Postcard, Aerial View of Greenfield Village, 1940 / THF132774

Henry Ford’s idea of re-creating a historic village in Dearborn, Michigan, began to take shape when he restored his own birthplace (1919) and childhood school (1923) on their original sites. In 1926, he proceeded with a plan to create his own historic village, choosing a plot of land in the midst of Ford Motor Company property and beginning to acquire the buildings that would become part of Greenfield Village.

One of Henry Ford’s earliest ideas for Greenfield Village was to have a central green or “commons,” based upon village greens he saw in New England. Ford envisioned a church and town hall flanking the ends of his Village Green. He couldn’t find exactly what he wanted, so he had them designed and built on site in Greenfield Village.

Martha-Mary Chapel

Martha-Mary Chapel / THF1966

The design for Martha-Mary Chapel was based on a much larger Universalist church in Bedford, Massachusetts. It was one of six nondenominational chapels that Ford erected. This was the first and only one built of brick.

Ford named the chapel after his mother, Mary Litogot Ford, and his wife Clara’s mother, Martha Bench Bryant. The Martha-Mary Chapel has been used for wedding ceremonies since 1935, as shown here.


First Wedding Held in Martha-Mary Chapel in Greenfield Village, 1935 / THF132820

The bell up in the tower, likely cast during the 1820s, is attributed to Joseph Revere & Associates of Boston, Massachusetts—a foundry inherited by Joseph from his more famous father, Paul Revere.


Bell, Cast by Joseph Warren Revere, circa 1834 / THF129606

Town Hall

Town halls were the places where local citizens came together to participate in town meetings. Town Hall in Greenfield Village is patterned after New England public meeting halls of the early 1800s.


Town Hall in Greenfield Village, September 2007 (Photographed by Michelle Andonian) / THF54040

These buildings also became gathering places for political elections, theatrical performances, and social events. We have often recreated the types of activities that might have appeared in town halls of the past, such as this 2007 performance.


Ragtime Street Fair in Greenfield Village, July 2007 (Photographed by Michelle Andonian) / THF52067

Scotch Settlement School

Henry Ford also decided he needed a schoolhouse for his Village Green. This one-room school—which he himself attended when he was a boy back in the 1870s—was from the so-called Scotch Settlement in Dearborn Township. Here it is on its original site in 1896.


Group outside Scotch Settlement School at Its Original Site, Dearborn Township, Michigan, 1896 / THF245422

Scotch Settlement School had been one of Henry Ford’s first restoration projects. In 1923, he had restored the school and operated it on its original site as an experimental pre-school—shown here around 1926.


Scotch Settlement School at Its Original Site in Dearborn Township, Michigan, circa 1926 / THF115902

Once in Greenfield Village, this school served as the first classroom for the Edison Institute school system that Henry Ford started in September 1929—an experimental combination of progressive education and “learning by doing.”


Henry Ford with Students outside Scotch Settlement School in Greenfield Village, 1929 / THF96582

Eagle Tavern

Ford thought a historic inn would make a nice addition to his Village Green. In 1927, he purchased this old 1830s-era inn from Clinton, Michigan—shown here on its original site in 1925. Even though this was never its name, he called it Clinton Inn.


Eagle Tavern at Its Original Site, Clinton, Michigan, 1925 / THF237252

Clinton Inn first served as a cafeteria for students attending the Edison Institute schools. When Greenfield Village opened to the public in 1933, it was the starting point for carriage tours. Later, it became a lunchroom for visitors, as shown below.


Visitors Lunching at the Clinton Inn (now Eagle Tavern), Greenfield Village, 1958 / THF123749

When we decided to turn Clinton Inn into a historic dining experience, we undertook new research. We found that a man named Calvin Wood ran this inn in 1850 and called it Eagle Tavern. Today, we recreate the food, drink, and ambience of that era.


Eagle Tavern in Greenfield Village, October 2007 / Photographed by Michelle Andonian / THF54291

You can learn more about Eagle Tavern in this episode of The Henry Ford’s Innovation Nation, this blog post about creating the historic dining experience in Greenfield Village, and this blog post about our research and interpretation of drinking at Eagle Tavern. Also check out this blog post I wrote on how our research changed the interpretation of five Village buildings, including Eagle Tavern.

J.R. Jones General Store

What would a village green be without a general store? The J.R. Jones General Store was originally located in the village of Waterford, Michigan. Here it is on its original site in 1926, just before being moved to Greenfield Village.


J.R. Jones General Store (Just Before the Move to Greenfield Village), Original Site, Waterford, Michigan, 1926 / THF126117

We decided to focus upon the era of James R. Jones, who operated this store from 1882 to 1888. During that time, Jones sold everything from coffee and sugar to fabrics and trims to farm tools and hardware. No wonder it was called a general store!


J.R. Jones General Store in Greenfield Village, September 2007 (Photographed by Michelle Andonian) / THF53762

Check out more content about the J.R. Jones General Store on this episode of The Henry Ford’s Innovation Nation and the related content on our web page.

Logan County Courthouse

This courthouse, from Postville (later renamed Lincoln), Illinois, is not just any courthouse! From 1840 to 1847, Abraham Lincoln was one of several lawyers who practiced law here as part of the 8^th Judicial Circuit. Later, it was a private residence, as shown here about 1900.


Group outside Logan County Courthouse at Its Original Site, Lincoln, Illinois, circa 1900 / THF238618

Lincoln thrived on the judicial circuit—handling all sorts of cases, representing different types of people, and getting to know local residents. All these experiences helped prepare him for his future role as America’s sixteenth president.


Lithograph Portrait of Abraham Lincoln in 1860 / THF11619

To Henry Ford, Abraham Lincoln embodied the ideals of the self-made man. Ford searched for a way to memorialize Lincoln’s accomplishments. When he learned of this courthouse, he obtained it, then had it dismantled and reconstructed on his Village Green.


"First Court House of Logan County Where Abraham Lincoln Practiced Law, Lincoln, Ill.," 1927 Postcard / THF121352

After the courthouse was reconstructed in Greenfield Village, Ford filled the building with Lincoln memorabilia. The chair he subsequently purchased, in which President Lincoln had been assassinated, is visible inside a glass case in this 1954 photograph.


Logan County Courthouse in April 1954, Showing the Abraham Lincoln Chair Then on Exhibit in Greenfield Village / THF121385

Today, this chair can be found in the With Liberty and Justice For All exhibition inside Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation.


Chair Used by Abraham Lincoln at Ford's Theatre, on Exhibit at Henry Ford Museum, June 2007 / THF51751

You can learn more about Abraham Lincoln’s life as a traveling circuit-riding lawyer by checking out this article.

Dr. Howard's Office

This country doctor’s office completes the historic buildings located around the Village Green today. Acquired after Henry Ford’s time, it was moved to this location in 2003.


Dr. Howard's Office / THF1696

Dr. Alonson B. Howard was a country doctor practicing medicine near Tekonsha, Michigan, from 1852 to 1883. Dr. Howard would have attended to everything from pregnancies to toothaches to chronic diseases such as kidney disease and tuberculosis.


Portrait of Dr. Alonson B. Howard, 1865-1866 / THF109611

The building, originally constructed in 1839 as a one-room schoolhouse, was conveniently located in the front yard of the Howard family farm. So, when the school moved to a new building, Dr. Howard took over this building as his office.


Dr. Howard's Office at its original site, Tekonsha, Michigan, March 1956 / THF237140

After Dr. Howard’s death in 1883, his wife Cynthia padlocked the building and there it remained—virtually intact—until removed to Greenfield Village between 1959 and 1961. It opened to the public in 1963.


Interior of Dr. Howard's Office at its original site, Tekonsha, Michigan, March 1956 / THF237188

You can learn more about Dr. Howard’s life and work in this blog post.

Check out The Henry Ford Official Guidebook and Telling America’s Story: A History of The Henry Ford for more about the Village Green and the buildings surrounding it.


Donna R. Braden is Senior Curator and Curator of Public Life at The Henry Ford.

#THFCuratorChat, Scotch Settlement School, J.R. Jones General Store, Henry Ford, Greenfield Village history, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, Eagle Tavern, Dr. Howard's Office, by Donna R. Braden

Eagle Tavern at Its Original Site, Clinton, Michigan, circa 1890 / THF110473

“I am sure the Americans can fix nothing without a drink…. To use their expression, the way they drink, is ‘quite a caution.’”  –Frederick Marryat, A Diary in America (1839)

What Was a 19^th-Century Tavern Like?

Today the term tavern, as well as the now largely British term public house, are understood to be synonymous with the American term bar—places licensed to sell alcoholic beverages. In the mid-19th century, the two former terms denoted places identical to inns or hotels, which provided lodging and food as well as drinks. Regardless of what the establishment was called, its center was surely its barroom—and thus, perhaps, the modern equivalence of the terms tavern, public house, and bar.

Even in a large rural inn such as Eagle Tavern, which had a public sitting or reading room, a formal or ladies' parlor, and a dining room, it was in the barroom where guests registered and paid bills, arranged to board a horse, or booked passage on a public coach. But even more than that, the barroom was a sort of men's community center primarily patronized by local "regulars" to talk about crops and weather, argue about politics, smoke or chew tobacco, play cards, quarrel, and learn about distant goings-on from out-of-town visitors and the newspapers they left behind. Public celebrations such as elections, Independence Day, and other holidays; court sessions; and militia musters turned the barroom into the focus of a town-wide communal binge.


The barroom at Eagle Tavern. Photograph by Michelle Andonian. / THF54347

Drinking in 19^th-Century America

Drinking, of course, was what bound the barroom's clientele together. Alcohol consumption during the early 19th century reached a per capita peak which has never since been duplicated. In 1838, James Logan, a Scottish visitor to Detroit who echoed most other foreign travelers' accounts of the period, wrote:

“Indeed, drinking is carried to a great height both in Canada and in the State of Michigan. No sooner are they out of bed than they call for their bitters, and all day long they drink at brandy, gin, or whiskey, taking, however, only a wine-glass at a time, which they mix in a tumbler with a little sugar and water. Just enough is taken at once to raise the spirits, and when the excitement subsides, the dose is repeated, so that in this way inebriation is avoided, although a great quantity is taken in the course of the day.”


Bond for Tavern Licence in Red Hook, New York, May 3, 1830 / THF148000

A single modern statistical comparison should serve to underscore Logan’s impressions. It has been estimated that in 1830 the average American male above the age of 15 consumed more than 7½ gallons of distilled spirits per year, while today Americans drink about 2½ gallons of liquor per capita per annum. It is perhaps not surprising that the American temperance movement came into being at this time of unparalleled alcohol consumption. As Capt. Frederick Marryat, the English writer, recorded in A Diary in America, published in 1839:

“They say that the English cannot settle anything properly without dinner. I am sure the Americans can fix nothing without a drink. If you meet, you drink; if you close a bargain, you drink; they quarrel in their drink, and they make it up with a drink. They drink because it is hot; they drink because it is cold. If successful in elections, they drink and rejoice; if not, they drink and swear; they begin to drink early in the morning, they leave off late at night; they commence it early in life, and they continue it, until they soon drop into the grave. To use their expression, the way they drink, is ‘quite a caution.' As for water, what the man said, when asked to belong to the Temperance Society, appears to be the general opinion: ‘It's very good for navigation.’”

Beverage Options in Eagle Tavern

What then do we know of what was served in Eagle Tavern's barroom? Whiskey was the beverage of the period. Throughout the upland South and Midwest, whiskey was distilled from a mash composed of a majority of corn and a smaller percentage of other grains. In Pennsylvania and the mid-Atlantic region, rye was the primary grain. Both were straight, unblended spirits. Modern bourbon whiskey and American or Canadian blended whiskey ("rye") are derived from these two beverages. Locally made whiskey was extremely cheap, about $.20 a gallon or $.06 cents a quart.

Rum, the favorite distilled beverage of the 18th century, had declined in popularity (outside of New England) because tariffs on imported spirits, or on the imported molasses necessary to make domestic rum, priced the drink much higher than whiskey. Imported rum from Jamaica and the Virgin Islands (St. Croix) and domestic rum made in Massachusetts were commonly available. Domestic gin, brandy, and fruit brandies were popular. Notable among these was applejack, an apple brandy frequently made in New Jersey. Sweet brandies and cordials were ladies' drinks. Imported Holland gin (often called Geneva), Cognac, Scotch, and Irish whiskey were available but expensive.


The Print "Dance in a Country Tavern" in The Old Print Shop "Portfolio" Catalog, December 1948 / THF148039

In apple-producing regions, hard cider (simply called "cider") was the most popular fermented beverage. Cider was overwhelmingly popular in late 18th- and early 19th-century New England, and its popularity was carried westward into New York and Michigan by migrating Yankees. Cider was cheap to produce but costly to ship, so a 31-gallon barrel ranged in price from $.50 at a country cider mill to $3.00-$4.00 in an Eastern city.

Beer, which would replace cider in popularity after 1850, was more expensive than cider or whiskey. The ale and beer made at the time were top-fermented products similar to the "bitter" served in English public houses today. Modern American beer is a lager beer (fermented at the bottom of a vat and aged in cold storehouses) introduced by German brewers during the 1840s. Popular during the 1850s in cities such as Milwaukee and Cincinnati with large German populations, lager beer became an American national beverage only after the Civil War. The temperance movement, high wartime taxes on whiskey, and the Union Army's practice of serving lager beer rations all contributed to the elevation of its popularity.


When a stagecoach stopped to change horses, the ladies might well choose a temperance beverage while the men ordered more bracing refreshment. / THF120729

Wine drinking was even less widespread than beer drinking. The only domestic wines available in Michigan were made at wineries near Cincinnati, Ohio, from the Catawba grape native to Eastern North America. The sparkling wines made of this grape were praised by European travelers who compared them to fine French champagne. At comparatively high prices, French red Bordeaux (claret), sauternes and champagne, German Rhine wine (hock), and Spanish and Portuguese fortified wines (sherry, Madeira, and port) were available. Tastes in wines overwhelmingly favored sweet rather than dry types.

Tavern Habits

Tavern drinking usually entailed "treating." That meant that each man in turn bought a half-pint of whiskey that was passed around the room. Whiskey was normally consumed in a tumbler with or without ice or water and frequently flavored with one of several kinds of bitters. Generally, sweet, mixed drinks known by names such as cock-tails, juleps, smashes, slings, cobblers, sangarees, punches, stone walls, stone fences, etc., were popular in city hotel barrooms and were thought to be more "refined" and thus more suitable for gentlemen (and ladies) than straight whiskey.


The original 1982 version of a re-created drink list at Eagle Tavern, based on 1850s-era menus. / THF123847

The variety of mixed drinks in 1850 was far more limited than those ingeniously compounded by 20th-century bartenders. But a modern visitor to Eagle Tavern could not be expected to acquire an instant taste for straight corn whiskey. So, in designing our menu, we sought to find 19th-century mixed drinks that were similar in taste to modern drinks. In so doing, we found that the original "cock-tail,” a classic American drink first created in the late 18th century (and supposedly named for the custom of serving it in a glass decorated with rooster feathers), tasted very much like our present-day "Old Fashioned." Similarly, modern visitors to Eagle Tavern find that our "Planter's Punch,” a drink made with rum and citrus juices and first concocted during the 18th century in the British West Indies, is quite comparable in taste to a modern "sour."

Of course, there are also some elements in Eagle Tavern barroom that visitors find amusingly unfamiliar. Most notable among these is the presence of a piece of macaroni in place of a straw or a stirrer in their drink. The reason for this is quite simple. In documenting drinks of the mid-19th century, we found that several, including cobblers and juleps, were invariably served with a straw or "sucker,” as it was often called. Paper straws were not known in 1850, and we were at a loss to understand how we could properly serve such drinks in a 19th-century manner. As fortune had it, the following entry was noticed in an 1848 American dictionary: “Sucker, a tube used for sucking sherry-cobblers. They are made of silver, glass, straw, or sticks of macaroni.” It is little discoveries like this that transform our sometimes dry-as-dust research into an intriguing experience for patrons of Eagle Tavern in Greenfield Village.


Peter H. Cousins is former Curator of Agriculture at The Henry Ford, and led the research into the drinking habits of mid-19th-century Americans for the Eagle Tavern restoration project. This post was adapted from an article in Volume 12, Number 1 of the Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village Herald (1983).

Additional Readings:

• Eagle Tavern Inspiration to Enjoy at Home
  
• Creating the Eagle Tavern Dining Experience
  
• Root Vegetables, Then and Now
  
• Menu from Clinton Inn (now Eagle Tavern), Greenfield Village, 1952

19th century, Michigan, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, food, Eagle Tavern, by Peter H. Cousins, beverages

Server shows off an array of pastries at Eagle Tavern, 2007. Photograph by Michelle Andonian. / THF54295

April 1, 1982, was a momentous day in Greenfield Village! That was the day that Eagle Tavern opened to the public. It was our first historic dining experience—the result of months of research, recipe selection and testing, and interpretive planning. How did all this come about?


Historical presenters and food service staff pose in front of Eagle Tavern to celebrate the new dining experience, 1982. / THF237355

The Food Committee

It started when we took a chance on a young museum leader named Harold Skramstad, who became our president in 1981. Faced with a severe financial crisis at the time, Skramstad built a case around our “world-class” status and “unique historical resources.” This led to the creation of our first mission statement, which focused upon the process of change in America from a rural agricultural society to an urban industrial nation. Following that, Skramstad created several task forces and committees, each charged with developing plans to carry out our mission through a variety of public programs. This included the mysteriously named Food Committee. It turned out that this committee—comprised of curators, food service staff, and interpretation specialists—was charged with exploring ways to bring our food offerings in line with our overall interpretive framework.


Food vendor in Greenfield Village. / THF133689

Soon, new food experiences began to appear. Through the Food Committee’s collaborative efforts, vendors hawked fruit and penny candy from rolling carts like those that had been seen on urban street corners a century ago. At the Covered Bridge Lunch Stand (now Mrs. Fisher’s), visitors could partake of turn-of-the-century picnic lunches. With the help of diner expert Richard Gutman—who informed us that we possessed the last remaining lunch wagon in existence—the Owl Night Lunch Wagon was overhauled to look more like a late-19^th-century lunch wagon, featuring a more historic menu. But Eagle Tavern became our “crown jewel,” as we proposed turning this historic inn into a sit-down full-service restaurant with period food and drink.

What had the building been like before this?

Clinton Inn

Ella Smith, the final owner, in front of the inn on its original site in Clinton, Michigan, circa 1905. / THF110475

In 1927—searching for a stagecoach tavern for his Village Green—Henry Ford found and purchased this imposing 1830s-era inn. From Clinton, Michigan, it was situated along what once had been the main stagecoach road between Detroit and Chicago. Over the years, the inn had gone through several proprietors and name changes, from Parks Tavern to Eagle Tavern to the Union Hotel to Smith’s Hotel. When Henry Ford had the building reconstructed in Greenfield Village, he gave it the generic name Clinton Inn.


Carriages waiting for passengers at Clinton Inn. / THF120768

From 1929 into the 1950s, the building served as a cafeteria for students attending the Edison Institute schools. Ford enlarged the back of the structure for that purpose. When Greenfield Village officially opened to the public in 1933, Clinton Inn became the starting point for public carriage tours.


1950 calendar for Greenfield Village, featuring Clinton Inn. / THF8882

In the 1950s, the building transitioned from a student lunchroom to a public cafeteria. That was still its use when I first started working at The Henry Ford (then called Henry Ford Museum & Greenfield Village) in 1977. Also when I started, Clinton Inn’s so-called “colonial kitchen” was used for fireplace cooking classes as part of the institution’s Adult Education Program.

Why Eagle Tavern?

Why did we choose the Eagle Tavern era to interpret? To establish a date for the historic dining experience, we looked to primary sources, as we do when we research all of our historic structures. These sources, which help us uncover the esoteric details of the past, included probate records, property deeds, tax and census records, and local newspapers. Through this research, we found that a farmer named Calvin Wood ran this tavern from 1849 to 1854, with his wife Harriet, Harriet’s daughter Irene, and additional hired help from town or the neighboring countryside. In keeping with the patriotic spirit of the time, Wood named the place Eagle Tavern.

We decided that we liked this early 1850s date. Not only did we have decent documentation on Calvin Wood, but it was also an interesting era for changes in cooking ingredients and cookbooks (both more available than before) as well as public dining practices and customs (toward more choices for individual diners, better table etiquette, more formalized meals and menus, and more specialized table settings).

The 1850s date also dovetailed with our new mission statement—about change over time—in larger ways that were transforming the entire nation at the time. These included social movements like temperance, abolition, and women’s rights; advancements in transportation, from horse-drawn vehicles to speedy railroads; and improved communication networks, as the telegraph swiftly brought the latest news to the public. Significant national events like the California Gold Rush and the Mexican War were also impacting many people’s lives.


A variety of horse-drawn vehicles passing in front of a Middletown, Connecticut, tavern, 1842–47. / THF204148


Michigan Central Railroad car, 1848. / THF147798

Researching the Food

My primary task in creating the Eagle Tavern dining experience was to find out what and how people ate during this era. I delved deeply into period sources looking for clues to these questions, including travelers’ accounts, etiquette books, merchants’ account books, newspaper ads, and historical reminiscences.

Within these sources, I found several quite eye-opening entries, like that of Isabella Bird, a British traveler who described this meal placed in front of her at a Chicago hotel in 1856: “…eight boiled legs of mutton, nearly raw; six antiquated fowls, whose legs were of the consistency of guitar-strings; baked pork with “onion fixings,” the meat swimming in grease; and for vegetables, yams, corn-cobs, and squash. A cup of stewed tea, sweetened by molasses, was at each plate…The second course consisted exclusively of pumpkin-pies.”

It’s probably good that we didn’t take these accounts completely literally when we developed the Eagle Tavern dining experience!

From these research sources, I learned that tavern fare would have come from a combination of local farms (especially, in this case, Calvin Wood’s own farm), from the fields and woods of the surrounding area, and using ingredients that would have been purchased from local merchants.


A cold plate featuring chicken salad, pictured in the 1988 Eagle Tavern Cookbook. / THF121002

The primary components of a tavern meal would have consisted of meat, vegetables and fruits (in various forms), and breadstuffs. Meat was the predominant component of the tavern meal, served in much greater quantity than today. Often, two or more meats were served at one meal. Pork, the staple food of many midwestern settlers, was the most popular meat, served in a variety of forms—including roasted, salted, baked, and as bacon, smoked ham, sausage, or spareribs. Chickens, easy to raise on farms, lent themselves to many dishes. They also could supply eggs. In fact, Lansing Swan, traveling through Sturgis, Michigan, in 1841, wrote: “We had an excellent dinner, warm cakes, tea, etc. bacon and eggs. I have eaten them until I am ashamed to see a hen and can hardly look a respectable porker in the face.”

Beef contributed to a portion of the tavern meals, as did wild game and fish from local lakes and rivers. Oysters were also popular at the time, packed on ice and transported in barrels from the East coast.


An array of vegetables for Eagle Tavern dishes, pictured in the 1988 Eagle Tavern Cookbook. / THF121001

As for vegetables, root crops lasted throughout the year and they stored easily. Potatoes were especially popular, as described in this southern Michigan meal by Charles Hoffman in 1833: “…hot rolls, tea, large pieces of pork swimming in its gravy, and a plate of potatoes that pulverized when you touched them.” Cabbage, onions, turnips, and carrots were other root crops frequently found in the research. Less hardy vegetables, like tomatoes and cucumbers, were served in season or preserved as catsups, sauces, or pickles. Pumpkins, squash, and corn were usually served in season or preserved for later use.

Fruits were served fresh in season, dried, or made into preserves, sauces, or pickles. Of these, apples were most frequently used as they were incredibly versatile—preserved, cooked, or baked into numerous dishes. Peaches, pears, apricots, grapes, and berries of all sorts were also found in the accounts. Wild strawberries were specifically called out several times by traveler Lansing Swan, in 1841. In Ypsilanti, Swan “got an excellent supper for 25 cents and many large delicious strawberries with rich cream.” Farther west, in Jackson, he happily remarked that he was, “Just in time for tea with strawberries and cream.” In Niles, he and his companion “came in time for another strawberry repast and a rich one it was. We had a new dish, ‘Strawberry Short Cake,’ very fine indeed.” And before leaving Niles the next morning, he partook of one last “strawberry breakfast.” Raisins, dried figs, prunes, currants, and citron were listed in grocery store ads and could be purchased.


A variety of muffins and rolls served at Eagle Tavern, 2007. Photograph by Michelle Andonian. / THF54331

Breadstuffs contributed substantially to tavern meals, mentioned often in travel accounts as a meal accompaniment—but not always with approval! For example, Cyrus Bradley, dining in a tavern between Detroit and Pontiac in 1835, remarked: “The milk was sweet, but the bread was dry and stale and as it began to saturate, the little red bugs rose, kicking most lustily, to the surface, where they were immediately skimmed off and most barbarously committed to the flames.”

Wheat flour and cornmeal were processed at local mills and could be used for baking breads, rolls, biscuits. Charles Hoffman, in 1833, remarked that Michigan had the “best wheat bread in the world.”

Creating the Menus

From all of these accounts, I created a master list of dishes and ingredients. Then I perused every historic cookbook I could find. Fortunately, the number of printed cookbooks was on the rise by the mid-19^th century, although measurements, cooking times, and temperatures were not precise—which is why so much recipe testing had to be done. Within the pages of these cookbooks, I searched for recipes that were specifically referenced in historic accounts, those that seemed regional, and those that included ingredients on my researched ingredients list.


The Good Housekeeper, from 1841, was one of several cookbooks perused for possible recipes. / THF120853

I organized my collected recipes by type—for instance, entrees, pastries, soups, vegetables—and then spent innumerable hours with the food service managers at Eagle Tavern debating and selecting the final recipes. The managers brought up constraints that I would never have considered as a curator—including modern cost and availability of ingredients as well as the durability of certain dishes on the steam table that was still being used from the old cafeteria setup. Probably our most animated conversations related to how adventurous we thought modern visitors would be in trying things that were different and unusual—like mock turtle soup and beef tongue! Once determined, the agreed-upon recipes were tested by food service cooks (this predated having chefs on staff) who, after weeks of testing, invited us to a grand two-day food tasting.


Elaborate Bill of Fare for Thanksgiving Day, 1847, at the Adams House in Boston, Massachusetts. / THF147797

At the same time, I searched for examples of historic menus from the era to see what constituted a tavern meal. As it turned out, most tavern meals started with soup and ended with a dessert course of dried fruit and nuts. (The phrase “from soup to nuts” must have originated at this time!) The Eagle Tavern menu, or “Bill of Fare,” was laid out much like the historic menus of the time but included a simpler selection of dishes that were regionally and seasonally appropriate. Today, the Eagle Tavern Bills of Fare still follow these guidelines.


Eagle Tavern’s first Bill of Fare, Spring 1982. / THF123845

The Dining Experience

According to travel narratives of the era, tavern dining was fast and furious. For example, one traveler in Chicago in 1836 wrote: “…every man for himself, and none for his neighbor; hurrying, snatching, gulping, like famished wildcats; victuals disappearing as if by magic.” Partly, this was because there were often more patrons than space at the one “common table” in an inn. To resolve this, diners often took turns eating, as James Logan described in a hotel in Detroit in 1838: “Very little conversation took place, each individual seemed to hurry on as fast as possible, and the moment one finished he rose and went away. There was not change of plates, knives, or forks, every thing being eaten off the same plate, excepting pudding, which was taken in saucers.”

For the Eagle Tavern dining experience, we knew we were not about to recreate James Logan’s experience! But how, we wondered, could we simulate the concept of the “common table” for modern visitors? Fortunately, because of the spacious cafeteria area that Henry Ford had added to the building back in the 1920s, we found that we could furnish the space with not one but several tables that simulated communal dining. It also gave us the option of seating people at separate tables if additional privacy were desired.


The Eagle Tavern table setting was also the result of historical research, found in Catherine Beecher’s 1850 Domestic Receipt Book. / THF147807

Today’s dining experience at Eagle Tavern is much like it was back when we first created this experience almost 40 years ago. To me, Eagle Tavern was—and still is—one of the best historic dining experiences around!


Donna R. Braden is Senior Curator and Curator of Public Life at The Henry Ford.

Additional Readings:

• Eagle Tavern at its Original Site, Clinton, Michigan, February 2, 1925
  
• Behind the Bar at Eagle Tavern
  
• Eagle Tavern Inspiration to Enjoy at Home
  
• Menu from Clinton Inn (now Eagle Tavern), Greenfield Village, 1952

19th century, 1850s, Dearborn, 20th century, 1980s, restaurants, research, Michigan, Greenfield Village history, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, food, Eagle Tavern, by Donna R. Braden, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford

Grimm Jewelry Store on its original site on Michigan Avenue in Detroit, Michigan, 1926, before being moved to Greenfield Village. / THF254049

In the 1880s, an entrepreneur named Engelbert Grimm sold modestly priced clocks, watches, and jewelry out of this store when it was located in Detroit, Michigan. One of Grimm’s customers was, in fact, Henry Ford, who often stopped by the store to purchase watch parts and chat with him.


Grimm Jewelry Store in Greenfield Village. / THF1947

The Grimm Jewelry Store, now located in Greenfield Village, also provides a way for us to look at larger changes in Americans’ lives at the time, especially for people living in cities.


Shops selling clocks and watches became increasingly common, as seen in this photograph of a clerk posing in such a shop from Urbana, Ohio, taken some time between 1907 and 1915. / THF250161

In an increasingly urban and industrial nation, people were expected to know the time and be on time, all the time. Notice that, if you look hard enough, you can see that each of these photographs from our Detroit Publishing Company collection has a public clock in it. 


Looking down West 23^rd Street, New York City, about 1908. Clock-finding clue: Look down the street, above the horse-drawn carriage, and you’ll see a large street clock on a stand. / THF204886


Tremont Street Mall and Boston Common, Boston, Massachusetts, about 1905. Clock-finding clue: Look at the bottom of the church steeple in the center of the photograph. / THF203418


Elevated railway at Cooper Union and 4^th Avenue, New York City, about 1900. Clock-finding clue: Look at the top of the building to the left of the railroad tracks. / THF203350

Synchronizing one’s watch with public clocks became part of meeting one’s social responsibility. The clock and the watch came to be seen as models for disciplined, regulated personal behavior. One advertisement for pocket watches in the 1880s claimed, “The man is nothing but a botch, who tries to live without a watch.”


Man’s pocket watch from 1878. / THF152471

The downside to this, of course, was a greater level of anxiety—living with what was called “clock time,” an artificial construct very different from following the natural rhythms of the sun, the moon, and the seasons, as farmers had done for centuries. 


Photograph of farmers haying, Northfield, Massachusetts, about 1900. / THF141862

Today, we seem to be controlled by clock alarms and alerts, schedules, calendars, and the pressure to be punctual.  “Clock time” has become an expected part of our lives.


Donna R. Braden is Senior Curator and Curator of Public Life at The Henry Ford.

20th century, 19th century, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, clocks, by Donna R. Braden

This photograph was taken some time between 1905 and 1911. Why? The sign in the front window of the storefront adjacent to the Wright Cycle Shop shows an undertaker’s business run by L.G. Keller. City of Dayton business directories of this period show Mr. Keller in business at 1127 West Third Street during this span of time. Clearly shown is the C .Webbert Block sign on top of the building and the Wright Cycle sign as well. Bicycle production and sales had ceased by 1905, but until 1909, airplanes and airplane engines were being built and partially assembled here. / THF236870

In 1903, the building that houses the Wright Cycle Shop and the undertakers’ establishment of Fetters & Shank was collectively known as the C. Webbert Block. The building was moved to and restored in Greenfield Village in 1937. It’s a very faithful representation of the two-story, two-storefront building that stood at 1125-1127 West Third Street in Dayton, Ohio, restored to appear as it did at the time of the Wright Brothers' first flight. There was one exception, though—the decoratively lettered sign that graced the top of the bracketed cornice spanning the front façade of the building was missing for over 100 years.

Charles Webbert, a relative by marriage to Charles Taylor, the Wright Brothers' mechanic, purchased the building in 1896. Mr. Webbert did an extensive addition to the front that created the double storefront we see in historic photographs. The Wright Brothers were his first tenants. Mr. Webbert was a plumbing supplier, a bicycle enthusiast, and, later, a great supporter of the brothers’ flying efforts. He was friends with Orville and Wilbur, and purchased and bartered both bicycles and bicycle repairs. Rent payments were dependent on what bicycle services were provided.

Between 1897 and 1916, the building saw a variety of uses by the Wright Brothers. Initially, the focus was on bicycles, including two lines of hand-built enameled finished bicycles, the Saint Clair and the Van Cleve. In the late 1890s, bicycles were a lucrative business and the proceeds from the Wrights' successful business became the funding source for everything that would eventually allow the Wright Brothers to fly.


Man Working at a Lathe in the Wright Cycle Shop, Dayton, Ohio, 1897 / THF236804

From 1899 until 1909, the building served as the brothers' first experimental laboratory and design studio, dedicated to creating that first flying machine. The first gliders, as well as the first Wright Flyer, were built in sections in the back machine shop, along with the gasoline engines that powered the first flight. For a time, the Wright Cycle Shop was one of the world’s first airplane factories. Following the sale of their first airplane to the U.S. Army Signal Corps in 1908, Orville and Wilbur attracted the attention of New York investors and the Wright Company was formed in 1909. The airplane business quickly outgrew the space, and the assembly of airplanes consequently took place in a rented space in the Speedwell Motor Car Company while awaiting completion of a new factory building. The Wrights broke ground on this new facility on Home Road in Dayton in 1910.

After 1909, though manufacturing and final assembly moved elsewhere, the gasoline-powered engines continued to be machined and assembled in the Wright Cycle Shop. Both brothers also kept offices on the second floor, along with their company files and archives.

Following Wilbur’s death from typhoid fever in May of 1912, Orville took over as president of the company and ran the business alone. In 1915, he sold his interests and retired from the Wright Company. He continued to work on aviation design with his own firm but gave up the lease at the Cycle Shop in November of 1916, permanently moving to 15 North Broadway, a few blocks away.

Based on photographic evidence, the C. Webbert sign remained in place from 1897 until 1919, when significant structural changes took place. These included the addition of another bay and a third storefront, later to become 1123 West Third Street. Historic images show the building in its final iteration, as Henry Ford would have first seen it. By the time of the 1919 renovations, the building needed significant repairs, in part due to a huge flood that ravaged downtown Dayton and its neighborhoods in the spring of 1913. Water levels reached nearly to the second floor of the building. By this time, it’s very likely that the sign had deteriorated to the point where it was not practical to redesign it to fit with the new façade, and so it was likely removed.


This photograph of the vacant building taken in October of 1936 is part of a series taken after Henry Ford purchased the building from Charles Webber, in preparation for dismantling the building and shipping it to Dearborn, Michigan. Its reconstruction in Greenfield Village, without the C. Webbert sign, was completed in the Spring of 1938 with the dedication taking place on April 16, which would have been Wilbur Wright’s 71^st birthday. / THF236872

Henry Ford purchased the building from Charles Webbert in 1936 with the understanding that it would be dismantled and moved to Dearborn, where it would be reconstructed in Greenfield Village. For reasons unknown, the sign was never added to the Wright Cycle Shop when it was restored in Greenfield Village in 1937. This is surprising, as it is such a significant architectural element. In 1991, another major restoration of the building took place in the Village, and again, the sign was not included in the project.

As they say, the third time’s the charm.

In 2018, research work began, focused on recreating the sign to more accurately represent the building’s appearance in 1903. In 2019, Mose Nowland, one of our talented conservation department volunteers, created detailed construction drawings based on high resolution scans of original photographs showing the sign still in place. Mose had only a few photographs, taken several years apart, to work with. True to form with his decades of experience, his finished drawings were works of art themselves, and brought to life the exquisite details included in what was the finial crest for the newly-designed façade of the building.


Mose Nowland poses with one of his detailed architectural drawings, which allowed the C. Webbert sign to come to life again after being missing for 100 years. / Photo by Jim Johnson

Using these wonderful drawings, combined with Mose’s sound advice and suggestions, Mike Zemney, one of our talented carpentry staff, began the construction of the sign. The sign was built in sections, with each decorative element individually hand-crafted, just as it would have been in 1897. Mike used a wide range of techniques and materials, with the ultimate goal of making the sign as weather-proof as possible, with a minimal amount of maintenance required. The sign is a combination of several kinds of water-resistant wood species, copper flashing, and cladding, all carefully sealed. The decorative elements are all three-dimensional, and the sign reaches nearly four feet high and over seven feet long, in perfect proportion to the height and width of the building.


Carpenter Mike Zemney with the nearly completed sign he built. In this photograph, the sign has been painted and dry fitted together, with final assembly, sealing, and final painting to take place once it was lifted up onto the building.

Using high-resolution versions of historic photographs, we carefully studied and analyzed these images to determine the color combination to use in painting the sign, along with the rest of the building. What appear to be different colors in some of the photos are actually shadows, as the photographs were taken a few years apart, at different times of the year, and at different times of the day. Based on our analysis, it appears that the building and the entire sign were monochromatic, painted all one color. This was not an uncommon practice for commercial and industrial buildings in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. The sign, therefore, was completely covered in many coats of a high-quality paint by Jeff Serwa, one of our dedicated painters.

There were great hopes of completing this project and having everything installed for the opening of Greenfield Village in April of 2020. As we all know, 2020 took a very different direction, and the actual installation of the sign was delayed.

However, I am very happy to announce that over 100 years later, the Wright Cycle Shop is now complete once again, proudly claiming its rightful place as part of the C. Webbert Block.


The sign is lifted onto the top of the building.


The sign is carefully installed and secured.


The C. Webbert Block sign atop Wright Cycle Shop in Greenfield Village.


Jim Johnson is Director of Greenfield Village at The Henry Ford. Special thanks to the staff and volunteers of The Henry Ford that made this project possible: Mose Nowland, Mary Fahey, Ben Kiehl, Dennis Morrison, Robert Smythe, Mike Zemney, and Jeff Serwa.

2010s, 2020s, 19th century, 21st century, 20th century, Michigan, Dearborn, Ohio, Wright Brothers, research, making, Greenfield Village history, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, collections care, by Jim Johnson, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford

Detroit native Frederick Birkhill can recount numerous memories of his time at The Henry Ford and Greenfield Village as a child. He can remember riding his bike through the village, taking in all that its history and grounds offered. Truly enamored with Liberty Craftworks, he spent most of his time there, observing the artisans perfecting their crafts.

During one school field trip, his class observed employee Neils Carlson giving a glassblowing demonstration. From five feet away, the students watched Carlson pull and shape a hot, glowing blob into a graceful swan. This was the exact moment that Birkhill fell in love with glassmaking and knew he wanted to learn everything about it. After the demonstration, he bought one of the glass swans for his mother and studied it whenever he could.


Frederick as a child with a camera, circa 1959. / Photo by Dr. F. Ross Birkhill, courtesy Frederick Birkhill

Few people can pinpoint the place where they found their passion. Frederick Birkhill can. Anyone who comes to The Henry Ford can find something that excites them and sparks their future passions. That single experience in the Glass Shop stuck with Birkhill and led him on a path to a very successful career as an artist. Because of Neils Carlson, Birkhill's thirst for knowledge took off, leading him to study in England, elsewhere in Europe, and at what is now the College for Creative Studies in Detroit and the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.

In the early years of his career, Birkhill was an employee of Greenfield Village and worked in the Tintype Studio. During his tenure, he was able to study and learn about glassblowing, stained glass, photography, daguerreotypes, and tintypes from various artisans around Liberty Craftworks and metro Detroit. At the time, The Henry Ford was one of the only places in the United States where one could learn about tintype photography and other specialized crafts. Birkhill created some of his first daguerreotype photos of scenes at The Henry Ford. One of those early daguerreotypes of Greenfield Village's Farris Windmill was later acquired by the Smithsonian National Museum of American History.

"The Windmill at Greenfield Village, 1972,” daguerreotype created by Frederick Birkhill, in the collection of the Smithsonian National Museum of American History / Photo courtesy Frederick Birkhill  

In addition to learning about different media during his time working in the village, Birkhill was able to use his skills and artistry to teach an array of subjects at The Henry Ford, including classes he developed on the history of glass and stained glass.

Birkhill also collaborated with David Grant Maul, another former employee. Birkhill acquired a special tool from Maul that allowed him to hold hot glass so he could effectively complete flame-worked glass objects. This tool was the catalyst for a successful career in flame-worked glass and furnace glass. Our Glass Shop includes a furnace that allowed Birkhill to learn both specialties.

Frederick Birkhill is a renowned artist, inventor, educator, and historian whose international career continues to this day. His work can be seen at the Corning Museum of Glass, Museum of Arts and Design, Detroit Institute of Arts, the Mint Museum, the Smithsonian, and the Stamelos Gallery Center at the University of Michigan-Dearborn, as well as in private collections around the world. Never once has Birkhill forgotten the place that sparked his curiosity and put his ideas into motion—The Henry Ford.

Frederick Birkhill flameworking in his studio. / Photo by Henry Leutwyler, courtesy Frederick Birkhill

Now, after several decades as a glass artist, an artist's monograph, Glassworks: The Art of Frederick Birkhill, has been published by The Artist Book Foundation. An extensive colorplate section includes the lavish photography of Henry Leutwyler, showcasing Birkhill's work in complex detail as well as his artistic mastery of glass. A copy now resides in The Henry Ford's Benson Ford Research Center. We are honored to have Frederick and his wife, Jeannie, as friends of The Henry Ford.


Caroline Heise is Annual Fund Specialist at The Henry Ford.

Additional Readings:

• Davidson-Gerson Modern Glass Gallery
  
• "Devils Blowing Glass" by Lucio Bubacco, 1997
  
• Now Open: Davidson-Gerson Modern Glass Gallery
  
• Western Interactions with East Asia in the Decorative Arts: The 19th Century

21st century, 20th century, Dearborn, The Henry Ford staff, The Henry Ford Effect, photography, Michigan, making, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, glass, education, Detroit, by Caroline Heise, books, art

Sir John Bennett. / THF17783

For decades, Sir John Bennett's shop—with its figures of mythological giants Gog and Magog—has intrigued and enthralled Greenfield Village's visitors. Prior to 1930, the jewelry and clock shop was a popular presence many thousands of miles away in London, where its animated giants chimed the quarter-hours above the busy thoroughfare of Cheapside.

While London and Dearborn would seem to have little in common, Gog and Magog—if they could talk, as well as chime—might disagree. Exposure to the weather has been a continuous element in their over 125 years of timekeeping in both England and America. Climate has taken its toll on the figures. So, during the winter of 2005–2006, The Henry Ford undertook an extensive restoration of the Sir John Bennett figures.

Clock Figures

This was not the first time that the figures, or "jacks," as they are known in the world of clocks, had been given a thorough restoration. When Henry Ford originally brought them to the United States in 1931, he had them repaired and repainted. A second restoration and repainting took place in the 1970s.

Pre-restoration deterioration on the feet of one of the carved wooden figures.

The 2005–2006 restoration, in addition to reversing damage and safeguarding Gog and Magog for future generations, also offered an opportunity to attempt to determine what the wooden figures originally looked like. Deeply carved recesses were carefully excavated in order to discover clues to the original color scheme. Conservators also studied a similar set of Gog and Magog figures in London's Guildhall; a set in Melbourne, Australia; and many historical prints and illustrations to compare our paint analysis with other known examples.

One finding was that the giants' chain mail had, at some point, been painted the color of their clothing. The chain mail is now painted to look like metal rather than cloth. Areas of the giants' armor were found to have traces of gold leaf in the recesses. Also, successive paint layers and weathering had obscured a number of decorative elements in the giants' armor. Previous restorations had used gold-colored paint on the armor, which eventually oxidized and turned brown. In 2005–2006, all the decorative armor components were coated with gold leaf.

The figures themselves were in poor structural condition, with many breaks and numerous large cracks. With a view to preserving as much of the original figures as possible, the decision was made to inject a deep penetrating resin into the porous wood, rather than cut out and replace damaged sections.


Newly restored Gog and Magog await their return to the Sir John Bennett shop.

Of course, Gog and Magog are not the only figures in the facade of the building—Father Time and a Muse are also in attendance to assist in the job of chiming. Made of plaster rather than wood, these figures were given structural repairs and then gilded with 1,400 sheets of gold leaf. During the repair work on the Muse, decorative elements were discovered on the harp under layers of paint and filler. The decoration was carefully restored, and can be seen on the front vertical post of the harp. A maker's name, "Brogiotti," was also revealed during the restoration.

Finally, the internal mechanisms for all four figures were repaired, and additional lubrication points were added to help minimize future wear.


Father Time and the Muse show off their new coats of gold leaf.

The Clock

The clock mechanism was in need of a complete overhaul. Many of the bronze bearings—separate components fitted into the clock movement's large cast iron frame—had become worn and needed to be "re-bushed" to bring the mechanism back to its original operating specifications. During cleaning, conservators discovered that all of the cast iron framing was originally painted a blue-green with white pin striping. All of this original paint was carefully cleaned and preserved.


Conservator Malcolm Collum reassembles the restored Sir John Bennett clock movement.

During the 1931 reconstruction of the building and clock in Greenfield Village, a number of components were replaced. Cleaning the mechanism helped us gain a better understanding of the extent of Henry Ford's restoration: the modern steel components lack the dark graining found in the original wrought iron pieces. These dark lines are called "slag inclusions," remnants of a glass-like material that gets worked into the iron during the smelting and production processes.

Weathervane

Gog and Magog receive the most attention from visitors—understandably, given their size, character, and animation—but higher up, fully exposed to everything the Michigan climate has to offer, is one of the most vivid elements of Sir John Bennett's shop: the dragon weathervane. The dragon—made of hammered copper and detailed with sharp claws, taut bat-like wings and a fiery tongue—is a quiet masterpiece of design, craftsmanship, and balance. Its swept-back wings and extended tail are designed to catch even the slightest breeze; its head is weighted with lead in order to balance the body and allow for free pivoting.


The dragon weathervane is readied for removal from its perch.

When the dragon was removed from its perch in late 2005, it was found to be in stable condition. Structural repairs were followed by a thorough cleaning to remove corrosion and degraded metallic paint. Finally, rather than simply repaint the dragon, we returned it to its original splendor with a coat of gold leaf.


Dragon weathervane during gilding.

Repaired and resplendent, silhouetted against a Dearborn rather than a London sky, the dragon once again watches over the visitors who gather to watch Gog and Magog.


Malcolm Collum is former Conservator at The Henry Ford and Marc Greuther is Chief Curator and Vice President, Historical Resources, at The Henry Ford. This post originally ran as part of our Pic of the Month series in May 2006.

Michigan, Dearborn, Europe, 21st century, 2000s, Sir John Bennett, research, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, conservation, collections care, by Marc Greuther, by Malcolm Collum, art, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford

THF1882

With Greenfield Village reopening soon, you’ll find something new at the Noah Webster Home!


THF186494

We have reinstalled the formerly sparsely furnished Webster dining room to better reflect a more active family life that took place in the Webster household at the time of our interpretation: 1835.


THF107986

Noah and Rebecca Webster moved to their New Haven, Connecticut, home in their later years to be near family and friends, as well as the library at nearby Yale College. This painting of Noah dates from about this time.


THF119510

The Websters moved into their comfortable, newly-built home on Temple Street in New Haven in 1823. This portrait shows Rebecca Webster from about this time as well.


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New research and evolving historical perspective often lead us to reinterpret Greenfield Village buildings. So, furnishings change to reflect these richer or more accurate stories. This is what the Webster dining room looked like in 1947.


THF147776

In 1962, the Webster house was refurnished to showcase fine furnishings in period room-like settings—rather than reflecting a household whose elderly inhabitants started housekeeping decades before.


THF186507

In 1989, after meticulous research on the house and on the Webster family, the home was beautifully transformed, and its furnishings more closely reflected the Webster family’s lives.


THF53248

You could imagine the Websters living there. This is Rebecca Webster’s dressing room.


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Yet the dining room was sparsely furnished. The 1989 reinstallation suggested that the Websters were “in retirement” and “withdrawn from society,” and didn’t need or use this room much.


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The dining room was presented as a seldom-used space in the Webster home during the mid-1830s. This detail showed boots being cleaned in the otherwise unused room.


THF186509

Webster family correspondence and other documents paint a picture of a household that included not only family activities, but more public ones as well, during the 1830s and beyond.


THF236367

Daughter Julia Goodrich and her family lived down the street and were frequent visitors. The Webster house appears at far right in this photo of Temple Street taken in the 1920s.


THF174984

Webster children and grandchildren who lived farther away came for extended visits. Daughter Eliza Jones and her family traveled from their Bridgeport, Connecticut, home for visits.


THF186515

At times, some Webster family members even joined the household temporarily. They could stay in a guest room in the Webster home.


THF204255

Webster’s Yale-attending grandsons and their classmates stopped in for visits and came to gatherings. This print shows Yale College—located not far from the Webster home—during this time.


THF133637

The Webster family home was also Noah’s “office.” He had moved his study upstairs in October 1834, met there with business associates and students.


THF53243

Guests—including visiting clergymen, publishing associates, Yale faculty, and political leaders—would have called at the house or would have been invited to gatherings in the home. This is the Webster parlor.


THF186495

To help reflect the active family life that took place in the Webster household in 1835, the new dining room vignette suggests members of the extended Webster family casually gathering for a meal.


THF186496

The room’s arrangement is deliberately informal, with mismatched chairs. Hepplewhite chairs that are part of the dining room set are supplemented by others assembled for this family meal.


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A high chair is provided for the youngest Webster grandchild.


THF186498

The grandchildren’s domino game was quickly set aside as the table was set and three generations of the family began to gather.


THF186500 

The dining room furnishings, like those in the rest of the home, reflect a household whose elderly inhabitants started housekeeping decades before. The Websters would have owned most of their furniture, tableware, candlesticks, and other items for decades. The Connecticut-made clock on the mantel would have been a bit newer, since it dates from 1825–1835.


THF186499

But the Hepplewhite style chairs—no longer in fashion—would have been purchased more than 30 years before.


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The early 1800s Chinese export dishes would have likely been bought decades before. Quite fine and fashionable when new, the sturdy dishes would have survived to be used at everyday meals and for family gatherings many years later.


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The Websters would have acquired other furnishings more recently--including newly available whale oil lamps, which provided brighter lighting than candles. In coastal New Haven, whale oil was readily available.


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Stylish curtains of New England factory-made roller-printed cotton fabric are gracefully draped over glass curtain tiebacks and decoratively arranged.


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Do stop by the Noah Webster Home when Greenfield Village opens this spring and see what the Websters are having for dinner as they “gather” with their children and grandchildren! And for even more Village building makeover stories, see also this recent post from Senior Curator and Curator of Public Life Donna Braden.


Jeanine Head Miller is Curator of Domestic Life and Charles Sable is Curator of Decorative Arts at The Henry Ford.

Additional Readings:

• Prototype Eames Fiberglass Chair, circa 1949
  
• Arts and Crafts Furniture Making in West Michigan: The Charles Limbert Company of Grand Rapids and Holland
  
• Creatives of Clay and Wood
  
• Sidney Houghton: The Fair Lane Estate

Connecticut, 19th century, 1830s, 21st century, 2020s, Noah Webster Home, home life, Greenfield Village history, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, furnishings, food, by Jeanine Head Miller, by Charles Sable, #THFCuratorChat, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford

Rover Keeping Watch outside Cotswold Barn, January 1931 / THF623050

When Cotswold Cottage and its surrounding buildings were brought to Greenfield Village, Henry Ford aimed to recreate every detail of one of his and Clara’s favorite regions of England.

Henry purchased the cottage, barn, and a nearby blacksmith shop for Greenfield Village in 1929 and the structures were shipped in 1930. Along with the disassembled structures came English stonemasons, who were tasked with reconstructing each building stone by stone. Henry promoted one of his own employees, Gus Munchow, to take charge of recreating the gardens and grounds around them.


Cotswold Cottage / THF1690

The earliest interpretation of Cotswold Cottage intended to present it as a home for English sheepherders. To fully bring this story to life, Henry had a group of sheep imported from the Cotswold region of England to take up residence on the grounds.


Cat Riding a Sheep at Cotswold Cottage, 1932 / THF134679

Plans for the Cotswold setting were nearly perfect, except for one very large missing detail.

When the English stonemasons recalled a black Newfoundland sheep dog roaming the original site, Henry inquired if the dog might consider a move to Michigan. The stonemasons suggested the dog “undoubtedly adored the King” and probably “did not like boats.” Instead, it was decided to find a substitute puppy that could be raised at the cottage to act as sheepherder and guardsman like his English predecessor.

Henry’s secretary began researching the best genetic strains of Newfoundland dogs and located a litter from a lineage of aristocratic, award-winning dogs nearby in Canada.  Rover, deemed their best dog, was sent by train to Dearborn.


Rover at Cotswold Cottage, 1932 / THF134670

Rover was trained by Gus Munchow, manager of the gardens and grounds, and was given a home in the Cotswold barn—although some accounts recall he often made himself comfortable inside the cottage.  Weighing more than 130 pounds by his first birthday, Rover quickly grew into a smart and dedicated companion to both the sheep and Gus.

Dedicated in all seasons, day and night, Rover happily attended to chores with Gus.  He delivered feeding buckets to the sheep, carried extra tools, and was responsible for holding the clock on their night rounds. 


Rover outside Cotswold Barn with Gus Munchow and Sheep / THF623048

One of several canine citizens of Greenfield Village at the time, Rover’s neighbors included two Dalmatian coach dogs and a Scottish Terrier named McTavish that enjoyed the company of the schoolchildren who learned in the Giddings Family Home next door.

Enthusiastic in his pursuit to keep any of the other Village dogs from approaching the grounds he guarded, Rover had the stature and size to insist upon them keeping their distance—and they happily obeyed.


Rover at Cotswold Cottage, 1932 / THF134667

Rover with Edison Institute Schoolchildren, Featured in The Herald, April 5, 1935 / THF623054

Even Henry Ford was an admirer of Rover.  Gus recalled in his oral history: “That dog would only take orders from myself and Mr. Ford.  Mr. Ford used to come through that gate, and the dog would run up to him, and he would play with him for a minute or two.”

Henry realized Rover’s deep bond to Gus when his beloved master fell ill in July 1934.  Gus had suffered from appendicitis and was rushed to Henry Ford Hospital, where he stayed for more than a week. When Henry came to visit Rover, he found him lying in the middle of the road, unwilling to move.  He seemed to be waiting for Gus to return and was refusing to eat.  Realizing Rover must be distressed by Gus’s absence, he requested the dog receive a special bath and be driven in his personal car to the hospital.

The scene of the giant dog visiting the hospital caught the attention of the Detroit News, which wrote a feature article on the visit: “There was a great deal of difficulty in getting the large dog into the hospital, and once inside the door, he had to be dragged along.  But when he approached the room where Gus lay and heard the sound of his master’s voice, he ran joyfully to the bed, jumped upon it, and threw everybody and everything into confusion.” The article was happy to report that following the reunion, Rover quickly regained both his appetite and the 15 pounds he had lost from worry.


Feature photo from a Detroit News article found in Ford Motor Company Clipping Book, Volume 88, April–November 1934 / THF623060

When Gus returned to work, Rover always had one eye on his sheep and one eye on his master, making sure neither wandered too far out of sight.

Rover continued serving Gus and Cotswold Cottage for many years.  He was indeed “a very good and faithful pal” whose spirit will live on forever as part of Greenfield Village.  His grave marker can still be seen today behind the cottage.


Rover’s grave marker, located behind Cotswold Cottage / Photo by Lauren Brady


Lauren Brady is Reference Archivist at The Henry Ford.

Michigan, Dearborn, 20th century, 1930s, Henry Ford, Greenfield Village history, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, farm animals, by Lauren Brady

THF91531 (photographed by John Sobczak)

Carding mills became extremely popular in 19th-century America because the machines used in them mechanized the laborious hand process of straightening and combing wool fibers—an important step in preparing yarn and making woolen cloth. Customers were happy to let others handle this incredibly tedious job while using their own skill and creativity to control the final product.


Before carding mills, farm families prepared wool by hand using hand cards like these. / THF183701

Between 1840 and 1880, Michigan farmers raised millions of sheep, whose wool was turned into yarn and woolen goods. The Civil War, especially, caused a demand for wool, as it became the raw material for soldiers’ uniforms. Afterward, while the highest quality woolen broadcloth for men’s clothing was still imported from England, a growing number of wool mills (mostly small and local, but some larger ones, especially in New England) produced lower-end woolen goods like flannel (for work shirts, summer coats, and overcoat linings), men’s and children’s underwear, blankets, and rugs.


Sheep graze outside of Henry Ford’s boyhood home in Greenfield Village / THF1937

Farmers who raised large flocks of sheep might sell their raw wool to local merchants or to dealers who shipped it directly to a small wool mill in the local area or a large wool mill in New England. But most farm families raised a modest flock of sheep and spun their own wool into yarn, which they used at home for knitted goods. They might also take their spun yarn or items they knitted to their local general store for credit to purchase other products they needed in the store.

While sawmills and gristmills were the first types of mills established in newly-formed communities, carding mills rapidly became popular—particularly in rural areas where sheep were raised. While the tradition of wool spinning at home continued well into the 19th century, machine carding took the tedious process of hand carding out of the home. Learn more about the mechanization of carding in this blog post.


Faster and more efficient carding machines replaced traditional carding methods in the 19th century. / THF621302

At the carding mill, raw wool from sheep was transformed into straightened rolls of wool, called rovings—the first step to finished cloth. Faster and more efficient carding machines at these mills replaced the hand cards traditionally used at home (by women and children) for this process. Through the end of the 19th century, carding mills provided this carding service for farm families, meeting the needs of home spinners.


“Picked” wool that has been loosened and cleaned, ready to be fed into a carding machine / THF91532 (photographed by John Sobczak)

Young Henry Ford was a member one of these farm families. Henry fondly remembered accompanying his father on trips to John Gunsolly’s carding mill (now in Greenfield Village) from their farm in Springwells Township (now part of Dearborn, Michigan)—traveling about 20 miles and waiting to have the sheared wool from his father’s sheep run through the carding machine. There it would be combed, straightened, and shaped into loose fluffy rovings, ready for spinning. The Ford family raised a modest number of sheep (according to the 1880 Agricultural Census, the family raised 13 sheep that year), so they likely brought the rovings back to spin at home, probably for knitting.


Donna Braden is Senior Curator and Curator of Public Life at The Henry Ford.

farm animals, manufacturing, making, home life, Henry Ford, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, by Donna R. Braden, agriculture