Votes For Women

Suffragists at Strawbery Banke 2016

Last year in the month before SBM's first reenactor'stimeline event I was looking at the lineup of military camp after military camp, and at the concentrations of groups by time period and decided the event desperately needed some women's history, especially representing the early 20th century.

As a bit of a lark I put up a Facebook post asking if any of my friends would be up to portraying a few good suffragists to help drum up support for votes for women at the timeline. I got many good responses, some of whom were actually quite serious about coming out on July 2nd, especially if I could supply costuming. A quick conversation with the head of SBM's role players confirmed that she would be happy to help with costumes (we have a 1908 house and a 1919 one) and would like to help with the group itself.

The group that came together was a fabulous mix of feminists, reenactors, and friends. Not every one was a history nerd, not everyone was comfortable portraying history in front of the public, but we all felt it was really important to respect the women who stood up for our rights by reminding museum goers of the struggle less than 100 years ago. In the few weeks before the event I convinced my dad to go through his plywood collection for some sign sized pieces, found some blank banners online, and even roped in one of the SBM summer interns to make up some votes for women ribbons we could pin to our costumes. I frantically painted signs and lettered banners, just enough for a small group of women to be recognized as suffragists.

I saved the orchard next to SBM's 1919 house for our set up, and in the week before the second I dug through my closet and went to the local thrift shops to assemble my own outfit. I was going for 1908 for my outfit. I already had the petticoats & walking skirt, but my early 20th century shirt is a warm flannel one, and my hat is a winter wool one, so a new shirt and hat were in order. Along with organizing a new event, and putting together the suffrage group I unexpectedly spent a week in the hospital just before July. I had no time to make anything, but I had a black straw hat, and found taffeta ribbon at Michaels. I wrapped the entire spool of fluffy white net around the crown of the hat to make it look like a massive (but light and airy) Edwardian hat. Then at a local Portsmouth store I found a white cotton nightgown with the right sort of details and collar. I didn't even bother to shorten the nightgown, just tucked it into the skirts and wore it like a shirt. I knew I would not get to spend a lot of time with the other suffragists, I'd be too busy managing the event. But I really wanted to dress up; and a nice shirtwaist, walking skirt, and straw hat were fine for this working girl.

 

Early on the morning of the 2nd all us suffragists met in the SBM costume storage rooms. Most of the ladies had not met each other before, but they all quickly bonded while getting into new and interesting costumes, and talked modern politics as well as historical. By the time I lead them out to the orchard I knew they'd have have fun and well represent our foremothers. During the day they figured out to let people try on the "votes for women" sandwich board, visitors had a good time taking photos of their friends carrying the signs. The women talked to visitors from our modern perspective about why equal rights are still important today and about the historical fight to vote. From all the feedback I heard only good things about all the conversations they had.

By the end of the day they all agreed to come back next year, and even maybe get together some other times too. We haven't done that yet, but I've got plans. I think the group will be even bigger in 2017, but I'm hoping it will be just as positive and just as much fun. I think I'll have a cool new outfit too.

Percy drives Mama in a Model A. Probably a good idea to keep my eyes closed.

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Learning Through Movement

I am a big supporter of alternate methods of learning, especially when it comes to learning history. Lectures, static exhibits, and books have their place but I’m just tickled that my job allows me to think out of the box and plan for all the different ways people can learn history.

In my role as Manager of Special Events I’m in charge of the celebrations surrounding the 4th of July. When I came in to this position, July 4th was the only event that did not make money for the museum. It was a scattered sort of event, with dozens of random activities, the event needed a serious streamlining. Back in March I talked on this blog about some of the problems, and my first thought about making the event more cohesive. I did not get a full reenactor’s timeline off the ground this year, though having a few more reenactors join us, and a few more time periods represented was a really good start.

What I did manage to do was add two opportunities for folks to get up, move around, and connect to history by using their bodies: a swing dance for adults on Friday night, and an Old Fashioned Field Day for kids on Saturday the 4th. This post is about Friday’s dance, the next one will be about Saturday.

When stumping for the reenactor’s timeline I approached one of the active members of Portsmouth’s vintage community, and asked if he would get a picnic together for the 4th as part of the timeline. He wasn’t very interested in that, but suggested to me that Portsmouth did not have any swing dances, and that we might be ripe for a dance instead. After Adam told me there was nowhere to swing dance on the seacoast I did some research to ascertain if that was true. The only stuff I could find was a dance club at the University of New Hampshire (The Hepcats) and a defunct group on Facebook. I emailed the local dance studios, some of them sometimes offer swing lessons. Boston has a huge swing community, and we’re not that far away. I know they swing in Lowell, and in Manchester NH. Hmm.

Several months after Adam suggested SBM host a swing dance the new head of role-players here at the museum came up to me and asked if, as the events person, I could add a swing dance to one of my events. Well two different people asking for it, and enough interest in vintage outings in the area and no one else doing it, this swing dance was looking more likely.

It took a lot more than just that, The July 4th event went through several more incarnations: we almost hosted a strawberry festival, pancake breakfast, Barbeque, the curatorial team really wanted a pony (I’m not kidding.) but by the time we made it to June the dance was one of the only parts still standing. We scheduled it for Friday night, July 3rd, the same night as the Portsmouth Fireworks. I hired a big band, a tent with a dance floor, and a network of people to get the word out. We made posters, and I did a lot of posting on Facebook. I was so worried that no one would attend that I comped in a couple of dancers on the understanding that they would stay on the dance floor and drag out reluctant attendees too. I got a couple willing to do a dance lesson in the hour before the band played, and asked for their advice on hosting a dance (provide hand sanitizer and breath mints.)

We sold tickets online in advance, but sales were slow. I was a nervous wreck in the afternoon leading up to the dance with the usual July 4th stuff still scheduled to happen the next day, plus the dance was so brand new. The band arrived in plenty of time, the dance instructors, and plenty of SBM employees and volunteers showed up to help out. I supplied pizza to all the volunteers and employees who had agreed to work late (we all missed dinner because of the dance) and the first attendees started to arrive before we’d all finished our first slice. By the time the lesson was well under way the dance floor I’d ordered was nice and crowded.

Folks of all ages, abilities fill the dance floor at Strawbery Banke on July 3rd.

The crowd was swinging and the band was hopping at Strawbery Banke on July 3rd.

And people danced! The lesson was noisy with enthusiasm, and once the band started up people stayed on the dance floor. The dancers I’d invited did a great job of drawing people out who were reluctant, those that had taken part in the lesson tried out their moves. We attracted some more experienced folks as well including quite a few HepCats from UNH who were still around for the summer. A few attendees were even in their vintage best. I only made it out on the dance floor once, but I was so thrilled that everyone else seemed to be having a good time. When the dance ended just as dusk was falling, many folks made a point of coming up to me and telling me that I had to do it again next year.

My volunteers, the SB employees, and I cleaned up fast since it was late, and the tent would be used again first thing in the morning. The band cleared out quickly too and we almost managed to get everything done before the Portsmouth town fireworks started. We all went out on to the lawn to watch the display, which showed rather well over the trees. It was a lovely end to a successful evening, even if we all got stuck in fireworks traffic on the way home.

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Next Era

When browsing around the internet I came across this Dream Regency Wardrobe. There are way too many pieces to this wardrobe for me, but oh goodness wouldn’t I like a dream wardrobe full of historical clothes! Actually, I do have a closet full of historical clothes, but they represent eras from the 12th Century through 1945. And the itch has struck me again, I think I need to take up a new time period!

What with a baby, job, house, and the eras I already play in I probably do not need another time period, but remember the link that started this crazy train of thought is about dreams, and my current daydream is about the next era that I would undertake, if I were to undertake another era. But which one? Well there would have to be local events at which I could take part, and it would be a bonus if I could bring Percy along. There would need to be something about the era that I was interested in researching. Oh and the outfit. Is there a specific outfit that I would like to re-create?

Here are my three top choices of the moment:

1812: Proper Young Lady
Oh how I would love to reenact the era of Jane Austen. The crisp white dresses, the romance, the dancing! And I could take part in the Regency Ladies' Wedgie Society! But really, I’m not a young lady any more, and Jane is so far across the pond. How does the era stack up against my list?
Events: There is an awesome, if somewhat early (year 1800) event that takes place down in Providence RI called: What Cheer Day. I’m not sure I’m up to their standards, and it is very far, but I do dream of taking part one day. Commonwealth Vintage Dancers do have a Regency dance weekend, I’m busy that weekend this year, but maybe next year.
Research: The museum where I work has a house furnished to the late 18teens, I could certainly start there. I might even continue just looking at Portsmouth history during that time, there is a rich history that involves African Americans, neighborhood fires, the start of industry, and the blossoming of the neighborhood known as Puddle Pock.
Outfit: I actually already have a few dresses and spencers that could go in this time, but I’ve really always wanted to make a military inspired wool pelisse. I love the long lines, and the warm look in the face of all the flimsy cotton!

1912: Suffragette
Cast off the shackles of yesterday! But seriously, we’re still fighting these battles, and what better way for a reenactor feminist to do so than by honoring the suffragettes of our past? That and I’ve wanted an early 1900s suit forever.
Events: Well, now that the anniversary of the titanic is past, I don’t actually know of any events where I could wear this. Maybe just out to tea? A few years ago a friend hosted a fancy tea in Concord, MA, and a few years before that we went to dress-up tea on Cape Cod. Maybe it is time for me to host one not too far from our new house.
Research: I am intrigued by the time right before World War One. I even have a couple of books on this era just waiting to be read. I wonder when I’ll have time to read a whole book.
Outfit: Did I mention that I already have the design picked out? I’ve wanted a traveling or walking suit for a very long time. I think they are elegant, yet practical, and I think the style would fit my frame so well. Oh, and I already bought the fabric, it is a white wool with red pinstripes. Oh, how I want to make this!



1920s Leisure Life
Oh the dancing, the picnics, the croquet! Actually this time appeals less to me than some of the others, but there are plenty of events, right in my area.
Events: This one is very event heavy. Last year we attended the “Jazz-Age Lawn Party” down in Ipswitch Mass, and now I find there is a similar one here on the seacoast of NH that involves a boat ride out to the islands, and a picnic by the old hotel. Blankets on the lawn on a summer afternoon are perfect places for toddlers, I think these sorts of events fit the family for this summer.
Research: I think what most interest me about the 20s is the dance. I’d love to learn the Charleston, foxtrot, and I bet I could learn a lot about daily life by studying dance trends.
Outfit: Last year I just bought some stuff from TJ Maxx to attend our first event, but I would be way too embarrassed to do that two years in a row! Besides, one of my favorite bloggers shared this post about a new pattern she tried. It is a modern pattern, but from a very retro company and looks like I could easily make a few modifications to make it even more twenties, but still be able to wear it out and about an no one would know it was not a modern dress. Plus I have a lovely pink and green striped linen in my stash that is just begging for a dress like this.

So while I'm not sure any of these project will get done this year, a gal can dream, right?

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Percy's first LH Event

Percival Shellenbean

Well it has been a busy spring and summer for us here. In mid-June baby Percival was born! We are both healthy and happy. I’m getting used to being parent to an infant, he is learning important stuff like digesting milk, and waving his arms and legs.

Percy in his antique pram, Lilly looking on.

We have not done much history stuff this year, we attended a really fun immersive event in April, and then visited the Connecticut Renaissance Faire’s Robin Hood show to attend a friend’s wedding. The visit to the faire was two weeks before the baby was due, and since then we’ve stuck pretty close to home. Now that he is closer to two months I’ve gone back to work. I have big plans for Halloween and Christmas, but I’ll share those later. We also took Percy to his first history event this past weekend. Well, he came to my museum on July 4th, when he was two weeks old, but we were just there as visitors, modern clothes, stroller, all that.

This past Sunday we got all dolled up and went to a Roaring Twenties lawn party hosted by Boston Swing Central, held at the amazingly lavish Crane Estate at Castle Hill. I heard about the event last year through some blogs I read, but had forgotten about it until the Commonwealth Vintage Dancers’ newsletter arrived in my inbox. I did not get the news letter in enough time for the initial date, but the event was postponed due to rain which gave us one week to prepare. I was so desperate to get dressed up and get out of the house that I was determined to go even though we did not have proper attire, nor the energy to make up the clothes etc.. I did manage to convince our friends to come out with us with their cutie 2 year old daughter. They pulled stuff out of their closets, I scoured TJ Maxx and Marshall’s, Stephen wore his lovely tailored suit, and Percy wore an actual vintage piece, sewn for Stephen’s grandmother when she was a baby. My mother pulled the vintage pram out of the attic that she used to push me in when I was a baby, and we bought picnic stuff on the way out of town.

The Shellenbeans, photo by Amanda Sullivan

The weather was fine, the band was amazing, the dancers looked fabulous, and the site was extravagant. There were some impressive antique cars, and some of the vintage shops from Boston had come out with their wares. I did not do any dancing myself but it was fun to sit on the blanket, eat cucumber sandwiches, and watch the well dressed people go by. The crowd was so different from any of the other events we attend. There were a lot of folks in their mid-twenties to early thirties looking spiffy in their vintage duds. Then there were the slightly older couples who were obviously there to dance. Generally the audience felt more hipster and less nerdy than the Renaissance faire crowd, though he clothing level was about that you might find at a Renaissance Faire: some really awesome, most folks at least trying, way too many sneakers. There were a few kids in attendance, but only a few. The crowd was also very different from those at battle reenactments: much younger, much more relaxed and fairly evenly divided between men and women. Surprisingly, it was also a different crowd from either the SCA dance events we attend, or the Colonial and Civil War dances: those tend to be much much smaller, a little more welcoming to newcomers, and fairly heavily clothing centered. All in all, attending this event made me feel really lucky to live in an area where I can participate in such an amazing variety of Living History events.

The Sullivan family, photo by Alena Shellenbean

Percy was such a good baby. He was fine in the car until we were almost there, then he submitted to the funny dress and the crocheted cap once he was in a clean diaper. He enjoyed bouncing along the in the old pram, and when we got to our picnic spot he nursed, lay on the blanket for a while, then fell asleep and went back in the pram. We got a ton of compliments on our own antique transportation, and folks adored Percy in his finery. We were only able to stay out for a few hours, none of us are sleeping through the night, but it was so worth it.

Now we’ve got to get back into the sewing room and get ready for the fall! Read this entry on entry page

Every 8 Minutes

In the parlor of Shapiro house there is a large mirror above the fireplace (actually the former fireplace). The mirror is magic, it conceals a television that plays an eight minute video about the Shapiro family and their journey from Ukraine to Portsmouth, NH. The video is on repeat. The interpreter playing Mrs. Shapiro turns it on in the morning when we open the house, and turn it off in the evening when we lock up. On a quiet day in Shapiro house us Mrs. Shapiros listen to the video while we sit in the kitchen and it plays over and over in the parlor. Every eight minutes. In a day we listen to the video play over 53 times, depending on how early we turn it on, and how sick of it we are at the end of the day. I'm sure all three of us could recite the whole thing, narrator's pauses and inflections in place. Luckily, the script is very well written. It is not an easy task to condense the lives of an entire family into eight minutes, and to do so without causing bleeding ears among those of us who have listened to it all season for years is a blessing.

The narrator starts out describing the family back in Russia, talks about names, about Samuel Shapiro’s journey to Portsmouth, about Abraham and Sarah, about life in Portsmouth, about Mollie, then about the family as it is now. Since I have mostly just listened to it for the past two seasons sometimes I’m surprised when I catch the images on the TV that go along with the script that I know so well. It is an odd perspective.

For me one of the parts that stick out the most are the tragedies. There are three events that the narrator describes as tragic: the holocaust, the death of Samuel Shapiro's two oldest daughters, and Mollie Shapiro's death shortly after her marriage. The order I have described above is the order they appear in the film even though chronologically the holocaust happens last. Yes, when sitting there on a really slow day, often a cold and wet day, I think about things like that while I keep myself busy cooking, sewing and reading; waiting for visitors to talk to.




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Hyndl the Happy Chicken

I've acquired another chicken.

My parents have had chickens for a number of years, and this past spring got a bunch more chicks to increase their flock. They live in a much more rural area than I do and have not had a dog for a number of years, so the predators came calling. In early July a weasel or something got in among the young birds. When my folks got up in the morning there was only one youngin left, all the rest had been slaughtered. They tried putting her in among the adult chickens, but there really is a pecking order, and the older birds immediately started beating up on the poor traumatized thing. Not knowing what else to do my folks cleaned up the coop where the carnage had happened and let the little chick hide under a bush nearby, while leaving the door open if she wanted to go back to her old home.

When Alysa and I went to visit that evening, my dad was in just as much shock as the little chicken, so I took pity on both of them and volunteered to take it home, set it up outside in our dog crate, and try to integrate it into my much younger flock. Mom even had an antique chicken crate she gave to me for transportation. So we made a bed of straw, put in water and food, and then caught the poor thing. Actually she was quite willing to be caught and carried around, she actually calmed down and stopped stopped panting while we carried her around the yard and placed her in the old crate. Alysa and I put the chicken in her antique home in our bathroom overnight, and the next day I set about making her a new home.

The next morning when I opened the chicken crate she popped her head up, and let me pet her. She hopped up out of the crate, and cooed for a while, then let me pick her up and walk around with her. She seemed so content that I actually took her into the living room, sat her on my knee, and proceeded to check facebook from my laptop on the other knee. She spent most of the next 45 minutes preening. She had a ton of dandruff, probably from all the stress, and sat there cleaning herself and shaking chicken dander all over, but perfectly happy to sit on my knee. This chicken actually likes people.

She is a Cochin, she is golden with feathers all over her feet. So she isn't a heritage breed, but what she lacks in history she more than makes up for in gentleness. In fact, the first week she was living with us I actually took her to work one day.

It was a day I was Mrs. Shapiro, and there is some oral history evidence that the Shapiros did keep chickens. Also, the back yard is fairly enclosed, and there is a covered area under the wheelchair ramp that is the perfect size for chickens that need to escape rain or sun. It was tough for me to both watch over the house and help folks interact with the chicken, but it sure was fun having her there. She ate bugs in the compost pile, flirted with the catbird that lives in the mock orange, made herself a dirt nest under the horseradish, and let me pick her up so that visitors that wanted to touch the chicken could do so. I justified having such a funny looking bird (her feet really are hilarious) by saying that I needed a brooding hen: a hen that would lay on the eggs and be a good mother to my next year's chicks. Cochins are in North America by 1919, and I read on the internet that they are broody, so it worked as justification for the one-day appearance.

I did not have a single person respond badly that day. I did encounter folks that were uninterested, and that is totally cool. I had many more people who wanted to know more, about chickens, about the history of livestock in early 20th Century urban settings, and most who just wanted to actually interact with this live animal.

She did not have a name before I brought her to work. Stephen does not approve of naming things that eventually will get eaten. But I was taking care of her separately from my other chickens, and I knew that museum visitors would ask me if she had a name. I looked up the word "Chicken" in Yiddish, Mrs. Shapiro's first language, and decided that "Hyndl" would be a fine name for a chicken. Since we are calling her chicken, just in a different language, Stephen has approved this name. He has also approved of one of my other chicken names, for the smallest of our other flock I've been calling her Marie Antoinette. He is okay with this name as long as we are all aware that eventually Marie Antoinette will loose her head. I might have to name Marie's siblings Mary Queen of Scotts and Anne Boleyn.

But back to Hyndl. I have not brought her back to the museum, though I would like to. I just have to convince the powers that be to let me interpret chicken that day and not be stuck with a house to watch too. In the meantime, I have sucessfully integrated her into my little flock. She is not exactly welcomed by my three other birds, but they let her at the feeders, and tolerate her presence without too much harassment, which is good enough for a chicken.




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School for 1st Person Interpretation

The other day in Shapiro house I had a group of New York Jews visit. I could tell they were NYC Jews a little by  how they looked, more by how they sounded, and I knew for sure when one of them said: "My mother had a stove just like that in the Catskills." and another chimed in: "We had one like that in the Bronx!"

We had a very nice interaction, we talked about leaving Russia, about the community in Portsmouth. NH, about buying kosher meat. The part I want to share here was towards the end when one member of the group asked: "what acting school did you go to?"

If I had had the chance to answer I would have talked in character about the fact that back in Russia only the boys went to school. Instead one of her fellow visitors jumped in and said "she is in character, she can't tell you that!"

It is true I could not answer her question. If I could have had that conversation, if I was not in character when it was asked, the answer would have been: none. There is no school that teaches what I do. There are one or two books, but really, we all learn by watching others, and by doing.

I've talked to many others in the field, and had many conversations about the possibility of classes, info guides, magazines, anything to share our skills and expertise. But I'm not sure we've reached a critical mass yet.

Maybe some day.





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Solo Living History

My Facebook feed has been full of photos from other people’s weekend reenactments and I must admit I am pretty jealous. I know that tons of folks in those photos would give a lot to have my job and be spending their time being historical in houses surrounded by all the right furniture, tools, the whole environment. I am mostly jealous because in my job I get lonely.

There are usually 3 or four other roleplayers at the museum, but we all play very different roles from very different time periods. There is usually someone in 1870, someone in 1919 and someone in 1943. Sometimes there is someone in 1777, or  1907. We can not really interact with each other. Not only are we supposed to stay close to our hoses, but we’re in completely different times! The closest two, 1907 Mrs. Aldrich and 1919 Mrs. Shapiro actually are located right across the street from each other, we could almost get away with it except the original Mrs. Aldrich put up a massive fence to separate herself from the undesirable neighbors across the street. Even if the modern folks that play Mrs. Aldrich are way friendlier, we really probably should not socialize.

Yes, I have people wandering through all day long, but most of them only stop by briefly. Often they come through just to look at the house, or they are unsure how to interact with a roleplayer. Even those that stick around  are separated in time. They are in 2013 and I am in 1919 (or 1870.) We can make connections, but there is always a block, that big gap of almost 100 years. I love when I can connect with visitors, and often I do, but it is totally not the same as spending a day surrounded by people who are all participating in the same event.

I miss my reenactor peeps, all of us working together. Even when we are set to our separate tasks we are united in time and focus. At the beginning and end of each day at an event we all work together. If one of us is struggling, there is someone on hand to sympathize, lend a hand. And we all laugh together, all day long.  I miss that.





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What I've been reading

I’ve been listening to audio books while at work, and I’ve been on a World War II kick. I’m on my third book written about Europe during the 3rd Reich takeover, and I’m learning a lot while I sit in front of a computer all day. The first book I listened to was A Spy at the Heart of the Third Reich by Lucas Delattre. This one was about a junior government official who deplored the new practices of the Nazi party, but instead of speaking out and getting thrown in a concentration camp, he continued to do his job well until he had the chance to take all the memos, telegrams, etc. that were a part of his work and give them to an American official in Switzerland. The book was well narrated and full of sympathetic characters.

I was sad when the nine and a half hour book ended, but I had another book in a similar genre that I’d been trying to get through: In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson is a recent book and came highly recommended. It is about the American Ambassador to Germany and his family in the 1930s, and how they experienced the rise of Nazi power. I had started reading this one in hardcover, but it was so depressing reading about all the horrible things happening, and knowing that there were so many horrible things to come. The family was so naive at the beginning and I got so disheartened that I put the book down. I picked it up in audio format hoping that my divided attention (computer work) would make the horrors a little more palatable. It also helped that I did not go back and start at the beginning, but at where I’d left off reading. The audio book is almost 13 hours, and I did not particularly like the narrator, but I learned a ton about the early days of Hitler’s chancelory before he became supreme ruler, and about what it meant to be an ambassador in the early 20th Century.

I’ve just started another one, I’m two hours in to a 17.5 hour book called Citizens of London by Lynne Olson about three Americans in Britain during the Battle of Britain and how they shaped America’s entrance into WWII. So far I am entirely tickled, but that could be because one of the three, the American Ambassador to Britain is from New Hampshire, my home state. So far I’m enjoying the narrator, definitely sympathetic to the main characters, and I know things turn out alright for US and England, so I’m hopeful. This one is so long it might take me a month to get through it, but I’ve got a lot of computer work to do.

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Listening to others' stories

Strawbery Banke Museum role-players use a method of interpretation called First Person Interpretation  in our daily interactions with visitors. Since I was trained at Renaissance Faires I am very comfortable with first person, normally I have no problems making my way through a different century than those people around me. This season is my first reenacting someone in the 20th Century, and I am finding that first person is much harder the closer that you get to today.

When people walk into Shapiro house, especially folks of a certain age, the exclaim over the sewing machine, the ice box, the big stove, the carpet sweeper; many of them remember their parents having very similar items. As Mrs. Shapiro I chat about coming to the USA from Ukraine and many visitors have family stories also about emigrating from Eastern Europe. Mrs. Shapiro's story is important, but the visitors' stories are just as important. Why does first person interpretation make this a particular challenge?

When a visitor who looks to be old enough to be a grandmother herself comes in talking about her grandmother having a sewing machine just like mine, the real Mrs. Shapiro might react with incredulity that someone of her grandmother's advanced age would be around to have something so new. When a visitor mentions growing up with the same type of plumbing and had it in the house until the 1950s, is Mrs. Shapiro supposed to accuse the visitor of making up tales of the future? How could someone visiting her house have grown up in the future? In the buildings that are centuries earlier a gentle scoff in the direction of a visitor that is trying to play with the interpreter is fine, but as a museum professional I can not very well negate the personal connections that the visitors are making. I would not want to.

But I can not drop out of first person, that would not do at all. So what am I to do?

Sometimes it is enough to nod and smile. For Mrs. Shapiro, English is not her first language, so I play it that she probably thinks the mis-understood the individual words, but she understands the main point: a personal or family connection to her home. If folks go on too long I get a worried look on my face and then very deliberately say that I do not understand. Usually that is enough to make it clear to the visitor that Mrs. Shapiro must remain in 1919 while they talk about their own past. Sometimes I can steer them to talking about iceboxes, or immigration in a way that is less time specific so we can both talk about it.

Sometimes, I am lost for what to do; so I just go back to my cooking, cleaning etc. while the visitors chat with their own companions. I hate to walk away from a conversation, so if anyone out there has any advice on how to stay in first person while acknowledging the validity of modern visitors' stories, please let me know.
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Now I'm Cooking

If anyone had asked me even 6 months ago if I thought in the span of a week I'd make pie crust, noodles from scratch, cook up 3 pounds of strawberries, and stew a roast in prunes, well I would not have believed the first bit let alone all the rest. I don't cook at home because both Stephen and Alysa enjoy cooking, and they both hate washing dishes. Usually at home by the time I am hungry enough to want to eat I am too hungry to cook.

But when food is a method to learn about history, I'm finding my appetite for cooking is fairly unbounded! there are 2 houses at Strawbery Banke where cooking takes place: Wheelwright House, where a modern person shows off 18th Century hearth cooking, and Shapiro House where Mrs. Shapiro makes kosher meals on a coal stove that has been converted to gas. I am assigned to both houses at various times over the course of the week, and I always end my week with Saturdays in Shapiro.

One of the ways that the museum saves money on supplies is by asking us cooks to bring raw ingredients in, with the understanding that we can bring home anything we cook. It guarantees the museum a variety of food offerings while Stephen and Alysa get to take a break from cooking to try things like sweet & sour cabbage stew, and Colonial meat pies. I am having so much fun, learning by cooking, and helping teach museum visitors about the seasonality of food or about the rules of koshering. It is a little nerve-wracking trying to plan out menus in advance so I can purchase the ingredients, luckily I build enough time into most mornings that I can stop at the store on the way in to work if necessary. So far I have not had any major failures, I have burnt some fritters when I was too busy chatting with the school children to remember to flip them, and this week it was too hot for my pie crust to hold together, but for the most part I've been very pleased with my undertakings.

In Shapiro I am working from the International Jewish Cookbook. It was published in 1917 and is available online here and my mother found a version printed in 1947 with ration substitutions added in. I started the summer by making a chicken soup (so traditional) and followed it the next week with Cholent, a Jewish dish made up on friday night and stewed all night so it could be eaten on Saturday. Since I was cooking on Saturday and serving on Sunday I made a sweet & sour cabbage soup the week after, stewed beef with prunes & sweet potatoes the week after that.

My biggest cooking accomplishment in Shapiro House came on a day when one of the other Mrs. Shapiros called out sick, and I got to cover in the middle of the week. Since I did not get time to prepare I was dependent on the supplies already in the house. In looking through the little pantry I found plenty of flour and sugar, a box of dried up prunes and a jar of apricot jelly. My mind went instantly to hammentashen, so I used my smartphone to look up a recipe that sounded the most like the way my mom makes them, dug up some yeast and went to town. Before that dy I had never made any recipe with rising dough on my own. But when you have all day and no-one is required to eat what you make it seemed like a good time to take a risk.

I set the prunes to stew in some water and made my dough, went to lunch and when I came back the dough had risen nicely and the prunes were well stewed. I spent the rest of the afternoon making small batches of little triangular pastries that turned out delicious.

Colonial hearth cooking is its own unique experience but this post is long enough. I'll have to tell you all about my wheelwright exploits at a future time.

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Titanic Weekend

I love dancing. I don’t know why I don’t do it more except I guess I love history more. I also love art, and at the moment my favorite art museum is the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, MA. So when I found out that the Commonwealth Vintage Dancers were holding a Titanic themed weekend with dancing and a trip to the Peabody Essex I HAD to attend. Stephen’s spring schedule was already booked up, but my friend Jess agreed to invest in an outfit from the 19teens and come out for the weekend.

I could not afford to do the whole weekend so Jess and I picked the Saturday evening dinner and dance plus the Sunday museum stroll at the Peabody Essex. We skipped the Friday dance, Saturday tea and Sunday concert, but all of that probably would have been too much anyways.

I had big plans to prepare 2 dresses, along with multiple accessories, hats, and “votes for women” sashes. I was going to attend every upcoming dance class, and practice hairdos in advance, but all that flew out the window when I had trouble with the first skirt pattern and my employment situation did not improve. So the week before the event I was looking at a half-done skirt and not much else. Time to finish the skirt then go to the closet! Years ago Mom bought me a pretty dress-up top. It is a thin striped cotton that is open in the front with short kimono sleeves. I dug it out of the drawer that contained my random 19th Century clothing bits, wore it with a lacy camisole underneath, and it was just about perfect. The top was whiter than my skirt material, but a sash would fix that, and a trip to Target supplied me with both a khaki olive colored lace scarf for a sash, and a couple of hats to decorate for Sunday. Voila, instant nineteen-teens outfit.

Since Jess was incredibly nervous about the dancing we agreed to meet up early on Saturday to attend the morning dance practice. Luckily Salem, MA is only about an hour from my house so the drive in was not too bad. I was so thankful for the ballroom dance classes Stephen and I had taken the winter before, and the quick ragtime lesson at Reenactorfest, I was not the most raw of beginners. We left Jess’ car in Salem after the lesson and went back to my house for a 12th Century meeting and then for primping.

Jess wore a Victorian corset under a Revival Clothing dress with a scarf in her hair. I managed to put my hair in a roll around my head. Much more 1890s than 1910s, but something I knew I could pull off. Neither of us had appropriate purses but I grabbed a little suitcase that I’d gotten to hold my dance shoes. We took some photos in front of the house where the shrubs were blooming then back in the car!

The main event of the evening took place at Rockafellas. There were tables ready for dinner, cheese and crackers set up and a balcony with “retiring rooms”, the bar and a painted Titanic backdrop for photos. We even ran into some familiar faces, our friends Clint and Dede and their family were all gussied up and looking fabulous. We all grabbed seats together, got drinks from the bar, then ogled all the amazing clothing. There were a ton of gauzy evening dresses, a few very rag-timey get ups, a lovely Turkish inspired outfit, and so many tuxedos! There were a few cringe worthy dresses, but no absolute monstrosities. Everyone was chatty and friendly and the time before dinner just flew by.

As part of registration we were given packets that included reproduction titanic tickets with our deck and berth numbers, Starline luggage stickers, fancy menus and on the tables: Starline tins of mints. The whole thing was charming. Dinner was very good, we sat at a table with some other folks who also turned out to be from New Hampshire. We had some fun conversations that revolved around the talk about “this amazing unsinkable ship” and how “the captain was powering up the last engines this evening” and everyone expecting that “we will arrive in New York 2 days early!” It was a little bit of first person play made hilarious by our knowledge of the Titanic’s watery fate.

At the end of dinner we all went upstairs for a photo and some tea while the main floor was prepared. The turnover from dinner tables to dance floor was incredibly fast. For the first couple of dances Jess and I stayed on the balcony and watched all the amazing couples swirl below us. Then we got into the dancing!

Jess did not dance very much, she mostly sat with the other folks we knew, but she did get out for a few dances. I found plenty of partners and was incredibly glad for the ballroom dancing lessons. I even managed to get out for some waltzes and not kill myself and my partners, though the major twirls were tough in my hobble skirt. By the end of the evening I even got asked if I was married! We did not stay too late because we had the hour drive back and we had more fun planned for the next day.

Sunday we got out late because Stephen made us breakfast, but it was totally worth it, and we were not the last people to arrive. Since we did all arrive at different times, and were all wandering around the museum in our own small groups, one might enter a photography exhibit and see two lovely ladies in incredibly huge hats on their way out, or wander into the Indian art exhibit and catch a woman in a striking walking suit gazing at a statue of Vishnu. Quite a few of us wandered in and out of the atrium, sharing tables with other people in funny clothes, and getting our pictures taken by the tourist.

At the Peabody Essex Museum, photo by Jess Boynton

There were a lot fewer people at the museum than at the dinner. Saturday’s events had been the real draw of the weekend, but all the folks who came out on Sunday were serious about their history, and they all had different outfits than the ones they had worn the night before. All of the new outfits (since these were the die-hard folks) were amazingly gorgeous and the hats were fantastic! I was so glad that I had at least managed to make small hats for Jess and I so we at least had our heads covered. All of us in attendance promised to come back to the PEM for the hat exhibit in the fall. I really enjoyed my Titanic weekend.




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