Endowments - Why am I here?

Going into a new setting with a new historical character I like to work out at least one scenario of why. Why is the historical person there? Why are they talking to all these strangers? Why should these people listen to the oddly dressed individual? I think in almost every case it is possible to come up with some circumstance where the historical person would talk with a group about themselves.

I was recently in a classroom as Mrs. Shaprio, her daughter goes to school and she wanted to tell all these girls and boys who might know her Mollie about her own childhood. That one was easy. When in colonial clothes at the museum I am usually Mary Stavers Frasier, the tavern keeper’s daughter. I show people around the tavern as if they were visitors from out of town who might need a meal or a bed, that one is also easy. My newest costumed venture for the museum is in those same clothes, but I am portraying the tavern keeper’s wife, and I am in a modern classroom not in the tavern. I struggled with this one for a while, then remembered the story that made the whole thing fall into place. Mr. Stavers went to jail in the early months of 1777 over the actions of a revolutionary mob and the reactions of his slave. A trial!

Trials reenacted in the classroom are a fairly well established teaching model, in fact the National Museum of American History (Smithsonian Institution) recently blogged about it here. Of course it helps if the students have some time to prepare, but even without specific preparation kids know about criminal trials, they are just as titillated by the crime stories as adults watching America’s Most Wanted. Controversy is always a good place to start, and it gives me a reason to over share and them a reason to ask questions. Win!

So that was how I started: My husband is in jail, he will go before the magistrates, but I will tell you what I saw (I was there) and the reasons why my husband needs to come home. I told them about the war for independence and why some of us do not believe going to war was a good idea. Why a drunken mob tried to pull down the sign at our tavern, and when the Stavers’ slave stopped the mob why Mr. Stavers was punished. I told them about all the different functions a tavern fulfils in our community, and gave them little sachets of dried mint to keep the bugs out of their luggage when they go traveling.

Last week the classroom visits were fantastic. The kids did not know a lot about the Revolutionary war, but they had been taught how to think so they made good connections and asked fantastic questions. I don’t hold high expectations of the next group of kids, but the museum has provided me with a lot of props and visual aides, and the juicy bits of the trial can usually keep their attention for at least a little while.

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Red Riding Cloak

Actually, it is just a 1770s cloak, made out of red wool, but since I’ve always wanted a red riding hood, I’m gonna call it that anyways!

There are definite advantages to reenacting the Revolutionary war in a geographic location where it happened. It means there are a lot of people in the area who share the interest, and often there are people willing to share. I am not massively into Eighteenth Century reenacting, mostly because I am pulled in too many different directions, but it is a real pleasure to approach the winter months with a break from my timepriod-du-jour to settle into a local favorite. This is helped a lot by a group called The Hive. A bunch of different reenactors, professionals and dedicated amateurs, get together all winter in Concord, MA to share research, talk random 18^th C. topics, and give workshops to those who might benefit from their wisdom. I was clued in to the group three years ago, and am only sporadic in my attendance, but I appreciate what they do and try to get out at least twice a winter.

This year before the lectures even started, but the workshops had, and I attended a fantastic one in January. It was a cloak making workshop for both men and women, using patterns made from extant cloaks. The workshop took place in one of the historic houses in Minute Man National Historic Park, right across from the visitor center so there was plenty of parking. There was a gown making workshop downstairs, and us cloak makers met upstairs. I was really not sure what to expect before getting there, but I read all the emails sent by the instructor and picked up 3 yards of a delicious red wool (definitely more red than scarlet) that just happened to be at a fabric store only 20 minutes away from my house. The email said we could bring a sewing machine if we had to, but recommended hand sewing. I found a 100% cotton thread, got out my beeswax, and packed a sewing kit.

There were 6 participants for the workshop, including the lovely Elizabeth who got me started at the hive three years ago. There were two males, and four females, though we all paid close attention to both the men’s cloak and the women’s cloak. There was a finished reproduction of each, plus the instructor had brought along an original garment, a men’s cloak from around 1800 in a lovely purple wool with a green lining. He had patterned a number of original cloaks, and had copies of those patterns for us: two different women’s cloaks and two men’s. The patterns were exact, including the positions and depth of the gathers, any fabric piecing the original might have contained, spots for trim, it was all there. The two patterns for our gender were ours to keep as part of the workshop. Once we all decided which cloak we wanted to make we were let free to work at our own pace, though the instructor was always around to help.

One of the participants brought a sewing machine, and she flew through the straight seams, but took a lot longer pinning and pressing. One participant basted all her seams, but she waited to start until she saw how the rest of us were doing, so though she was stitching faster, she got a late start. Elizabeth made hers cape length, so she did not have as many seams to sew. I started by hand sewing one of the long body seams and got it done, but I realized I was not going to be able to get the fiddly parts of cloak done if I worked on all the straight seams first. So I pinned the other long seam but left it unstitched. 

The hood on the women's cloak was definitely the most fiddly bit. It has a lot of pattern pieces, and a lovely round gather in the back to finish it off. I cheated a bit, there was a pattern piece that I felt was pieced because of fabric scarcity instead of pattern necessity, so I taped the pieces together and cut them out of one piece of cloth. Even with that shortcut the hood was still composed of 6 pieces. Elizabeth got us all moving in the right direction by laying out her pieces and the pattern pieces so we could all tell which pieces to stitch together first.

I got through half of the hood seams, peeking at the other ladies to see their progress, then with the last two seams I just basted them so I would not be too far behind. When I switched to basting it actually made me first through those seams, and the first to look at the circle of pleats in the back of the reproduction, all arranged in a lovely circle, and try to duplicate it. It took me several times, plenty of help from the instructor and watching the other folks catch up and try it with their own hoods. It was amazing how different all the pleats on the different hoods looked just because everyone was sewing with a wool of a slightly different weight. I am still not entirely satisfied with the circle of pleats at the back of my hood, but I got them close enough to where I was fine with it, and then moved on to attaching the collar band.

The workshop actually flew by. I did not take an exact lunch break, I ate my two little sandwiches and my snacks at intervals while stitching away. Once we had our pieces cut out all us participants sat in the same room at the front of the house, full of sunlight reflecting off the masses of snow outside the windows. Most participants packed up starting at about 3:15. Those that had to drive far or had kids at home left first. Two of us stayed until 4:15 when the light was getting dimmer, all the folks from the gown workshop downstairs had left, and the instructor and park ranger were packing up. I was definitely not done, but the hood was together, and the cloak mostly together, so I packed up and took it home. I kept hand stitching on the couch Saturday night and Sunday, stitched up my basted hood seams, finished the pinned cloak seam, ironed the heck out of both halves and fitted them together. 

Then I was faced with a few decisions: lining material, closing fasteners, and trim. One thing the instructor did not tell us in his emails before the workshop was that even the thick wool cloaks would need a little bit of lining for the hood. I had not brought any lining fabric with me, but since I ran out of time I would not have been able to sew it in as part of the workshop. When all the seams were done I put it on and discovered that the hood went all pinhead around my face, shaped like a hershey kiss with all the extra around the collar weighing the rest of the hood down. So instead of going with the lining patterned on the original, I spent the week after the workshop putting band of stiff cotton around the hood opening to give it some structure.

The weekend after the workshop was the 12th Night Ball that the Sudbury Minute and Militia put on, and though the cloak was not trimmed, the hood was not completely lined, and I had to pin it closed, I wore it with pride. Now I need some more 18th C. events to wear it to!

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Curling My Hair

Have I mentioned that I’ll do almost anything for history? This month I’ve done something that I never thought I’d do. I curled my hair. I know most American females try this at some point, but I never had. I’ve seen a curling iron, my grandmother owned curlers… ya.

Strawbery Banke has a special program during the month of November for schools that might not have enough money for normal field trips, and for schools particularly learning about harvest holidays. For this program I have taken on almost all the available roles, including a new-to-me role in the parlor of the Governor’s Mansion. Way back when I started at Strawbery Banke in the ‘90s I also worked the Thanksgiving program, and I also got a new role. I played Lizzie Sullivan, the Irish maid stationed in the kitchen helping groups of school kids learn about Mottoes and put together charity baskets. This year Lizzie is going to make another appearance, but not until December (so stay tuned!)

The new role is a front-of-the-house role, I am playing Susan Goodwin Dewey, the youngest child of Governor Ichabod Goodwin and Sarah Parker Rice Goodwin. Susan is recently married to a naval officer and living at home with her father the former governor, her mother, a few other sisters, some nephews and nieces, and the 4 servants. When given the new role I knew I would not have time to do justice to a full formal Victorian outfit, so I asked for a museum owned outfit, and luckily they had a lovely one that mostly fit me. The day I tried it on I was discussing accessories with the head of Role-Players and she said that I should curl my hair. Curl. My. Hair.

I looked through my Victorian costume books and photo books, I looked at fashion plates and decided that yes, it would be better if I curled my hair. My hair has a little wave to it, but only a bit of a curl if my hair is short. My hair is not short at the moment, it is fairly long, and heavy, it is not at all curly at this length. My first step in figuring out how to curl my hair was to put a desperate call out on Facebook. I have awesome friends who suggested sleeping in paper curls or rag curls. So first I tried to wet down my hair and sleep with little strips of paper in my hair. I wore a knitted hat over top and it was not too bad, but I did not part my hair beforehand, and they turned out more frizzy than curly. The next time I tried it I used scraps of rags and a spray bottle that was half water and half setting lotion. When I took the rags out the next morning I had long loose curls that I looped around a bun. Not too bad for my second try!

Half rags half curls

Spikey paper curls

Then came the Monday I was to appear as Mrs. Dewey. I put in the rag curls the night before, put them all under a 1940s style turban I’d made so I could sleep without worrying about them. Monday morning I borrowed My niece’s hairdryer since they were still wet, and tried to heat set the curls. Got into all the dress layers (we are required to dress at home before driving to work) and had a fairly uncomfortable drive to work. I was blasting the heat to try to dry the curls some more, and taking out a few of the rags while cruising down the highway, all while stuffed in a corset bustle skirts in my driver’s seat. Really not my favorite way to drive. I appeared at our morning meeting with the front of my head still in rags, but the back all curls. I’m afraid I might have distracted most of my fellow museum workers as I took out the rest of the rags, but I did have a fairly presentable hairdo by the time the kids showed up to talk Thanksgiving with Mrs. Dewey!

Me as Mrs. Dewey, with really curly hair.

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Introducing Mary Stavers Fraser

Almost two months ago I started feeling like 4 days a week at SBM was one too few, and only one day as a role player was also too few. So I started dropping hints, to those just above me on the chain, to the person vaguely in charge of role players, and finally to the head of my department. I even mentioned I had quite a few outfits from eras represented by different SBM houses. Three weeks ago I was finally able to get into my 1770s clothing that some of you may have seen last January here and head on in to the Banke. I was set to play the eldest daughter of the tavern keep, recently married to a Captain John Fraser. There was not a lot of research done on Captain Fraser, but quite a bit done on Mr. Stavers and his family, they were a vaguely loyalist family, harassed through much of the Revolutionary war, but they stuck it out and by all accounts that I have read ran a successful tavern through the war and in the years to follow.

The problem with role playing in the William Pitt Tavern is that if someone calls in sick and no one is able to come in to cover for them, the interpreter in Pitt tavern will cover the empty slot, because Pitt tavern is the location of the museum's alternate entrance and ticket booth, so there is always someone else in the building. I'm telling you this because the first day I showed up in all my finery, one of my co-workers called out sick. The very first day. The weird part was they called out for the house shown about the year 1783, so actually my clothes were still appropriate. That house happens to be our hearth cooking house, and I am a hearth cook, so qualified to cover it. That house also happens to be Wheelwright house, the first house at SBM that I ever role played in. So there I was 13 years later, back in the house that I started at. Yup that was odd.

But since then I've been able to spend two days as Mrs. John Fraser, eldest daughter of the tavern keep, and I've enjoyed both days very much. I give tours of my father's tavern, that I assure visitors is usually much more active, but there is a horse auction scheduled for later in the evening, and everyone is out in the stables looking over the animals to be auctioned. There actually were horse auctions held at the tavern, so this way I get to talk about one of the lesser known but very important aspects of tavern life. I also discuss politics, but only 1777 politics, I make the families loyalist tendencies known while letting people know that most of our neighbors are firmly for independence. I wish I could say that most people get it, but I'm still figuring out how to convince folks that for Mary the year is 1777 and not 1943 or 2012.

In only two days (plus the months I've been contemplating the new role) I've learned a few things about Mary. She is Daddy's girl, and will not spend a lot of time in the kitchen unless she has to. She sees herself as the welcoming committee, the tavern's own concierge. She shares my habit of leaning against walls (Mrs. Shapiro definitely does not.) Mary also feels fairly ambivalent about her new husband and his career. That could be because I was not able to shake up any research done on him, I do not know what type of ship he captains, where he hails from, even how long he lives. It also gives her a reason to spend all day at her father's tavern.

If anyone wants to stop by in the next month, Mary Fraser should be in Pitt Tavern most Fridays, fingers crossed.

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Local LH?

Today I attended Hillsboro, New Hampshire's Living History Event. I found out about it because it comes up toward the top in a Google search of "living history." I did not know about it because I live less than an hour away, nor because I am connected to the local LH community. The truth is, I am not connected to the local community. My LH community consist of those folks I've met through the Connecticut Renaissance Faire or Reenactorfest, and to confound that I don't do wars or typical American history. It just has not turned out that way. But there are local folks doing this history thing and in a time period a little more accessible than the 15th century. So I went to Hillsboro hoping to pick up something for my kit, learn local history, and possibly make some connections.

I sabotaged myself by arriving late and not having exact directions so I was anxious and self conscious by the time I arrived. The woman who sold me the ticket assured me that the reenactors at their encampment would stick around after 3 pm and I chose to believe her rather than trust my own experience which said that they all had to go to work on Monday and would pack up early. I stopped by the encampment, drove over to the Franklin Pierce Homestead for a quick tour, found my way to the lovely original town center, then trotted back to the encampment to discover the site covered in cars and half the tents already down by 3:30. In the little time I had I did get something out of the trip.

I went in intending to chat up the Rev War folks, in their encampment but the first person who acknowledged my existence was wearing Nike sandals with her colonial skirt and short gown. The next group had a good looking set up, but the cheese on their plate was still in its Stop & Shop wrapper, and their fruit was covered in stickers. I try not to be judgemental, I know we all do it for different reasons, but really, can't you at least remove the plastic? I did get up the gumption to ask one person where they were based, I think the guy was disappointed that I did not ask him a question about history, I'm just not that interested in warfare. He did answer me, it turns out he is from one town away from where I live. Why did I not ask any follow-up questions? I don't know, I just did not feel right.

I did manage to add to my kit. There is a pewterer (pewter smith?) in Hilsboro who had awesome spoons at reasonable prices. After 3 years, the Reischachs will finally have decent spoons! I saw a lovely local town that I had driven through many times but not actually seen, and at the very end I got to chat with someone who will hopefully be of great help in the chicken project.

So in the end I had a good day, but please people, remove the stickers from your apples. Read this entry on entry page

Colonial Ball and New Gown

For the past several years we’ve attended only one 18th century event, The Sudbury Minute Militia’s 12th Night Ball. The first time we went, in 2010, we heard about it a few weeks earlier from friends who had been invited by some folks they knew (and we didn’t) but we so wanted to go that we asked for an invitation, and barged our way in. Stephen and I both had 18th C costume bits as we both had “done” Colonial reenacting in our past lives and had flirted with the possibility of picking it back up. Last year we went again, invited a few friends of our own, and each of us made yet a few more additions to our colonial wardrobes: I made a quilted petticoat and stays so my under layers would be a bit more appropriate.

Shortly after last year’s colonial ball I attended a Hive workshop, an incredibly informative workshop offered by local reenactors for those who might not know as much they do, or for those who want to get together and share during the colder months. All the workshops plus some other research I was doing at the time convinced me that I needed an actual colonial gown, not just the purchased jacket and some petticoats. Since I had the appropriate undergarments I was ready to take the plunge and signed up for a Burnley and Trowbridge gown making course. I never made it there. But I still had my lovely fabric, plus all the research I’d done, and by the time this winter came around I was actually able to look at the fabric again and think about this addition to my colonial wardrobe.

Since it is not my period, and my sewing skills were picked up catch as catch can I asked a professional costumer friend for help. She was so awesome she agreed to spend an overnight at my house, draft a pattern for me based on the books we both had, and help me get started putting the whole thing together. We picked the weekend before Christmas. I got a horrible cold at the beginning of December, but I was not about to put this gown off again. So my personal gown goddess came for her visit, and did more than just draft me a pattern, she helped me put a lot of the bodice together and set me well on my way.

I spent 2 and a half weeks hand sewing the seams flat, plus all the hemming that needed to be done, and finished the dress the night before this year’s Colonial Ball. I think it turned out rather well if I do say so myself!

The evening is always a fun one. Everyone is in a good mood, and I love dancing and don’t get to do it enough. I’m starting to recognize folks who dance every year. It is cold and biting in January, but the Inn is warm and full of colonial character.



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