Monthly Archives: August 2026

Green Mountain Gothic

I felt that I needed one more road trip before I start school later this week, so I headed to Vermont by myself to engage in some intensive “house hunting.” For me, a road trip has to have some kind of quest beyond just seeing the scenery and I’ve long wanted to chart Gothic Revival houses in Vermont. I spent my early childhood in Strafford, Vermont, where the Justin Morrill Homestead is located. This pink picturesque house became kind of the standard of “great” houses for me, as we had free rein in the village and I would visit it frequently. Later on we moved to southern Maine, and the nearby city of Portsmouth, New Hampshire with its colonial and Federal houses became my architectural ideal, and that focus eventually brought me to Salem. But my fascination for the more romantic Gothic continued, and I’m always seeking them out. We have a few Gothic Revivals here in Salem, including the very notable Brooks house, and down in New Bedford there are more, but in the back of my mind I’ve always associated that style with Vermont, so off I went to test my memory.

My ideal and my map.

Vermont is relatively small,  but I didn’t have time to survey the entire state, so I focused on its south central region, from Woodstock in the east, over to Poultney in the west, down to Manchester and back across to Putney. I did not confine myself to the highly detailed “Carpenter Gothic” style of the Morrill homestead, but looked for more general silhouettes. There’s a few churches here, but I think nearly every Vermont town has a Gothic-esque church with myriad variations of crenellated parapets instead of (or in addition to) spires. There is a lot of vernacular variation, and a lot of mixing of the two most prominent mid-nineteenth century styles, Gothic and Greek Revival. I based myself in Cavendish, and this was no accident, for I had seen real estate listing for an amazing mansion named Glimmerstone, and I drove straight from Salem to see it on Friday morning. What a bargain! (Be sure to look at the back in the listing)

Glimmerstone Mansion in Cavendish

Actually, I drove through the “Stone Village” of nearby Chester to get to Cavendish: this is a linear neighborhood of 1840s buildings constructed with the Scottish “snecked ashlar” technique and style, in which local rubblestone is used in varying large and small pieces to tie interior and exterior walls together: I think it’s a form of “Celtic Bond” but please feel free to correct me! In the midst of the Stone Village is a perfect little Gothic Revival church, but the rest of its buildings have a more classical style. The snecked ashlar technique clearly extended to Cavendish, and to Glimmerstone, as well as a few neighboring houses.

Chester and Cavendish: how great is this last house and terraced lawn!!!

And then I was off—across and around the state with some beautiful weather! Again, I could have taken many pictures of churches: the little white chapel in the western village of Wells below is very representative. There are also many versions of the “classic” white center gable house, sometimes with a porch, sometimes without, and with varying degrees of trim. Gothic Revival houses in Vermont are mostly made of wood (outside of Cavendish and Chester) but there was the occasional brick. Below is just a sampling, or a foundation on which I hope to build.

Gothic Revival variations in Vermont: Windsor (top three, front and back of the Townsend-McIndoe House), Rutland, Poultney, Wells, Manchester, Newfane.


Old Bristol

We’re on the Pemaquid peninsula in Maine and I finally feel that I have the terrain down. We’ve been alternating between the adjacent Boothbay peninsula and Pemaquid over the last few summers, and I drive around without navigation but just yesterday I came upon a peninsula off the peninsula which was still unknown territory and I have still not figured out all the islands. Pemaquid, extending south from Newcastle and Damariscotta, used to be just one big town, Bristol or “Old Bristol,” but is now divided between Bristol, South Bristol, and Bremen. Bristol has five villages: Bristol Mills, Pemaquid, New Harbor, Round Pond, and Chamberlain. South Bristol (separated and incorporated in 1915) has three villages: South Bristol, Christmas Cove, and Walpole. We’re staying in the latter, and even though it is located north of much of Bristol, it’s in South Bristol. Bremen, also located in the northern part of the peninsula but on the northeastern side, seems more distinct than the Bristols, and it was separated from Old Bristol in 1828.

The Pemaquid Peninsula is nameless on Frank and Ruth Taylor White’s  1935  pictorial map of Maine, created for Little, Brown’s national atlas (David Rumsey Historical Map Collection); an 1857 map of Old Bristol; our view from Walpole on the eastern shore of the Damariscotta River.

I was at first perplexed by the co-existence of two Colonial meeting houses on the peninsula, built just years apart in the 1770s and located just a few miles apart: the Walpole and Harrington meeting houses. Was there a huge schism? I just love Maine meeting houses–so unadorned and preserved in their spireless states (my favorite one is in Alna, just north of Pemaquid). Walpole is particularly famous, and it deserves to be, because it is beautiful. My confusion over the two proximate meeting houses is just a reflection of my Massachusetts bias regarding relative population density: because the distance was so great, there were actually three meeting houses built on Pemaquid in the 1770s: Walpole in the east, another one in Round Pond on the western side of the peninsula (no longer standing), and Harrington in the center. The Harrington meeting house is not really in the center now, as it was moved in 1840, and substantially altered at the same time. Apparently it’s been restored back to its Georgian form, but I didn’t get to go inside.

Another relic of the eighteenth century on the Pemaquid peninsula is the “Arch Bridge” in Bristol Mills, but I would say that Pemaquid has more of a late 19th century/early 20th century feel. Colonial Pemaquid includes the remains of the 17th-century Fort William Henry and an 18th-century fort house, but also a reproduction tower built in 1908. There are quite a few un-expanded and unadorned simple summer shingle cottages in every village, testifying to its continuing role as a summer place, but also wonderful capes and the full range of 19th-century vernacular styles evident of year-round  occupation, past and present. With the smaller scale of its working ports (unlike Boothbay across the way) Pemaquid seems to have found the perfect mix of tourism and residential occupation, although maybe locals would beg to differ one way or the other! I’m in my refugee-from-Salem season (which starts earlier and earlier every year, and grows longer and longer as well), so nearly everywhere looks perfect.

The Arch Bridge in Bristol Mills, Colonial Pemaquid, a house and its view from Pemaquid Harbor Road, a South Bristol cottage compound, a BEAUTIFUL house (+ barn) in New Harbor, Back Cove in New Harbor and Round Pond.


The Phillipses’ Library

This is my third year working at the Phillips House of Historic New England once a week or so over the summer, and it’s been such a wonderful experience for several reasons. My colleagues are great: we’re all part-time old house people who are solely interested in showcasing the house and the family who lived there to the best of our abilities. We compare and work on our tours constantly. It has been a continuous learning experience: the house is filled to the brim with the varied possessions of this wealthy Salem family, all acquired over generations, so just capturing the contents of one corner of one room takes time. And it has been equally delightful meeting every single visitor to the house: most interested in a more comprehensive history of Salem, away from the witching crowd, but even those who wander in with little felt witch hats on seem delighted to see more or something else entirely.

When I’m working at the house, there’s always a time when there are no visitors, and that’s when I wander around and look at things with more focus and purpose. The first year, I was focused primarily on the general architecture and the McIntire woodwork in the front rooms. The second year, I studied the mirrors and artwork. And this year has been all about the books. Even though the house was constructed on Chestnut Street in 1820-21 we interpret the house about a century later, when the Phillips family moved in after an extensive renovation: it’s their house. Stephen Willard Phillips (1873-1955), his wife Anna Pingree Phillips (1870-1938) and their son “Stevie” Phillips (1907-1971) were all avid readers, and looking at their books is a great way to learn more about both them and the time in which they lived. There are about 3000 books in the house, most encased in glass-fronted bookcases. This is about half of their entire library; the remainder is in storage. I’m sure many of their books, like all of their possessions, were inherited, but there are sufficient quantity that were obviously chosen by them to reveal their personal interests. The Phillipses’ books offer an introduction to both the house and the household, as one of the first things visitors see when they enter the house is the massive Gothic Revival bookcase in the room designated as Mr. Phillips’ Library. It faces stiff competition from the McIntire mantel in the same room, but in my experience, always wins! People go right to it, and to the books within.

It’s difficult to photograph glass bookcases, but I think that you can see that there are broad swaths of color among the books, representing the classic series that most libraries of this era possess: the Harvard Classics, the Waverly novels, other “great” works. But if you look closer you see more ephemeral titles, lots of works by regional authors, lots of military history and New England history. Mr. Phillips was born in Hawaii, and assembled a large “Hawaiian Library” that he eventually donated to the other Phillips Library of the Peabody Essex Museum, so that interest is not represented here.

Other bookcases reflect the same mixture of classics and topical, more contemporary texts, and as you move back and upstairs to the more private spaces the latter becomes more dominant. This is a family which lived through two world wars (well, Mrs. Phillips died in 1938) and so was clearly seeking explanations from observers (and participants) such as Winston Churchill. Mrs. Phillips liked to read novels, and you see lots of them on the second floor but very few on the first. She also clearly liked gardening books.

Stevie’s childhood books are encased in both his second-floor bedroom and first-floor playroom, reflecting interests in everything from fairies to pirates. I would really like to read The Battle of the Nations, apparently a “family-friendly” history of World War One, to determine how it manages to be just that, but it is behind glass doors. There is an adjoining boy’s history of the Battle of the Somme! Lots of sea stories in general and tales of pirates in particular.

My favorite bookcase is just outside the master bedroom on the second floor, in a hall which has its own door so it’s really kind of a suite and therefore quite private. There’s a key closet in there too. I like the bookcase because it does not have glass—instead, it just has a simple tapes running across the shelves, and for some reason this always gives me the feeling that the Phillipses just stepped away, leaving their possessions behind. One book in particular caught my attention one day, all about the Vanderbilts, and I thought wow, I guess rich families like to read about other rich families. The rest of the books in this case are an eclectic collection: biographies, novels, contemporary affairs, local history, pamphlets,  and also reference books that look well-read. These books are not as pretty as those in Mr. Phillips’ library, but they are perhaps more reflective of the Phillipses’ lives.

 

 

 


The Salem Seal and Social History

Thomas Carlyle: In a symbol there is concealment and yet revelation

I probably promised that I would not write about the Salem city seal in a previous post but here I am again writing about the Salem city seal. I just can’t help myself: the process through which it will likely be discarded has resumed again with the Salem City Council and frankly, the seal and its context, past and present, is really the only Salem topic I’m inspired to write about these days. I’m working on a much longer piece for an academic journal, so I’m using the blog as a trial run, and consequently I would love your questions, comments, and critique!

A short introduction and recap because it’s been a while. If you are new to this blog and to Salem you might presume that our city seal would depict a witch on a broomstick. This image is everywhere, including on our police cars, but in fact our official city seal, marking city documents and correspondence, depicts an East Indian merchant at its center, flanked by a ship and a pepper tree with an olive-branch bearing dove above and an assertive motto (“To the Farthest Point of the Rich East”) below. Of these two Salem emblems, you would think that the witch would be the objectionable image: the victims of 1692 were not practicing witchcraft so why are we representing them with a figure of a witch? We killed them because of that identification; they died asserting their innocence. But no, it’s the figure at the top that has been deemed “harmful” because its central figure represents an Asian stereotype or caricature (both terms are used) and its pacifist dove conceals the violence that accompaned Salem’s incredibly prosperous trade with the East Indies in the first half of the nineteenth century. In this view, the First and Second Sumatran Expeditions of the U.S.. Navy (1832 and 1838), retaliatory campaigns after Malay attacks on American ships which were indeed very violent, block out the entire extent and impact of Salem’s lucrative 40-year pepper trade, the revenues from which literally built this city.

To address concerns about the seal, a Task Force was created by the Mayor and City Council and given the charge to conduct historical research, gather public input, and review design considerations before submitting a final report with recommendations. This committee was supposed to be comprised of 11 members and sit for 18 months; it had 8 members who deliberated for 6 months. As the first charge was deemed quite important, two historians were appointed to the task force, including an academic who is an internationally recognized expert on Islamic society and culture in Sumatra. In my view, historical documentation and analysis was given short shrift repeatedly in favor of nineteenth and twentieth century images (most of which dated after the seal’s creation) curated to demonstrate an increasingly negative western depiction of Asian people over the period. Things became very interesting last summer when a succession of people from Aceh, Sumatra’s westernmost province and the region where the pepper trade was the most active, began lobbing for the seal’s preservation with assertions that they were honored by this representation. Salem’s Acehnese figure showed up on the cover of an Indonesian book entitled The Pepper Coast. A Historical, Archaeological and Economic Study of the Spice Trade in Bandar Susoh and Kuala Batu. 

Nevertheless, critics of the seal maintain(ed) that this was a local issue. Even though they are the ones represented on the seal, the opinions of the Acehnese don’t count! So much for worldly Salem. The Task Force completed its report (which excluded all documentary footnotes originally—thankfully put back in as an appendix) and submitted it to the City Council with a recommendation to change the seal. Months went by and a practically new council was was elected, which took up the matter only last week. I attended the meeting expecting to hear a vigorous debate, but instead there was a successful motion to simply accept the Task Force report and recommendation and change the seal. Despite the historical research charge embedded in the original order, several councillors asserted that the historical context of the seal was irrelevant: my own ward councillor repeated the assertion that history shouldn’t matter several times. And here we are: there has to be another vote but I think Salem’s venerable seal is history.

I find it sad that these councillors can’t see a bigger picture, because the seal has opened up all sorts of windows for me, or I should say, the figure on the seal has inspired questions and the search for answers. Who is this person? Why does the clothing change in depictions? Why does the gender of the figure change in the mid-19th century, as it appears in print and other genres? The evolution of an 1830s Sumatran figure in the original seal (top left), featuring clothing that its creator, City councilor George Peabody, would have seen, to a more generalized Imperial China depiction in Ross Turner’s 1888 “refresh” (bottom left) is particularly fascinating. Turner hadn’t been to East Asia, presumably he based his depiction on images and textiles he saw in the Peabody Museum. People in Salem in 1888 were likely far less familiar with Asian people than their predecessors were a half-century before, and the next generation would be even more removed. But certainly not disinterested. We have a great chapter in Salem’s Centuries by my colleague Michele Louro and the Salem State Library Dean Elizabeth McKeigue on Walter G. Whitman, a professor of Physical Sciences at Salem State who spent a year at the University of Nanking in 1925. During that time he traveled throughout Asia and collected and created a portfolio of images which he presented in a series of popular slide lectures when he returned home. Whitman was just one local collector/connector, illustrating the continuing ties between Salem and the East in the twentieth century.

Walter G. Whitman papers (M.7) at Salem State University Archives and Special Collections.

But even back in the “Golden Era” of Salem’s trade with East Asia a century earlier there is more to know, more to explore. I’ve been captivated by a quote from Captain Stephen Phillips about the presence of Asian “Lascars” for years, and just a cursory glance at the digitized crew lists for Salem ships from 1799-1979 at the Mystic Seaport Museum indicates there were East Asian seamen onboard—and presumably in Salem. (“Lascar” is a British term for seamen from pretty much anywhere in the entire Indian Ocean region).  Of course I’d like to know a lot more about the “servants” Phillips references as well. Who were all these people? What are their stories? Did they remain in Salem or go elsewhere to find their fortunes? Are their descendants still around?

Stephen Phillips miniature, Historic New England; Salem Crew lists at the Mystic Seaport Museum.

For me, history is about people, so the new seal, likely stripped down to as few unobjectionable objects as possible, will cease to be inspirational. The councillors of nearly two centuries ago who approved our present city seal were seeking a human connection; our current councillors are looking for something else. I’m not sure what. I just hope they don’t employ AI as was the case with that damn anime cat chosen as the mascot for our 400th anniversary! I whipped up this slop in 2 seconds and am not impressed.


Salem’s Quadricentennial Parade

I have been looking forward to Salem’s 400th anniversary parade all summer so my expectations were high and definitely a bit unrealistic when it finally unfolded on this past Saturday. I’ve been so steeped in Salem’s history in general, and the spectacular Salem Tercentenary in particular, that I expected a lot of elaborate floats about big historical moments, which was definitely the case in 1926. There was a lot of comparison between past and present in that year as well (very well represented by these two ladies featured on the Salem Gas Light Co. float below) and I thought I’d have the opportunity to compare 2026 and 1926. The parade was themed “Salem through the Centuries,” so my expectations were not completely unfounded, but it was also labeled as the return of the traditional Heritage Days parade, which had not been held for over twenty years.

There were a couple of floats and I saw a couple of dates pass by, but mostly it was just a community parade: local politicians, businesses, institutions, organizations, people. Marching bands, fire trucks, and Shriners: just what you expect to see in a summer parade in a small American city. There were also a lot of boats, as the parade ended at the Salem Maritime National Historic Park, which held its annual maritime festival and cardboard boat regatta and so several entries marched in the parade. Here’s a few shots from my spot on Lafayette Street: there were larger crowds downtown but I walked way up towards the beginning of the parade route. A highlight for me came fairly early in the parade: History Alive, Inc., which has been presenting immersive historical productions for Salem residents and tourists since 1992, outfitted an army of historical Salem people in crafted costumes. It was really thrilling to see John Remond, Luis Emilio, and Samuel McIntire stride down Lafayette Street.

The History Alive contingent: these costumes were gorgeous!

So I settled in to watch more people (and the occasional animal) pass by: a delegation from the venerable student exchange program between Salem and Ota, Japan, representatives of the Salem Chamber of Commerce, Salem Main Streets, the Essex National Heritage Area, the League of Women Voters, the Salem Boys and Girls Club, the House of the Seven Gables, the North Shore Asian American and Pacific Islander Coalition, and the Saint Nicholas Russian Orthodox Church. (this is not a complete list). Nathaniel Hawthorne represented the Salem Athenaeum. Marching Masons too!

Several notable businesses really showed up for the parade, including Rockefella’s Restaurant, which is located in the historical Daniel Low’s building which was also the original site of Salem’s First Church, the Hawthorne Hotel, Cinema Salem, and O’Donnell’s Funeral Home, which featured an antique horse-drawn hearse! There was an array of witches, of course, pink, green, and dancing, as well as the ever-present Halloween buskers, and the Salem Witch Museum featured a tree float representing the millions of descendants of Witch Trial victims. Two public departments, The Salem Parks, Recreation and City Services Department and the Salem Beautification Committee, went all out with their truck floats featuring the famous cement slide at Forest River Park and the Ladies of Salem figurehead installations.

And now for the vessels. Both the Peabody Essex Museum and the Salem Maritime National Historic Park featured ship floats and there was also the flotalla of cardboard creations destined for the regatta later in the day. I was so hot after the parade that I skipped that, but it has become a HUGE attraction over the past few years and I can see from various posts that it was bigger than ever this year. The parade was closed very appropriately and very well by the Salem High School Marching Band, but I didn’t get a good picture!

An Appendix: a group shot of all the History Alive parade stars! Kristina Stevick, artistic director of History Alive, is in front. The Company’s wardrobe manager is Carrie Midura. You can be sure that this photograph is going into the archives: I’m going to print it out and put it there!