Eagle Tavern Inspiration to Enjoy at Home

May 6, 2022 Archive Insight, Think THF

Photo by KMS Photography

When it comes to dining experiences, Eagle Tavern in Greenfield Village is one of a kind. The stagecoach tavern was built in 1831 in Clinton, Michigan. Calvin Wood and his wife Harriet operated it from 1849 to 1854, offering food, drink, and accommodations to the locals and those who came through the town. In 1927, Henry Ford purchased the tavern and brought it to Greenfield Village as the Clinton Inn, where it first served as a cafeteria for Edison Institute students and then for visitors. In April 1982, Eagle Tavern officially opened as the restaurant we know today. Forty years later, Eagle Tavern continues to delight members and guests with mid-1800s food and drink.

As we celebrate the beginning of the 2022 Greenfield Village season, Sous Chef Kasey Faraj shares three of his favorite Eagle Tavern recipes for you to try at home.


Photo by Emily Berger

“My absolute favorite thing about the tavern is the overall guest experience,” said Faraj. “There is simply no place like this anywhere in America where we are taking our guests on a journey to the past. Everything from our Calvin and Harriet Wood characters chatting with our guests to the food, to the look of the bill of fare and restaurant, and the servers in period clothing, we all collectively create an experience that is unique, historically accurate, and unmatched by any establishment.”

Faraj found inspiration for his menus from classic mid-1800s era cookbooks, like Mrs. Putnam’s Receipt Book and The Kentucky Housewife. It was in these wonderful books that he was inspired to create dishes such as our delicious Asparagus Soup, Pork and Potato Balls, and Bouilli Beef.

Eagle Tavern’s Asparagus Soup

serves many



Ingredients

• ½ pound unsalted butter
• 1 ½ cups yellow onion, medium dice
• 1 teaspoon fresh garlic, minced
• 5 pounds asparagus, trimmed
• 1 ½ cups celery, diced
• 2 bay leaves
• ¾ gallon vegetable broth
• ½ cup cornstarch
• 1 quart half-and-half
• Salt and pepper to taste

Method

• Heat a stockpot and melt the butter.
• Add the onions and garlic and cook over medium-high heat until onions are translucent.
• Add the asparagus, celery, bay leaves, and vegetable broth. Bring to a boil.
• Once boiling, turn heat to low and simmer until asparagus is tender.
• Add the cornstarch and half-and-half and puree the mixture with a hand blender until smooth. (You can also slowly break down the asparagus with a potato masher.)
• Add salt and pepper to your liking.
• Adjust the cornstarch if thicker or thinner soup is desired.
• Strain if you wish to have a lighter-style soup. Serve with fresh bread or crackers.

“The awesome curators here at The Henry Ford and I collaborate to find these menu items in cookbooks from the past,” said Faraj. “I then take said items and build the menu through both seasonal availability and the story of Harriet and Calvin Wood. It is not as simple as, ‘I found a recipe for a mid-1800s era style corn soup, so we are going to offer that soup.’”

Faraj and team take everything into consideration:

• How did season and local availability influence the meals that a tavernkeeper like Harriet Wood might have prepared for her tavern customers?
• What foodstuffs could have been imported in southern Michigan in 1850?
• What type of meals and desserts might Harriet Wood have had time to prepare over an open hearth in her busy tavern kitchen?

“In-depth research from period American cookbooks found in our research center, and expertise from our curators, help us find our way to these answers,” he said. “The ability to find a recipe from a book written almost two centuries ago, test that recipe, and then place it on a menu (that is seasonally accurate!) is what makes a chef working in historic dining challenging—yet fun!”

Eagle Tavern’s Pork and Potato Balls

serves many



Ingredients

• 3 pounds cooked Idaho potatoes
• 3 fresh eggs
• 1 pound cooked pork-sage sausage, crumbled
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1 pound unsalted butter

Method

• Put cooked potatoes in a large mixing bowl. Using a potato masher, mash the potatoes until there are very few lumps.
• In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs.
• Add the crumbled sausage, salt, and pepper to the eggs and mix until evenly distributed.
• Using a spoon or a small scooper, shape the mix into small balls no larger than a golf ball.
• Heat a nonstick pan and melt the butter.
• Cook the balls in the butter until browned on all sides and the internal temperature is 165° F. When cooked, sprinkle with additional salt and pepper and serve with extra butter, if desired.

One last recommendation from Chef Faraj: Eagle Tavern’s Bouilli Beef. “This dish is great served with roasted potatoes and mashed parsnips,” he said.

Eagle Tavern’s Bouilli Beef

serves many

Ingredients

• 3 pounds beef, cut into 8-oz. portions (preferably chuck eye roll)
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 3 ounces vegetable oil
• 1 pound turnips, cut into 1-inch pieces
• ¼ pound yellow onion, medium dice
• ¼ pound peeled carrots, medium dice
• ¼ pound celery, medium dice
• 1 ½ gallons beef stock
• 2 bay leaves
• ½ teaspoon ground cloves
• 6 cloves fresh garlic
• 1 ounce soy sauce
• 2 ounces Dijon mustard
• 4 ounces cornstarch
• 4 ounces chopped sweet pickles

Method

• Season the beef with salt and pepper. Heat the vegetable oil in a stockpot on the stove and sear the meat on all sides.
• Add the rest of the ingredients except for the soy sauce, mustard, cornstarch, and pickles.
• Bring it all to a boil; once boiling, turn the heat down to a low setting and cover. Let cook slowly until the meat is almost fall-apart tender, 2-3 hours. Turn off and leave on stove.
• Take half the stock the beef was cooked in and strain. Whisk together the soy sauce, mustard, and strained stock in a small saucepot over medium heat. Add the cornstarch and bring to a slow boil; cook until gravy is slightly thick. Add the cooked beef and plate with the turnips it was cooked with.
• Ladle 2-3 ounces of gravy over each piece and top with chopped pickles.

Eagle Tavern, Greenfield Village / THF1918

Want to learn more about Eagle Tavern? Look below for links to blog posts, Innovation Nation segments, and artifact records.

• Artifact Record: Eagle Tavern
• Plan Your Visit
• Creating the Eagle Tavern Dining Experience
• The Henry Ford’s Innovation Nation: 1850s Dining Experience at Eagle Tavern
• 1988 Eagle Tavern Cookbook

• Maple Bourbon Sour
• Mint Iced Tea
• Stone Wall
• Cherry Effervescing
• Mint Julep
• Lemon & Ginger Shrub

Dig Deeper

• Greenfield Village Building Makeovers
• Meet Calvin Wood
• Drinking at Eagle Tavern
• Root Vegetables, Now & Then
• Behind the Bar at Eagle Tavern

Lish Dorset is Marketing Manager, Non-Admission Products, at The Henry Ford.

making, Michigan, recipes, food, restaurants, by Lish Dorset, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, Eagle Tavern

Accidental Toy Inventions

May 4, 2022 Archive Insight

Accidents happen—and not all have a bad outcome. Sometimes they launch loads of fun, like these classic toys that delight us as kids.

Slinky

Advertisement for Slinky, "Insist on Slinky Toys," 1957 / THF109573


Slinky, 1970-1980 / THF309090

In 1942, marine engineer Richard James of Philadelphia was working on a sensitive marine meter designed to monitor horsepower on naval battleships. His quest? To develop an inner spring that would assure that the device—even if rocked at sea—would give an accurate reading. As James worked, he accidentally knocked one of the rejected prototypes off his desk. The spring hit the ground—then kept spiraling, coil by coil, over the office floor!

This unexpected response intrigued James, who immediately realized that it would make a great toy. For several years he tested various metals, thicknesses, and proportions to come up with the perfect design. His wife, Betty, came up with the perfect name—Slinky. Then James began to sell his Slinkys in local stores. But people weren’t buying.

Clearly customers needed to be shown what a Slinky could do. Richard and Betty James, determined to find success, convinced the Gimbels department store to let them do an in-store demonstration. James had arranged with a local machine ship to manufacture 400 Slinkys—98 coils of high-grade, blue-black Swedish steel piled 2 ½ inches high. Armed with a small set of stairs, the Jameses set out for Gimbels with their Slinkys. As the department store’s curious customers looked on, the Slinky gracefully moved down the stairs. Within minutes, the entire stock of 400 had sold.

Slinkys look simple—but they are actually quite intricate. The original dark steel was later replaced with a silver-colored steel. And, while Slinkys now come in colored plastic, the classic Slinky has remained virtually unchanged.

There’s something rather lifelike about a Slinky, whether walking down some stairs or a sloped board, or shuffling back and forth between one’s hands. And the sound of a Slinky in motion—quite melodious. I have fond childhood memories of a Slinky gliding coil over coil down our stairs—each move punctuated by that distinctive Slinky “snap”—as my siblings and I looked on mesmerized by its flowing passage. How did it know how to do that?

Silly Putty

Silly Putty, circa 1962 / THF135811

During World War II, the Japanese invasion of the Far East cut off the United States’ rubber supply—rubber badly needed for the mass production of tires and boots. The War Production Board asked General Electric to develop an inexpensive rubber substitute. Chemical engineer James Wright set to work at the company’s New Haven, Connecticut, lab, experimenting with boric acid and silicone oil. Unexpectedly, the two substances gelled. The result was a gooey compound that bounced when tossed on the floor—even higher than rubber did. It stretched farther and retained its properties over a wide temperature range. And oddly enough, it had the ability to lift text or images off the pages of newspapers and comic books. Quite amazing stuff. But the United States War Production Board rejected it as a rubber substitute. And—despite investigation into other possibilities—one seemingly without a practical use.

Silly Putty became a curiosity that made the rounds of New Haven cocktail parties, where it found itself an amusing “guest.” Ruth Fallgatter, who owned a toy store, and Peter Hodgson, her advertising consultant, took notice. Soon, the putty appeared in the store’s holiday catalog as a novelty gift for adults called Bouncing Putty. There was no image, only a description of the product. You guessed it. Bouncing Putty was a huge hit among Fallgatter’s customers.

Fallgatter lost interest in continuing to market the product, but Hodgson persevered. He purchased a large batch of the putty from General Electric, hired Yale students to separate it into one-ounce portions, then packaged it in multicolored plastic eggs. Since “bouncing” didn’t cover everything this remarkable putty could do, Hodgson called it Silly Putty.

Silly Putty’s reception at the 1950 New York Toy Fair didn’t go too well. Hodgson managed to get only a few accounts. One of these was Doubleday bookshops—and that proved to be enough. Silly Putty soon got its “big break” when a staff writer for The New Yorker discovered it when he stopped in the chain’s Manhattan store, then mentioned Silly Putty in the magazine’s popular “Talk of the Town” column. A few days later, Hodgson had orders for over 250,000 items. Since then, the contents of hundreds of millions of Silly Putty eggs have been bounced and stretched by kids and adults alike.

Oh—that thing about Silly Putty not having a practical purpose? Apparently, it does for some. People have used it to clean typewriter keys or level the legs of wobbly tables. Silly Putty even orbited the moon in 1968 with the Apollo 8 astronauts, helping to keep their tools fastened down in the weightless environment.

Like other kids, I would grab Silly Putty and the Sunday comics, then lift an image from the page. At first, I pulled carefully to distort the image in interesting ways. By the end of pulling, the image was so distorted that it was no longer recognizable—then every trace magically disappeared as I kneaded the putty. (I hear this no longer works, since the printing process for color comics has changed.) But perhaps my favorite Silly Putty-related activity was bouncing it—Silly Putty had an energetic, almost otherworldly bounce. And I can’t recall childhood memories of Silly Putty without thinking of the time my sister took it to bed with her. For years afterwards, a perfectly oval Silly Putty stain graced the sheets.

Colorforms

Colorforms Set, Popeye the Weatherman, 1959 / THF135813, THF135805

You’ve heard of starving artist stories. Well, this is one.

In 1951, Harry and Patricia Kislevitz were experimenting with various materials and mediums—preferably of the least expensive sort. A friend who owned a handbag business gave them a large roll of flexible vinyl that he didn’t want. The Kislevitzes discovered that it stuck really well to the semi-gloss paint on their bathroom walls—then proceeded to cut out basic shapes and arrange them artistically. When guests visited, they found vinyl and scissors lying on the bathroom counter, beckoning them to join in. A good time was had by all as everyone added to or rearranged the giant collage!

The Kislevitzes decided to market their idea. They created vinyl pieces in standard geometric shapes and primary colors. Then they packaged them with a sheet of black laminated paperboard. Colorforms caught on! And they soon came in new sets—pieced, die-cut, and screened to look like characters or everyday objects.

A kid could design dinosaurs, dress ballet dancers, or send vinyl superheroes on adventures. Scenes from favorite movies or TV shows like Mary Poppins or Sesame Street were within two-dimensional reach. The possibilities were rich—and less messy, done without scissors, paste, or paint.

My favorite Colorforms in young childhood? A set where you dressed a character for the weather—similar to the Popeye version above.

Play-Doh

Set of Play-Doh, circa 1979 / THF190091

When a New Jersey nursery schoolteacher happened to mention that the modeling clay used by her students was too firm for their small fingers, her brother-in-law took note. Joe McVicker, who was working for his father’s Cincinnati soap and cleaning products company, thought he might have an answer. In the mid-1950s, McVicker formulated a putty-like non-toxic substance and sold it as a wallpaper cleaner. Not only could it be easily shaped, but this compound also stayed soft indefinitely if stored in a tightly sealed container.

McVicker double-checked to assure that it was safe, then mailed some off to his sister-in-law’s school. Kids loved the putty—and so did the teachers. He knew he was on to something.

McVicker contacted the Cincinnati Board of Education, who bought the product for all the kindergartens and elementary schools in the district. Next, the putty made its debut at an educational convention, where it was noticed by the wife of a buyer for the Woodward & Lothrop department store in Washington, DC. After a successful in-store demo there, major retailers like Macy’s and Marshall Field placed their own orders.

By 1956, this wallpaper-cleaner-turned-kid’s-toy became known as Play-Doh. And the company? The family business transformed from Kutol Chemicals—not very kid-friendly—to Rainbow Crafts.

Play-Doh was originally offered only in white. By its second year on the market, it came in an even softer consistency and three colors: red, yellow, and blue—developed by company chemist Dr. Tien Liu. In the early 1980s, pink, purple, green, and orange made playtime with Play-Doh even more colorful. Day-glo and glitter versions would later follow.

What’s Play-Doh modeling compound made of? Apparently, that formula is a closely guarded secret.

I grew up in the red-yellow-blue era. I loved the way mixing these not-quite-primary colors could create other beautiful Play-Doh hues. The only downside? Once mixed and kneaded, you couldn’t return them back into their primary basics.

Super Soaker

Super Soaker 50 Water Gun, 1991-1992 / THF185767

Engineers, businesspeople, artists—and NASA scientists. Accidental toy inventions have landed in toy boxes through these “out of the box” thinkers.

NASA rocket scientist? Yes, that would be Lonnie Johnson and his Super Soaker water gun.

Johnson was passionate about inventing not only at his day job as an engineer working with hundreds of colleagues, but also working on his own inventions in his spare time. In 1982, Johnson was in his home workshop developing an environmentally friendly cooling system. To test his idea of using circulating water and air pressure instead of the chemical Freon, Johnson connected a high-pressure nozzle to his bathroom faucet, aimed the nozzle, turned it on, and then blasted a powerful stream of water into the bathtub. He quickly recognized its potential as a toy—a pressurized water gun that didn’t require batteries and was safe enough for kids to play with!

Johnson quickly produced a prototype using Plexiglas, PVC pipe, a two-liter soda bottle, and other materials. Over the next few years, he continued to make improvements. In 1989, Johnson licensed his design for the Super Soaker to Larami. The company launched the toy in 1990.

Kids loved it! Within two years, the Super Soaker generated over $200 million in sales, becoming the top-selling toy in the United States. Improved versions of the Super Soaker debuted have debuted since then—delighting millions of kids and adults, too.

Johnson didn’t just take his royalty money and retire. It was a means to achieving his real goal—establishing his own research company, Johnson Research & Development Co., where Johnson develops innovative technology.

You can see more artifacts related to Slinky, Colorforms, Play-Doh, and Super Soaker, as well as hundreds of other toys, in our Digital Collections.


Jeanine Head Miller is Curator of Domestic Life at The Henry Ford. 

engineering, making, inventors, popular culture, by Jeanine Head Miller, toys and games

The Henry Ford’s Innovation Nation: 200 Episodes and Counting

April 27, 2022 Innovation Impact, Archive Insight

This week, we are happy to celebrate the 200^th episode of our television show, The Henry Ford’s Innovation Nation! In honor of this milestone, we wanted to share some fun trivia that even our superfans might not know, reveal some of the behind-the-scenes work that goes into the show, and point viewers to additional resources to allow them to further explore the buildings, artifacts, and stories shared on each and every episode.

When did The Henry Ford’s Innovation Nation first air?

Patricia Mooradian, President & CEO of The Henry Ford, first announced the new show on June 4, 2014. The very first episode aired on CBS that fall: September 27, 2014.

What was featured on the very first episode?

The first episode featured a special steering wheel to prevent distracted driving, the ways in which drones are becoming part of our everyday lives, micro windmills, and The Henry Ford’s own Menlo Park Laboratory, where Thomas Edison once worked. Check out the trailer for the first episode below—or watch the whole episode for free (and without an account) on PlutoTV.

Continue Reading

TV, by Ellice Engdahl, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford, The Henry Ford's Innovation Nation

Great Lakes Water Quality

April 15, 2022 Archive Insight

"Pulpit Rock on Presque Isle," Lake Superior near Marquette, Michigan, 1898. / THF118818

The border between the United States and Canada runs through four of the five lakes that constitute the world’s largest freshwater system—the Great Lakes. Policy makers on both sides of this fluid border have agreed to protect access and use of these bodies of water and their bays, arms, and inlets for more than 100 years.


View from the Harbor, Petoskey, Michigan, circa 1906. / THF118856

In the Boundary Waters Treaty of May 5, 1909, the United States and Great Britain (speaking for its Dominion of Canada) agreed to ensure free access and shared use of the navigable waterways. This sustained lucrative transportation and trade networks that the locks at Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, helped facilitate.


Photochrom Print, "The Locks, Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan," 1905. Ships moved between Lake Superior and Lake Huron via these locks. / THF113687

The Boundary Waters Treaty of 1909 also stressed the shared responsibility for protecting water quality. Specifically, the United States and Great Britain “agreed that the … boundary waters … shall not be polluted on either side to the injury of health or property on the other” (Article IV).


Man Drinking from Flowing Well, Wequetonsing, Michigan, circa 1906. / THF119004

Increased populations, however, created problems that the partners had to solve. The treaty called for a six-person International Joint Commission (IJC) to mediate or investigate issues that arose. When cholera outbreaks increased in 1912, the IJC launched a comprehensive study of the boundary waters. Research conducted over five years confirmed that untreated water polluted with raw sewage carried bacteria that caused cholera and typhoid. Findings affirmed transnational responsibility for protecting public health and drew attention to the need for communities to ensure drinking water purity. You can read the final report from 1918 here. And this work continues, as “The Great Lakes Water Quality Centennial Study – Phase 1 Report” (2021) underscores.

Industrial pollution, especially the release of manufacturing waste into boundary waters, further increased the sense of urgency to maintain Great Lakes water quality.


View from Incline Railway, Duluth, Minnesota, circa 1908. / THF119376

Beautiful postcards, like this illustration of the bridge over the Mackinac Straits, could not compete with the evidence of growing Great Lakes degradation.


Postcard, Mackinac Straits Bridge, circa 1957 / THF144098

Growing public concern over industrial pollution found an outlet in Earth Day, April 22, 1970. That same year, the IJC released a report that stressed the “grave deterioration of water quality” in the Great Lakes, drawing on the Boundary Waters Treaty of 1909 as precedent for reaffirming the rights and obligations of both parties to not pollute boundary waters. 

On April 15, 1972, representatives from Canada and the United States signed the Agreement on Great Lakes Water Quality. The two countries pledged to restore and enhance water quality in the Great Lakes. This included general objectives to keep the boundary waters free from substances that result from human activity and that might negatively affect aquatic life or waterfowl, be toxic or harmful to humans, or create a nuisance, including concentrations that could encourage aquatic weeds or algae. The agreement also itemized specific water quality objectives and targets around controlling phosphorus and monitoring vessel design, construction, and operation, as well as vessel waste and other forms of shipping pollution. It specified procedures for handling polluted dredged spoil (the waste material produced by dredging) and discharge of pollutants into boundary waters. You can read this 1972 agreement here.

April 15, 2022, marks the 50^th anniversary of this transnational agreement to protect the Great Lakes ecosystem. The IJC continues to function as established in the Boundary Waters Treaty of 1909. You can read more about how the IJC links the ongoing transnational work to your life here.


Mission Point and Arnold Dock, Mackinac Island, Michigan, circa 1905. / THF114337

And if you find yourself in the boundary waters, recognize the long-term investment in Great Lakes environmental sustainability that helps protect those waters today.


Debra A. Reid is Curator of Agriculture and the Environment at The Henry Ford.

Michigan, environmentalism, by Debra A. Reid

Walt Disney Visits The Henry Ford

April 14, 2022 Archive Insight, Think THF

Walt Disney spent years imagining his ground-breaking entertainment venue, Disneyland, before it opened in 1955. Disney found inspiration for this remarkable theme park from many people and places.

Walt Disney (1901–1966) spent his most memorable childhood years in Marceline, Missouri, leaving him with a great fondness for small town America. Disney's early passion for cartoon drawing and humor blossomed in 1928 with his first major success, the Mickey Mouse animated cartoon character. By the 1930s, Disney headed a thriving motion picture studio making animated cartoons and live action movies. He explained his interest in developing a theme park to his biographer, Bob Thomas:

“It all started when my daughters were very young, and I took them to amusement parks on Sunday. I sat on a bench eating peanuts and looking around me. I said to myself, why can't there be a better place to take your children, where you can have fun together? Well, it took me about fifteen years to develop the idea.”

While on business trips and family vacations, Disney visited not only amusement parks, but also fairs, expositions, tourist attractions, and zoos to further his vision of creating an extraordinary family leisure experience. One of these places was Greenfield Village, which Walt Disney visited several times during the 1940s.


Walt Disney Posing in the Greenfield Village Tintype Studio, 1940 / THF109756

Walt Disney paid his first visit to Greenfield Village on April 12, 1940. William B. Stout, an industrial designer best known for the Ford Tri-Motor airplane and the aerodynamic Scarab car, served as Disney's escort as he toured Henry Ford's historical village and museum. The Greenfield Village Journal, a daily administrative report, described Disney’s visit that day:

“Walt Disney, creator of the world-famous movie character, Mickey Mouse, visited the Village and Museum today. He showed great interest in everything mechanical, examining engines and old autos closely. He had a good time with Mr. Tremear while posing for a tin-type. In the Museum Theater he spoke for a few moments to the school children. He was accompanied by Mrs. Disney, and by Ben Sharpsteen, his chief animator. Wm B. Stout was his host.”


Walt Disney Shows Harriet Bennett How to Draw Mickey Mouse during a Visit to Henry Ford Museum, April 12, 1940 / THF118884

During Disney's tour, he stopped at the Tintype Studio to pose for photographer Charles Tremear, autographing one of his tintypes for display there. Disney also spent a few minutes talking with students from the Greenfield Village Schools, who had gathered in the museum's theater to greet him. (Henry Ford established a school system in his museum and village complex several years before his historical enterprise was formally opened to the public in 1933.) Ford Motor Company photographer George Ebling—who was often asked to take personal photographs for Henry Ford—captured images of Disney's delightful visit with the students.


Walt Disney and Family Visiting Henry Ford Museum, August 1943 / THF130871, THF130883, THF119434

On August 20, 1943, Disney again visited Henry Ford Museum. He; his wife, Lillian; and their daughter, Diane, posed for photographs with examples of some of the historical modes of transportation displayed there. Disney’s joyful, childlike expression embodies the experience he hoped to create for families visiting what would come to be Disneyland.

Walt Disney came back to Greenfield Village five years later, on August 23, 1948. Disney and one of his animators, Ward Kimball—who shared Disney's longtime fascination with railroads—had traveled to Chicago to attend the Railroad Fair. They decided to take a side trip to Greenfield Village. During the visit to Greenfield Village, Disney once again made a stop at the Tintype Studio, where he and Kimball were photographed by tintypist Charles Tremear.


Walt Disney and Ward Kimball Posing in the Greenfield Village Tintype Studio, 1948 / THF109757

By the late 1940s, Disney's ideas for a themed entertainment park had progressed substantially. On the train ride back to California, he shared his ideas with Kimball, then summarized them in a memo dated August 31, 1948. An excerpt of this memo seems to echo aspects of Greenfield Village: “The Main Village, which includes the Railroad Station, is built around a village green or informal park … Around the park will be built the town. At one end will be the Railroad Station; at the other end, the Town Hall…”

When Disneyland opened in Anaheim, California, in 1955, it quickly captured the public’s imagination. In his innovative theme park, Walt Disney drew inspiration from his many interests and experiences to create an entirely new kind of family entertainment. To learn more, check out this blog post!


This post by Cynthia Read Miller, former Curator of Photography and Prints at The Henry Ford, originally ran in September 2005 as part of our Pic of the Month series. It was reformatted for the blog by Saige Jedele, Associate Curator, Digital Content, at The Henry Ford.

photographs, popular culture, by Saige Jedele, by Cynthia Read Miller, Henry Ford Museum, Greenfield Village, Disney

Reading an Artifact: The Reconstructed Detroit Central Market Vegetable Shed

April 13, 2022 Archive Insight

The vegetable shed from Detroit Central Market, opening this week in Greenfield Village, provides the perfect opportunity to be a building detective! You can practice your powers of observation as you explore this open-sided structure. In the process, you can become a more informed observer of the built environment around you.

The following highlights should whet your appetite to learn more about this “shed.” Originally, it sheltered vendors who helped feed hungry Detroiters for more than 30 years, from April 1861 to February 1894. Then it spent 110 years on the upper end of Belle Isle sheltering horses, operating as a public riding stable, and as a storage facility for the City of Detroit. The Henry Ford acquired it in 2003, saving it from demolition. Then, between 2003 and 2021, we conducted research and raised funds to reconstruct it in Greenfield Village. Now you can explore the reconstructed Detroit Central Market shed starting its new life in the heart of Greenfield Village.

Is This Building a Reconstruction?

Rudy Christian, a traditional timber-frame expert and principal of Christian & Son, Inc., describes the Detroit Central Market shed as a reconstruction. He bases this on his experiences dismantling the structure in 2003, advocating for use of original materials and prepping the timber-frame elements, and reassembling the roof system during reconstruction in Greenfield Village during 2021.

The Secretary of the U.S. Department of the Interior (DOI) first defined “reconstruction” in 1978 as “the act or process of reproducing by new construction the exact form and detail of a vanished building, structure, or object, or a part thereof, as it appeared at a specific period of time” (Federal Register, Vol. 43, No. 236, December 7, 1978, page 57251). You can read more about the DOI’s standards for the treatment of historic buildings and landscapes here, including more about reconstruction and the other three standards: preservation (when the property retains distinctive materials and thus conveys historic significance without extensive repair or replacement), restoration (removal of features to return a property to an appearance of a particular time in the past), and rehabilitation (retention of a property’s historic character, but modifications may occur given ongoing use).

What Percentage of the Building Is Original?

The Detroit Central Market vegetable shed, while “new construction,” is authentic because of the significant percentage of original material incorporated into the reconstruction. Fifty percent of the columns (16 of 32) are original. The 16 originals are distinctive because of acanthus-leaf details on the bases, a spiral design, and capitals onto which cast S-scroll leaf ornaments are mounted.


Architectural S-scroll leaf ornament from the Detroit Central Market, 1860. / THF177806

These original cast-iron columns, however, are brittle. It is impossible to calculate their tensile strength—that is, the maximum stress that the cast iron can stand when being stretched or pulled before breaking. Modern code requires structural materials to meet tensile-strength specifications. This posed a significant challenge.

How Can We Meet Modern Building Codes with an Historic Structure?

The facilities team at The Henry Ford contracted with O’Neal Construction, Inc., of Ann Arbor, Michigan, on the reconstruction of the Detroit Central Market building. They were involved in all phases of the planning process and oversaw reconstruction from 2021 to its completion. The team considered different options to support the building, but ultimately selected an innovative solution that exceeds code requirements. In effect, the solution involved flipping the structural support upside down.


Alec Jerome, Director of Facilities at The Henry Ford, explaining the invisible framing system that anchors the vegetable shed on August 26, 2021. / Screenshot from THF Conversations: A Market Shed in its 160th Year

Ensuring guest safety required construction of an underground “moment frame” that anchors the structure and prevents it from acting like a huge umbrella on a windy day. The above screenshot shows the system of rebar that runs between the 48-inch-deep footers. The footers extend up to octagonal bases, or piers. These footers also accommodate modern infrastructure—specifically, electrical conduit that runs underground and up into the piers. All 32 columns are attached to the individual piers with anchor bolts, but 16 of the 32 columns are steel and specially designed extensions of the moment frame. As a whole, the moment frame ensures that the structure will remain on the ground and standing in perpetuity.


The entrance that originally faced north on April 10, 2022, now behind Hanks Silk Mill in Greenfield Village. There are original columns at both sides of the side-entrance gable, but rows of specially designed columns, integral to the moment frame, visible to both the left and right of this side-entrance. / Photograph by Debra A. Reid

The 16 new columns are distinctive from the originals in several ways. They are smooth, not spiral. They have fluted gussets (brackets) at the top, instead of capitals. Finally, they are larger in diameter than the originals. These distinctions make clear which columns are original and which are not, to inform guests of the innovation required to ensure their safety.

How Does the New Footprint Compare to the Original?

What was originally the west entrance, now facing State Street in Greenfield Village, on April 10, 2022, with original columns as well as additional columns installed in two rows in front of the structure. This gives guests a better impression of the original building footprint, though an additional eight columns would be required to mimic the full original size of 11 bays and 242 feet in length. / Photograph by Debra A. Reid

The reconstructed vegetable shed is 7/11ths as long as the original. Why 7/11ths? The original structure was three bays wide by eleven bays long. A bay is the space between architectural elements. You can see the eleven bays visible on the south side of the structure in the detail below from a late-1880s photograph—five bays from the east-facing entrance to the south-facing entrance, with that entrance bay being the sixth bay, and then five bays beyond it to the west-facing entrance (less easy to see given the perspective). The Central Market building towers in the distance.


Detail of the vegetable shed from the Detroit Central Market, circa 1888. / THF200604

The reconstructed Detroit Central Market vegetable shed in Greenfield Village includes only seven of the eleven original lengthwise bays—three on each side of the side-entrance bay. Thus, the reconstruction is 7/11ths the length of the original. Jim McCabe, former collections manager and buildings curator at The Henry Ford, deserves credit for this specification, as he spent nearly two decades working on the project between 2003 and 2022.

The reconstruction is true to the width of the original, three bays total—one on each side of the central entrance, which is also a bay. You can see these bays most clearly in this July 6, 2021, photograph below, showing columns in place and the roof structure in process.


Detroit Central Market reconstruction in process on July 6, 2021, showing the three-bay width and the seven-bay length. / Photograph by Debra A. Reid

How Much of the Timber-Frame Roof Is Original?

The timber-framing system is clearly visible inside the structure. Just walk in and look up! Approximately 80% of the original old-growth white pine was reused in the reconstruction. This resulted from careful detective work during the quick dismantling process.

The Henry Ford contracted with Christian & Son, Inc., to number and measure the original structural and decorative woodwork elements, photograph them, and prep the material for storage. Then we contracted with Jeff DuPilka and West Shore Services, Inc., to disassemble the structure. West Shore, Christian & Son, and staff from The Henry Ford accomplished this in 10 to 12 weeks during the summer of 2003.

Woodwork in one of four outside corners, original to the vegetable shed at Detroit Central Market and still intact after it served as the riding stable at Belle Isle, Detroit, Michigan (photographed in 2003). / THF113493

Christian & Son, Inc., documented all original wooden elements, including those in the section of the building that was fire-damaged due to a car wreck (visible in the photograph below). They believed that documenting the whole required documentation of all parts, so they took as much care tagging, measuring, and dismantling this burned section as they did with the other sections. In fact, timbers from the charred section were reused in the reconstruction and are visible on the exterior of the originally east-facing entrance (the entrance now facing the Detroit Toledo & Milwaukee Roundhouse in Greenfield Village).


West Shore Services, Inc., crane in action, removing a piece of the original timber-frame roof system from the former riding stable (and originally the Detroit Central Market vegetable shed) on Belle Isle, Detroit, Michigan, 2003. / THF113575

What Are Some Notable Details?

The reconstruction of the Detroit Central Market vegetable shed in Greenfield Village includes ornamental woodwork throughout. The following rendering by architecture firm Quinn Evans itemizes seven distinctive brackets, each designed for a specific location in the building, and one “drop,” an accessory at all four gable entrances and used with the decorative fascia along the eaves.

Decorative wood details of the Detroit Central Market vegetable shed, prepared by Quinn Evans, Ann Arbor, Michigan, for The Henry Ford. / Courtesy of The Henry Ford’s facilities team

These decorative elements were all hand-carved during the original construction in 1860. Not all of the decorative elements survived the move to Belle Isle. The elaborate crests atop each of the four gable entrances on the Detroit Central Market vegetable shed, for example, were not included when it served as the horse shed on Belle Isle, as the illustration of it in Seventy Glimpses of Detroit indicates. Missing pieces were replicated to complete the structure’s appearance during its heyday as a public market.


Jim Johnson, Director of Greenfield Village & Curator of Historic Structures and Landscapes at The Henry Ford, starting to inventory architectural elements from the Detroit Central Market vegetable shed not used in the reconstruction, February 8, 2022. / Photograph by Debra A. Reid

What Style Is the Building?

Each of the ornamental elements was part of a stylistic whole that the reconstruction faithfully conveys. If it reminds you of a Swiss chalet, you have an astute eye for style. John Schaffer, the architect, trained in Munich, Bavaria, and incorporated Schweizerstil (Swiss-chalet style) details into his plans, drafted in 1860. Thus, this structure likely introduced that aesthetic to Detroiters. His plans included gently sloping gabled roofs with wide eaves, large brackets, and decorative fretwork, all details common to Swiss-style architecture. Additional Swiss features included sawtooth siding, scroll-sawn fascia, and the elliptical design of the siding at each gable-end.

The Detroit Central Market vegetable shed has so much to teach. Learning to read the details of this addition to Greenfield Village is an important first step on the journey. Learn even more by checking out additional blog posts and artifacts related to Detroit Central Market.


Debra A. Reid is Curator of Agriculture and the Environment at The Henry Ford. Comments from Rachel Yerke, Curatorial Assistant at The Henry Ford, improved this post.

Additional Readings:

• Farmers Market
• Bring the Detroit Central Farmers Market to Greenfield Village
• Detroit Central Market Coming to Life
• Greenfield Village Reopens for 2022 Season April 16 with First Permanent Addition in More Than 20 Years

#Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford, collections care, making, design, Michigan, Detroit, Detroit Central Market, by Debra A. Reid, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village

The Hidden Painting of Robert Frost Home

April 12, 2022 Archive Insight, Think THF

The same painting, after conservation. / Photo by Marlene Gray

It is that time again, as Greenfield Village opens this week for another exciting season! While you were away, staff at The Henry Ford have been busily cleaning and repairing objects throughout the village buildings. During the winter months, conservation staff move artifacts in need of repair back to our labs for a bit of TLC. Some of these objects are on full display while others hardly ever get the spotlight. One of the latter objects is a painting rarely seen by visitors.


View of Robert Frost Home with the parlor on the right. / THF1883

Within the Porches and Parlors district of Greenfield Village is the home of American poet Robert Frost. Originally located in Ann Arbor, Michigan, the house was moved to the village by Henry Ford in the 1930s. As you enter the house, a parlor is on the immediate right. If you look inside on the left, you will see a frame on the wall. There hangs a portrait of a woman, “Lady in a Lace Bonnet.” During routine maintenance, our dedicated clean team noticed the painting had some paint losses, which you typically find with old paintings. The paint losses at the top and bottom of the painting were the most obvious. These types of losses can occur when the painting is roughly handled during framing.


Image courtesy of clean team member Teresa McCloud, who noted the damage.

Conservation staff then brought the artwork to the lab to give this hidden painting some much needed attention. Once the painting was removed from the frame, the next step was a good cleaning. Paintings trap abrasive dust and debris, both on the canvas behind and the painted surface. After vacuuming to remove the larger debris, a very mild cleaning agent was used to remove the surface grime collected over the years. What a drastic change that made!


Grime cleaning, with right side cleaned. / Photo by Marlene Gray

Still, the portrait had a yellow tint, visible in the sitter’s face, which is a tell-tale sign of an aged varnish. Various solvents were tested to see what worked best at removing the old varnish, and we selected one that did not cause harm to the paint surface. After the varnish was removed, the portrait looked much brighter and fresher.


Varnish removal, with left side cleaned. / Photo by Marlene Gray

Once our lady was cleaned, it was time to tackle the paint losses. Color-matching the surrounding paint is tricky and takes patience to get right, but when we do, it is so rewarding to see the complete image. Last but certainly not least, a new coat of varnish with stabilizers that resist the harmful effects of ultraviolet radiation was added to protect the painting from light from the window on the other side of the parlor.

After securing the painting back inside the frame (being sure not to scratch the surface), we whisked it back to Frost home, tucked into its “hidden” spot. Now you know what hangs on the wall, and you may even be able to get a little peek from outside the parlor window on your next visit. The lady will be happy to show off her fresh appearance!


“Lady in a Lace Bonnet” returned home. / Photo by Marlene Gray


Marlene Gray is Senior Conservator at The Henry Ford.

collections care, conservation, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford, by Marlene Gray, art, paintings

Preserving the Heart of the Village: Restoring Ackley Covered Bridge

April 11, 2022 Archive Insight

Guests visiting Greenfield Village in the spring of 2001 encountered a newly transformed Ackley Covered Bridge. The landmark structure—one of the most recognizable, most photographed sites on the grounds—had been completely repaired and restored. While the bridge’s resurrection may have seemed to have happened miraculously, it was—as with all our restoration efforts—the result of meticulous planning and careful completion of a well-defined project.

Originally constructed in 1832 in southwestern Pennsylvania, the single-span, 80-foot bridge’s design dates back to 16^th-century Italy and was adapted in a uniquely American way in the early 1800s. It is referred to as a multiple kingpost truss: a series of upright wooden posts, with all braces inclined from the abutments and leaning towards the center of the “kingpost.”

Ackley Covered Bridge was originally a community project, built by more than 100 men on land owned and with materials donated by brothers Daniel and Joshua Ackley. By the mid-1930s, it had fallen into serious disrepair, and when a modern bridge was constructed to replace it, the granddaughter of one of the builders purchased the hundred-year-old Ackley structure for about $25 and donated it to Henry Ford.


Views of Ackley Covered Bride on Wheeling Creek near West Finley, Pennsylvania, 1937. Browse more photos of the bridge on its original site in our Digital Collections. / THF235241, THF132888, THF235221

Simple and classic in its construction, the bridge was dismantled at its original location in late 1937 and shipped by rail to Dearborn. Modifications were made to ensure its longevity, and a number of basic preservation chores were undertaken in the six months between its arrival and the completion of reconstruction in July 1938. (You can view photos of the bridge’s reconstruction and dedication in our Digital Collections.)


Ackley Covered Bridge after reconstruction in Greenfield Village, June 30, 1938. / THF625902

“Even in the 1930s, the Ackley Covered Bridge was clearly an architectural treasure, and Ford and his designers knew its importance and placed it at the heart of the Village,” said Lauren B. Sickels-Taves, architectural consultant for the restoration project. The bridge was back in its prime, spanning a pond designed specifically for it.


Taking photographs near Ackley Covered Bridge in Greenfield Village, 1958. / THF625878

“Unfortunately, the pond was standing rather than flowing water, and the water level had the ability to rise and fall,” she said. “The chords and four end trusses of the bridge (basically, its feet) were exposed to extreme wet/dry cycles, and rot was imminent. By 1974 the bridge was structurally unsound, and dangerous.”

While repairs were undertaken then, nothing was done to regulate the level of the pond, and by the spring of 1999, one truss end was found to be rotting. Closer examination revealed that the bridge was once again structurally unsafe.

Alec Jerome, then part of the facilities management team he now leads at The Henry Ford, was designated as project leader to bring Ackley Covered Bridge back to stability. David Fischetti, a historical structural engineer from North Carolina with a background in covered bridges, was brought in to develop a plan to properly restore the bridge, and Arnold Graton of New Hampshire, one of the country’s leading covered bridge timberwrights, was selected to lead the stabilization and restoration work.

“First,” said Jerome, “the pond had to be drained to expose areas that needed repair. The conditions that we discovered led to some serious revisions in our original project plan—every beam touching the ground was rotting and needed to be replaced.”


Views showing restoration of Ackley Covered Bridge in Greenfield Village, September and October 2000. / THF628587, THF628611, THF628525

The dry rot portion of the original trusses was removed and new support beams were spliced on. The refurbished trusses were then seated on stainless steel plates to prevent moisture from wicking up into the wood. Also, a turnbuckle system was implemented in the upper beams of the bridge, which had become separated over time, to ensure stability. Many of the connectors holding the bridge beams together were replaced, and ultimately a bolster was laid to eliminate any conditions that would promote rot in the floor beams and allow that devastating wet/dry cycle of rot to begin again.

“Our main concerns were the extensive amount of rot over and above the original expectations, the short time period between Village programs in which we had to complete the work, and weather conditions getting in our way,” Jerome said. Work began the day after Old Car Festival in September, and lasted through the day before the start of the evening program, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, the second week of October. “The project could not have been completed without the assistance of the Museum’s carpentry department and our welder,” Jerome said. “These people assisted with every facet of this restoration.” See more photographs from the restoration project in our Digital Collections.

According to conservator Sickels-Taves, research determined that Ackley Covered Bridge was the oldest multiple kingpost truss bridge and the sixth-oldest covered bridge in the nation. While the cost of its restoration after a century and a half of decline was substantial, its preservation for the future was priceless—without such key commitments of resources, important structures like Ackley Covered Bridge would be lost forever. “The bridge is unquestionably important,” Sickels-Taves said. “We should be proud, and not hesitate to brag that we are the steward of one of the earliest forms of original American architecture.”


A version of this post originally ran in the Spring/Summer 2001 issue of The Henry Ford’s former publication, Living History. It was edited for the blog by Saige Jedele, Associate Curator, Digital Content, at The Henry Ford.

roads and road trips, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, collections care, by Saige Jedele, Ackley Covered Bridge, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford

Alert Hose Company of Big Rapids, Michigan

April 8, 2022 Archive Insight

Unidentified Member of Alert Hose Company. / THF212048

Sometime during the late 1870s, members of the Alert Hose Company in Big Rapids, Michigan, posed for the local photographer. Arms crossed and standing tall, each of the firefighters wears a uniform—typical of those worn when competing in a local or regional firemen's tournament. The men had won several tournament prizes by the time they posed for these photographs—perhaps the prize money helped pay for the cartes-de-visite that became a remembrance of the company's victory. But these images offer more than just a glimpse at the Alert Hose Company's participation in a sporting event. They document the culmination of the company's years of hard work protecting Big Rapids against the ravages of fire, the pride in their company and their community, and their connection with the greater fraternity of 19^th-century firefighters.

Fires in Big Rapids

Big Rapids, located in Mecosta County, Michigan, was incorporated in 1869. Like many 19^th-century cities, it was susceptible to fire. The wood used to construct early homes and businesses offered ready fuel to the flames of an unwatched candle or lamp or a stray ember from a stove or fireplace. According to the 1883 Mecosta County history [p. 645], "Big Rapids has been a sufferer from fire at various times… The first fire of any consequence in the place was… in the year 1860." It was not any better in 1869 when another disastrous fire occurred [p. 645]: "No water supply or engines for extinguishing fires were here at that time, and common pails or buckets were the only appliance afforded. Lines of men were formed to supply water with buckets from wells in the vicinity, and even from the river, but without avail. The Mason House... was only saved by tearing down a small building [nearby] belonging to Harwood & Olds, and then hanging carpets and bed-clothes from the roof and windows, and keeping them saturated with water."

Finally, in 1871, men in Big Rapids organized volunteer fire companies, and the citizens and the city government discussed creating a local water supply for fire protection and private use.


Unidentified, Charles Gore, Jack Shaw, and W. E. Drew. / THF212050, THF212054, THF212056, THF212058

Volunteer Fire Companies in Big Rapids

Volunteer firefighters needed to work as a unit when it came time to fight a fire. Nineteenth-century fire companies usually consisted of men from similar class divisions, backgrounds, or ethnic groups and kinships. This sense of fraternity cemented the unit's cohesion. The camaraderie and kinship of fighting fires and their unique status as protectors in the community bound the firefighters together.

The Alert Hose Company was one of several volunteer firefighting companies to organize in Big Rapids in the early 1870s. The volunteers' job was to get to a burning structure as quickly as possible—pulling a hose cart or carriage—and attach hoses to an available water source so they could begin controlling the conflagration. By 1876, the growing city of Big Rapids had at least two other hose companies (Defiance and Protection) and the Pioneer Hook and Ladder company. (Hook and ladder companies employed hooks to tear down parts of buildings to limit a fire's spread and ladders to fight fires and rescue individuals in multi-story buildings.)

Little is known about the men who made up the Alert Hose Company, though names written on the back of some of the photographs provide a start. A quick review of census records from 1870 and 1880 and a city directory from 1884 give a few clues about a small subset. They were young working men mostly in their mid-20s and a couple in their 30s, though one was in his late teens. Several were related in some fashion. Their occupations included laborers, clerks, and a drayman (teamster)—none of the known men owned a business, though a few may have owned farms. Being part of the local fire company provided connections to businesses in the community to help guide their careers. A more thorough search of records (outside the scope of this blog) would provide more information on why this group of men came together to form the Alert Hose Company.


Henry Shaw, Charles Ellis, "Zip" Hammond, and Thomas Shaw. / THF212060, THF212062, THF212064, THF212066

Firemen's Tournaments

By the 1870s, fire companies tested their firefighting skills against other companies at various regional, state, and national firemen's tournaments. Local companies usually competed against one another on holidays or community fair days. State and national associations sponsored large competitions and set tournament rules and dates. Companies invited to participate usually competed in hose cart races, hook and ladder competitions, and pumping contests (to see how far a company could spray water from a hose), among other activities.

Training for and participating in firemen's tournaments tested and sharpened a company's firefighting skills, promoted a sense of pride in competition, and strengthened the sense of teamwork and fraternity. Participation in these tournaments by fire companies also engaged the local community. Government officials, business leaders, and ordinary citizens supported fire companies by cheering them on and providing monetary support through donations and prize money. Finally, friendly competitions between local companies broadened the sense of fraternity by creating a larger brotherhood of firefighters.


Arthur Webster, "Louie" Goulette, Angus McLelland, and  Fred Marble. / THF212068, THF212070, THF212072, THF212074

The Alert Hose Company in Tournaments

The men of the Alert Hose Company in Big Rapids, Michigan, began participating in hose cart races at various tournaments in the mid-1870s.  In a hose cart race, a fire company ran a set distance pulling a cart reeled with hoses. Men in the company unwound the hoses, attached them to a water source, and then sprayed water. The fastest time won the prize. A review of articles from the Detroit Free Press highlights the successes of the fire company and the support of its community.

In 1875, the Alert Hose Company (along with the Pioneer Hook and Ladder company) made an appearance at the State Firemen's Tournament held in Jackson, Michigan. Reports mentioned no prizes, but, according to the papers, when they returned home, the men were met "with an enthusiastic reception and dinner[.]" On July 4, 1876, the Big Rapids' firefighting companies competed against one another for prize money. The "Alerts" won the champion belt and a cash prize of $50 offered by the mayor. The other firefighting companies took home lesser amounts funded by the citizens.  The following year at the Mecosta County Fair, the "Alerts" took home a $100 purse in the hose cart race.

A bigger prize awaited in 1878. In September, the "Alerts" headed off to Chicago to compete in a national competition. Their teamwork paid off; they finished second within a long list of competitors. The prize this time was noteworthy—$300 in cash and a nickel-plated hose cart made by Silsby Company of Seneca Falls, New York.  Citizens of Big Rapids turned out to greet their heroes when they returned home.  Evergreens, flags, and banners decorated the local hall, the women of the town prepared a dinner, and, of course, there were speeches. A final mention from this period came in an 1882 article that reported the men of the Alert Hose Company had won a special prize of $10 at the State Firemen's Tournament for the "best appearing company." 

Conclusion

Throughout the 1870s, local fire companies organized in the newly formed city of Big Rapids, Michigan. These volunteer firemen worked to protect their homes and community against the ever-present danger of fire. Each company needed to work as a cohesive unit when fighting flames and smoke. Similar backgrounds, ethnicities, and economic status—and the desire to protect their community—brought these men together. And local and regional firefighters' tournaments provided a way to hone the skills needed to become an effective team. The small images shown here, taken by a local photographer, point to the unity and pride that the men of the Alert Hose Company had in their avocation and the fraternity they represented.

See all 14 members of the Alert Hose Company (including one member not in uniform) in The Henry Ford's Digital Collections here. 


Andy Stupperich is Associate Curator, Digital Content, at The Henry Ford.

19th century, 1870s, 1860s, photographs, Michigan, by Andy Stupperich

Discovering the Secrets of a Suit

April 7, 2022 Archive Insight

Textiles are some of the least durable artifacts that we have in the collections of The Henry Ford. Early textiles are usually made from the “big four”—cotton, linen, silk, and wool. All these materials can disintegrate, be eaten by insects, make homes for mice, and be degraded by mold and mildew. In addition, heat and light affect the color and the integrity of the fabrics. Here at the museum, we are fortunate to have a representative sampling of garments and textiles from the 18^th century to modern times.

What We Know about Our Suit

Even though we don’t know who wore the suit or exactly when, it still directs us to a point in time.

This suit has no known provenance (specific history), having been acquired from Anna Brix, an antiques dealer who lived in Philadelphia. The suit is believed to be French or British, but we have no records linking it to a person or even a family. We don’t know exactly when it was made, but this style lasted through the 18^th century. By comparing it with similar garments, we can agree that it was probably worn for the first time in the late 18^th century. We can tell it is a late-18^th-century jacket because the fit is slim, the front is worn unbuttoned and curves to the back, and overall the cut is shorter than in previous decades. It was likely worn to court, or at least to very formal occasions. A suit such as this would have been worn with a highly decorated waistcoat, silk stockings, a cotton or linen shirt with fancy cuffs, and a jabot (frill or ruffle). The back has dual tails and three vents, making it easier and more stylish to wear when mounted on a horse. The colors are all natural dyes and have held up well with age.


Close-up of embroidery. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

The Making of the Suit Coat

Suits such as this were made to attend court and other high occasions, often mere days before they were needed. Hence, the use of embroidered panels, which reduced the time the tailor needed.


Embroidered panel for a different waistcoat, uncut. / From the collections of Cooper-Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (1962-54-31)

The coat is made of silk taffeta and was embroidered before the suit was made with silk threads using French knots, satin stitch, and stem stitch. Well-to-do men would visit a merchant to select a color and embroidery pattern, often from the shelf. The merchant would then coordinate with a tailor to custom-make the suit. The embroidered fabric, shown in the example above, even included embroidered rounds that would be crafted into fabric covered buttons by the tailor.


Showing cut to shorten jacket at the top right of the pocket. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

The embroidered silk was originally made for a taller man than ours. If you look carefully at the image above, you can see where the embroidery was shortened at pocket height. It is blunt cut—sometimes the embroiderers were brought in to camouflage the adjustment and make it less visible, but not in this case. This is the normal position for a height adjustment, as when the wearer stood with their hands clasped in front of them, the seam was covered.


Embroidery on buttons on back of coat. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

Additional piecing is visible on the back of the garment at the top of the side vents where curved embroidered pieces back the accent buttons.

Discovering the Secrets of the Suit

Being able to look closely at the suit, both inside and out, was a rare treat.


Markings from original button placement are visible above top of cuff; also, the slightly lighter color of silk shows the depth of lengthening. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

Upon closer examination, the outside of the suit tells us even more. The jacket sleeves have been made about two inches longer. There is less wear above the cuff and pin pricks can be seen where the buttons were originally located. It is interesting that the cuffs both show significant wear at the bottom from before and after remodeling.

The knee breeches were refitted to accommodate a larger person. Each side seam was let out, and there, similar to above the coat cuffs, you can see lighter silk with less wear. Finally, the back of the breeches have a wedge of silk inserted to give more room. Small areas of stress at the waist and the drop flap were mended to provide strength, but the breeches are in good condition structurally.

Weighted Silk Is Fragile

Silk has a long and harrowing history, and this suit is a good example of why the use of weighted silk has been greatly reduced in the last century.


Shattered silk at the right shoulder and collar. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

We estimate that the coat was relined in the mid-to-late 1800s, as the lining was shattered throughout because it was made using weighted silk. Then and now, silk was sold by weight. When raw silk is processed, up to 30% of its weight is lost when the sericin (the protein that holds silkworm cocoons together) is cleaned from the tough but delicate fibers. Manufacturers compensate for that loss by adding metal salts to the silk, which adhere to the fabric, causing it to weigh more. What they didn’t know then is that this will forever damage the fabric. Shattered silk cannot be repaired and continues to disintegrate with age. The practice of weighting was regulated by the Federal Trade Commission in 1938 to require labeling of silks containing more than 10% metal salts (15% for silk colored black).

The suit’s shattered lining was in poor condition (see image above) and we decided that it should be replaced with modern, non-weighted silk in a matching color. This also allowed us to see what was inside the garment—where the story continues.

A Rare Treat: Viewing the Inside

Seeing the internal structure produced answers and questions.


A quilt of patches, buckram, and pocket provides insight into the speed with which the coat was made. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

Suits such as these were often hastily made. The outside was sumptuously beautiful with even, neat stitches, but the inside, not so much! The inside would never be seen.

It took many hours to extract the lining from the suit. The stitches that attached the lining to the coat were exceptionally fine and firm. Removing them took small scissors, tweezers, and, at times, a magnifying glass. With the lining separated from the jacket, more interesting things were revealed. It isn’t often that you get to see the original inner-workings of an 18^th-century tailor’s creation (see image above).


Mildew and fibers from wear prior to vacuuming. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

One thing that was immediately noticeable was that the light blotches on the outside of the garment were caused by mildew. At some point, the suit was stored in a humid environment. The mildew was an old problem, since our museum storage is climate controlled, but the residue still had to be removed. Since a liquid cleaner could not be applied to the silk, the inside of the coat was vacuumed through a screen, then a stubby paintbrush was used to lift mildew spores before vacuuming again. This treatment made a noticeable difference in appearance.


Buckram stiffens the inside of the front of the coat. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

Inside we see the use of buckram as a stiffener around the edges of the front, much as interfacing would be used today. Buckram was and is made of a coarse hemp, linen, or cotton fabric. The buckram was pieced, perhaps because it was scraps, or perhaps that was how wide the fabric was. Cream-colored silk had been sewn over the buckram from the pocket level to the collar, possibly to reduce friction between the silk and the stiffening fabric (see below).


The left shoulder linen tow shoulder pad covered with the original silk. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

Linen tow was used as padding to create the sloped shoulder shape popular in the late 18^th century. This linen waste is full of bits of the stem of the flax plant and it has held together and done its job for over 200 years. The tow was—and is—partially covered by the original white silk lining.

A History Mystery

Anytime we deal with historic objects, there are often more questions than answers. It is interesting to try to suss out the “why?” and apply what we know to arrive at possible solutions. However, some mysteries will always remain mysteries.


Squiggles on the right pocket—partially for mending, but they beg the question, why? / Photo by Joan Sheridan

The stitching used inside the coat is often coarse. A larger thread was used to bind seams, keep the shoulder pads in place, and attach silk to the buckram. Inside is a patchwork of fabric. The linen pocket linings revealed another interesting find. Both pockets had holes that were inexpertly darned with a snakelike pattern that continues from the darning. We can surmise that the original wearer of the suit was right-handed because the right pocket is very stained—by tobacco or a handkerchief, perhaps?

Replacing the Lining

The lining adds support to the garment, transferring stress to itself and away from the fragile and elaborate embroidery and construction.


Pattern making from the shattered silk lining. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

Once removed, the fragile lining was separated into pieces to be used for making a new pattern. From the pattern a polyester sample lining was made and fitted into the jacket. Adjustments were noted on the paper pattern and revisions made until it was as close as it could be. Polyester is not a substitute for silk, as it behaves differently, but it did serve a purpose—knowing that the pattern was close enough.


Small tools and thread are less likely to damage the delicate fabric. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

With the modified pattern in hand, the cream silk was cut and sewn in with a few minor modifications. The lining was attached using a long blind stitch, unlike the original whip stitching. Changing the stitch type reduced the number of holes that had to be put into the garment, and fewer stitches mean less damage to the original green fabric.


The finished collar and newly lined coat, before pressing. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

With the body lining sewn in, the neck lining was next. The edge of the collar was quite worn and treatment was required. A piece of bronze tulle (fine netting) was sewn to the outside edge of the collar next to the main body of embroidery, but not over it. It was then stretched over the damaged area and attached to the inside of the collar. The collar lining was cut freehand because the original is in many pieces. Once the lining was in place, the tulle mend became nearly invisible.

Finishing the Work

The sleeves are very of-the-period. They are curved in shape and tell the story of a suit that was worn often and remodeled in its second life. The sleeve remodeling was likely done at the time the lining was replaced in the mid-1800s.


Two levels of wear are evident on the sleeves. / Photo by Joan Sheridan

Conservation Specialist Claire Zimmeth completed the project by mending the sleeves and sewing in the sleeve lining. Since there was damage at the end of the original sleeve length and at the end of the remodeled/current length, it was decided that the entire area should be covered with tulle. Again, the tulle was placed to avoid covering embroidery (see the work-in-progress image below).


Covering the sleeves with tulle (in progress). / Photo by Joan Sheridan

Bringing It All Together

This suit is an excellent example of 18^th-century tailoring, style, color, and embroidery talent. It reminds us that court styles didn’t change much over more than a hundred years and didn’t keep up with the current fashions.

Working on this garment was challenging, mainly in that there is always concern about handling fragile, antique textiles. It was a privilege to work on the suit and be able to explore the history of the suit via the wear, stitches, and inner construction. Even though this jacket has no formal provenance, it still has a story to tell. The suit will be on display in the Fashion and Nature exhibit at the Grand Rapids Public Museum from April 23–July 23, 2022.


Photo by Mary Fahey


Joan Sheridan is Volunteer Textile Specialist at The Henry Ford.

18th century, making, fashion, conservation, collections care, by Joan Sheridan, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford