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Saturday, October 22, 2011

William Cullen Bryant praises Rhode Island, especially its anthracite (1826) 

From The New-York Review, and Atheneum Magazine 2 (April 1826): 386-8, and see for the context -- one of Bryant's closest friends was a hopeful (and, as it turned out, unlucky) investor in Rhode Island anthracite mines, which some people believed to have much better prospects than those of Pennsylvania, mostly because of their proximity to water transportation.  They seemed to have a great future, as fuel sources for coastal New England in particular.  Misplaced optimism on this score would recur throughout the 19th and into the 20th century.  What's most interesting about this poem is that it comes from a time when people still had not learned how to burn anthracite properly, and Bryant is trying to overcome this consumer resistance with his vision of a literally glowing future.

* * *


Decolor obscurus, vilis, non ille tepexam
Cesariem regum, non candida virginis ornat
Colin, nec insigni splendet per cingula morsu.
Sed, nova si nigri videas miracula saxi,
Tunc superat pulchros cultus, et quicquid Eois
Indus litonbus rubra scrutalur in alga.

I Sat beside the glowing grate, fresh heaped
With Newport coal, and as the flame grew bright—
The many-coloured flame—and played and leaped,
I thought of rainbows and the northern light,
Moore's Lalla Rookh, the Treasury Report,
And other brilliant matters of the sort.

And last I thought of that fair isle which sent
The mineral fuel.
On a summer day
I saw it once, with heat and travel spent,
And scratched by dwarf oaks in the hollow way;
Now uragged through sand, now jolted over stone—
A rugged road through rugged Tiverton.

And hotter grew the air, and hollower grew
The deep-worn path, and honor-struck, I thought,
Where will this dreary passage lead me to ?—
This long, dull road, so narrow, deep, and hot ?
I looked to see it dive in earth outright;
I looked—but saw a far more welcome sight.

[p. 387] 

Like a soft mist upon the evening shore,
At once a lovely isle before me lay;
Smooth, and with tender verdure covered o'er,
As if just risen from its calm inland bay;
Sloped each way gently to the grassy edge,
And the small waves that dallied with the sedge.

The barley was just reaped—its heavy sheaves
Lay on the stubble field—the tall maize stood
Dark in its summer growth, and shook its leaves—
And bright the sunlight played on the young wood—
For fifty years ago, the old men say,
The Briton hewed their ancient groves away.

I saw where fountains freshened the green land,
And where the pleasant road, from door to door,
With rows of cherry trees on either hand,
Went wandering all that fertile region o'er—
Rogue's Island once—but, when the rogues were dead.
Rhode Island was the name it took instead.

Beautiful island! then it only seemed
A lovely stranger—it has grown a friend.
I gazed on its smooth slopes, but never dreamed
How soon that bright beneficent isle would send
The treasures of its womb across the sea,
To warm a poet's room and boil his tea.

Dark anthracite! that reddenest on my hearth.
Thou in those island mines didst slumber long, 

But now thou art come forth to move the earth,
And put to shame the men that mean thee wrong ; 
Thou shalt be coals of fire to those that hate thee, 
And warm the shins of all that under-rate thee.

Yea, they did wrong thee foully—they who mocked 

Thy honest face, and said thou wouldst not burn;
Of hewing thee to chimney-pieces talked,
And grew profane—and swore, in bitter scorn,
That men might to thy inner caves retire,
And there, unsinged, abide the day of fire.

Yet is thy greatness nigh. I pause to state,
That I too have,seen greatness—even I—
Shook hands with Adams—stared at La Fayette,
When, barehead in the hot noon of July.

[p. 388]

He would not let the umbrella be held o'er him,
For which three cheers burst from the mob before him.

And I have seen—not many months ago —
An eastern governor, in chapeau bras
And military coat, a glorious show !
Ride forth to visit the reviews, and ah,
How oft he smiled and bowed to Jonathan!
How many hands were shook, and votes were won !

'Twas a great governor—thou too shalt be
Great in thy turn—and wide shall spread thy fame,
And swiftly—farthest Maine shall hear of thee,
And cold New-Brunswick gladden at thy name,
And, faintly through its sleets, the weeping isle
That sends the Boston folks their cod, shall smile.

For thou shalt forge vast rail-ways, and shalt heat
The hissing rivers into steam, and drive
Huge masses from thy mines, on iron feet,
Walking their steady way, as if alive,
Northward, till everlasting ice besets thee,
And south as far as the grim Spaniard lets thee.

Thou shalt make mighty engines swim the sea,
Like its own monsters—boats that for a guinea
Will take a man to Havre—and shalt be
The moving soul of many a spinning jenny,
And ply thy shuttles, till a bard can wear
As good a suit of broadcloth as the mayor.

Then we will laugh at winter when we hear
The grim old churl about our dwellings rave:
Thou from that " ruler of the inverted year,"
Shalt pluck the knotty sceptre Cowper gave,
And pull him from his sledge, and drag him in,
And melt the icicles from off his chin.

Heat will be cheap—a small consideration ,
Will put one in a way to raise his punch,
Set lemon-trees, and have a cane plantation—
'Twill be a pretty saving to the Lunch.
Then the West India negroes may go play
The banjo, and keep endless holiday.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The Big Stove Is No More

This is what it takes to get me off my butt and do another bit for this poor old blog after eight silent months:

The Big Stove in its original location (after the World's Fair),
in the forecourt of the great Michigan Stove plant.

Historic stove a 'total loss'

Official says lightning destroyed 15-ton icon at State Fairgrounds

Steve Pardo/ The Detroit News

Detroit — A historic stove, billed as the world's largest, is history following Saturday's lightning strike and fire at the former Michigan State Fairgrounds.
"I've been told today it's a total loss, that the fire just wiped it out," Kurt Weiss, spokesman for the Michigan Department of Technology Management and Budget, said Monday. "I don't know if it would even be possible to rebuild it. That's a bummer."

The 15-ton stove was painted to look like metal but it was made of wood and stood more than two stories high. It was built off a Garland model kitchen range in 1893 by the Michigan Stove Co. and stood proudly among regular stoves at the World's Fair in Chicago that year.

For years it sat on Belle Isle and was restored in 1998 and moved to the State Fairgrounds at Woodward and Eight Mile.

It remained at the 164-acre site, among dozens of structures. Falling attendance, aging infrastructure and state budget woes closed down the fair for good in 2009.

The Department of Technology, Management and Budget is responsible for the security of the property.

"What a shame to keep such an important piece of Detroit's history — and art, for that matter — hidden away," said Barbara Winckler, a former Detroiter who moved to Los Angeles in 1994.

The stove had special meaning for her and her family. Winckler said her great-grandfather, Charles C. Goddeeris, helped build the stove.
"It just breaks my heart," she said. "My mother would always tell us that Grandpa Chuck built that stove, whenever we would drive by it on Jefferson and the Belle Isle Bridge.

"I was so sad to see it moved to the State Fairgrounds, and then to find out that the fairgrounds have been closed to the public for years is just sad."
Security guards saw the stove get struck by lightning during a storm Saturday, Weiss said.

Detroit fire officials confirmed they were called out to the site around 8 p.m. Saturday.

The state has been looking to find another use for the property for the past two years, Weiss said.

There's one picture with that article -- several others with

The Big Stove in its final resting place

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Light Relief: High-Wire Act

The previous posting was all a bit grim.  Here, as yet another example of the way in which stoves entered into American culture by mid-century, is a report on a famous feat of derring-do:

"Blondin Crosses the Niagara River with a Cook-Stove, and Cooks an Omelet," New York Times 26 Aug. 1859, p. 8.

[from the Buffalo Express, 25 Aug.]  

The celebrated French trapeze artist Jean Fran├žois Gravelet-Blondin (1824-1897) had been working in the United States since 1855 as a circus artist and proprietor.  The stunt that really made him famous was staged at the Niagara River in the summer of 1859, when he crossed it several times on a rope 1100 feet long, 3¼ inches in diameter, and 160 feet above the water. To maintain public interest he put on a different performance each time -- crossing the rope blindfolded, in a sack, trundling a wheelbarrow, on stilts, carrying a man (his manager, Harry Colcord) on his back, standing on a chair with only one chair leg on the rope...  

On the occasion reported, he made his first crossing in manacles, "personating a slave," ["News of the Day," p. 4], which was "more of a curious and laughable spectacle than an exciting one," and then on his way back carried a small stove on which he cooked an omelet when he stopped in the middle of the gorge, and then lowered the finished item to attendants on the deck of the Maid of the Mistdown below.

[additional facts from, citing Blondin broadsheet for 1 August 1859, when he performed the chair feat in one direction, and stopped to take a stereostopic photograph on his way back -- -- the charge for watching the show was 25 cents, plus 2 cents for a reserved seat]

Monday, March 7, 2011

The Fatal Stove

[This is a bit of a mess at the moment -- made up from a fairly random collection of stories about stoves and gory endings, some criminal, some accidental, that I found while trawling through American metropolitan dailies looking for rather more serious stove stories.  I will complete this compilation of unusual vignettes of the darker side of Americans' lives (and occasionally deaths) with  stoves, and I may even manage to sort it into a better running-order.  I might break it up into a series of themed blog entries -- this is unmanageably large.]

Stoves were ubiquitous in the late19th and early 20th century American household and workplace.  As a result, they figure in plenty of lurid news stories, for example:

"Three Men Killed," New York Times 24 Apr. 1884, p. 9.

A group of Irish log drivers in Marquette, MI -- perhaps unfamiliar with stoves, or alternatively too familiar with explosives, "attempted to thaw some dynamite over a cook stove in their shanty.  The result was a terrible explosion," as you might imagine --leaving three dead, and two more seriously injured.

Evidently explosives were easy to come across, and to mistake for other less dangerous combustible substances -- e.g.

"Stove Goes Like a Bomb," Los Angeles Times 23 Feb. 1902, p. A15.

This was another accident, reported humorously because, miraculously, there were no deaths or even serious injuries.  A carpenter had thrown "a large bunch of excelsior [thin curly wood shavings used for packing or stuffing] into a hardware store stove, "and about two seconds later there was no stove. There happened to be several sticks of giant powder or dynamite in the exclesior used to replenish the fire, and that material is not a success as a fuel.

There was a terrific explosion, and the stove burst like a bomb, the fragments flying, in all directions, many piercing the woodwork like bullets."

There were several pounds of dynamite and a hundred "caps of high power" (detonators) on the store counter, which didn't explode; so maybe the Irish log-drivers weren't quite so unwary, trusting in their dynamite's stability in proximity to a fire.

"Explosion of a Stove," New York Times 7 Dec. 1883, p. 2.

CASTLETON, NY -- "Mrs. Warren Fuller sat yesterday near a stove ... Without previous warning the stove exploded with frightful force into atoms, crashing out the windows, upsetting the furniture, and hurling Mrs. Warren a distance of several feet, where she lay stunned until the neighbors, who had heard the report, came to her rescue.  The demolition of the contents of the room was complete.  A clock on the mantel was picked up in twenty different pieces.  Particles of the iron stove were found deeply imbedded in a wooden partition.  It was appropriately named 'Lively Times.' No fuel had been added to it for several hours.  It is believed that a cartridge or other explosive was in the coal, so great was the force of the explosion.  The ignition of coal gas could not possibly have created so great a wreck."

* * *

Well, those incidents were just unfortunate accidents.  But sometimes stove explosions were deliberate: would-be murderers had worked out that there was a neat way of introducing death into their intended victims' kitchens and parlors, e.g.

"Gunpowder in the Coal," Chicago Daily Tribune 5 Jan. 1901, p. 3.

"The servant-girl, while in the act of filling several lamps...,discovered that the oil contained a strange-looking black powder, but she failed to notify Mr. Collins. Later it was discovered that the oil in the can contained half a pound of black gunpowder."  The coal in the coal-bin was covered with black powder too.

I came across another similar story in the New York Times, but didn't note it down at the time (always a mistake!) and couldn't find it again.  But I recall the details -- it was about a gang wanting to "fix" a jockey who wouldn't cooperate in nobbling horse races in which he was involved.  He was done for by the black-powder-in-the-coal trick, too.

Sometimes the press reported incidents like this as funny stories, if the victims were from a low-status ethnic group, e.g.

"An Explosive Day," Atlanta Constitution 10 Feb. 1882, p. 5.

reporting another attempted murder-by-exploding-stove in Georgetown, Colorado, involving two Italians "severely injured by an explosion of giant powder in a cook stove, placed there maliciously by another Italian,
whom the sheriff is now in pursuit of."  It was reported as likely that both would die, but this was not enough to prevent the Constitution's sub-editor from attaching a humorous headline to what was evidently a wire-service story.

* * * 

Robbers, too, could take it for granted that households contained a reliable source of heat, which was useful to them as they went about their business -- e.g.

"Sat Him on a Hot Stove," Atlanta Constitution 2 Jan. 1895, p. 8.

Decatur, IL: "One of the most atrocious robberies ever recorded in this county" involved an old man, Mr Florey, with eighty acres of fine land, who lived by himself and was thought to have money.  Three masked men broke into his house, "built a fire in the cook stove and held Florey's hand on the top until he told them where to find $500.

Then to make him tell them where to find more they forced him to sit on the stove. They tortured the old man from 11 until 4 o'clock, and when they left they carried $1,300, of which $1,020 was in gold." 

"A Red Hot Stove," Atlanta Constitution 30 Mar. 1887, p. 7.

This as a report of an argument between two women, one of them drunken, which led to a fight. "Mrs. Finley left the house promising to make it warm when she got back."  So she lit up the cooking stove, firing it with wood until it reached red heat, then picked up her neighbor and was about to place her on the red-hot stove top when the two of them were separated by a servant.

* * * 

There were plenty more domestic tragedies associated with stoves too, e.g.

"Seriously Burned," Atlanta Constitution 5 Feb. 1887, p. 7.

A very routine story -- a young girl is lighting a fire in a cook stove to make breakfast; her clothing catches fire.

"A Woman Burned to Death," New York Times 13 Dec. 1883, p. 5.

Rochester, NY -- She was "seized with apoplexy and fell on the stove" while preparing dinner.

"Killed by Paris Green," Atlanta Constitution 7 June 1908, p. C6.

A fourteen-year-old dies from an exploding kerosene can, and her mother is badly burned -- "The accident occurred while trying to start a fire in the cook stove."  There are so many similar stories like this that it's easy just to pile up the examples (and the bodies).  They were common enough for the press to treat them as suitable subjects for humor, e.g.

"Short Cuts," New York Times 16 Feb. 1887, p. 4. 

"We learn from a scientific journal that 'all modern high explosives are now almost universally exploded by the agency of electricity.' There is one notable exception.  Coal oil is still exploded by the agency of the hired girl and the cook stove." [from the Jersey City Journal]

One of the earliest such reports that I've found -- these accidents depended on increasing availability of petroleum products in the home after the Civil War -- is this one:

"Casualties. Fatal Explosions," Chicago Daily Tribune 1 Feb. 1874, p. 4,

Loudon, Iowa -- The cause was "an attempt to kindle a fire with kerosene oil." -- the late Mrs Beetle "attempted to hasten the fire in her parlor stove by pouring oil upon it from a can.  The fire reached to the can, which exploded with terrific force, scattering the oil in all directions, and setting on fire the clothes of Mrs. Beetle and her little girl.  The mother and daughter were terribly burned, and the injuries sustained by Mrs.
Beetle were so fearful that she died yesterday in great agony.  The little girl is lingering along in great suffering, and her death is constantly expected."  Mrs & Ms Beetle's tragedy was the lead story in a column of fires, explosions, accidents, and bridge collapses -- reminders both of the hazards of everyday life in mid-century America, and newspaper readers' insatiable appetite for stories about them. 

* * *

Speaking of which, stoves could be useful to criminals, especially to murderers, as ways of attempting to dispose of bodies, not always successfully:

"Dismembered, His Remains Burned," Boston Globe 7 Jan. 1909, p. 13.

A gory and, probably, very smelly incident in Columbus, St Clair County, near Detroit.  The subtitle says it all: MICHIGAN CLERGYMAN VICTIM OF MYSTERIOUS MURDER. BODY OF REV JOHN H. CARMICHAEL FOUND IN STOVES IN CHURCH.

The press loved this kind of horror story, e.g.

"Caught in the Act. Dr. Brooks," Chicago Daily Tribune 4 Mar. 1877, p. 8.

This is an account of the trial of a Chicago abortionist, who had, like the Rev. Carmichael's killers, a problem -- disposing of the evidence.  But help was at hand: "infants, 5, 8, and even 9 months old, are strangled, and then cremated in the parlor stove, which is a self-feeder."  This was the way it was put in an anonymous letter of denunciation which started police enquiries: I'm not sure why, but there's something particularly horrifying about the final, apparently unnecessary technical detail.  A lovingly-detailed police-court account follows, including the testimony of an undercover investigator sent to look into the abortionist's affairs: "The spy inquired what was done with the result of these crimes, and in reply a female finger pointed to a pile of ashes in the back-yard, together with the remark, 'Rats and bone-yards tell no tales.'"  A line almost worthy of Dickens, as is the gruesome image in the following story:

"Found Dead in the Kitchen," New York Times 27 Feb. 1885, p. 3.

NORRISTOWN, Pa. "About 3 o'clock this morning Mrs. Haxworth awoke, and, detecting the odor of burning flesh, descended to the kitchen to investigate the matter.  She found her father [a shoemaker] in a chair, dead, his head resting on the top of a hot cook stove. The flesh was partly burned away, exposing the jaw bones.  It is thought that he died from heart disease, his head falling on the stove after he expired."  

The odd thing about this story is that the cook stove should have been burning hot enough overnight to do this much damage, and that Mrs. Haxworth didn't notice the smell of her late father any earlier.

On the other hand, the cast-iron stove -- big and solid -- could also be a refuge:

"Mother Braves Fire for Burning Babies," Atlanta Constitution 25 Feb. 1913, p. 7.

ELKINS, West Virginia -- "Three small children were cremated and their mother probably fatally
burned in a fire today."  The fire destroyed their home, breaking out while the mother was visiting neighbors.  "[W]hen rescuers reached the house they found the charred bodies of the three children under a large cook stove where, apparently, they had taken refuge."  Their mother was badly injured in a desperate attempt to save them.

* * *

The real peril of the late nineteenth-early twentieth century household was probably not the solid-fuel stove but its gas or, even worse, gasoline or kerosene rival.  The latter had an particularly unfortunate habit of exploding, e.g.

"Burned in Locked Room," New York Times 8 Oct. 1911, p. 7.

This was an incident in Detroit, and what made such an everyday event into something more than just a local story was the horror of entrapment.  "The mother beat the glass from the two windows with her naked hands, in a mad endeavor to throw the blazing stove out of doors."

"Asphyxiated by Oil Gas," New York Times 11 May 1901, p. 4.

ENGLEWOOD, NJ -- One woman died: "as the house was closed tightly because of the rain it was soon filled with gas."

"Roasted in the Flames," Boston Globe 12 Oct. 1889, p. 3.
Subtitle: Wife and Three Little Ones Cremated at Home -- Gas Cook Stove Exploded at Bradford, Penn.

The entire family was "roasted in the flames" -- "The gas pressure was very strong the pipe running direct from a neighboring oil well to the cooking stove."

"The Fateful Kerosene. Mary Doyle's Sad Experience Late Last Night," New York Times 26 Mar. 1885, p. 5.

Mary was busy at work when "she brushed against the mantel, on which was placed a kerosene oil lamp. The lamp exploded and the burning oil was scattered over Mary's dress and upon the cook stove which stood beneath the mantel. Mary's garments were speedily in flames, and with screams of terror she threw open the door leading into the front room."  Almost all of her clothes were burnt off before her father could put her out; she suffered severe injuries, which the Times thought would probably be fatal.

"Death from an Oil-Stove Explosion," New York Times 25 Dec. 1882, p. 2 -- probably the only reason that such a commonplace event was reported at all was that it took place at the home of the New Lebanon Shakers, where one might not expect it, as it did not fit with their image.

So great was the (justifiable) fear and suspicion of the oil stove that, shortly after its introduction, one manufacturer even took account of it in its marketing:

"The New Excelsior Oil Stoves," Chicago Daily Tribune 26 May 1877, p. 8.

This was an advertorial -- an obvious 'plug' -- for "One of the latest and best oil stoves we have seen," made by the Coleman Gas-Apparatus Co.  They were "marvels of beauty and completeness. They are much larger than any of the other stoves, and are perfect in point of safety. Indeed, the Company offer a reward of $1,000 to any one who can explode them by any fair means.  Their office is crowded with customers.  Call and see them.  They advertise for State and county agents."

* * *

Coal stoves could produce sometimes-fatal gas, too, so that people did not simply die by fire -- e.g.

"The Lake Tragedy. Investigations of the Coroner's Jury," Chicago Daily Tribune 19 Feb. 1874, p. 2.

Three children of a foundry worker were killed, but a baby, their mother and a nurse survived.  At first poison  was suspected, then asphyxia.  The flue damper had been left open, i.e. the explanation for a carbon monoxide gas buildup was not the usual one.  The grieving father admitted that "sometimes the parlor stove gave forth gas, but never to be very troublesome."

"Saved by Common Sense. A Couple Given Up for Dead Revived by Reporters," New York Times 2 Jan. 1893, p. 5.

LAWRENCE, Mass. -- "The coal gas came from a new parlor stove. The damper was turned off and the gas filled the room."

"Suffocated by Coal Gas," New York Times 20 Dec. 1883, p. 5.


A sad story from Cleveland, Ohio -- there was a baseburner (a heating stove with a gravity-feed fuel magazine, very powerful and efficient and capable, with appropriate management, of burning all winter long) outside the bedroom door, and they left the damper tightly closed while they slept, against their doctor's advice.  The family was poor, the breadwinner out of work, so it is possible that they were trying their utmost to conserve fuel.

"Two Die from Coal Gas," Chicago Daily Tribune 14 Jan. 1897, p. 5.

The coal gas escaped "from an opening in a stove lid," which must have been a common risk, at sea as well as ashore: America's thousands of coastal and fishing vessels and canal boats had provided good markets for stoves since the early 19th century, and were typically installed in small, poorly-ventilated cabins.  The results could be fatal, even if not directly by fire -- e.g.

"Crew Narrowly Escape Suffocation," Boston Globe 28 Sept. 1893, p. 4.

NEW LONDON -- "Gas from an improperly closed cook stove in the cabin nearly asphyxiated the entire crew of six men" on a coal schooner from New York City travelling up Long Island Sound in early Fall.

Sometimes these incidents were not accidental, e.g.

"Charles Fick's Attempt at Suicide," New York Times 6 Dec. 1882, p. 3.

Fick was a tinsmith.  In an attempt to end his life, he disconnected the flue pipe from a small parlor stove, stuffed the end with paper also papered over the keyholes of his room all the gaps around the door and windows.  But it still didn't work, so after he was discovered and revived he was arrested and tried, attempted suicide being a crime.

But these stories did not always end happily, e.g.

"Asphyxiated by Coal Gas," New York Times 6 Mar. 1892, p. 8.

NEWBURG, NY: A twenty-year-old man dies in his bed -- "The coal gas had escaped from the parlor stove last night and caused his death by asphyxiation."

* * *

Ordinary domestic deaths and injuries usually weren't quite enough.  This kind of stove story needed an extra something, e.g.

"Death By Fire," Boston Globe 17 May 1900, p. 14.

"She was cooking some pork chops, and the fat spatterg over the stove caused a flame which reached to the contents of the spider [frying-pan]. In an effort to save her supper the good woman's clothing became ignited, and when help arrived she was dead. She was terribly burned all over the body."  Her husband was a molder,  from Chelsea.

The addition of deliberate brutality and criminality helped a story's chances of publication, e.g.

"Put Child on Hot Stove," New York Times 23 Feb. 1906, p. 7.

YORK, PA. The crime was against a three-year-old -- "The child was placed on a cook stove while the mother was absent from the house. The little one was rescued by its aunt, but not until it was burned from head to foot. It is said that the child will not recover."  The girl admitted three similar attacks to the police.

"Burned Her Child On A Stove," New York Times 9 Sept. 1893, p. 5.

ORANGE, NJ -- "[A] negro laundress living in a shanty near the Italian colony" was arrested for "inhuman and brutal treatment of her children. Last evening Maude, one of her four children, provoked her rage, and she dragged the child toward a cook stove.

'Please, mamma, let me go! Don't burn me!' the little girl screamed in terror. The child's cries were heard by the neighbors, but they had become so accustomed to screams coming from the house that they paid no attention to them.

The inhuman mother put fresh coal on the fire and opened the draughts. When the coal had been fanned into a bright flame, the woman held the little girl over the stove and pressed her hand on the hot iron until it was burned to a crisp.

A woman living next door noticed the peculiar odor of burning flesh and rushed into the house just as the mother threw the senseless child into the corner" and made a complaint to the police, who already knew the mother for her record of child abuse.

Spousal abuse, too, was facilitated by ready access to a source of red-hot iron, e.g.

"A Year for Burning his Wife," New York Times 28 Nov. 1885, p. 3.

AMSTERDAM, NY -- A man "severely burned his wife about the face with a redhot stove lifter, heated while she slept."  He was sentenced to a year in the penitentiary at Albany, quite possibly the home town of his stove and its lifter (a tool for lifting the covers off the cooking-holes on top of the stove).

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Back Again ... The Naming of Stoves

Golly gosh, how quickly time passes when you're enjoying yourself (in my case, just getting sucked into the rhythm of the teaching term).  That, at least, is an excuse for leaving this blog alone for weeks on end.  I can see why so many blogs die -- it seems like a good idea to start one, doesn't cost anything apart from time and thought, and it's the middle of winter and the university vacation, so there's plenty of the former and not a lot better to indulge in than the latter.  But then you start wondering -- Why bother? What's it for?  Who's it for, apart from yourself?  So you give up.  Then again, how different is this from writing academic history?  I've often used a particular simile for the experience of publishing essays and articles (books, at least, get reviewed) -- you work at them for months on end, perhaps longer; eventually they appear; but then you throw your babies over the cliff and never even hear a bounce.  It's depressingly common (in my experience, at least) to publish something that's good in a decent journal and to get no real evidence that anybody, apart perhaps from the editors and the peer reviewers, ever read it.  But that doesn't stop me writing it, so maybe I should spend the odd late-evening hour with A Stove Less Ordinary again.

Anyway, no matter -- I shall cast a bit more bread upon the waters, and maybe some of it will come back after not too many days.

* * *

I put something rather boringly informative about this subject on my old website years ago, near the start of my current obsession -- "The Naming of Stoves," now at -- but there's plenty more to say.  Here's one of my favourite pieces:

"Their High Noses," Chicago Daily Tribune 17 Dec. 1877, p. 8 [reprinted from The Detroit Free Press]

"He wore shep-skin (sic) mittens, had his pants in his boots, and he covered his horses with old pieces of rag carpet, and entered a hardware store and asked to look at a sheet-iron stove. {hjh comments: this means it was cheap, and he's poor -- the customer cannot afford cast iron} He was shown several patterns, one after the other, but none seemed to exactly suit his ideas.

'I have shown you every style of parlor stove on sale by any house in Detroit,' said the dealer as they stood before the last one.

'Yes, I s'pose so, but none o' them quite fills the bill,' was the dubious answer.

'Why not!  Aren't they big enough, tall enough, handsome enough, or what is the trouble?'

'Waal, I'll tell you,' slowly replied the would-be customer. 'The ole woman she takes a story paper, and her head is chuck full of such names as Evangeline, Eunilena, Maud, Arabella, and Riverbell.  The gals they read Shakespeare, and they are all the time talking about Hamlet, Claudius, Petruchio, Romeo, and so on.  I'm kinder postin' up on astronomy myself, and I'm all the time thinkin' about Venus, Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter.  Now, you haven't got a stove in the lot with a more romantic name than 'Ajax,' and just imagine folks like us sittin' round a stove with a plug name like that!'

He thought he'd look further, and, as he unhitched his team, he called out:

'Whoa, now, Lady Estella -- stand around there, Othello!'" 

* * *

Now, what's the significance of this?  It works, for me, on several levels -- for example, as an ironic and patronizing commentary on something real and, to me, attractive: the desire for education and self-improvement in Victorian America, and the lack of distance there then was between "high" and "popular" culture (see, for example, Lawrence W. Levine, "William Shakespeare and the American People: A Study in Cultural Transformation," American Historical Review 89 (1984): 34-66, if you are lucky enough to have access to this wonderful resource through a library).  

But it's also, more prosaically, about the way in which the name of a stove was an important part of what distinguished it from all of the other thousands of models in the market, most of them very similar to one another in appearance, layout, and functionality.  Alongside of the design and all of the practical selling points that dealers drew to buyers' attention, the name was a part of the total package of useful and attractive features that consumers purchased.  Manufacturers' desperate search for novelty and what they thought of as appropriateness in a stove name led them to some bizarre inventions, about which I will write again shortly.  The resulting proliferation of names was part "of the romance of the stove industry.  Salesmen and retailers had dwelt lovingly on such products as Pearl, Darling, Rapture and Clementina.  Their suggestions, 'Clementina has too square a base,' or 'Bolt the legs on Darling,'  were made with a certain affection and reverence. 'Rapture must have a new cast iron elbow.'" [Melodia and Walter S. Rowe, The Story of Estate: Another Chapter of the Romance of Business in the Land of Opportunity  (Hamilton, Ohio: Hill-Brown Print. Co., 1937), p. 31.]

There's a nice explanation of the importance of attractive names to consumer acceptance of new products in Kimberley Webber's essay "Embracing the New: A Tale of Two Rooms" in Patrick N. Troy, ed., A History of European Housing in Australia (Melbourne: Cambridge U.P., 2000), pp. 86-106.  Webber is writing about the takeup of American (or American-style) stoves in place of the British settlers' original open fires in late nineteenth-century urban Australia, as (wood) fuel became more expensive and in short supply -- the same catalysts that had stimulated Americans from Pennsylvania northward to adopt cooking stoves over the previous half-century.  But there was more to this change of habit than just the stimulus of cost:

By the last quarter of the nineteenth century, the new importance attached to homemaking and meals in Australian family life encouraged households to move away from the open fire to the cast iron stove because the latter enabled food to be cooked on top of the stove while pastries and other dishes were baking within. But it was not sufficient for the cooking stove to simply do the job: it must also look the part, and thus this pre-eminently industrial object needed to be domesticated. 'Romancing' the stove was achieved, first, by the application of romantic names to different models, and second, by replacement of the aesthetic of the factory with that of the parlour. (sic)
Of all the industrial products targeting at the domestic market in the nineteenth century, the cooking stove outstripped all others in the sheer range of models available and the ingenuity of their names. Rathbone, Sard and Co. (a major American manufacturer who exported their stoves to Australia) {of Albany, NY and Aurora, IL -- hjh} listed seventy-one different models in their 1890 catalogue, each available in at least four different sizes. Their foundry was therefore producing parts for 284 stoves. The names given to stoves were quite extraordinary and as far removed from any suggestion of industry as possible. For example, an 1887 catalogue from McLean Bros of Melbourne listed the Ascot, Derby, Gipsy Queen, St Leger, Steuben, Uncle Sam, Empress and Enchantress; and an 1895 catalogue from Anthony Hordern's included the New Matron, Dover, Criterion, Orient, and Electric Light.  Names never refer to any quality of the stove or distinguish between different capacities. Rather, this most banal of products required associations with the exotic, the patriotic or the classical in order to be desirable. [pp. 90, 92 -- there is a nice ad. on p. 91, for a Limited Preview and search for "romancing".]  
2 March 2011

Monday, January 24, 2011

Hot Money (1880 & 1901) -- Problems of Using Stoves as Safes in Summer

"New-Jersey," New York Times, 20 Nov. 1880, p. 8.

"Mrs Saltig, a German woman, residing in ... Hoboken, put $50 in greenbacks, which represented her savings, into the parlor stove for safe keeping.  When the cold spell came Thursday night she lighted a fire in the stove, and did not think of her money until it was nearly burned to a crisp. She consulted Internal Revenue Commissioner Reid as to whether the Government would redeem it, and he took her to the office of Bank President Simms.  That gentleman remarked that she would have been better off if she had put her money in a savings bank. 'There isn't much difference, I guess,' dryly remarked Mrs. Saltig, as she walked off with her small parcel of burned notes."


"Ten Thousand Dollars Cremated," Atlanta Constitution 8 Nov. 1883, p. 4.

ERIE -- "Jacob Seib, a farmer, to foil burglars, made a deposit in his parlor stove of currency and securities amounting to $10,000.  Saturday his wife arranged to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of their marriage with a surprise party. Being unaware of her husband's cunning she lighted a fire in the stove and cremated the earnings of a lifetime."


"Uses a Stove as a Safe," Chicago Tribune, 3 Jan. 1900, p. 5.


[The bills were badly burned, and sent to the U.S. Treasury for redemption -- this was a sufficiently common occurrence that it kept a department to attempt to verify that the ashes and scraps people sent in after accidents with their folding money actually were ex-banknotes.]


"In a Minor Key," Chicago Daily Tribune, 28 Sept. 1901, p. 12.

TIMELY WARNING: "This is just to remind the fellow who placed his bank books and a few other things in his parlor stove last spring after fire time for safe keeping that with the approach of cool weather the parlor stove ceases to be a safe repository unless he has bank books, etc., to burn. -- Yonkers Statesman."


There's an original for this commonplace late C19th story (reported frequently enough not to have been entirely apocryphal) in England in 1825: 'John Bull' [Charles Lamb and Thomas Hood], The Laughing Philosopher (London: Sherwood, Jones & Co., 1825),  "Dr Monsey and His Bank-Notes," pp. 80-81,