Tag Archives: Architecture

A Salem Walking Tour for Presidents Day

Sorry I’m a little late with this Presidents Day post, but I woke up this morning with an earnest desire to take a walk around Salem, an urge I haven’t felt for quite some time. And since it was Presidents Day, I had a walking theme, which is always nice. We had a lovely weekend in New Hampshire with old friends and a equally lovely dinner with my brother and brother-in-law when we returned last night, and I woke up feeling happy and finally rested from finishing THE BOOK. So off I went in search of presidential places on this sunny but chilly day. This is a little breezy, I certainly didn’t do any research, so feel free to make corrections and/or additions. I’ve plotted my tour on a 1915 “New Map of Salem for the for Motorists and Tourists” from the Library of Congress, and most of the tour stops (marked with stars) are standing today: one had yet to be built (the Hawthorne Hotel) and another (the Ruck House, marked by a special star) was torn down to make way for the new Post Office in the 1920s, along with 50+ other old structures in the vicinity.

I always start my walking tours at Hamilton Hall on lower Chestnut Street because I live right next door. So many things happened at the Hall, however, that it is not only a convenient place but also a logical place to start a Salem history tour. Quite a few presidents have visited the Hall, John Quincy Adams, Martin van Buren, and Theodore Roosevelt for certain. The latter came up to Salem from Harvard for debutante assemblies in the later 1870s, and I think he might have even met his first wife, Alice Lee, there, as several letters in the Pusey Library refer to their courtship amidst the assemblies. Then Vice-President Van Buren reportedly referred to Chestnut Street as “the most beautiful street I have ever seen” at an 1817 reception though this oft-quoted opinion has been attributed to others.

Keep walking up Chestnut and cross over to Essex on Flint, then walk eastward towards Grace Church, our second stop. President William Howard Taft, who maintained  “Summer White Houses” over in Beverly for several seasons, attended services here occasionally from 1909-1912. Like several other presidents, Taft also visited the Peabody Museum and the Essex Institute and spoke at the Salem Armory, and an endorsement from Mrs. Taft indicates that he was a big fan of the chocolates at the Moustakis Brothers’ “Palace of the Sweets” at 220 Essex Street (although I’m pretty sure he didn’t shop for them there himself.) Continue walking eastward on Essex and cross over to Federal Street at Monroe, after passing the Cabot-Low-Endicott house on the right: I really think President Grover Cleveland visited his first Secretary of War, William Crowninshield Endicottt, there but I can’t find the documentation.

On Federal, we’re just going to head west for a bit until we come to the Peabody Essex Museum’s Assembly House, where President George Washington was wined and dined at a reception during his big trip to Salem in October of 1789–he stayed at the Joshua Ward House on the street that would be renamed in his honor after this visit, now The Merchant Hotel. Then it’s a long walk towards downtown along Federal Street to Washington and the Tabernacle Church, where Calvin Coolidge attended services while maintaining his Summer White House in Swampscott in the 1920s. Then we walk down to Town House Square where several presidents traversed and campaigned, including Ulysses S. Grant, Chester Arthur, and Theodore Roosevelt.

President and Mrs. Coolidge attending services at the Tabernacle Church, Salem, on July 4, 1925, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Massachusetts Amherst Libraries.

Walk down Essex Street to the East India Marine Hall of the Peabody Essex Museum, which was visited by a succession of presidents from John Quincy Adams to Taft and Coolidge. The Salem Armory (or what’s left of it) also hosted several presidential receptions. It’s difficult to orient yourself historically on Essex Street as so much is new, but Thomas Jefferson (1784), James Monroe (1817), and Andrew Jackson (1833) all visited famous dwellings in this vicinity. Jackson was not popular, and he did not attend a special  “handsome and good dinner including mock turtle soup” for 150 attendees on June 26 prepared by famed Hamilton Hall caterer John Remond, pleading illness. His great opponent, the former president John Quincy Adams, later expressed his doubts about Jackson’s debility, which he called “politic,” at best.

Make your way over to Salem Common by the Hawthorne Hotel, from which President George H.W. Bush WALKED down Hawthorne Boulevard and Lafayette Streets for his speech at Salem State College (now University) in May of 1994. I’m not sure whether or not his fellow presidential speakers in the famed series, Presidents Ford, Carter, and Clinton, stayed or were “received” at the Hotel, but they were certainly in Salem!

On the Common, head for the northeast corner and the Washington Arch, recently restored by the Salem Common Neighborhood Association. (unfortunately the attendant sign is incorrect: while Salem’s privateering record is impressive, the port did not account for half of the estimated 1800 captured British vessels during the Revolution. This kind of sloppiness is unfortunately all too common with Salem’s historical signage). From the arch you can look at two “presidential” houses at either side of this corner, the former Silsbee house (now beautiful condos!) and the Joseph Story house, both of which served as venues for the reception of President James Monroe in the summer of 1817. From this vantage point, I can also imagine President James K. Polk’s entourage speeding down Winter Street towards Beverly in 1847.

Walk south towards Salem Harbor and Derby Street, where you will find the stately Brookhouse Home for Aged Women right next to the Custom House. It was built for Benjamin Crowninshield, who was a US representative and Secretary of the Navy under both Presidents Madison and Monroe, and the latter stayed her during his 1817 visit to Salem. From there its a pretty straight shot along Derby, Charter and Front Streets to the Joshua Ward House/Merchant, where President Washington stayed  in October of 1789. A friend of ours restored the building (very meticulously!) and so as soon as it was open for business, we booked the very room in which Washington slept, which was quite a thrill! From the Merchant you can look out to where the Ruck house once stood, now occupied by the Salem Post Office. This was the home of Abigail Adams’ sister and brother-in-law so often visited by the Adamses in his pre-presidential years. The two wonderful pastel portraits of Abigail and John by Salem artist Benjamin Blyth were no doubt a product of their familiarity with this house and Salem.

Abigail and John Adams by Benjamin Blyth, c. 1766, Massachusetts Historical Society.


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.


Special Little Places: Closes, Corridors and Courts

Still basking in my Edinburgh afterglow as we finish the last week of classes of the Fall 2023 semester: at home, as a deficient boiler has rendered Salem State’s North Campus an uninhabitable place. Shades of 2020-2021 for sure! I’m actually teaching two online classes by choice next semester, but I was not expecting to be back on Zoom so soon. I had a bit of time to think about some themes I wanted to emphasize about my Scotland trip, and one is “special little places”: I find that in most (not all) European cities that I have visited there are urban spaces which preserve a bit of the past, off the beaten path. Little courtyards and lanes and ways. Off the Royal Mile in Edinburgh there are so many “closes”! It’s quite extraordinary really–some access other ways, some are closed-off, all seem to transport you off a busy street into somwhere else. Here are just a few: Riddell’ss Close AND Court, Advocate’s Close, Tweeddale Court and Bakehouse Close: the latter two arre Outlander locations, and I encountered an Outlander tour just after I took these pictures!

There are some special places in Edinburgh’s 18th century “New Town” as well, but not as many: it was laid out for breadth, perspective, and movement, just like an American city (well, at least the latter). There are places and lanes that give you a bit of that enclosure within the larger city feeling, like Circus Lane below, and the spectacularly picturesque Dean Village. You can still get away, or get back, in the New Town.

There are a few places in America where you can get this out-of-time experience. Beacon Hill in Boston is like that for me. Neighborhoods in Charleston, Alexandria, Annapolis, Newport and Nantucket. Salem used to have lots of little ways and squares, but it has always evolved, and most have disappeared. Everybody’s favorite little street is actually a court, Bott’s Court between Chestnut and Essex, and I can spot a really special little way on a 1916 map of Salem: (the) North Pole! I’m not sure where that place went, but it’s definitely no longer here.


A Scottish Photo Feast for St. Andrew’s Day

I’m just returned from a long trip to Scotland, during which I took hundreds of photographs, and today marks the feast of the Scottish patron Saint Andrew, so that’s the post! I promise more substantive essays in the future, but I have re-entered at the busiest time of the semester and my Salem’s Centuries manuscript is due in just over a month, so these photos will have to suffice for now. We spent most of our time in Edinburgh, but also covered a wide swath of south central Scotland, including Glasgow, Oban and Fort William in the west, and St. Andrews in the east. I spent my junior year abroad at that city’s university, and while I’ve been back several times since, it’s always great to go back. I really explored Edinburgh on this trip, both Old Town and New and some adjoining neighborhoods, so it was hard to pick my favorite photos of the capital, but I think I’ll favor the light. All the cities and towns we visited were aglow with Christmas trim, and every other day the sun bathed the land-and street-scapes for several intermittent hours: with moody mornings and darkness descending at 4pm, the light is very precious.

In Edinburgh:

Interior shots are of two National Trust properties: Gladstone’s Land in the Old Town and the Georgian House in the new. Of course the modern embellished building is the relatively new Scottish Parliament, about which I learned a lot. Christmas markets and fairs in every available green space!

 

Glasgow:

Glasgow Cathedral and Council Chambers are quite something, as are the Hunterian Museum and Art Gallery at Glasgow University. Charles Rennie McIntosh immersion is possible.

 

Western Coast from Oban to Fort William and through the Highlands:

 

 

Fife villages on the East Coast, and St. Andrews:

So, lots more to write about, including whiskey, GIN, Jacobites, McIntosh, Princes Street, old and new architecture, the power of Outlander, closes, courts and corridors, and hedgehogs, but this postcard post will have to do for now: Happy Feast of St. Andrew day!


Before, During and After the Revolution

I have been thinking about Salem during the American Revolution quite a bit over the past few months. It’s yet another era in Salem’s history which is tragically under-represented, and we’re going to try to correct that with our forthcoming book. We have one whole chapter on the Revolution, and a shorter piece on privateers, but Salem really deserves an entire book on its revolutionary role. And why our city has a “real pirates” of Cape Cod museum and no exhibition on privateers when Salem supplied more sailors and ships than any other American port remains inexplicable to me. In any case, our chapter on the Revolution, written by Hans Schwartz, is really interesting: his thesis is that the Revolution was revolutionary for Salem, which sounds simplistic but is not. He examines the social changes in Salem during and after the Revolution, using houses and neighborhoods as one way to illustrate transitions. I didn’t agree with all of his analysis (which is presumptuous of me since he knows far more about this era than I do, but I guess editors need to be presumptuous), but it certainly got me thinking about houses built in Salem in the Revolutionary era. I decided to take a little tour of before, during and after. Federal Street seemed the best place to start.

The first three houses illustrate a pre-revolutionary style: two-story boxes, square or rectangular. They get additions and embellishments later on, but they are stalwart, well-built houses from the pre-Revolutionary era. They make me wonder: what were their builders thinking? Oh, this will all blow over? Obviously building a house is an expression of hope and confidence, or maybe I’m just projecting too much of a modern mindset. And when the war is not quite over, we start to see the Salem Federals built: larger three-story buildings that just exude confidence—we’re winning (lots of houses built in 1782, including the Peirce-Nichols House below) or we’ve won. 

Does style follow politics? I’m just not certain: I think fashion might, but architecture? Most of the characteristic Federals for which Salem is famous were built at the beginning of the nineteenth century, not the tail end of the eighteenth. And if you widen your search for Revolutionary-era houses to all of downtown Salem, an architectural conservatism is immediately apparent: the first house below, on Turner Street, was built in 1771, but it’s similiar to the two yellow houses off the Common and Derby Street built ten and twenty years later. And before the Revolution, before the laying out of Chestnut Street in 1805 really, there is no housing segregation, so we are left with an interesting mix of architectural styles: so very evident along Essex and Derby Streets.

Building in 1779-1780: now that’s confidence. Elias Hasket and Derby began construction on Salem’s Maritime’s Hawkes House in the latter year, as their family had outgrown the Derby House next door.

I’m off to Scotland on Friday so no posts for a few weeks: “see” you after Thanksgiving! In the meantime, if you’re interested in Salem architecture, tickets for Historic Salem’s Christmas in Salem tour on December 2-3, featuring houses in the Salem Common neighborhood, are available here.


Meeting Houses of Rockingham County

(Sorry—I have been reading and writing about meeeting houses for the past few months but still do not know if their identifier is one word or two). On this past Sunday, a rather dreary day, the New Hampshire Preservation Alliance sponsored a driving tour of meeting houses in southern Rockingham County, encompassing structures in Hampstead, Danville, Fremont, and Sandown. I drove over from York Harbor, fighting and defeating an inclination to just stay cozy at home. There was an orientation at Hampstead, the only colonial meeting house of the four that features a steeple addition (I envisioned Salem’s third meeting house, built in 1718), and then we were off to Danville, Fremont and Sandown. I have to tell you, I was in awe all day long: these structures are so well-preserved (cherished, really), simple yet elegant, crafted and composed. I remember thinking to myself when I was first set foot in the Danville meeting house: “I’d rather be here than in Europe’s grandest cathedral” (I think because I had just talked to my brother, on his way to Rome).  There’s just something about these places, and the people who care for them. Just to give you a summary of  the orientation that I received: they were built in the eighteenth century as both sacred and secular buildings, as close to the center of their settlements as possible and by very professional craftsmen. In the early nineteenth century, their religious and polical functions were seperated, so they became either churches or town halls or were abandoned altogether as other denominations built their own places of worship. It seems to me that they survived because of the preservation inclinations of their surrounding communities, and we were introduced to each meeting house by contemporary stewards who were clearly following in a long line of succession. Nice to encounter historical stewards rather than salesmen.

Hampstead:

The second floor of the meeting house, with its stage and original window frames propped up against the wall and all manner of remnants of civic celebrations, was really charming.

Danville: (which used to be called Hawke, so that’s the name of the meeting house. Hawke, New Hampshire–how cool a name is that!)

Incredible building—I had to catch my breath! I think it has the highest pulpit of these meeting houses, and there was just something about the contrast of that feature and the simplicity (though super-crafted) of the rest of the interior that was striking.

Fremont (which used to be called Poplin):

This meeting house is the only one remaining in NH with “twin porches” on each side, plus a hearse house (see more here–I have long been obsessed and have been to Fremont before but never inside the meeting house or the hearse house) with a horse-drawn hearse inside plus an extant town pound! Very simple inside, but note the sloping second-floor floors in picture #4 above. Took me a while to get used to those.

Sandown:

The most high-style of this set of meeting houses, particularly impressive from the back, I thought. Very light inside, even on this miserable day. Another high pulpit, and more marbleized pillars. Short steps to the second floor–I’m a size 7!

My photos are a bit grainy–not sure what my settings were, I was shifting them around to get more light, and too awestruck by the architecture to really focus, so in compensation I want to refer to you the wonderful work of photographer Paul Wainwright, who has photographed all of these meeting houses and more. Simply stunning!


Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Love that song, although I never realized its lyrics were so risque (“horizontally speaking”)! The title is how I feel living in Salem most of the time now, especially bewildered. I don’t understand why our local government is trying to impose out-of-scale and ugly buildings on this beautiful city, relentlessly. I don’t understand why the city’s roads and sidewalks are maintained so poorly. I don’t understand anything about our tourism industry: its management, messaging and particularly the economic impact it has on our city, which seems shrouded in mystery. I don’t understand why everything in this city is named “witch” when the victims of 1692 were not witches. I don’t understand why two tattoo shops are located right next to each other on Essex Street and two pirate “museums” are located right across from each other on Derby Street. I could go on and on and on. I came here for the architecture decades ago, and I’m really out of it when it comes to all the rest: the bones, the black, the business of selling all things spooky. I’m so alienated that I have become increasingly detached from Salem, to the extent that my husband and I and the cats are moving up to Maine for the month of October. I’m not going for good, however (at least not yet) and I also have an academic-esque interest in figuring out what’s going on: unlike me, it’s clear that many, many people love to come to Salem in the fall and increasingly throughout the year. What are they looking for? Last week was interesting because I took a deep dive into social media to answer that question, intentionally and non-intentionally! The non-intentional dive when I posted a picture of the back of my house on a really nice facebook group called Our Old House. It was a beautful day, and we painted the back of the house this summer so it was looking good! I’ve been following this group for a while because the people on it are so appreciative and lovely: everyone loves their own old house and everyone else’s old houses! No facebook rudeness at all. You can learn a lot too: people share their restoration experiences and knowledge. Our house is such a mish-mash in back that I thought everyone would enjoy seeing the different additions: and they certainly did! Nearly 7000 likes and comments, with a serious thread of people expressing their praise of both my house and Salem: I love Salem, You’re so lucky to live in Salem, We go to Salem every Halloween, I really want to go to Salem (it was funny to read these comments as I was literally packing my bags for our departure next week).

How and when my Salem house was built.

So that was interesting, and even more informative was my dive into one of the many Salem tourist groups on facebook: I picked Things to do in Salem, but there are many others. A couple of weeks ago, USA Today named the Salem Witch Museum the second biggest tourist trap in the world, and I was interested in reading some reactions to that. I found a solid defense of this attraction, based mostly on nostalgia: apparently its interpretation and presentation is so dated that it has become “historical” itself. There’s this relatively new defense of Salem attractions, that they are not and should not be Disney-esque, which is offered up with complete unawareness that it was the Salem Witch Museum that started us down that path. Most people also seemed to believe that the Salem Witch “Museum” presented a straightforward and accurate account of the Trials in a historical and global context and did not want to hear otherwise. I disagree, but this was no place to have a discussion: there is no place in Salem to have such a discussion. The type of information that people are seeking in these groups is perhaps 90% non-historical: how to get to Salem, how long to stay here, where to park, where to eat, the best attractions for kids, all about Hocus Pocus, and whether or not certain attractions are “worth it”? When “history” is referenced, I’m not sure what the meaning is, actually—just a kind of general historical environment or atmosphere? Other forums may yield different results, but I don’t discern a great deal of historical curiosity, and even less interest in architecture (though just like my fellow old house owners, everyone is very excited and enthusiastic). So it seems like the biggest thing I don’t get about Salem is the attraction! Ah well, to each his own, best to retreat to Maine and my academic pursuits. I did take a nice long walk around Salem last weekend so I’ll leave you with some pictures (and annotations) of not-quite calm before the storm. There’s quite a bit of ironwork below as that was my orginal pursuit, but it kind of got crowded out.

First up in my neighborhood, I wanted to showcase these two houses whose owners have invested in a lot of work! Kudos to them! Both are on Chestnut. As you can see, the first house has a way to go, but its very impressive entrance was just re-attached. It’s such a great house, with an amazing garden. Nathaniel Hawthorne lived briefly in the blue house. A rare Salem front garden on Essex—and this house has been thoroughly renovated as well. Besides the Witch House and the House of the Seven Gables, the only historic house that Salem tourists seem interested in these days is the Ropes House, because it was featured in Hocus Pocus of course. The Ropes Garden is consequently very crowded in the fall, but I caught it during a relatively calm time: more ropes in the Ropes Garden than ever before. This gate on Federal Court started off my iron hunt–I’m obsessed with it.

 

Downtown is quite a vibrant shopping scene with more than occasional bones and bats, and porta-potties, of course. There are some very well curated shops amidst the general kitsch, particularly Diehl Marcus & Co. (great ironwork and a Bulfinch building to boot) and Emporium 32 (in the old Custom House) on Central Street, and I’m so impressed that the owner of the new Silly Bunny and enduring Wicked Good Books (on different blocks of Essex Street) has declined to carry Bill O’ Reilly’s Killing Witches that I’m going to go in and buy a big bundle of books before I leave for Maine. The Peabody Essex Museum has opened a pop-up shop called the Bat Box to highlight its current bats exhibition: it’s a cute shop featuring the works of some local makers, but (once again) I don’t understand the attraction of coasters featuring a famous murder any more than I do witch souvenirs in the location of a series of famous judicial murders of accused witches.

 

Ghosts might trump witches this year eveywhere but Salem, of course. The ironwork at the Peabody Essex’s Gardner-Pingree House (which is never open) is simply astounding! A very busy Common, as the annual Food Truck Festival was underway, but once you get into the realm of Salem Maritime along Derby Street, not so busy. I still haven’t been in the Derby House even though it has been open this summer. The last photo just above is to remind me that I want to plant that particular variety of clematis next year!

 

I finished up my walk on Charter Street, where the Witch Trial Memorial and Burying Ground is located. As soon as I entered the latter, I was confronted by these strange mannequins, propped up right against the Cemetery’s gate and stones! So Salem: the juxtaposition of the sacred and the tacky, remembrance and exploitation, enduring and ephemeral.


The Summer of Old Photographs

I worked all summer long on my chapters for Salem’s Centuries and a few other projects, researching and writing, researching and writing, researching and writing. Once I’m on the trail, I’m a pretty steady worker, but I do take breaks: I’ve learned from other writing projects that you have to pause to let your mind absorb and process information. Sometimes the break might be at night when you’re asleep—I got into the habit of leaving a notebook by my bedside when I was writing my dissertation and when I woke up in the morning sometimes I would see notations inside that I didn’t even remember writing! That must have been one of the benefits of a younger mind because it didn’t happen this summer, when all my breaks were conscious. Every time I went up to the Phillips Library in Rowley, I would dutifully call up boring municipal records but also collections which contained old photographs of Salem. I’d pore over them a bit and photograph them for later perusal, and by the end of the summer I had quite a collection. The Phillips has digitized two of its largest collections of Salem photographs: the Frank Cousins and Samuel Chamberlain collections, but there remain many seldom-seen images within collections. Fortunately there are great finding aids to locate such images, but also some very miscellaneous collections which yielded surprises, at least for me! I loved schoolteacher Grace Hood’s shots of the Salem and Massachusetts celebrations in 1926-1930 (PHA 67; including some completely new-to-me views of the opening day of Pioneer Village in 1930) and an unknown photographer’s depictions of a very gritty Salem encased in a large composite collection entitled Photographs of interiors and exteriors of Salem, Mass., circa 1890-1950 (PHA 151). And there’s much more.

Phillips Library PHA 67 & 151.

My favorite collection was the first one I accessed, back in May: a treasure trove of images contained in the scrapbooks of Francis Henry Lee of 14 Chestnut Street, mostly from the 1880s (Phillips Library MSS 128). Lee was the son-in-law of the woman who lived in my house, and a committed architectural antiquarian focused on documenting the history of every house on Chestnut and adjoining streets. He did not rely on hearsay, but sent queries to anyone who ever lived in the neighborhood, and his scrapbooks are filled with detailed responses, some written on black-trimmed stationery indicating that their authors were in mourning. I was familiar with his articles in the Historical Collections of the Essex Institute, but surprised to find his research materials accompanied by so many wonderful photographs.

Some of my favorites: (I filtered those that were really hazy or damaged).

Chestnut, Summer & Norman Streets from two perspectives. I’ll never get over how wonderful Norman Street was!

Riding and looking north on Summer Street, and then south (Samuel McIntire’s house is on the extreme left of the last photograph).

Broad Street, looking west.

Cambridge Street, looking north and south.

Work on Bott’s Court.

Hamilton Street, looking north.

Chestnut Street Houses—what’s going on with that figure at the third-floor level of the third photo above, which I think is #26?

Warren Street, looking towards the “Turnpike” (Highland Avenue).

There were several photographs which were especially exciting to see among the Lee papers, including those which show the magnificent formal garden in the rear of the Cabot-Endicott-Low House on Essex Street, which extended to Chestnut before no. 30 Chestnut was built in 1896. This garden was quite famous: it was prominently featured in many horticultural publications and was by all accounts quite the tourist attraction, especially in the spring. A 1904 Boston Globe article on “Beautiful Old Gardens of Salem” reports that for many years the tulip bed was the greatest feature of this garden, and each spring, when these flowers were in perfection, and upper portion of the high fence on Chestnut was removed to enable the public to view the exhibit.

Even more exciting than this lost garden were two photographs of my own house that I had never seen before, including one sans the apartment that was added on in phases between 1890-1910. Our house is the right side of a double house built in 1827: both sides were identifical until the 1850s, when one of our owners expanded the house considerably in back and altered the interior to look more fashionable at the time—round mouldings rather than square ones! The big entrance alteration reflects the changes inside, but I did not know that this guy also put new mouldings over the windows, and disdained shutters as too colonial, I guess. Several owners later, there was a sequential addition on the side of the house: first as an office for a very well-know opthamologist who lived here, and then bedrooms were built above: this is our present-day 7 1/2, a really cute apartment with the best views of Chestnut Street. I assumed that it covered up windows which were on the side of our house, but it looks like there were none. As you can see from all of the other photos of the street, Chestnut was driveway-less in the nineteenth-century: the larger houses had carriage access on Warren or Essex: the property of our house actually wrapped around Hamilton Hall next door and so our carriage house—long- demolished—accessed Cambridge Street.


Salem’s Wooden Watchman

Before there was Samuel McIntire, there was Lemon Beadle. Remember that name: Salem’s nineteenth-century antiquarians certainly wanted us to. Sometimes “Lemuel” is the spelling, but I’m going with Lemon, because Lemon Beadle!  On this past Thursday I went up to the Phillips Library in Rowley, source of most of Salem’s history in textual and material form, to look at some sources for the history of Town House Square, the subject of the last piece I have to write for our Salem’s Centuries book. I had ordered up a notebook entitled “Salem Estates and Localities 1629-1842” which included a “Chronological Chart of Churches in Salem, Mass.” mostly because I wanted to look at the latter (and it is pretty great). The notebook consitutes the notes of William Phineas Upham, the son of  Charles Upham, the first great historian of the Salem Witch Trials. William, who prepared what must be one of the most important maps in American history (perhaps an overstatement, but I live in Salem), a 1692 view of Salem Village for his father, was clearly gathering information for his own magnum opus. The notebook was filled with extraordinary detail about many structures in Salem, illustrated occasionally with marginalia drawings of little houses. I found it charming and informative, but not particularly relevant to my topic, and I was about to close it and move on when I came to William’s rather compelling depiction of Salem’s central 18th century watch house, with its life-sized watchman on top, carved by Lemon Beadle. 

From Phillips Library Fam. Mss. 1047, Salem Estates and Localities, 1629-1842 by William P. Upham.

This illustration really intrigued me: could the “soldier” (as Upham calls it above) or “watchman” (according to other sources) really have been that big? Were there any other depictions out there? Sadly, I have found none so far, but I did get more details from a variety of old Salem sources. This particular watch house was likely Salem’s second, and it was built on Schoolhouse Lane, later School Street and the present-day Washington Street, in 1712: the carved wooden figure on its roof bore the date Anno Regina 1712 in large gold letters. If it was not conspicuous enough, town records indicate the watchman/soldier was painted in 1725. Lemon Beadle was chosen for the commission because of his experience crafting figureheads, and the entire production seems to have been part of policy to improve and standardize the watch system and remind Salem men of their civic responsibilities. While real watchmen endured into the nineteenth century, I’m pretty sure that was not the case with their wooden representative; there are the references to the watch house’s survival fifty years after its construction, but that’s it. Upham clearly wanted to “see” and portray it in his notebook, along with its adjacent whipping post.

Upham’s whipping post and other Salem structures; a watchman by Albert Blaisdell; Salem printer Ezekiel Russell’s watch order, 1777, Sang Collection via Sotheby’s;  Salem Gazette.

Since my focus is on the watchman statue, I’m a little out of my depth and discipline, but I did find one text which asserted that Lemon Beadle’s work is “the first documentable piece of free-standing sculpture in Massachusetts” (Benno M. Forman, American Seating Furniture, 1630-1730: An Interpretive Catalogue, 1988). That’s a pretty big claim; I wonder if it’s still standing. Elias Hasket Derby commissioned woodcarvers John and Simeon Skillen to carve four “free standing figures of larger dimensions, ranging between 4 and 5 feet in height” for his summer estate near the end of the century, but I have to say that without a more detailed depiction, Upham’s watchman sketch reminds me more of the……….(searching for correct word here, can’t come up with anything really applicable) rather less elegant figures which “graced” the very notorious Timothy Dexter’s estate in Newburyport. There were 40, including one of Dexter himself, and the Reverend William Bentley was not impressed when he visited in 1803: “There is no horrid violation of proportion in the district objects but the vast columns, the gigantic figures, the extended arches, & absurd confusion of characters, tend to convince us of the abuse of riches….Dexter was within doors, drunk, having just suffered from a heavy beating from his drunken son, urged on by a drunken daughter.”

 I have no doubt that Lemon Beadle could have done better.

 John Rubens Smith (engraver), A View of the Mansion of the late LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER in High Street, Newburyport, 1810.


Preservation Polaroids

I have heard, and read about, Salem’s experience with urban renewal many times, including first-hand accounts, so I thought I understood its causes, course and impact pretty well, but when you write about something, you have to engage on another level and come to your own understanding in order to explain it to others. It’s the same with teaching. One of the chapters for Salem’s Centuries that I’ve been working on this summer is about the city’s development over the twentieth century and so I really had to dig deep into urban renewal. I decided to start fresh with primary sources, so I went through all the records of the Salem Redevelopment Authority (SRA) located up at the Phillips Library in Rowley (these are public records, which should be in Salem, but I’m actually glad they are in Rowley because the City’s digitized records are impossible to search and I don’t know how one might access the paper). The SRA was the agency created to oversee urban renewal in Salem’s downtown and it still has jurisdiction: its composition was incredibly important and remains so. I’m going to be quite succinct here, because the narrative is rather complex and therefore quite boring to read or write about, but here’s the gist of what happened: after conducting a comprehensive study in the early 1960s the City created the SRA and put forward a very ambitious urban renewal plan which was overwhelmingly focused on clearance, including the demolition of between 120-140 buildings in Salem’s downtown area. The goal was to create a new pedestrian shopping plaza, to compete with the new Northshore Shopping Center just miles away in Peabody. The focus was on Parking, Parking, and more Parking. What I did not know before I delved into this research was that at the same time that this plan was brewing, Salem also had another committee looking at the downtown: an Historic District Study Committee, which was surveying all of central Salem’s buildings for inclusion in potential historic districts. What a clash! The “before” photos that you see below, candid polaroids, were taken by members of the Study Committee in 1965, the same year that the SRA was rolling out its demolition plan. Among the SRA records up in Rowley, there is a mimeographed document entitled a “Do it Yourself Walking Tour” prepared by John Barrett, Executive Director of the SRA, for Historic Salem, Inc., Salem’s preservation organization, then and now. It’s a remarkable document, because Barrett basically takes the Study Committee’s inventory and turns it into a hit list: this is what we’re going to demolish! Take a tour and see for yourself! There were 119 building slated for demolition, a number that would expand to over 140 over the next few years. The polaroids represent buildings that Salem’s preservationists were trying to save: they were successful in some cases, but not in others. Their resistance resulted in a far less destructive approach to “renewal”, however, which focused more on rehabilitation than destruction, as these images illustrate well.

This doesn’t line up perfectly, but what a great restoration +addition by Salem architect Oscar Padjen: very representative of the creativity of  “Plan B”!

As these photos also illustrate, once rehabilitation became an objective, several key buildings were restored in exemplary fashion, by local Salem architects and utilizing the new means of facade easements. If you compare past facades of these building with the present, urban renewal looks great, particularly with the hardscaping design of landscape architect John Collins of Philadelphia, whose work is also representative of the “Plan B” approach. What is more difficult to illustrate are the great wide swaths of buildings that were taken down, principally on the main Essex and Federal Streets but also on St. Peter and Brown Streets, while Plan A was still operational. We can never see these buildings restored, they were just swept away. What remains are parking lots and ghastly modern buildings. I’m not a fan of what was called the East India Mall in its orginal incarnation, but its colonnaded side entrance (not quite sure what to call it???) was quite distinctive, and it was butchered under the auspices of the SRA in the 1990s so now we have the Witch City Mall. I think Front Street (below) it probably the most perfect example of Plan B, along with Derby Square, but Central Street (just above) is pretty representative too.

Washington Street was the boundary of “Heritage Plaza East,” where most of the renewal activity happened in both phases, but it did not experience as much demolition as it had already weathered a major tunnel project just a decade before. That’s another realization for me: I somehow never put Salem’s “Big Dig,” during which its railroad tunnel was constructed and depot demolished in the 1950s, in such close chronological proximity to its experience with urban renewal in the 1960s. This generation of Salem residents weathered a lot of construction and dislocation: as always, past experiences temper the present. If you shift the perspective even further back, to the 1930s, when the new Post Office was built after an entire neighborhood was cleared out, you can understand why there is so much concern about the lack of housing downtown today: 51 buildings gone in the 1930s, 87 in the 1960s. Salem’s long “plaza policy” certainly took its toll, but I remain grateful to those residents who persevered in their preservation efforts for what remains.

Strking transformations on Washington Street.

NB: I’m confident in most of these past-and-present pairings, but not all, because streets numbers can change—not quite sure about the Subway market on Front Street for example……….