon.
The artist who designed and made this rug was a du Pont who was a direct descendent of Eleuthère Irénée du Pont, the founder of the DuPont Company. Born Nancy du Pont Reynolds (later Mrs. Edward W. Cooch, Jr.), she began making this rug in her late 20s. It was intended for use in a house but ended up in storage where it remained until it came to Hagley.
The process began by her drawing the pattern you see below and determining what kind of material to make the rug out of. Typically, hooked rugs were made from wool, but she decided to use nylon instead. Introduced to the public in the late 1930s, by the late 1940s DuPont chemists were exploring new uses for nylon including for carpets and rugs and this had great appeal to her. It was so new that all colors in the rug had to be customed-dyed using experimental dyes to her color specifications. This is probably the only hooked rug made from nylon. Ultimately nylon turned out to be a poor choice even though the colors are as brilliant as they were when new. But in limited active use, the rug began to fray and pill on the surface when it was walked on and there is evidence of that on the rug.
The rug depicts the history of the du Pont family and the DuPont Company in America. Each image shows a time, event, invention or symbol in the du Pont story. The design centers around the “American Eagle which was the ship that brought E. I. du Pont and his family to America. He later founded the DuPont Company. The date 1800 indicates the year they arrived in America and 1950 represents their 150th anniversary. Images include buildings on the Hagley property such as the barn and first office towards the top and a gunpowder roll mill on the Brandywine River on the lower right side.
Mrs. Cooch was an artist and I believe this is her masterpiece! One of the most amazing things she told me was that she started it in the middle and worked her way out to the edges. After she finished almost half the rug, she discovered a mistake and pulled everything out and started over again! Remarkable!
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Paging Doctor Thornton: New Discoveries about the First Superintendent of the Patent Office in Hagley’s Collections
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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?
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From the Object Files: The all too true tales and back stories behind some of Hagley’s most remarkable collections. (Part 3)
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In collections, the most frequently asked question is what? as in what is that? Then the second most commonly asked question has to be why? As in why is that in a museum? The question usually comes up around something so familiar it is hard to imagine that they have much importance at all. But it is often the case that the most ordinary things can have the most extraordinary stories.
Take this little beauty, the KitchenAid mixer, more at home on a wedding or holiday wish list than in a museum. The story of how this must-have device for the affluent cook came to Hagley is a simple one. It is part of a collection of household objects belonging to Louise du Pont Crowninshield, the last member of the DuPont family to reside at Eleutherian Mills, and is representative of a chapter in the life of that stately house. But the story of how this little mixer came to be is a more complicated tale.
As long as people have been cooking they have been mixing ingredients and as long as people have been mixing things they have been searching for a less taxing way to do it. The first mechanical mixer was patented in 1856. Then in 1885 a patent was granted for a mixer that could be attached to an electric motor. And meringue lovers everywhere rejoiced.
Around this time the Hobart Electric Manufacturing Company, in order to sell more motors, began attaching its small motors to coffee mills and meat grinders. In 1908 one of its engineers, saw a baker manually mixing bread dough and thought that there must be a better way. His ‘better way’ became the electric Hobart model H Mixer, an 80 pound commercial behemoth Work soon began on a home version of the Model H. Ten years after that run-in with that baker Hobart debuted the model C, it was marketed as a ‘food preparer’ that not only mixed and whipped but could grind meats and juice citrus.
The model C wasn’t an instant success. The machine was bulky, heavy and expensive. In fact it is a testament to the skills of Hobart’s almost entirely female door to door sales force that any of these things were purchased at all.
As the 1920’s rolled on Hobart introduced several new models of its KitchenAid mixers, each one lighter and smaller than the last. The mixer really reached icon status in the late 1930’s, when Hobart hired Egmont Arens to redesign the mixer. The new and patented design was so loved by customers that it has survived with very little change for more than half a century.
This is where Hagley’s mixer enters the picture, a model of modern domestic efficiency and another example of how inspiration can come from anywhere and innovation can be found everywhere, even in the kitchen.
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A Mystery Box
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When we acquire objects for the collection here at Hagley, we do so because they fit with our collecting priorities and support our mission, or if we’ll use them in upcoming exhibits. Occasionally, though, they are a little mysterious.
That’s the case with the latest addition to our collection. The object tells an interesting story and is perhaps connected to the du Pont family…perhaps.
This box may look like an ordinary box, but it’s actually a very rare object. This is a document box used by the Stockton Artillerists when they served in the [Mexican-American War](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexican%E2%80%93American_War). In the box, was a tag with a note stating that it belong to the wife of Francis N. Buck, the mother of Gov. C. Douglass Buck of Delaware, and to Alice du Pont Buck, his wife.
But, who were the Stockton Artillerists?
The Stockton Artillerists were a Volunteer Militia Company from in Mauch Chunk (now Jim Thorpe), Pennsylvania and named after Capt. [Robert F. Stockton](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_F._Stockton) of the U.S. Navy.
Volunteer Militia Companies were formed in response to the perceived ineffectiveness and vices of the regular militia in the early 19th century. Many of the semi-annual militia meetings, or musters, seemed to have turned into excuses to indulge in plenty of drinking and very little military training- parodies of them abounded.
The Volunteers were different, these groups incorporated themselves into companies, and provided themselves with uniforms, equipment and weapons. Hence, they often took their duties more seriously. Volunteer Militia Companies came to be very popular in Pennsylvania, New York and other states, and were a way for people to show-off their patriotism and civic or ethnic pride.
The Stockton Artillerists answered the call for volunteers to fight in the Mexican-American War on December 24th, 1846, and marched from Mauch Chunk to Philadelphia, then Baltimore, finally arriving in Pittsburgh on New Year’s Day, 1847.
There, they were mustered into Federal service as Company K, 2nd Pennsylvania Volunteers and would go on to serve with Gen. Winfield Scott’s army that besieged Veracruz, fighting in the Battles of Cerro Gordo and aiding in the assault on Chapultepec and marching into Mexico City.
So, how does it relate to Constance Margaret Douglass Buck?
Well, we don’t know. Looking at the rolls of the members of the Stockton Artillerists, we can’t seem to find anyone related to Constance, or her future husband, Francis N. Buck. So how did they come into possession of this box? We don’t know, but hopefully further research will illuminate the connection between the Stockton Artillerists and the du Pont Family.
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The Short Life of DuPont’s Corfam
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Not everything can be successful even when you have had an enormously successful product like nylon. Corfam is an excellent example of a then new synthetic product that simply did not live up to its expectations over time for DuPont.
Early in the twentieth century, DuPont began seeking a synthetic replacement for leather. To get them into the business, they purchased the Fabrikoid Company in 1910. Fabrikoid was nitrocellulose-coated cotton fabric which could be made into many objects. But its two biggest uses were in binding books and in the automotive industry.
By the late 1950s, DuPont scientists had created a material that looked like leather with a high shiny gloss surface which looked like “patent leather”. Later called Corfam, it consisted of a poromeric material which was made by bonding a plastic like coating to a fiber substrate. Early on due to its extraordinarily high costs to create and produce, DuPont decided to market this new material primarily in footwear – more specially for dress shoes due to its shiny appearance.
By 1962, DuPont had wear tested around 15,000 shoes with Corfam made at its pilot plant in Newburgh, New York. Wear testing was a typically done by DuPont employees who agreed to wear the item for a certain amount of time and then answer questions and write up a review. Even though Corfam was pointed towards its use in shoes, other items were made of the material and wear tested as seen below.
Corfam was introduced to the shoe industry during the 1963 Chicago Shoe Show. The public first learned about Corfam on January 27, 1964 and it was also featured at the 1964 New York World’s Fair in the DuPont Pavilion. That year also saw the manufacturing of Corfam moved to Old Hickory, Tennessee. From 1964 to 1969, around 7.5 million pairs of Corfam shoes were sold but after then, the market severely declined for several reasons including the popularity of vinyl shoes. Corfam also had the issue that it did not breath like real leather, so wearers complained about hot feet. Another problem was fit because if the wearer did not get an exact fit, Corfam did not stretch like leather does.
DuPont ended making Corfam in 1971 leaving it with only seven years of production. That year, the process for making Corfam was sold to a company in Warsaw, Poland. Also, that year on April 11, 1971, an article in the New York Times referred to Corfam as “DuPont’s $100 Million Edsel”. But Edsel’s are no longer sold and poromeric shoes still are! Today the most common use of them in the United States is military usage as dress uniform shoes because they don’t require polishing.
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Making Couture DuPont Qiana Dresses at Home
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What happens when you develop a new type of fabric which consumers then purchase and must figure out how to use it? That’s what happened when DuPont introduced Qiana nylon to the public in 1968 as a replacement for high cost silk.
In the late 1960s and early 1970s, sewing clothes in the home was very popular so Qiana was sold in bolts of fabric ready for women to make dresses out of it. For example, materials for a wedding dress could be purchased and made at home for around $60 in 1972 – a considerable savings from purchasing one already made.
But the problem with Qiana was that it was difficult to sew. So, in 1971 DuPont hired Charles Kleibacker, one of America’s top dress designers to travel around the country and hold sewing clinics to teach women experienced in sewing how to make couture dresses with Qiana fabric. In 1971 and 1972, he traveled to thirty cities throughout the country to give his free “traveling couture sewing clinic” at department stores.
Charles Kleibacker (1921-2010) designed his first line of clothing in New York City in 1960. Known as the “master of the bias cut”, his couture gowns started at $450 and went up. Some of his well-known clients included First Lady Pat Nixon, Actress Diahann Carroll and Mary Travers of the singing group Peter, Paul and Mary. For these clients, his gowns cost more than $1,500 and took hours to make. We are fortunate to have an exquisite example of his work in the collection. This design is timeless and could be worn today.
With Qiana fabric having a colorful Oscar de la Renta design, Mrs. Robert Fay made the above dress in the 1970s. This is an excellent example of how Qiana held colorful dyes which lasted over time.
Finally, I’d like to include a category of synthetic clothing that Hagley has which is unique. This is clothing made from prototype DuPont fabric that was acquired by close relatives related to DuPont administrative personnel which was used primarily for promotional purposes.
In 1968, Marilyn Fourney acquired this material from Roger Milliken of Milliken & Co. Her husband Robert Forney (1947-2017) was a DuPont chemical engineer and he also served as a Senior Vice-President for the company. Mrs. Forney used this material to make this dress which she wore to the inaugural ball for President Richard Nixon in 1969.
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Louise du Pont Crowninshield and What She Collected
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From the 1930s to her death in 1958, Louise du Pont Crowninshield was one of the leaders of the Historic Preservation movement. In 1949, she was one of the founders of the National Trust for Historic Preservation. Additionally, she was a member of the five-person Advisory Committee to redecorate the White House during the Truman Administration.
Louise served on the boards of directors and financially supported many historic sites such as Marblehead Historical Society (MA), and Saugus Iron Works National Historic Site (MA). Her specialty was acquiring correctly dated antique furnishings and then install them herself into period rooms which is what she did in Virginia at Kenmore – the home of George Washington’s sister and Wakefield – George Washington’s Birthplace. For her to do this curatorial role was innovative at the time since generally this was done by men at historic sites.
Born in 1877, Louise was a descendent of Eleuthère Irénée du Pont, the founder of the DuPont Company. She married Francis Boardman Crowninshield in 1900. After the original Eleutherian Mills gunpowder manufactory closed, she acquired the property which included E. I. du Pont’s home which had been built in 1803. She and her husband occupied the residence for approximately six weeks each year split between the spring and fall. At her death, this property, residence, and all its contents which consist of more than 3,000 artifacts, were left to the Eleutherian Mills- Hagley Foundation.
Louise carefully curated the furnishings in the Residence just like she did the other sites. Her philosophy for Eleutherian Mills Residence was:
**“In selecting furniture, I bought only objects which had been in use in this country at the time the family arrived from France. Everything is authentic and made in America. Some of the family pieces have been given back to me and have been carefully listed. All, or nearly all, I hope will remain in the house. It is my intention to leave them there.”**
When word got out that she wanted to return original furnishings to the Residence, she was given decorative arts including furniture and personal belongings such as clothing from the first two generations of du Ponts who lived there. Among this items are the four-poster bed made by Philadelphian Joseph Barry that E. I du Pont purchased around 1807 and his daughter Victorine’s Duncan Phyfe sewing/worktable which was given to her on her marriage to Ferdinand Bauduy in 1813.
For herself, Louise purchased early American furniture; Chinese Export, French, English and American ceramics; pewter; chalk ware; quilts, hooked rugs; weathervanes, and lots of items representing eagles.
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From the Object Files: The all too true tales and back stories behind some of Hagley’s most remarkable collections. (Part 1)
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It often happens that a trip into museum storage will generate questions, and most likely the question is “What is that”? A recent excursion generated just such a discussion, when a colleague noticed a tall oddly shaped metal object at the back of the room and asked “What kind of lamp is that”? My answer, that it wasn’t a lamp at all but a machine for perming women’s hair, was sufficient enough at the time. However, what it was is only part of the mystery, how and why it worked and why it was here were bigger questions. As it turns out, that odd machine was a key innovation in the pursuit of the perfect coif.
The quest for curls has taken many forms over the years. We are all familiar with curling irons or curling tongs; heated rods around which hair is wrapped with a clamp to hold it in place. And presto! Curled hair! And we are all familiar with permanents; hair is secured around a curler and a chemical solution is applied. And presto! Permanently curled hair. But why combine the two?
In the initial days of permanent waving, the chemical solution needed to be heated in order to sufficiently change the hair structure to make it hold the curl. In these early incarnations, curlers would need to be heated individually. Heating them with electricity allowed the curlers to all be heated at once and to a controlled temperature, producing better curls with fewer injuries.
The first permanent wave machine to use electricity to heat strands of hair was patented in England by Karl Nessler. Nessler’s machine combined electric heat with a chemical process to produce lasting curls. It wasn’t an instant hit in London, but the idea was revolutionary enough to inspire many alternate versions on both sides of the Atlantic. One such machine was invented by Marjorie Stewart Joyner, an African American, in 1939. She created and patented a machine that could add curl to straight hair or straighten curly hair, using electrically heated metal rods. Hagley’s machine, which came to us as part of the Amram/Brick Woman Inventor Collection, is a representation of further improvements on Joyner’s work.
In the middle of the 20th century a new all chemical process of perming hair, that didn’t require heat, was introduced and these types of machines began to disappear from salons. This odd looking contraption is now a permanent (ha!) reminder of man’s (and woman’s) ability to apply a little ingenuity to an everyday problem and possibly change things forever.
[Joyner Patent Link](https://patents.google.com/patent/US1693515A/en?oq=us1693515)
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George May Phelps and the Magic of Smartphones
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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!
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Frances Gabe and her Amazing Self-Cleaning House!
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Many people complain about cleaning their house but Frances Gabe actually did something about it!
She decided to invent, patent and build a prototype house that cleaned itself! According to Gabe the self-cleaning house (SCH) “was never intended to scrub a dirty house or building, but to keep a clean house clean.” In the March 1982 issue of People Magazine, Gabe said: “I want to eliminate all unnecessary motion so that handicapped and elderly people can care for themselves. My system will allow people to do so by pushing a few buttons.”
Born in 1915, Frances Grace Arnholz later married Herbert Bateson. For many years, together they ran a construction and maintenance company with her eventually taking the lead. After her divorce, she decided to change her last name to Gabe which represents **G**race **A**rnholz **B**ateson which she added an “**e**” to. Her building experience led to her commitment to invent and build a self-cleaning house for her to live in which she did.
Gabe’s patent application was filed in 1980 and she finally received patent number 4,428,085, [Patent Link](https://patents.google.com/patent/US4428085A/en?oq=us4428085) on January 31, 1984 for Self-Cleaning Building Construction. According to the patent: “A self-cleaning building construction comprises apparatus for applying a fine spray or mist of water and/or water and detergent to wall, floor and ceiling surfaces, followed by warm air drying. Floors slope in a direction for removing excess moisture via a drain. Also included are closet apparatus for cleaning clothing, cupboard dishwasher apparatus for cleaning stored dishes, self-cleaning bathtub apparatus, and self-cleaning washbasin apparatus.” Her patent included 68 more inventions inside the house which waterproofed everything including plastic cases for books.
The house itself was comprised of two stories. The first floor contained the living and dining spaces as well as the kitchen. The second floor had a bathroom, bedroom, clothes closet and an outdoor patio space. Before earthquake damage in 2001, Gabe turned on the cleaning apparatus twice a year.
Gabe spent many years publicizing her SCH. She did many radio and television interviews and charged a small fee to people who wanted to see the house. Her hope was that many of these would be built throughout the country. Marketing materials she developed said: “the Self-Cleaning House safely and automatically washes and dries ceilings, wall, windows, floors, curtains, upholstery, dirty dishes, dirty clothes and books.”
Hagley is extremely fortunate to have the model of Gabe’s SCH and other models, including her self-cleaning dishwasher, in the museum innovation collection. She passed away on December 26, 2016. Personally, because she was such a fascinating woman who was just so very creative, I am very happy that she lives on in the internet because words in print just don’t do her any justice.
[Interview Link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h95O5dQkoD4)
[NY Times](https://www.nytimes.com/2017/07/18/us/frances-gabe-dead-inventor-of-self-cleaning-house.html)
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