Sunday, August 30, 2009

A Victorian Sovereign Holder

Friday's mystery object is in fact an English sovereign holder, which dates from about 1900. It is from the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Thank you and well done to all who played this week!

FreshHell: a personal alarm that prevented the wearer from being buried alive
PJ: door knocker or fancy curtain rod
Amanda: a stopwatch
Alison: a key
WillOaks Studio: a locket
Catherine: the end of a bell pull
Rebecca: a mourning locket

I think that WillOaks Studio and Rebecca came closest with their guesses of a locket, but extra credit to FreshHell for the most imaginative guess!

There are some good pictures of sovereign holders - and chip holders for poker chips - over here. Most of the examples I saw online date from the 1890-1910 period. The sovereign holder was kept on a chain, in a man's pocket (this must have been a bit confusing, though, if he also had a watch). They also came in other shapes: this sovereign holder is shaped like a little book. The sovereign is a British gold coin equivalent to one pound or twenty shillings. It was first produced in 1489 and they are still being made. The image of the 1842 sovereigns is from Wikimedia.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Friday History Mystery: A Golden Puzzle

I've decided to expand the Mystery Object game to include other history mysteries (in the future) and also non-Victorian objects and thingamabobs. I'm having great fun searching the internet for mysterious things but so many of them are not Victorian. Since this is a dime museum, I can (and will) model it after Barnum's museum. He certainly had all sorts of odd things from all time periods (or at least odd things faked to look like they were ancient).

In any case: on to this week's puzzle. It is not what you might think it is. That wouldn't be mysterious, now, would it?

******

I also want to thank The Daily Reviewer for including The Virtual Dime Museum as one of their Top 100 Genealogy Blogs and Top History Blogs. I'm honored twice over!

This has inspired me to think about a couple of posts that I've been meaning to write this year about some Victorian relatives of mine: a Brooklyn lawyer (a third great uncle) with a deeply-buried secret (I think I have found it out though), and the other a New York stockbroker (a great great uncle) who spent 1900 embroiled in scandal. But right now, I'm working on the life story of another Victorian fortune teller in New York - whose story is a little darker than Madame Morrow's. All shall be revealed in the near future.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

The Astonishing Madame Morrow

ASTONISHING. - MADAME MORROW, seventh daughter, beats the world in telling magic likenesses, tells your thoughts on entering her room. For 50 cents. Gents not admitted. 184, Ludlow Street, near Houston. - Newspaper ad, quoted in Greville John Chester's Transatlantic Sketches (1869)

Madame Morrow was one of the most famous fortune tellers in America in the mid-19th century; she is mentioned in several travel books, and was a familiar character in New York City (and elsewhere). She was active from at least the early 1850s through the mid-1870s. Morrow was especially noted for her promise to show clients the image of their future husbands. This was achieved by looking into a "Magic Box" at a picture, easily changed, attached to one end - rather like a large, Victorian Viewmaster.

Morrow had many pseudonyms: Madame Willis, Madame Wright, Madame Caprol, Madame Levante, and Mrs. Black. But she was best known as Madame Morrow. She worked in various American cities including New York, Baltimore, Chicago and "the Southern cities." According to one New York Times article, she had been born Elizabeth Westby in Philadelphia and was married to Isaac Morris. A search of the census from 1850-1900 shows that there was a family in Philadelphia named Wesby, to whom Elizabeth may have been related.

The earliest reference to Morrow that I found was in the New York Times in June 1854. In that month, Morris was arrested at her residence, 78 Broome Street.* She was charged with defrauding Ann Crowley of 254 Marshall Street, selling her a false fortune for $1. She had told Ann that Ann would be married in ten weeks and showed her a picture of the lucky man. Ann said later that she disliked the look of him and she also, ironically, disliked having to wait the ten weeks. Morrow was held for $300 bail and later released.

A New York Times journalist, Fitz-James O'Brien, went to visit several fortune tellers in the fall of 1855. He did not visit Morrow, but asked a Mrs. Hayes what she thought of Morrow, who was supposed to "know everything." Hayes replied:

I've heerd of her. For my part I shouldn't like to know as much. I shouldn't feel kind of comfortable if I know'd as much. (This was delivered in a tone of awful sarcasm. Madame Morrow is now a rival in the profession, and shows a husband, which Mrs. Hayes does not do.) For my part I only profess to do what I can do. I'm honest, at any rate.

Morrow was away from New York for a few years in the mid 1850s, but arrived back in October 1858. Within a week of her moving into 46 Norfolk Street, someone sent a letter of complaint (enclosing one of Morrow's circulars) to the mayor. She was arrested "in the act of deluding a lady, while three others were waiting to be deluded in the other room." Morrow's mother put up her $500 bail and she was allowed to go after promising not to tell any more fortunes. Morrow broke her promise almost immediately. She was making a fortune telling fortunes: $50-75 a day, which was a fabulous amount of money in the 1850s.

The journalist Mortimer Thomson, who, like Morrow, used a pseudonym - Q.K. Philander Doesticks - devoted an entire chapter to her in his wonderful book The Witches of New York (1859). He describes the visit of a man called Johannes (probably Thomson himself) who visited Morrow in drag, since she did not accept gentlemen clients. That was, Thomson wrote, because "she imagines her sex to be the more credulous."

Johannes dressed up with the help of two male friends (married friends, Thomson adds) and ends up "looking like his landlady." He struggled downtown, getting his crinoline and veil stuck on hooks and barely managing to keep from tumbling over in the street. Morrow lived in a "low three story brick house" in a filthy "nest of crime" called the Hook. This was Corlears Hook, an area on the Lower East Side. In the 1850s it was notorious for its bars and brothels, as was nearby Five Points. In fact, some sources say that the slang word "hooker" came from the association of the Hook with prostitution. Thomson notes that most of Morrow's customers were "girls of the town." He adds that Morrow's own style "of dress, manner and conversation...[suggests] that her younger and more attractive days were not passed in a nunnery."

At Morrow's house, Johannes received a red cardboard ticket for a dollar. He then waited an hour and a half to see her. Although the downstairs waiting area is shabby, her upstairs parlor was full of fancy furniture and mirrors. Morrow herself was well-dressed and sporting expensive cameo jewelry. She told Johannes that he would have good luck (although some of his friends would die) and be married within 6 to 9 months - either to a dark man or a blond man. Then he was shown the Magic Box,"about the size of a candle box" with a telescope device at one end, covered with a small black curtain.

Johannes peeked in and was startled by a bloated "thief-like face" with black hair and a large mustache. One would be more likely to be robbed on Broome Street by him than to marry him, Thomson noted.

By 1859, the year The Witches of New York was published, Morrow was in Pittsburgh. She was arrested there in June, as Madame Willis. She was wealthy enough to have a three-story house all to herself, at 73 Second Street. The neighbors told police that crowds of people came to see her. She had been reported to the mayor by a young man who was the friend of two girls, clients of Morrow's. Morrow told the girls that friends of theirs would die and other "terrible things" which terrified them. Then they told the young man.

When the police raided 73 Second Street they found "piles of all sorts of things" including posters and handbills for Madame Willis, fortune-telling books and "others of a more questionable character even." They also found the famous prospective-husband viewing box. In addition, the police found $300 cash and a "double handful" of fancy jewellery. These, they thought, had been stolen by "serving maids" to pay Morrow for her services. Morrow was brought before the Mayor and admitted that she made up everything she told the girls. She was fined $25 and told to leave Pittsburgh within 24 hours.

After this arrest, I lost track of Morrow; she was probably working under other names in other cities. But in the fall of 1876 Morrow appeared for a limited time in Brooklyn, advertising herself as an "Independent Clairvoyant." She advertised that her stay would be extended by two weeks "by request of her friends" and that she "will tell of past, present and future, describe absent friends, lost property, and treats diseases of every nature." And her fee was still $1, as it had been in the 1850s.

Later in the century, a Tarot or fortune-telling deck was produced under the name Madame Morrow's Fortune Telling cards (image above), see here. I would like to find out more about this deck (and about Madame Morrow's life) - and if I do, I will let you know.

* Morrow's New York addresses were all on the Lower East Side, in the general neighborhood of Corlears Hook.

Sources:

Advertisements in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle: Sept. 23, 1876, p. 4; Sept. 25, 1876, p. 1; Sept. 26, 1876, p. 4; Sept 29, 1876, p. 1; Oct. 19, 1876, p. 1.

"Arrest of A Fortune Teller," Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Jun. 13, 1854, p. 2.
"A Raid Among the Soothsayers," New York Times, Nov. 23, 1855, p. 1.
"City Items," New York Times, Oct. 22, 1858, p. 4.
"Fortune Tellers In Trouble In Pittsburgh," New York Times, June 21,1859, p. 2. [gives name Elizabeth Westby Morris]

Allen, Irving Lewis. The City In Slang: New York Life and Popular Speech (Oxford UP, 1995), p. 185.

Chester, Greville John. Transatlantic Sketches in the West Indies, South America Canada and the United States (1869), p. 400.

Doesticks, Q.K. Philander [Mortimer Thomson]. The Witches of New York (New York, 1859). I am grateful to Bill Nelson for directing me towards this wonderful book.

Gilfoyle, Timothy J. City of Eros: New York City, Prostitution and the Commercialization of Sex (Loyola UP, 1994), pp 36, 50.

O'Brien, Fitz-James, and Wayne R. Kime. Selected Literary Journalism 1852-1860 (2003), p. 65.

Reformed Church in the United States, "Fortune-Telling," The Guardian, vols. 10-11 (1859) [chapter on Madame Willis]

Images:

The tea leaf ladies photograph is from the Library of Congress.
The card of the lady looking into the mirror is from the NYPL Digital Gallery.
The dilapidated three-story house at Worth Street, New York (1870) is also from NYPL Digital Gallery - not in Morrow's neighborhood, but gives an idea of what her typical house might have looked like.
The Madame Morrow cards image is from the Tarot Collectors' Forum.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

A Cigarette Card Riddle

A little intermission goes here, while I finish the Madame Morrow post (it is nearly done, but not quite). Here is a Victorian riddle for you, from a cigarette card dating probably from the 1890s, from the New York Public Library Digital Gallery. It ties in with the Mystery Object a little, since it also involves a chair. An ordinary one, this time.

When is a Chair like a Ladies' Dress?

(The answer is very corny, like the others in the series. I know because I went through nearly all of them. One card has the "Why did the chicken cross the road?" riddle. I am sure that you know the answer, which was written on the back of the card.)

When you give up, you can click here to see the back of this card.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

The Mysterious Chair Revealed

Thank you everyone who made Guess the Victorian Mystery Object such a success! Thank you so much to you all:

FreshHell at AJ's Clubhouse - a scale
Patricia Rockwell at Subjective Soup - a shoe shine chair
Eric at Bored Neoclassical Guy - related to pump organ, perhaps musical
James Nevius at Inside the Apple - a commode
Kittybriton at Thank You For the Music - a barber's chair
Alison at Beloved Eleanor - medicinal purpose, or heated chair
Joanne Olivieri at Poetic Shutterbug - shoe shine or pedicure chair
Amanda at Time Machine to the Twenties - electric chair
Pam Walter at satisfied sole - not sure what this weird chair is!

Also a very special thank you to my old genealogy pal Thomas MacEntee at Destination: Austin Family who was kind enough to warn me that I'd almost given the whole thing away! (Oh, never mind how...but it was very clever of him ;) ).

And now - all shall be revealed! Alison, you were closest when you guessed something medicinal - because it is supposed to promote good health. This is in fact an Exercise Chair, dating from the 1840s - you were supposed to bounce up and down on it and strengthen your muscles, somehow. The chair is exhibited at the Museum of Science in London, England. And the image is from the Independent, link is here.

Next week I'll post another Mystery Object. If this becomes a regular thing, maybe we can do some sort of prizes or something. Stay tuned!

******

Coming up next in the Dime Museum: The Extraordinary Life of Madame Morrow

Friday, August 21, 2009

Guess the Victorian Mystery Object #1: The Curious Chair

Can you guess what this mysterious Victorian-era chair was used for? I wouldn't have guessed, I know. I'll post the link that answers the riddle tomorrow, to give you a little time to ponder.

Hint: we use other things for the same purpose today, but this particular use of a chair never really caught on.

It dates from the 1840s.

It is not Queen Victoria's children's high chair.

Have fun and I'll post a link to the answer tomorrow! If I can keep finding things I might make this a regular feature of Dime Museum. And maybe I will think of some other fun odd-history-related things to do here, too.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

A Medicinal Cigarette

I'm about to start working on a piece about a notorious fortune teller in mid-19th century New York - she was quite a character, and I'm looking forward to devoting some time to this.

In the meantime, here's a startling little ad from Godey's Lady's Book, February 1893. It is for a cigarette, aimed at women, smoked to cure, among other things, asthma!

The high medicinal value of these cubeb cigarettes is recognized by the highest medical authorities, and can be smoked without any fear of nicotine and other poisons. Used by ladies as well as gentlemen. Sold by druggists or sent by mail on receipt of 25c.

Cubeb, also called Java or tailed pepper, is a plant whose berries and oil have been utilized as a traditional medicine in Tibet, India and China as well as by the medieval English alchemists. It was used in throat lozenges and other medicines in Victorian England, and was prized for its soothing and antiseptic qualities.

It was used by several manufacturers in the 19th century to make medicinal cigarettes. According to Wikipedia, the Marshall's cigarettes were popular as late as the 1940s.

And the jaunty woman in the Marshall's ad doesn't actually look ill at all, does she?

From Library of Congress. The Dr. Perrin's ad is from Wikipedia (the Cubeb link above will takeyou to a larger version).

Sunday, August 16, 2009

The Live and Let Live Oyster Saloon

The name (or motto) of the saloon does not, of course, apply to the oysters. What it was meant to refer to was the cheapness of the oysters, as is revealed in an 1860 court case over the phrase "Live and Let Live."

The New York Clipper ad dates from 1853. Seven years later the saloon was owned by George W. Chadsey and Myron A. Decker, who were sued in that year by Erastus Genin. Genin said that he had run an oyster saloon at 212 Broadway for the past 14 years, under the name "Live and Let Live." Genin's saloon was in the same building as Barnum's American Museum (it was probably around the corner on Fulton Street, in the picture on the left). Barnum was among the witnesses who submitted an affidavit in court conforming that Genin had a right to the name.

Chadsey and Decker pointed out that there were at least three other oyster saloons in New York with the same name (which they did not bother to prove). And, they noted, the phrase "Live and Let Live" was a common motto - Genin had not invented it.

But the judge felt that "it is established that a party may acquire a property in words used as a sign exclusively by him for a considerable time." He ruled in Genin's favor. This is an interesting early case of trademark rights, predating the first successful US trademark legislation by more than 20 years.

The ad is from the New York Clipper, 1853. The 1860 picture of Broadway at Fulton from NYPL Digital Gallery.

Sources

"Another Trade-Mark Case," New York Times, Dec. 27, 1860, p. 2.
"Property in a Sign - The Case of the 'Live and Let Live' Saloon," New York Times, Fe. 19, 1861, p.3.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Julius Does Not Think This Is A Good Look

Poor Julius. Look how thrilled he is about being raised on Mellin's Food!

And he is also so pleased abut the Little Lord Fauntleroy get-up, too.

You can just tell he's thinking about what he can do after the picture's done, to get back at the adults.

I wonder what he has behind his back?


From NYPL Digital Gallery (advertisement is from 1904).

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Finding Nemo's Corset

When I think of the word "Nemo" I tend to think of the Disney character, and of Esther Summerson's father, Captain Hawdon, in Dickens' Bleak House, who goes by the pseudonym Nemo. The word is Latin for "no one." And I cannot imagine what connection it has with a line of corsets. I am sure that the manufacturers did not want one to think that No One would wear them.

So that is one mystery. Another is the little sporrans at the bottom of the corsets depicted in this 1909 advertisement. They are actually not sporrans, of course, but "festoons." The word festoon is from the 17th century French "feston," meaning a fancy decoration; and "feston," in turn, comes from the Latin word festa (feast or celebration, as in the Spanish "fiesta").

But why would you want any festoons on your corset, anyway?

From Wikimedia.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Velocipede Hair Oil

What could possibly be the connection between riding a bicycle and a hair preparation?

1. The oil kept your hair tidy and/or shiny while you were riding your velocipede.

2. It only worked if you were in motion on a bicycle.

3. No connection at all, but in 1869 bicycles were new and dashing and fun - and Mr Spencer wanted his customers to think that using his hair Oil was both dashing and fun.

Answers 1 and 3 are probably closer to the truth than answer 2, of course.

I love the picture of the girl, complete with a little hat and high-button shoes, perched atop an enormous bicycle. Her hair looks a bit windswept, though. She may not have used the Spencer's before her ride in the country.

From the Library of Congress.

Friday, August 7, 2009

The Museum On Summer Schedule

The Museum is going to be on summer hours for the next week, which is to say - three posts scattered through the week, pretty much as we have been going along lately. However! Entrecard dropping will not be occurring, nor responding to your charming and delightful comments - as the Museum staff will be away from the virtual premises (i.e. computer and desk).

The Museum staff would like to note that they are not going to be emulating the lady on your left. Black gloves are not a bit suitable for the beach, don't you agree?

Please do look out for posts over the week though. And over at Kitchen Retro, there will also be new and varied entertainments over the course of the week. I can tell you in confidence that there will be something new over there almost every day. Although they aren't going to be answering their mail, either.

Naturally, all correspondence (etc.) will be handled by the staff when she can get back on line sometime next weekend.

Image from NYPL Digital Gallery.

Monday, August 3, 2009

The Mysteries of Mme. Du Vall

Mme Du Vall of 655 Fulton Street, Brooklyn, was the greatest medium in the city in the late 1890s. Of course, so were all of her competitors, but no matter.

Another of Mme. Du Vall's ads tells the reader that she is the Mary Poppins of mediums, with no nonsense, no silliness and everything taken care of spit-spot:

...her equal has not been found; no spooks or spirits brought forth; no nonsense; everything revealed; no questions asked; this madame is wonderful.

This madame's spelling is not wonderful, though - and cannot be endorsed (or "indorsed").

From the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, October 23, 1898, p. 23.

Two Weeks' Rest

This postcard was sent in April 1915 by an anonymous patient,"here for two weeks' rest" at Clifton Springs Sanitarium in Clifton Springs, New York. The car was sent to a Mr. W.A. Snaith in Toronto, Canada.

The town of Clifton Springs, originally called Sulphur Springs, is in Ontario County, New York, in the northern part of the state. Dr. Henry Foster established the sanitarium in 1850 as a place for people to come and enjoy the health benefits of drinking the spring water.

Clifton Springs became a place where people were sent to recover from "nervous" problems. Adlai Stevenson's mother Helen was sent there for just this reason in 1912.

I had to buy this one because Clifton Springs is a place that figures in one of the family stories that I haven't told on this blog. I'm probably going to save it for awhile. The bit I will tell you is that around 1910, my great uncle tried to send his first wife to Clifton Springs - but she refused to go.

Looking at this postcard, I can understand why.

Some Useful Links:

Early History of Clifton Springs
Religious aspect of the Clifton Springs Sanitarium
A 1952 advertisement for the Sanitarium
Color postcard of the Sanitarium and grounds
Helen Stevenson's stay at Clifton in The Stevensons by Jean H. Baker (Norton, 1996)

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Summer Fashions For 1867

I finally found the two Godey's Lady's Books that I bought 30 years ago (I was an old-magazine and Victorian enthusiast way back then, too). One is a Christmas issue so I'll wait and make some posts with it in December. But the other one is the July 1867 issue, perfectly in season. So here is what the well-dressed lady was wearing on the beach 142 years ago. I tried to adjust the colors so that we could see what the dresses must have looked like back when the magazine was hot off the press.

I wonder what these fine ladies are planning to do. Skip stones? Play volleyball? Go crabbing? (I know that I would be crabbing if I was wearing one of these outfits).

And I wonder where the two little people in the background are running off to?