For Grand Evening Parties

The elaborate hair styles that we are looking at today are from an 1867 handbook entitled Self-instructor in the art of hair work. It was written by Mark Campbell of 737 Broadway, New York (he also had a store in Chicago) - a manufacturer of wigs, hair-pieces,  and preparations for preventing balding, and for restoring color to the hair that you still had. He was also a noted hair-jewelry designer. Mr. Campbell had a special facility for making gold hair jewelry. Hair jewelry was very popular in the mid-Victorian period - they were literally rings, necklaces, bracelets and pins which incorporated the hair of a loved one (living or deceased). Campbell was noted for his beautiful and creative pieces. In the 1875 edition of Self-instructor, there is a design for these inventive acorn earrings, from Morning Glory Jewelry (the bottom of the acorn is made of hair).


In theory, you were supposed to be able to fix your hair in these fancy styles all by yourself.  Have a look and see what you think!

The Promenade Head-Dress (at the right) "is worn frequently in the drawing-room, and even at public and private assemblies - in fact, a common and very pretty style." You were permitted to use false hair to make the bread roll at the back.

The Empress Head-Dress is on the left, and it is "charming...and entirely new, suiting a fair complexion." If you were a brunette, you needed to powder it. Mr. Campbell sold many hair powders for this very purpose, including diamond, gold and silver powders. But he does not say which kind would best suit a brunette.

For a special occasion, you would probably like the Grand Evening Party Head-Dress on the right, which was both "graceful" and "bold" as well as being suited to brunettes (blonde women were not advised to dress their hair this way - even if they used powder). You were supposed to set your hair in multiple puffs front and back, and then drape "loose curls" over the back puff. I think you would need at least three people working on this one, plus someone to hold the mirror - can you imagine fixing your hair like this on your own?

If you were working solo, it would have been a good idea to stick to the style on the left, the Soiree or Evening Head Dress. It won't do for a Grand Evening Party, but with a false braid, a bunch of false curls, a "fancy comb" and a snappy hair ornament or two, it ought to be fairly straightforward.

If you did end up needing professional help, you could go to Mr. Campbell's emporium, where men just like the fellow on the right were hard at work making false braids and switches. I like the little braid-holder he is sitting at - it looks like a lampshade, doesn't it?

Source: Mark Campbell, Self-instructor in the Art of Hair Work, Dressing Hair, Making Curls, Switches, Braids, and Hair Jewelry of Every Description (New York: Mark Campbell, 1867).

Coffee and Pie at the Automat

Horn and Hardart's Automat came to New York in 1912 from Philadelphia. Joseph Horn and Frank Hardart had opened their first automated restaurant there in 1888.  At the Automat, you could choose your food from an array of cakes, pies and sandwiches displayed behind little glass doors in a wall; you put your nickels and dimes in a slot, and served yourself. You served yourself coffee or milk from fancy spigots (the one below and at the right is from Wikipedia). Coffee for a nickel and pie at the Automat became a quintessential New York snack in the middle decades of the 20th century.

It was inexpensive and fun, especially for children (my father remembers going to the Automat in Manhattan as an enormous treat in the 1930s). Many out-of-work songwriters and actors ate here, as well as businessmen and women and anyone needing a quick, cheap snack or meal downtown.  In Automats, Taxi Dances and Vaudeville (2009, p. 169), David Freeland writes:

Every day from the 1910s through the 1960s, hundreds would come here, to the most famous of Horn and Hardart's New York chain of automats, pushing through the revolving door on Broadway to gaze at food displayed in glass compartments like museum jewels. Then, when they had surveyed the range of chicken cutlets, roast turkey slices, pies and vegetables, they would toss nickels into adjacent slots and feast on meals of their choosing.

There were several Automats in New York, including the ones depicted on the postcards which were at 57th and 6th, and at 1557 Broadway (this location, shown in the black and white postcard, opened in 1913).

The last remaining Horn and Hardart's, located at 200 East 42nd Street, closed in 1991.
 
Color postcard from Rootsweb; black and white postcard from NYPL Digital Gallery. The Automat is a comprehensive history of the Automat, including recipes, by Lorraine B. Diehl and Marianne Hardart. The recipe for Automat Macaroni and Cheese is here at National Geographic - along with bonus recipes for the egg cream and Frozen Hot Chocolate at Serendipity (which is quite good, but when I had it there they did not serve it with whipped cream, I'm just saying). The recipe for Automat Pumpkin Pie is here - though of course the Diehl and Hardart book has the most conprehensive (and authentic) selection of Automat recipes.

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Thank you so much to fullet at Secret Forest for the Happy 101 award!

The Rhinelander Sugar House

This is the Rhinelander Sugar House at the corner of Rose and Duane Streets in lower Manhattan. This five story brick warehouse for the storage of sugar and molasses was built by William Rhinelander  in 1763, Originally, the Rhinelanders also had their residence next to the sugar house.

Many people believe that it was used as a prison during the Revolutionary War. However, in Forgotten Patriots, Edwin G. Burrows says that this is incorrect, a story which arose in the19th century. A New York Times article from 1872 stated that the idea of the sugar house being a prison came from the research of a local historian named Charles I. Bushnell.

The neighborhood around Rose and Duane had become a slum by the early 19th century. The sugar house fell into disrepair and people said that there were ghosts occupying it. Passersby said they saw ghostly hands stretched out at the windows, and the pale faces of prisoner ghosts.

In 1892, the warehouse was replaced with a new structure called the Rhinelander Building, which incorporated one of the original sugar house windows - and people continued, they said, to see specters at that window. They said that mist formed around the window, too. The Rhinelander Building was torn down in 1968, but the old window still survives near Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx, as you can see here at Correction History.

Images of the sugar house and Rhinelander Building from NYPL Digital Gallery. Map of Lower Manhattan (1866) detail is from Brorson.com - and a bigger version is here.

SOURCES

Barefoot, Daniel W. Spirits of '76: Ghost Stories of the American Revolution (2009), p. 115.

Burrow, Edwin G. Forgotten Patriots: The Untold Story of American Prisoners During the Revolution (2008), p. 323.

"Old Houses," New York Times, Oct. 14, 1872,  p. 5.

A Free Jar of Royal Beauty

An anonymous (and multi-tasking) clairvoyant advertised in the spring of 1899 in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle with the enticing offer you see at left.  You would be enlightened about "full names"* and every "exact thought or question on your mind" but you could learn to "control and fascinate anyone you love or meet" - quite a useful Svengalian talent.

But wait: there's more! This clairvoyant/palmist was also an agent for Royal Beauty Toilet Articles and Face Bleach. You could get a FREE jar of Royal Beauty Cream with every sitting. And then after you learned how to fascinate people with your mental powers, you could beautify your outer self with a manicure (25 cents) or "superfluous hair removal," which no doubt involved tweezers and pain.

*With the exception, of course, of the name of the clairvoyant, because the Eagle reader in 1899 did not have the clairvoyant power of digitized newspaper searches. She worked under the names Lady Gonzalez and Zingarra, the Mexican Gypsy, Queen of the Mexican Tribe. Note the same address in this ad (at right) from 1898. In 1900 the anonymous palmist at 236 Bergen is offering a "Hindoo secret" and October 1898 she offered an "Egyptian talisman." She changed names and ethnicities fairly often. In December 1898 (citation below), Lady Gonzalez offered Royal Beauty Cream and manicures as well as her name.

Clicking the link above will take you to an earlier post I wrote about the fabulous Lady Gonzalez, who had, among her other attributes, a fancy diploma in her parlor.

Selected ads from Brooklyn Daily Eagle, concerning clairvoyants at 236 Bergen near Nevins:

May 21, 1899, p. 34 (Royal Beauty ad)
Oct. 18, 1898, p. 18. ("Egyptian talisman")
Jan. 3, 1900, p. 5. ("Hindoo secret")
May 31, 1899, p. 4 (Lady Gonzalez and Madame Sabina)
Dec. 18, 1898, p. 27 (Lady Gonzalez offers Royal Beauty Cream)

The Firebug of Phillips Alley

I was reading some issues of the Brooklyn Eagle from October 1891 and came across a story about a young man named John McGowan who set a fire, "undoubtedly of incendiary origin," on the staircase at 2 Phillips Alley, a three-story frame house which was home to 20 people.

[Phillips Alley ran from Plymouth Street south to Water Street, between Pearl and Jay Streets, in the neighborhood of Vinegar Hill. Phillips Alley is also here in Forgotten New York's Street Necrology (Vinegar Hill section). The photograph at the right shows the intersection at Plymouth and Pearl Streets in 1938.]

Here is the part of McGowan's story that struck me particularly: after McGowan set the fire, he came back to help put it out. When one of the residents went for a bucket of water (which, thankfully, did the trick), McGowan himself, having returned, grabbed the pail and doused the flames himself. He later said that he was drunk at the time and had meant to put the fire out "before it became dangerous."

John McGowan was an unemployed 21 year old from nearby York Street, "well known to the police of the Second precinct." In fact, earlier on the same evening, McGowan had tried to set fire to a stable at 34 John Street, but was prevented from doing more than "poking lighted papers under the stable door" by a sailor who was on his way back to the nearby Brooklyn Navy Yard. He was also suspected of having set fires at a tenement house on Water Street, and one on Chalk Alley [presumably, he means Phillips Alley].

One day after his arrest McGowan made a sworn confession to the Fire Marshal and said that

I do not consider myself responsible for the acts committed, for the reason [that] my head has been cut open with a brick so that it has affected me. I have not been actuated by a desire of gain or revenge, but a mania to fire places.

McGowan continued, saying that he bought three newspapers after going to the theater, then put them at the foot of the stairs at 2 Chalk Alley [Phillips Alley?] and lit them with matches. Then he went up to Water Street hoping to see the fire engines coming. He didn't so he went back and helped put out the fire. Then he went up to John Street and found more papers. He lit those and stuck them under the door of a stable. Then he ran away and was "while running was caught by a policeman, who asked me what I was doing out so late." He pleaded guilty in court, and was presumably sent to jail.

More on Vinegar Hill also at Forgotten New York - and at Bridge and Tunnel Club and Wikipedia.

The map detail at right, that does not show Phillips Alley (I marked it in blue), is from an 1891 map at Brooklyn Genealogy Information Page. A modern map of the area can be found here at Google Maps.

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Phillips Alley was a lively place; here are some other mentions of goings-on there, in the Eagle:

"Mr. Watts Got the Hammer" (June 27, 1893, p. 16) - A feud between two families involving a hammer and a fight at 3 Phillips Alley.

[Untitled] (August 28, 1876 p. 4)  - A man goes to sleep on his stoop at 5 Phillips Alley after a Saturday night out, and wakes up to find his silver watch gone. "He is sorry that he did not sleep with one eye open."

"Mrs. Bradley's Death" (May 20, 1886, p. 4) - She lived at 5 Phillips Alley and was allegedly killed by her husband there.

"Sneak Thieves"  (Dec. 4, 1875, p. 4) - Who stole, among other items, "two feather pillows, a bedquilt, a white dress and a slate colored dress, in all valued at $25" from Mrs. Sterling at 3 Phillips Alley.

"Robberies" (July 11, 1879, p. 4) - In 1879 Mrs. McNamee had $4 worth of clothing stolen from her store at 1 Phillips Alley (perhaps it was the same fashion-conscious sneak thieves who stole Mrs. Sterling's dresses, come back for more).

And at the same address in 1883, Peter McLaughlin had $15 worth of clothing stolen ("The Work of Thieves," Jan. 20, 1883, p. 4).

SOURCES

"A Firebug, Eh?" Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Oct. 24, 1891, p. 6.
"Firebug McGowan Admits His Guilt," Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Oct. 26, 1891, p. 6.
"Firebug McGowan Pleaded Guilty," Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Oct. 27, 1891, p. 6.
Disturnell, John.  New York As It Is and As It Was, (1876), p. 255.
Real Estate Record and Builder's Guide, Mar. 29, 1884 (vol. 33, no. 837), p. 333. In 1884, Phillips and Furguson (perhaps the Phillips for whom the alley was named) built a brick "boiler house" with an iron roof on the east side of Phillips Alley, at a cost of $600.

Picture of New York Fire Department portable water tank (1887) from NYPL Digital Gallery. The 1938 photo of Plymouth Street at Pearl Street (very near Phillips Alley) is also from NYPL Digital Gallery.

Mysterious 1890s Chewing Gums

Today we're going to take a detour from lost New York. We'll return to it later this week, when I am going to tell you about a tiny lane in Brooklyn that was - in one instance, literally - a hotbed of criminal activity in the late 19th century.

Anyway, I came across this ad in The Canadian Druggist (February 1890) - and wondered what all the strange-sounding chewing gums were. Time for a little detective work in the history books...If only I had access to the "descriptive circular" with its elegant lithographs!

This is what I found out:

Tutti Frutti: Literally "many fruits" in Italian. In 1888 it was the first gum sold in vending machines, which were to be found in New York City subway stations.

Tampico: Tampico is a place in Mexico; it is about 100 miles from Tuxpan, which was the place where the best chicle came from, according to a US Consuls Report in 1889 (at the link). Chicle is a gum from the chicle tree, which is found in Central America and Mexico. Thomas Adams originally tried to make rubber tires from chicle, but luckily tried chewing a bit of it one day. You can find out more about Adams at some of the links in the Sources list at the end of the post.

Black Jack: Black licorice gum; see link to a great Black Jack post below (and here too, as you see).

Sappota: "Sapota-gum" was another named for chicle used in the 1880s and 1890s, i.e. for a generic gum. However, the sapota or sapodilla is an everghreen tree found in India, Mexico and the Philippines. Its berry tastes like caramel and has what Wikipedia calls "a high latex content" - both of which attributes must have made it ideal for making into gum. So this may well have been a sapota-flavored gum, not a generic.

Red Rose: Probably rose-flavored, as were many things at the late Victorian period: sulphuric lemonade, tooth powder and cakes among them.

Magic Trick: Probably came with instructions on how to perform a simple magic trick.

Taffy: Didn't really find out anything specific, but probably calling the gum Taffy Gum was an attempt to tell the consumer that chicle-based gum was chewy and stretchy like the familiar taffy candy.

Licorice and Caramel: Self-explanatory! Caramel Gum sounds especially nice.

Tolu Gum: Made from tolu balsam extract. Originally made by a man named John Colgan in the 1870s in Louisville, Kentucky, and called Tolu Taffy Gum (see left for the gorgeous tin Colgan's gum came in).

N.Y. Gum: Adams' first gum, first made in 1875, called New York No. 1 Gum. It was unflavored and since it was made from chicle, was not crumbly like earlier gums. It had the tagline "Snapping and Stretching," which is what it did, or you did with it, of course.

Puzzle Gum: Presumably this came with a little puzzle or riddle.

If this has got you in the mood for some Adams gum, never fear, they still make several of the old-fashioned brands - you can get them over here, for example (or at other vintage/retro candy emporia).
And you should certainly visit The Bewildered Brit, who can tell you all about Black Jack gum and retro non-Adams gums, too.

SOURCES

Aaseng, Nathan. Business Builders in Sweets and Treats (2005), p. 46.
At Brandland USA there is a wonderful Adams gum display
Candy Favorites has a history of chewing gum
"Chewing Gum Formula," Bulletin of Pharmacy, volume 2 (1888) p. 279 [Sappota]
Chewing Gum History at About.com
Fascinating Facts about Thomas Adams and his gum
Kleber, John. The Encyclopedia of Louisville (2000-01), p. 210. [Tolu]
Western Druggist, volume 16 (1894), p. 64 [Tolu]

I wrote about another Adams gum ad over here - and yes, I do really need to transfer this and some other posts over to the current Kitchen Retro. And here's another Adams gum post from this very blog, too.

The Adams New York Chewing Gum card is from eBay and you can buy it if you like, if it's still for sale. It dates from the 1880s.

Oh so many antique gum items at Morphy Auctions, which is where the red Tolu Taffy tin picture is from. They have some amazing things!

The Clendening Estate

John "Lord" Clendening was a wealthy New Yorker who made his fortune  importing Irish textiles after the Revolution, at the end of the 18th century. He built this lovely mansion, complete with widow's walk and waving American flag, around 1811.* It stood at what is now the southwest corner of Amsterdam Avenue and 103rd Street, in the area known as Morningside Heights, in northern Manhattan.

His estate stretched from the north side of 99th Street to the south side of 105th Street and from 8th Avenue (now Central Park West) to the Bloomingdale Road. The picture at left says that it stands at 90th Street but the sources listed at the end of this post (dating from 1911 and 2009) agree that it was about 10 blocks north of that; perhaps the streets were renumbered at some point after the engraving was made in 1863. Clendening's Lane was "a country road" (according to J. Ernest Brierly, writing in 1953) which began around 6th Avenue and 105th Street and ran south to what is now Broadway and 103rd Street.

The area around the mansion was known as Clendening Valley well into the 19th century. Clendening lived on his rural estate for many years, but in 1836 he lost most of his money when President Andrew Jackson refused to renew the charter of the United States Bank, in which Clendening was a major stockholder. The estate was sold in 1845 as forty lots for a total of $4500. The mansion was torn down and the Clendening Hotel rose in its place. The Hotel survived until 1965, when the Frederick Douglas Homes Addition was built in its place; it is a red brick high rise, and is still there today.

SOURCES

Brierly, J. Ernest. The Streets of Old New York (1953), link here. See more on Clendening's Lane here at Stokes, The Iconography of Manhattan Island 1498-1909 (1915-28) volume 3, p. 996 [see also citation below].

"Latest Dealings in the Real Estate Field," New York Times, December 3, 1911, p. xxi.

Stokes, I.N. Phelps. The Iconography of Manhattan Island 1498-1909, volume 6 (1915-28) p. 85; at Columbia University Libraries. (This is a wonderful book which I am looking forward to browsing in extensively!)

Susi, Michael V. The Upper West Side (2009), p. 93.

*Clendening purchased the Benson Farm in a deed dated May 2, 1814, according to Stokes; he already owned 10 acres of what was the LeRoy farm, however, which may have been where he built his mansion (Susi states that Clendening was living there by 1811).

Color picture of the mansion from 1863, from NYPL Digital Gallery.

Chevaliers Take Note: Gone To Europe

Do you know what the Victorian slang term "Chevaliers d'Industrie" means?

I didn't, when I came across the following anecdote from the New York Times in 1854 (which we'll get to in a minute). But Andrew Steinmetz, writing in 1870 in The Gaming Table: Its Votaries and Victims, tells us that the term was used to refer to a certain elegant brand of con men:

Chevaliers d'industrie, or polite and accomplished sharpers, have always existed in every city, from the earliest times to the present. The ordinary progress of these interesting gentlemen is as follows....To secure credit they ally themselves with men of respectability, or those who pass for such. When they have no titles, they fabricate them; and few persons dispute their claims.

And sometimes things were made very easy for the con men. Take this sad story from August 1854, which shows that even 150 years ago, people needed to be careful about informing everyone of their personal whereabouts:

A New York physician went to Europe with his family...and being possessed of a weakness termed vanity had his departure heralded in the city papers and placarded his door with "Gone To Europe." This was a fine chance for the Chevaliers d'Industrie. They broke into the house and spent a week there, eating and drinking what they could find, and stole all that they could carry away. [Brooklyn Daily Eagle, August 29, 1854, p. 2]

It is a good thing that this New York physician did not live in the age of Facebook, isn't it?

Cartoon from NYPL Digital Gallery.