Monthly Archives: January 2024

Glover Squad

With my February 1 deadline constantly in mind, I worked intently on the Salem book all weekend with the exception of Saturday afternoon and early evening, when my husband and I drove over to Marblehead for a tribute to Revolutionary War Brigadier General John Glover. Well, two tributes really: the revelation of the acquisition of a letter to Glover signed by General Washington by the Marblehead Museum, and then a walk from the Old Town to Burial Hill following Glover’s Regiment to mark the anniversary of the General’s death (which is actually today). Glover was a native son of Salem, but you’ll never hear boo about him here, and I knew the Marblehead commemoration would be poignant. And it was. The link between the big reveal and the cemetery commemoration is Glover’s Marblehead Regiment, a reenactment unit which takes its role as “custodian” of Glover’s revolutionary role and life in and out of Marblehead very seriously: its members funded the acquisition of the Washington letter and led us up the hill. I’ve been thinking about Glover for the last few months, ever since the beginning of a campaign in adjoining Swampscott to save the eighteenth-century house to which he retired after the war. They take their history seriously there too. Huzzah to all of the historians and preservationists and “pastkeepers” in Marblehead and Swampscott and to General Glover!

Our hero: Brig. General John Glover. It’s hard to overestimate his heroism. He and his regiments performed essential and  exemplary service both ferrying and fighting. I like this account of his military career, which illustrates why Washington didn’t want to let him go (as stated in the newly-aquired letter).

The events of the day and night in Marblehead, and things that caught my eye along the way.

Marblehead Museum Executive Director Lauren McCormack with members of Glover’s Marblehead Regiment; the letter; more members of the Regiment.

Glover’s “town” house in Glover Square; a great plaque, the March to Burial Hill and back to Glover’s house for another tribute.


Salem 1799

I always tell my students forget dates, you can always look them up, dates are a terrible way to learn history, but sometimes dates just stand out: 1348, 1517, 1776, 1789, 1914. The other day I was engaged in some endnote-editing and somehow, the date 1799 just started jumping out at me: it suddently seemed like the most important date in Salem’s history! Why? A lot of building mostly: of two of the most spectacular Derby houses and Salem’s first federal frigate, the Essex. But there were other notable things that happened in that year too: the foundation of the East India Marine Society for one, and the renaming of Salem’s long-ignored seventeenth-century fortification, Fort Pickering, for another. 1799 was a big year for Salem, then the eighth largest “city” in the United States with a population of over 9000. Its commercial vitality was already well-established, but it aquired a new civic reputation with the construction-by-subscription of the Frigate Essex for the federal government. The most wonderful book sheds light on the whole commission/subscription/construction process: Philip Chadwick Foster Smith’s The frigate Essex papers : building the Salem frigate, 1798-1799 (1974): I wouldn’t presume to add to it! I will, however, include a couple of its maps. Salem had terrible flooding last weekend and I think we need to remember that we live in an infilled-city, and that a river runs through it.

The US Frigate Essex, built in Salem by Salem residents.

Joseph Howard, watercolor of the Essex, after 1799, Peabody Essex Museum.

Maps from Philip Chadwick Foster Smith’s The Frigate Essex Papers.

 

Not one but TWO Derby houses built in 1799, with Bulfinch & McIntire designs.

The Ezekiel Hersey Derby House and the Elias Hasket Derby Mansion, one which existed long enough to be “denatured” into a commercial building and the other very short-lived, as its commissioner, the wealthy merchant Elias Hasket Derby, died in the same year that it was built: 1799. Think about the Salem in which these two structures were raised: talk about McMansions! These were conspicuous structures: Chestnut Street was at least five years into the future.

These were houses of a son and father of Salem’s first family. I’m not sure how long Ezekiel, the fifth child of Elias Hasket Derby, lived in his elegant house, one of just a few in Salem to be designed by Charles Bulfinch (with interior architectural details by Samuel McIntire). He was more focused on agricultural pursuits and the development of south Salem, where he had a sprawling farm. His town house stood long enough to be stripped, as happened to so many notable houses, and architectural historian Fiske Kimball established a Derby Room at the Philadelphia Museum of Art with its architectural features.

Plans and photos of the Ezekiel Hersey Derby House, Phillips Library, Peabody Essex Museum; the Derby Room at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Elias’s mansion did not stand long enough to be “denatured” (which certainly would have happened in its central location, maybe its short life was a blessing) or photographed, but there are sketches and plans in the PEM’s Phillips Library. It gave way to the present-day Derby Square.

 

Captain Devereux opens up trade with Japan!

It is decidedly NOT true that Commodore Perry opened up trade with Japan in 1853; rather, Captain John Devereux of Salem and the Boston ship Franklin did so in 1799. The Dutch had had a monopoly on western trade with Japan since the early 17th century, primarily because they did not proselytize like their European counterparts during the Reformation. Two centuries later, they licensed American ships to go to their trading post on Deshima Island just off the port of Nagasaki, including the Franklin in 1799 and the Salem ship Margaret in 1801. Devereux brought Japanese goods back to Salem, and so did the captain of the Margaret, Samuel Derby. The former’s account book in the Phillips Library lists “128 raincoats” purchased there, as well as several items of “lacked” (lacquered) furniture: the Peabody Essex Museum has a Hepplewhite-style knife box, several card and tip-top tables, and a large server/oval waiter in its collection from this cargo, the focus of an article in the July, 1954 Magazine Antiques below. Of course, the Reverend Bentley ran right over to see Captain Devereux’s hall at his house on the Common as soon as he returned, as recorded in his famous Diary.

 

The Foundation of the East India Marine Society!

The Peabody Essex Museum’s foundation date of 1799 and claim to be the oldest (maritime) museum in the United States is based on the establishment of the East India Marine Society in that year. I love the description of the society included in the American Neptune of 1944, in an article marking the completion of the restoration of the the Society’s East India Marine Hall: In the autumn of 1799 a group of thirty Salem shipmasters met to found a society so exclusive that only those who had sailed around Cape Horn or the Cape of Good Hope as masters or supercargos would be eligible for membership. As the first New England vessel had reached China only thirteen years before, this requirement made the society comparable, for its time, to a modern aviation club, for which only pilots who had successfully crossed the Atlantic or Pacific could qualify. Its members were equipped with notebooks so they might advance navigational and geographical knowledge, and like Captain Devereux, they brought home things to embellish their Society’s “cabinet”. There are quite a few old histories of the Society (like the 1920 text below) which reprint the foundation documents and highlight all sorts of little details, but there’s also George Schwartz’s recent history, Collecting the Globe, which presents a more comprehensive context for its foundation year, 1799.


Good Queen Bess

It’s the first week of a new semester, and I’m still working on my Salem book for imminent submission, so I have to admit that I don’t have much time or energy to post here. But it’s also coronation week for Queen Elizabeth I (in 1559) and I’ve come across a lovely children’s book which has captured my teaching imagination—why these scenes? why these stories? Sometimes the blog is a nice break from pressing responsibilities, and that is the case here. Good Queen Bess (1907) is a quarto containing 23 illustrations by the artist John Hassall and text in red by Miss Brenda Girvin. The visuals are striking in their color and context, with some editorial choices immediately apparent (of course we need to see Sir Walter Ralegh’s puddle-covering cloak) while others are a bit more elusive, but all portray the iconic queen as a person first and foremost, beginning with her childhood.

It’s a children’s book, so it might be a bit jarring to depict the young princess alone, as the orphan she was. Instead, she’s with her longtime companion Kat Ashley, cuddling by a fire with dog and toys nearby. Years later, her situation more precarious during her sister Mary’s reign, she is “imprisoned” at Woodstock, with Ashley and more dogs nearby. Not too scary, but still an experience that will shape the young Elizabeth. Somehow her character got her out of that situation, and she is next pictured accompanying Queen Mary at her entrance into London, echoing another entrance image in Parliament. Hassall misses a great opportunity to show the poignancy of the moment in which Elizabeth is informed of her sister’s death and her own ascendance at Hatfield, depicting her in a crowd rather than alone under the venerable oak tree of legend. At this moment, and again at her coronation, Elizabeth’s profile is that of the majestic mature Queen in white (with “wings”) rather than the young woman that she actually was, with her hair down. As Queen, she has to have that majestic look, whether she is stepping on Ralegh’s cloak, dancing (as she loved to do), receiving the famous authors of her reign (Shakespeare and Bacon), refusing the crown/title offered by Dutch emissaries at war with Spain (an odd choice for a children’s book) or addressing her troops at Tilbury with her “heart and stomach of a king” speech.

Elizabeth is defined by her own personal characteristics and experiences but she also represents a “Golden” Age so we must see some scenes without her: a man in stocks represents her policy towards “tramps” (better known as “masterless men” in her own era), reluctant Elizabethans cultivate the potato (perfect, this is my favorite illustration, although cultivation began long after introduction), and then of course we must see the glorious defeat of the Spanish Armada, a fitting finale.


The Salem Tercentenary, 1926

As I’ve been finishing up the manuscript of our 4o0th anniversary volume, Salem’s Centuries, I’ve been writing and thinking about Salem’s 300th anniversary quite a bit. For some reason I thought that I had already posted about this big event on this unwieldly blog, but I haven’t. Quite a lot is out there—the archivists at the Salem State University Archives and Special Collections oversee an ever-larger collection of historical photographs of Salem, many of which they have uploaded to Flickr, and among them are some great Tercentenary views. This is really the best place to go for local history, including an array of blog posts which put their collections in context. So maybe, in my writing-and-teaching-brain-fog, I confused their output for mine? I don’t know, but there’s certainly no Tercentenary post here so I thought I’d pull one together. I’m quite impressed by the activity of the 1926 Tercentennial but it was certainly more celebration than reflection. This was not a moment to be at all critical about the city’s past; this was a party! Beginning on July 3, 1926 and commencing on the 10th, city residents were feted by parades, street parties, reunions, balloon ascensions, a big ball, a field day, a firemen’s muster, a bonfire, various illuminations, and concerts, concerts, and more concerts. Many people were involved in the planning, at least hundreds if not more. Starting in 1924 a general committee came together, followed by the appointment of chairs of the various subcommittees: the bonfire, music, fireworks, the horribles parade, sports, the military, civic, and historical parade, historical exercises, banquet, costume ball, floral parade, firemen’s muster, entertainment and publicity. Then the work began and there were some alterations: a “great” civic and military parade was severed from the floral and historical parade when it became apparent that the consolidated parade would be very, very long and that the guest of honor, Vice-President George Dawes, could be in Salem only for a short period of time. (President Coolidge was invited to the Tercentenary shortly after his election and I have no idea why he couldn’t turn up—it seems like a slight, as didn’t he summer in Swampscott?) The planning seemed to go smoothly but I have no real insights into subcommittee deliberations—I’m not sure where the meeting meeting minutes are, or if there were any. But they seem to have thought of everything, including a temporary “hospital” installed in the Phillips School overlooking Salem Common. The one big pre-celebration problem that surfaced was in relation to one of the big arches erected at the entrances to the city, specifically the arch at the Salem-Beverly Bridge. Once completed, a furor arose: it said “Greetings” rather than “Welcome” and on the wrong side! Greetings was simply not welcoming enough, and people leaving the city and crossing over to Beverly were being greeted! It cost the princely sum of $700 to fix this arch sign but it had to be fixed and so fixed it was.

I think that was it for the missteps, and then came July, and they were off! Here’s the schedule:

Sunday the 4th: Bells ring all over the city, followed by religious services, and then a huge band concert on the Common. Presumably this is what the brand new bandstand was built for, but as the band consisted of “300 pieces” I don’t think all those musicians could have fit in there. In the evening, a 100-foot bonfire was set ablaze (we are right in the midst of Salem’s big July 4th bonfire craze at this time).

Monday the 5th: The “Grotesque, Antiques & Horribles Parade” featuring Salem schoolchildren in costume competing for prizes (this is another Salem/North Shore July 4th tradition).

We are the Freaks Float, Nelson Dionne Salem History Collection, Salem State University Archives and Special Collections, Salem, Massachusetts.

Tuesday the 6th: Tours of old Salem homes open for the occasion, many, but not all, on Chestnut Street, and an exhibition of “treasures brought to Salem by the sea captains of old days.” In the evening, a balloon ascension at Salem Willows and an “illumination” of US Navy vessels in Salem Harbor.

Wednesday the 7th: the “Great” Parade, with Vice-President Dawes in attendance. This was followed by an historical address on Salem Common, another band concert, and fireworks.

Vice President Charles G. Dawes, Mayor George J. Bates, Governor Alvan T. Fuller, and Congressman William M. Butler; Nelson Dionne Salem History Collection, Salem State University Archives and Special Collections, Salem, Massachusetts.

Thursday the 8th: Family reunions for “Old Planter” families; I’m not sure about everyone else. The first Chestnut Street Day, which was quite the event, and a field day on the Common. The Tercentenary Ball was held that evening at Salem Armory.

Friday the 9th: The other parade, the “Floral and Historical Parade.” (I just love the idea of this– flowers and history!)

Floral Float No. 9, 1926 and Brig Leander Float, Leland O. Tilford photographs, Salem News Historic Photograph Collection, Salem State University Archives and Special Collections, Salem, Massachusetts.

Saturdy the 10th: A huge firemen’s muster on Salem Common, yet another parade and band concert, and fireworks on Gallow Hill.

Quite a success I think, and there were some cultural consequences too. One thing I’m curious about is Salem artist Phillip Little’s “huge” painting of Derby Wharf at the beginning of the nineteenth century: it was commissioned by the Naumkeag Steam Cotton Company for a big home exposition in the spring of 1926 and supposedly shown in Salem for the Tercentenary, but I’m not sure where or when. And where is it now? I want to see it! Since I have not seen it, I have to say that my favorite Salem Tercentenary painting remains Felicia Waldo’s impressionistic view of the first Chestnut Street Day.

Felicie Waldo Howell, Salem’s 300th Anniversary, 1926, Christies.

These civic celebrations can seem frivolous on the surface, but they also reveal a lot about the communities which are putting them on. Much of these activities would have been very familiar to Salem people in 1926: they were used to parades, and old home days, bonfires and annual field days, in which children from every neighborhood competed against each other in a variety of athletic activities on Salem Common. It’s a huge generalization which deserves much more documentation and explanation, but Salem seems much more focused on its residents than its visitors at this time, and for much of the twentieth century. The comments and the coverage from 1926 indicate that what was really new about the Tercentenary were the open historic houses throughout the City, and on Chestnut Street in particular. The national house and garden magazines went crazy with the coverage! Chestnut Street Day was so successful that it was repeated on four more occasions, with the last one occurring in 1976 (there are some great Samuel Chamberlain photographs of later Chestnut Street days from the Phillips Library at Digital Commonwealth and here). And there was nary a witch in sight in 1926, certainly not on the official Tercentenary medal.

 


2024: the Anniversary Year

Happy New Year! I’m a firm believer in “anniversary history” and I like to start out the new year previewing (or guessing) what commemorations we might see. This past year was a busy one with the 400th anniversary of two major ports in our area, Gloucester and Portsmouth, as well as Rye and Dover, New Hampshire. I was really impressed with Gloucester’s year-long commemoration, especially its 400 Stories project, which will be a lasting legacy. Salem’s 400th is coming up in 2026, and I’ve been working on a book though all of last year and part of 2022 for that big anniversary: I’m handing it off to the publisher this month and eager to work on some other projects. 2024 looks a bit quiet in comparison with some other years but I’m sure there will be several Revolution 250 events. Salem was very much the center of the action in 1774 so I hope our city can rise to the occasion. Here’s where I think/know/hope we will see some reflective/commemorative activity:

Indigenous History: It seems to0 large a concurrence to me to have the 100th anniversary of Indian Citizenship Act occur in 1924 and the 200th anniversary of the establishment of the Bureau of Indian Affairs not to have a major reflective moment, especially given the current and intensifying historiographical interest in Native American history. We certainly need one (or two or three or…….) moments of reflection. Again, NOT an American historian, so a bit shocked that unqualified citizenship was not granted to Native Americans until 1924 (actually, I don’t think I can use the word unqualified) and their voting rights were still challenged after that!

Essay on citizenship by a student at the Leech Lake Indian School, 1917-1920, Records of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Record Group 75. “the ones who steal or TELL LIES are not good citizens.” (capitalization mine)

Winter Olympics (on a much lighter note): the first Winter Olympics was held in 1924 in Chamonix, France, and in the following year the International Olympic Committee voted to make it a regular event every four years. Now of course the summer and winter Olympics are staggered, and as this summer’s games are in Paris I think there will be some kind of recognition of the centennial from a cultural and/or French perspective.

Courtesy Swann Auctions

Impressionism: Speaking of France, the first impressionist exhibition happened in Paris in 1874, and this cultural watershed will be marked with a major exhibition at the Musée d’Orsay that will travel to the US later in the year. 130 works will be featured, including paintings by Monet, Renoir, Degas, Morisot, Pissarro, Sisley and Cézanne and some of their lesser-known contemporaries, as well as an “immersive expedition in virtual reality” entitled “Tonight with the Impressionists.” Looking over all the previews for this commemoration, I realize that I’ve never appreciate how radical the Impressionist movement was—looking forward to this spring.

Claude Monet, Impression, soleil levant (détail), 1872-1873, musée Marmottan Monet, Paris © RMN-Grand Palais

Lafayette’s American Tour: Moving back 50 years to another big French cultural moment, but an even bigger American one: Lafayette’s tour of the United States in 1824. I know that this bicentennial will be big, as there are several initiatives which have been in the planning stages for quite some time. A “Lafayette Trail”, signalled by red, blue and white markers erected in many of the towns and cities he visited—over 40 in New England alone—has been created, and  Lafayette 200 has coordinated hundreds of events to commemorate the General’s tour. You can check out all the events here: the kick-off is in August, the month in which Lafayette arrived. He visited Salem, Beverly and Ipswich on August 31, and it looks like Historic Beverly will be sponsoring an event on that day.

Salem as center of pre-Revolutionary activity: 1774 was a big year for Salem in terms of Revolutionary activity. Royal Governor Thomas Gage moved the location of the Massachusetts General Court from Boston to Salem, where he hoped it would be “more inclined to comply with the King’s Expectations,” in June but compliance was not forthcoming. Not at all.  The Salem assembly would not comply or even be disbanded after Gage’s order, instead resolving to endorse “a meeting of Committees, from the several Colonies on this Continent … to consult upon the present state of the Colo¬ nies, and the miseries, to which they are, and must be reduced, by the operation of certain Acts of Parliament respecting America ; and to deliberate and determine upon wise and proper measures to be by them recommended to all the Colonies, for the recovery and establishment of their just rights and liberties.” This “meeting of Committees” became known as the Continental Congress. Later in the summer, after Gage prohibited town meetings without his prior approval, Salem held one which drew over 3000 attendees, and in the fall a Salem “tea party” on October 3 was followed by a de facto declaration of independence. After yet another Gage cancellation, of a meeting of the Massachusetts General Court, its members met anyway on October 5 and voted “to resolve themselves into a Provincial Congress” which was not answerable to London.