Category Archives: murder mysteries

A Heavy Drinking Age – Shakers and Spirits

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Spirits, or distilled liquor, were consumed so enthusiastically during the 1790’s (and before and after) that tourists and important men alike began to decry the habit. The U. S. was a nation of drunkards. Even George Washington, a whiskey distiller himself, referred to the heavy drinking as the ruin of half the workman.

Where did we get into such a pickle? Well, part of it was cultural. Cotton Mather (he of Puritan fame) declared “Drink itself to be a creature of God.”

Water tended to be dangerous. It could be contaminated or just plain unappetizing. In Natchez water from the Mississippi River had to be set aside so the sediment could settle. (Yum!) Milk was unpasturized and if the cow ate jimson weed it was poisoness. Alcoholic beverages, and I include hard cider, were safe. Also, corn and rye could be transported from the western frontier (like Pittsbugh in 1793) to the east in the form of whiskey and sold for four or more times the price for the grain itself. And without much more cost in transportation.

In times where the food supply could be erratic. alcoholic beverages accounted for a significant proportion of the day’s calories. In the early days of the eighteenth centure, the favorite tipple was rum; sweet and alcoholic. But after the Revolution, it was declared unpatriotic and people switched to whiskey. Rum was made from molasses and while distilled in Maine and Massachusetts at first, began to be distilled in the West Indies. Whiskey, on the other hand, was All-American; the grain grown in the US and distilled here as well.

Everyone drank. Ben Franklin is quoted as saying If God wanted men to drink water He would not have given him an elbow to bend the wine glass. Toddlers were put to sleep with whiskey or given the sugary residue in the bottom of the glass. (This makes my hair stand on end!) But of course there was a double standard. Women were not to been seen intoxicated.

Some primary sources quote men like John Adams complaining about the length it took to get something built. One day’s work earned a man enough to stay drunk all week. So they worked one day out of seven.

As might be expected, early opposition to drink came from the Quakers, most particulary from Anthony Benezet who attacked slavery and rum at the same time. Quakers had already begun to practice restraint before him and by 1777 they were ordered to no longer sell distilled spirits nor to distill them. The Methodists saw drinking as a barrier to purifying the church and society so they joined the Quakers. The Shakers, as a splinter group, also practised retraint and drank mainly water (that they trusted). The Shakers were famous for their cider which went from ‘kind’ to hard’ very rapidly in an age before refrigeration.

The chorus against such heavy drinking began to grown, spurred by Dr. Benjamin Rush, a Philadelphia doctor who concentrated upon the health benefits of abstinence. Another doctor, a Dr. Thomas Calawalder, had identified rum as the cause of an illness called the Dry Gripes. The rum that was aged in lead casks caused lead poisoning. Interestingly enough, the doctors recommended drinking cider (which is still alcoholic) and beer (which is more complicated to make than you might think.

For more information, both depressing and fascinating, read “Alcoholic Republic: An American Tradition” by W. J. Rorabaugh.

Dyeing, Batik and Otherwise

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The two books I use most to achieve dyed effects or to dye several shades of the same color are Dyeing to Quilt by Joyce Mori and Cynthia Myerberg and Hand-Dyed Fabric Made Easy by Adrienne Buffington. Both of these teach you how to begin the dyeing process with the procion dyes. I especially enjoy dyeing six or eight tints of the same color for a quilt or dyeing white on white fabric. The white pattern doesn’t pick up the dye so you might have a deep orange piece with a white tracery shot through it.

Of course I had to keep moving on. I went into Batik, which is very fun. I use soy wax to make the designs. Traditionally paraffin and/or beeswax are used but I find soy, although it doesn’t easily give that wonderful crackle, is just so much easier to wash out of the fabric. Soy melts easily too. I have had good success painting on designs and using cookie cutters.

Silk scarf, overdyed in blue, pink and green

Cookie cutters are not the traditional tools, however. Tjants (pronounced chants) are long stylus pens with an opening that allow the hot wax to flow onto the fabric in a straight line. I admit I am not very good with these. Some of the people I’ve taught are much better. The traditional tool I love, though,  is the tjaps (pronounced chops). These are copper designs used for stamping the hot wax onto the fabric. Here is my favorite, dragonflies.

 

 

 

 

 

Copper dragonfly tjap.

I obtain all my supplies from Dharma Trading in California. Just a heads up – the tjaps are hard to come by. They do have shipments from time to time but you must order immediately.

Traveling to earn a living

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Will Rees, the main character in my mystery “A Simple Murder”, is a traveling weaver, called factors. Like many professions then, weaving required an apprenticeship of about seven years. About nine spinners were required to keep a weaver in business. And looms were big, heavy and expensive.

Larger towns, like Williamsburg, had a resident professional weaver and cloth from overseas did come into the ports. Smaller towns might have a weaver who also farmed. The further away these towns were located, the less imported cloth the women had access to. This imported fabric was expensive too.

On the frontier, in the 1790’s this was on the western side of the Alleghenies, local weavers were necessary. One of the leading lights in the Whiskey Rebellion was William Findlay, a weaver. He became a legislator from the Pittsburgh area.

Besides the traveling weavers, other professions took to the roads. Some men made brooms. This was a craft the Shakers took on as well; they sold their wares which included brooms, whips, boxes and other items, from wagons. Tinkers, who not only sold pots and pans but mended them as well, were also a familiar sight.

In these agrarian times, the goal was to make enough money to buy a farm. Usually, once a man had a good farm, he settled, at least for most of the year.

Some of the accounts from the women married to such men speak poignantly of the loneliness and isolation.

More about dyes in Peru

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I got to dyeing in a roundabout way. I am a lifelong quilter and I began dyeing my own fabrics to use in my quilts. From there, I expanded into dyeing: dyeing yards to use in weaving, batik dyeing and finally a curiosity about dyes themselves.

Except for Lima, which sits at sea level, Peru is a high country, sprawling across the Andes. Macchu Picchu, which is probably the most famous place in Peru, is above 8000 feet. But it is nothing compared to Cusco, which is about 11,000 feet. The land is arid and the ancient peoples including the Incans were brilliant at utilizing the scant water to irrigate their crops. Potatoes come from Peru and this country has several thousand varieties, although not all are edible.

Peru is a goldmine for anyone interested in dyeing. In previous blogs, I’ve talked about the cochineal beetle, which is native to Peru. Properly mordanted, the blood of these beetles creates a vivid red.Prickly Pear

 

Darker burgundy comes from another berry, green from the chilka leaf and shades of brown, black and white from the hair of the alpaca and the llama. ( The vicuna also provides wool of an extremely fine quality but this animal has never been domesticated. The Incans spent much time selectively breeding alpacas to obtain an extremely fine fleece but once their Empire ended that breeding program ended. In some of the museums in Peru examples of these old textiles can be viewed. )

Llama wool dyed with natural dyes

The weavers also use indigo for blue. Indigo is not native so it is more expensive.

 

 

 

 

 

Weaving on a backstrap loomIt is truly amazing to watch the weavers using the backstrap loom.

Looms, backstrap and otherwise

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The European loom is a complicated and elegant piece of equipment, so perfectly designed that few modifications have been made to the essential design. The job of a loom is to keep the warp threads taut. And the threads must always have a cross.

With that said, there are a few different kinds of looms. A Jack loom has a rising shed, that is, sets of threads are lifted so the shuttle can pass underneath them. The ‘jack’ mechanism lifts the shed. The treadles, or what my husband calls the gas pedals, lift the sheds. Connecting different sheds to different treadles is one piece of making a pattern.

A counterbalance loom is usually limited to four shafts ( a jack loom can have more and of course the more sheds the more complicated a pattern). The sheds are raised and lowered equally to allow the shuttle to pass between them.

The countermarche loom includes features of both a jack and a counterbalance loom. This type of loom allows the shafts to operate independently, as on a jack, and the shed to open easily and symetrically as on a counterbalance. But the countermarche requires more time to tie up.

Other variations include rigid heddle, treadles operated by hand instead of foot, but they all utilize a mechanism for separating the threads for the shuttle.

The backstrap loom, hoever, uses the weaver herself to hold the warp taut. A strap goes around her back and a stick is used to separate the sheds or the threads which are separated into two bundles by the cross. A backstrap weaver memorizes her patterns and uses her hands to lift the individual threads for the bobbin. (The shuttle mentioned above contains the bobbin.) The heddles are not metal but string. Although this is considered a primitive form of loom, it still contains most of the pieces of the floor looms (heddles, bobbin, warp and weft, and of course the all important cross) it is still complicated. Since the patterns are memorized, weaving on one of these looms demands a great deal from the weaver.

Am I the only one who wonders how something like this was invented?

Albany< New York

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I’ve lived in New York most of my life. During that time I’ve been to Albany more times than I can count. I did not know so many things about this city, the capital of New York State, until I began the research for my new book (tentatively titled Cradle to Grave).

Did you know:

In 1609 Henry Hudson went up the river (yes, the Hudson River) and paused at the headwaters not far from the current city to barter with the local tribes. That was just two years after the settlement at Jamestown, Va and eleven years before the arrival of the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock. This makes Albany once of the oldest continuously settled towns in the USA.

The Dutch (for this was Dutch territory then) set up a city that primarily relied upon trade, especially trade in Beaver pelts. The Dutch, unlike the English who came after them, were not farmers but merchants. The Dutch influence is still visible in some old building and in many of the names that still exist. (Blauvelt, the Bronx, Van Cortlandt and so on).

Some of the streets in Albany were in place by the 1700’s. The street currently called Broadway, was formerly Market Street and before that Handalaers Street. State Street was Jonkers (or Yonkers)  Street and Pearl Street was Pearl Street then too, although it has undergone several name changes in the intervening years. I was particularly interested in Jonkers Street; I grew up in Yonkers.

Also, Albany shared the position of NY capital with New York City and Kingston. I suppose the legislators got tired of traveling around the state because they made a law that the next location would be the permanent capital. Albany became that capital in 1797.

Also Albany, in its original county form, was huge. But other counties soon were carved from it, beginning with Schoharie County in 1796.  Who knew?

Living without a net; abandoned and orphaned children in the 1790’s

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Orphanages are a recent phenomenon. Most children, if they had no parents, or their parents couldn’t care for them, were abandoned to the streets. Although there was high infant mortality, adults died in great numbers as well so there were many orphans. And, in some cases, the orphans had a living parent. Usually a mother who was too poor to care for herself, let alone children. When she went into the poorhouse, the children went with her – or into an orphanage.

The Charleston Orphan House was set up in 1790, one of the first, if not the first, in the United States. This orphanage took only white children but took almost all in Charleston. They seem relatively progressive: the children weren’t apprenticed out until 12 and they were taught to read and write.

Apprenticeship or indenture was a common method of dealing with parentless children. Usually no one would take them younger than 6 or 7 because they were too young to work. After wards, they were expected to work like adults. To a modern sensibility, the possibilities for exploitation seem limitless and frightening.

What happened to the younger children? If they were still nursing, they went to a wet nurse. There was no substitute for breast milk and wet nursing was one of the few ‘careers’ for women. Foundlings were frequently sent to a wet nurse, some of whom kept the child until five or six. One wonders what it felt like for a child to have been nursed by a woman, only to be sent away. These abandonment issues probably never disappeared.

Modern studies have shown how important development is during these early month. A recent study on the Romanian orphanages detail quite vividly the effects of institutionalized living with no parenting or affection. The rates of autism, alcoholism and other damage are extremely high. But, in the late eighteenth century, simply providing enough food to children was a challenge. Disease was prevalent. In an orphange set up by the Royal College of Surgeons, 99.6% of the children died. 45 made it out alive.

I think of statistics like this when I see the safety net in this very wealthy country of ours being shredded and presidential candidates suggesting children be put to work. Certainly I am not opposed to chores, kids need to learn to take care of themselves and their surroundings, but do we really want to return to a time when little children had to work like adults so the wealthy could enjoy their privileged lifestyle. Ultimately, we will all have to decide: what kind of country do we want?

Sock it to me, a history of the amazing sock

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Our word for sock comes from the Latin soccus but socks have been around far longer that Roman times. According to Wikipedia, the earliest socks were found near the Nile in Egypt. They had split toes for use with sandals. Socks may have been around earlier than this and probably were, these were just the first found. Some of the researchers posit socks made of animal skins and tied around the ankles for warmth. Since the foot is one of the heaviest perspiration producers in the body, I can only imagine what those feet and socks smelled like.

The first knitting machine was invented in 1589, although it and hand knitters worked side by side until the early nineteenth century. Socks became a fashion statement: colorful tights that went up the leg to the breeches and German fashion slashed the overgarments to reveal their dashing hose underneath. These actually weren’t what we would call socks, but were stockings. As men’s trousers lenthened, the stocking diminished. During the Roaring Twenties, the argyle sock was popular but the color settled down to monchromes, and not very interesting ones at that, especially for men. (Anyone remember that scene in ‘The Birdcage’ where Nathan Lane, otherwise garbed in a boring gray suit, is wearing bright pink socks? Because one does want a hint of color.)

Fortunately, today, socks have had a renaissance and are available with patrons and/or bright colors.

 

Orphans and the Shakers

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Since the Shakers were celibate and did not reproduce themselves, they relied upon converts to increase membership. They also took in orphans or semi-orphans.

In a time when there was no safety net, no foster care, no food stamps, the injury or death of the man of the family was a catastrophe. No unemployment or workman’s comp either. Women had few options for work outside the home (wet nurse was one!) and when they did work they made far less than a man. Add in the prevalence of disease and there was a frightening number of orphans.

Semi-orphans, what was that? Well, if a single father or more often a single mother couldn’t support her children she had a few options. Depositing them on the Shakers’ doorstep was one. Indenturing them out if they were old enough (and children as young as six were indentured) was another. Babies couldn’t be indentured unless a premium was paid to the employer for the extra care. Orphanages? The first and for many years the only was set up in Charleston, SC in 1793. Black orphans were not welcomed. However, they did not apprentice children out before they were twelve which, for those days, was enlightened. Although these were children they were still worked hard and as susceptible to accidents and death as an adult. One account describes a thirteen year old boy apprenticed to a ship maker. A load of lumber fell upon him, killing him. They found a series of strange bruises on his leg, bruises from marbles. He was still a child who tried to play. Sometimes the employers were called up before the town fathers for excessive cruelty to their indentured servants but not often. Many of the children perished.

And where did you go if you couldn’t suppor yourself? The workhouse. The descriptions in Dickens’s novels, although they take place at a later time, are unfortunately all too accurate.  Sometimes, if a woman remarried, she would be able to recover her children.

So the lot of poor children was dire, for orphans and semi-orphans it was almost a death sentence. And babies were especially at risk. They are so vulnerable and if they were nursing especially so. In those days there really was no good alternative to mother’s milk. Many women survived by wet nursing infants. Some managed to nurse both their own and the others. Some wealthy woman put out an infant to nurse if they were ill or if their husband wanted a male heir. Since nursing confers some contraceptive effect they handed off an infant girl to a wet nurse so they could conceive again. What happened to the infants of the wet nurse. Many or the wealthy women did not want to have the child in their household or to share. Some of the wet nurses sneaked off to feed their child. Another option is to hire a cheaper wet nurse. There are many accounts of women who did so and while they were nursing another child their own died.

So the Shakers were by far the best and safest alternative for orphans. The fact that they educated these children, not only in all the skills they would need to live in the agrarian world, but also to read and write is amazing. They truly lived by their altruistic beliefs.

First peek at “A Simple Murder”

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By late afternoon Rees was past Rumford and heading southeast, almost to Durham and the coast. “Time to start looking for a place to stay,” he thought, eyeing dusk’s purple fingers clawing the rutted track. He’d look for a likely farm where he could camp for the night. Maybe some kind farmer would allow him space in the barn. Hollowed out by fury for most of the day (damn his sister! How could she push David, Rees’ little boy, out?) Rees was tired enough now to fall asleep in the wagon seat.

The cluster of buildings that was Durham appeared suddenly from bracelet of woods and farms. He plunged into the small village. Choose a road, any road, he thought, noting the possibilities branching off the central square. And he saw a tavern, The Cartwheel, if no generous farmers offered him the use of a barn. He turned onto the road doglegging south and soon after he spotted a white clapboard farmhouse, rising from a thin screen of trees on the western slope. A weathered red barn rose behind it, squatting on the edges of the fields wrested from the rocky soil. Rees directed Bessie onto the narrow bridge spanning the muddy creek. Perhaps anticipating fresh water and oats and the comfort of a stall, she jerked into a weary trot.

The house was a narrow clapboard, the boards weathered gray, with a small porch jutting from the front door. At the sound of hooves striking the stony drive, the farm wife stepped out from the front door and stared at Rees curiously. He pulled right up to the small porch and clumsily climbed to the ground. Driven by rage and fear, he’d pushed on without a break all day and now his body punished him for it. He staggered, awkward with stiff joints and muscles, up

the stairs towards her. A tiny woman with gray hair, she appeared younger close up. “Pardon Mistress,” Rees said, pulling off his dusty and travel stained tricorn, “I’m on my way to the Shaker community and I wonder if you might have space in your barn where I could sleep tonight.” Wiping her hands upon her apron, she glanced at the canvas-shrouded loom in the wagon bed.

“You a weaver?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not looking for work right now though.” He paused and then, thinking she was most likely a mother, he burst out, “My son ran away from home.” Fatigue and the emotional stew of anger and fear made him more talkative usual. “My sister said he went with the Shakers.” The woman’s expression softened.

“I’ve lost family to them,” she said. “Of course…”

“What do you want here?” demanded her husband belligerently, stepping out from the house behind her. Much darker than his wife, he was black of hair and eyes.

And black of nature? Rees wondered, eyeing the other man’s scowl. Most farmers were hospitable to a traveling weaver.

Putting her pale freckled hand upon his mahogany dark tanned arm, his wife drew him inside. Rees clearly heard the work ‘Shakers’. A few moments later the farmer came back outside. “You can sleep in the barn,” he said, pointing with his chin at the red structure. “What’s your name? Mine is Henry Doucette. My wife Jane.”

“Will Rees,” Rees said, extending his hand. “Thank you.”

“Your horse looks all in,” Doucette said, casting a critical eye over Bessie. “You’re welcome to an empty stall.”
Rees nodded his thanks and climbed back into the wagon. With the day’s journey finally nearing its end, both Rees and Bessie allowed fatigue to overtake them.  Rees wasn’t sure they could make even the short trip across the yard to the barn.

Rees got Bessie settled in with fresh water and a nosebag of oats. When he returned to his wagon, he found a boy of about twelve waiting for him with a napkin covered dish and a jug of water. “My stepmother sent this up for your supper,” the boy said, thrusting the dishes into Rees’ hands. Although fair-haired, the boy was almost as darkly tanned as his father right down to his bare feet. And of an age with David, Rees thought.

“Thank her for me,” Rees said, staring down at the plate in grateful surprise. “This is very kind of her. What’s your name?”

“Oliver. She says stop by tomorrow morning and she’ll give you some breakfast,” the boy said with a flash of white teeth.

“Thank you.” With an awkward nod, the boy fled down the hill at a run.

Rees sat down on a seat of fresh straw, his back to the wagon wheel looking upon the green valley before him. The road on which he’d arrived unwound like a silvery ribbon in the last rays of sunlight. The lowing of the cattle sounded from a nearby pasture and Bessie’s contented whicker floated out from the barn. Peaceful. Dolly would approve. He sighed. Eight years since Dolly’s death in 1787, six of them spent as a traveling weaver. Two years he struggled to keep his farm going without Dolly; two solid years. But he couldn’t do it without her. And since he made more money weaving than farming he’d offered the management of his land to his sister and her husband in exchange for raising his David with their own kids. He’d thought his eight- year old son would be safe with them while he worked. Sighing, he lifted off the napkin and dug into the stew.  For five years and more he’d gone home intermittently. Not often enough; he saw that now and he’d do his best to make it up to David.

When he tried to sleep, the rage he’d tamped down during the day flared up again, hotter and fiercer than before. He could just slap his sister!  He’d begun yearning to see David again after his experiences on the western frontier during the Rebellion two years previously, and as soon as winter ended he headed north.  Several profitable weaving commissions delayed him in Massachusetts so he arrived in Maine the summer of 1795, a year later than he expected, but he rode home with a strongbox almost too heavy to lift.

Caroline greeted him with hostile surprise. “We weren’t expecting to see you until winter,” she said.  She did not at first admit that David was gone. Instead she forced him to ask several increasingly agitated questions until he realized the truth. Then, when he exclaimed in furious disbelief,

“David’s gone? How could you allow that to happen?” She and her husband stood shoulder to shoulder and defied him.

“He’s a man grown,” Sam cried angrily. “We couldn’t stop him.”

“He’s fourteen,” Rees snapped.

“There’s nothing for him here,” Charles said. Rees glared at his oldest nephew as the boy added rudely, “Let him seek his fortune elsewhere.” Neither of his parents reprimanded the lad for his unmannerly behavior.

“He couldn’t wait to leave,” Caroline said sneeringly. He knew then that David was simply an inconvenience. He pressed them again and again until they were all shouting but all they would say was that they thought David went off with the Shakers.  Rees flung out of the house he and Dolly had shared and raced towards Durham, and the Shaker settlements near it.