Saw, sawset, handplanes, square, sumitsubo and sumisashi by Kawahara Keigo, Museum Volkenkunde, Leiden, Netherlands.
We start our matsuri, or festival, with work commissioned by Philip Franz von Siebold, German physician and botantist. In 1823, under the auspices of the Dutch East Indies Company he was posted to Dejima, an artificial island and trading post off the coast of Nagasaki. For over 200 years, first for the Portuguese and later for the Dutch, Dejima was the conduit for trade with Japan during the isolationist Edo period (1600-1869).
Siebold collected a vast number of plants that were later taken to Leiden. He taught western medical practices and he, along with others, documented Japanese flora, fauna, customs and culture. Siebold quickly began the multi-volume “Archiv zur Beschreibung Nippons” (Archive for Describing Japan). The archive included this illustration of tools:
Siebold was allowed to hire artist Kawahara Keiga (1786-1860?) to further their documentation efforts. Kawahara was taught western painting techniques by Carl Hubert de Villeneuve. He painted harbor scenes, plants, animals and all manner of things. His artwork included the hand tools used by Japanese craftsmen.
Kawahara painted on paper, wood and silk. An archive of his work is held by the Netherlands National Museum of Ethnology (Museum Volkenkunde Leiden). Below is a gallery of Japanese hand tools painted on silk by Kawahara. At the end of the gallery are three illustrations by other artists, each of which has been used in previous blog posts (now they are all together!). After the gallery is a link to use if you would like to see several more paintings of tools, boats, sea life and more.
Kanban (shop sign) for a blade and toolmaker, late 19th century, Mingei International Museum, San Diego.
Cooper’s Tools, before 1872, National Archive of Estonia. Measurements are in fuß (fuss or foot).
The link will take you to a Search Page. If it comes up in Dutch you can select your alternate language at the top right of the page. In the Search Box enter Kawahara Keigo and press Search. Use the Green Arrows on the right to advance to Page 11. Kawahara’s work is found on Pages 11 to 51.
Kawahara’s cats! After all, this is the Lost Art Press and Cats blog.
Years ago I attended the Southern Highlands Craft Show in Asheville, North Carolina, and bought a goose carved by an older woman. She had two geese, but I could only afford one. The goose was in the charging position: head down and neck extended. It was the start of my appreciation for carved animals. Unfortunately, a couple years later the beak was chewed up by a long-haired black cat with a bum leg and an attitude (side note: this cat also enjoyed being vacuumed using the upholstery attachment). The damaged goose was packed away to limit further damage, and the cat with the bum leg moved with me seven times in three states, outlived two younger cats and died when she was 18. I did not acquire another wooden bird until well after she was gone.
Now, I have a small collection of wooden birds and will share some of them with you. I have also included some historical examples of practical items shaped like birds. We’ll start with a few from southeast Pennsylvania, a well-known region of talented folk artists.
A crow or raven. Carved by Dan Strawser in 1974, southeastern Pennsylvania. 9-1/2 inches long, 5-1/2 inches high.
Dan Strawser has been carving since the 1970s, and his wife, Donna,paints the birds. I’ve seen other birds by Strawser with wings carved in a similar manner. It looks as though the bird is seconds away from lifting off. Strawser did not sand the surface, allowing the surface carving to stand out and give the bird dimension. The bird and rounded base are painted a uniform black with only a small dot of white on each eye. Sometimes there is an urge to paint a base a contrasting color or pattern. For this bird I think a different color would detract from the overall image.
“Three little birds pitch by my door step…” Three small birds by Alvin G. Martin, 1989, Mennonite carver, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. 8 inches long, 5-1/4 inches high.
These may be house sparrows or song sparrows or some other birds entirely. Either way, I was attracted to the composition and the painting. Each branch with bird is one piece of wood with saw marks still visible. The body positions of the birds capture the quick movements of their real-life counterparts. Martin’s patterning and use of color on the birds and branches is nicely done, and the solid dark green base complements and anchors the composition.
One of the challenges in carving birds is what to do with the legs and feet. Alvin Martin painted the birds in a natural position with legs bent under the body and only the painted feet shown perching on the branches.
A bluebird by Ben Hoover, active in the 1970s and 1980s, Mennonite, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
This little bird hangs from a ceiling fan light pull in a room where my mother spends much of her time. Bluebirds are her favorite. As you can see, the paint work is wonderful. Bluebirds are frequent visitors to our yard. One spring I watched a male bluebird trying to show two perplexed youngsters how to take a bath.
As much as I value the work of the carvers of southeastern Pennsylvania, both their observations of the natural world and their creative efforts to craft birds and other animals, I also appreciate a different approach.
A swan made of two pieces of black walnut by Chicago-based artist and designer Peter Dunham. Approximately 6 inches wide, 5 inches high.
Peter Dunham has designed a variety of animals, with most comprised of two to four pieces. The appeal to me is stripping the figure of an animal to its defining elements, in this case, the long curving neck and the large and wide-flung wings.
Putting Birds to Work
Domesticated birds have often inspired craftspeople to make bird-shaped boxes for use in the home. There are many examples of this idea in the “Peasant Art” series of books by Charles Holmes.
An egg box in the shape of a goose from the Tyrol or Vorarlberg area of Austria from “Peasant Art in Austria and Hungary” by Charles Holme, et. al., published in 1911. Dimensions not given.
The top of the box (one piece or two?) flips open and it looks like there may be a catch mechanism at the base of the tail. A kitchen box to hold eggs is a utilitarian item. It can be a plain square box and does not need decoration. However, when the maker matches the design of the box to its use it becomes an object of joy. The curve of the bird’s neck, the detail given the eyes and beak and the meticulous chip carving add nothing to the quality of eggs stored within. But, for the woman or child that transfers the eggs from an old straw basket to this box it provides a moment of pleasure in the long day of work on a farm.
A duck-shaped box, New Kingdom (16th to 11th century BC), Egypt, British Museum. 6 inches long, 3-3/4 inches high. The head is attached, and the beak is broken.
The idea of a bird-shaped box has a long history and can be found in many cultures. This box was used for cosmetics. The wings, attached with pins near the neck, form the lid and are decorated with crosshatching. The wings, likely cut from one piece of wood, swing out to open the box.
Another example from ancient Egypt from the same time period and with similar measurements. British Museum.
Another New Kingdom cosmetics box with a missing lid allows a better view of the bowl-shaped body of the bird. As can be seen in the color photo and the line drawings, this duck box has a greater level of carved detail. Although they are not necessary for the function of the box, we find the duck’s feet! With the wings closed and sitting in one’s hand this would be a delightful little duck that just so happens to be a box.
Back, or forward, to the 20th century and one more practical item in the shape of a bird.
From “Peasant Art in Russia” by Charles Holme, et. al, published in 1912.
This egg dish, or bowl, is quite dashing with handles formed by a beak and a tail of almost equal size. The bird’s “crew cut” comb just adds to charm of this piece.
Back to My Birds
A small bird bowl by David Fisher.
This bird, by a carver in the exotic western portion of Pennsylvania, just sings. Dave has captured the dynamic moment before a bird launches itself into the air and takes off like a shot.
A partridge, maker unknown. 4-1/2 inches long, 3-1/2 inches high.
I don’t know who made this little bird or where it was made. Except for a portion of the head and neck it is covered in moon-shaped feathers. The head, back and wings are stained, adding dimension and life to the carving.
The wings are not perfectly centered on the body, but it takes nothing away from the piece. I find myself reaching for this bird almost every day. It is a little treasure.
One bird I do not attempt to pick up very often is the largest bird in my small collection, Rémy the Rooster.
Rémy the Rooster in front of one of my bookcases. Not his usual spot, but the only place to get a good photo of his magnificent entirety. 32 inches high, weighs about 10 lbs.
I don’t normally give names to inanimate objects, just the special ones. Rémy was purchased from a seller in northeast Alabama close to where that corner of Alabama meets Tennessee and Georgia. It is possible he was made in the southern Appalachians. He was dated as being made in the 1940s, but could be a bit earlier or later. Whoever made this rooster had a good sense of humor.
I found a similar rooster, very likely by the same maker, on a high-end sale site that dated it as 19th century. It sold for more than five times what I paid for my bird and its shipping cost. To me, the 19th century date is doubtful. The entire bird was painted a mottled reddish color that obscured carved details on the head. I suspect the paint job was an effort to artificially age and date the piece.
My rooster is painted black and, based on several nicks and dings, there is no undercoat of a different color. The comb and wattle are dark red.
I find the head-on view a bit disturbing.
Carved details on his head include curlicues on the comb and a simple round eye rimmed with white. The carved line of the beak is defined with dark red paint. There is a chip off the end of the beak and on one wattle (or fleshy caruncle) and some dings here and there. Whatever his age, he is in good condition.
Rémy is made of one piece of wood and is staked into a base that is 4 inches high. A feather edge is carved above his legs, and the legs have spurs. His feet are carved into the base, a common feature for many wooden roosters.
One of the problems the bird carver must solve, besides how to present the legs and feet, is the weight of the tail. Often this is solved by carving the bird and base as one piece, or by placing the bird on a base as was done in the crow/raven in the top photo. The showy tail feathers of a rooster require a different solution as the weight and extension of the tail can easily tip over even small carvings. Rooster crafters have solved this problem by chopping out the underside of the tail feathers, thereby reducing the mass of the tail.
Now, I would never knowingly photograph the hind quarters of anyone, even to show you the rooster-tail solution. On the other hand, I have no qualms using a photograph taken by someone else (of the previously mentioned expensive rooster) as a means of illustrating the solution.
The derrière of the “other” rooster. It also shows more of the surface carving of the tail feathers.
Although we may not be able to perfectly identify the species of each wooden bird, or have exact information on when and who made them, what we do have is handmade work that brings us pleasure. By extension, these wooden examples can help guide us to have a greater appreciation for the birds outside our windows.
The Pirate Map used by the Visitor (before aging with tea, water, dirt, crumpling and folding). The Tropics of Newport are to the east; flying pigs, muddy banks and Larry the Ferryman are on the north bank. The swine whales live near the ‘O’s on the river. The visitor’s skiff has passed the Licking River and is between the ‘R’ and ‘I’.
My internet service was out for a while and I wasn’t able to respond to the comments to Chris’ reading of “A Visitor Comes to Covington” or to the backstory of the book. Thank you for the many very kind comments.
I wasn’t sure how the book would be received. In the letter sent with the book my suggestion was to put it on a high shelf in the library, push it well to the back and put something heavy on it. Alternatively, it could be buried in the basement. Fortunately, the Stick Chair Badge Approval & Distribution Committee (Chris and Megan) liked the book and I heard there was a bit of teary-eyedness when each had read the book. I didn’t intend to make anyone cry but have to confess I got a bit of moisture around my eyes when Chris read the book.
Below is a photo of my last cat, Bunky Beanie Bronzini. He was a big and solid 15-pounder capable of herding me towards the kitchen when he thought I might be headed in the wrong direction. If he had lived another few years he would gained another name or two. This was his “No, absolutely not,” expression.
From The American Anti-Slavery Almanac for 1840, Vol.I, No.5.
One of the arguments used by pro-slavery groups was the idea if enslaved people were granted their freedom they would not be able to take care of themselves. Abolitionists like to point out exactly who was doing the work in the states where slavery thrived. A portion of the counter argument is below.
After gaining his freedom Henry Boyd headed on foot to Cincinnati. He arrived in 1825 or 1826 ready to work. From a young age he had worked on a farm, sometime in his teens he was hired out to work at the Kanawha saltworks and he had learned carpentry (likely from an apprenticeship). He could also read and write, which was allowed under Kentucky laws.
The Initial Years Navigating a Hostile City
In a city growing as rapidly as Cincinnati in the mid-1820s there was plenty of carpentry work available, unless you were a Black man. When Boyd arrived in the city the Black population was just under 700 (4.5 percent), compared to a total population of 15,540. He was refused work and white men would not work beside him. Skilled or not, Boyd and other recently freed Black workers were left to seek lower-paying jobs. There was also direct competition with newly arrived immigrants from Europe.
Boyd eventually worked as a laborer along the riverfront. The “Proceedings of the Ohio Anti-Slavery Convention of April 1835” provide this detail:
By 1829 the Black population of the city was 2,258, approximately 9.4 percent of the total, an alarming number to much of the white residents. In June of that year the decision was made to “rigidly enforce” the requirement of a $500 surety bond, one of the Black Laws of 1807. Black residents were given 30 days to comply. Rigid enforcement was taken to mean violence would be used. Previous to this announcement Black leaders had been working to help residents establish their own communities outside of Cincinnati and others were negotiating land purchases in Canada. They asked for more time. By August the city was restive and some residents evacuated.
The attacks began on August 15 and continued until the 22nd. Mobs of white, mostly working-class men, moved through the Fourth Ward attacking Black residents and burning houses and businesses. The police did not intervene and city officials and business leaders stayed quiet. The newspapers of Cincinnati did not publish accounts of the riots, but the newspapers outside the city did. The number of people killed, white or Black is unknown.
Between 1,100 and 1,500 Black residents left Cincinnati. The city lost a large labor pool, entrepreneurs, businesses and taxes. Between the years 1830-1860 the Black population was never more than 4.8 percent of the total population.
Henry Boyd stayed in Cincinnati. By 1829 he was likely married to Keziah and was supporting her and Sarah Jane, his stepdaughter. He had work and was saving to buy the freedom of his sister and brother. At age 27 he probably had a very good idea of the obstacles he would continue to encounter in Cincinnati.
A view of Cincinnati in 1830, from the Cincinnati & Hamilton County Public Library.
A variety of documents from the 1830s provide some good detail on Boyd activies during his first full decade in Cincinnati. It was a decade of intense labor and consequent reward for Henry Boyd.
Boyd is not listed in the 1829 city directory (the earliest available) and a directory is not available for 1830. His first listing is in 1831.
He is living and working from New Street, between Sycamore and Broadway (“do” is an abbreviation for ditto). His city directory listings remain the same until 1839.
The Cholera Epidemic
In the summer of 1832 newspapers reported the outbreak of cholera in New York and other cities. With its location on the Ohio River, it was not of matter of if, but when, cholera would reach Cincinnati. The epidemic began in the city in October.
Medical authorities of the time were correct that cholera was not transmitted from person to person, instead it was thought to be airborne. The air in the poorest sections of the city, the miasma, was suspected to be a cause. It was true the communities most affected by cholera outbreaks were those in lower-lying and crowded areas populated by they poor, but sanitation was lacking throughout the city. One thing the epidemic revealed in Cincinnati and other prosperous cities was a misery that had mostly been hidden.
Henry Boyd may not have been the only Cincinnati resident that thought cholera was spread through water, but he took the extraordinary step of communicate his idea to the editor of one of the city’s newspapers. From the Liberty Hall and Cincinnati Gazette of October, 1832:
We don’t know how many people followed this simple life-saving solution. His solution was certainly undercut by how it was introduced. It would be another 22 years before it was definitively proven that cholera was contracted in contaminated water.
George Porter and the Bedstead Fastener Patent
The patent for his bedstead fastener was likely submitted sometime in 1831 or 1832 and was granted on December 30, 1833. The listing can be found in the List of Patents for Inventions and Designs Issued by the United States from 1790 – 1847.
The patent is No. 7911X and a copy of the patent application with drawings is unavailable. A fire in December 1836 destroyed almost all of the records at the U.S. Patent Office. A request was made to all patentees to send patent documents to the Patent Office for copying. It doesn’t seem George Porter or Henry Boyd complied with this request.
Close up of the fastener from the Boyd bedstead in the collection of the Smithsonian.
George Porter was a Massachusetts cabinetmaker, active from 1817-1849. He arrived in Cincinnati around 1823 and by 1826 was operating a his own furniture shop at the “Sign of the Golden Eagle” at the corner of Main and Seventh Streets. Porter’s shop was just a hop, skip and jump from Boyd’s house on New Street.
Why isn’t the patent under Henry Boyd’s name? Although Henry Boyd was legally able to apply for a patent, as could any Black inventor, enslaved or free, he may not have known this. He may have been denied help from a patent lawyer and/or been given false information about the process. Porter, a trained cabinetmaker with an established business, seems to be the logical person to ask for help. It is apparent they knew each other and Porter may have sent work Boyd’s way. The two may also have had a financial agreement.
An English Abolitionist Visits
E.S. Abdy visited the United States between April 1833 and October 1834. He met with several men from Lane Seminary (later, the abolitionist Lane Rebels) and was taken to visit Henry Boyd at his home in New Street. From Abdy’s Journal of a Residence and Tour in the United States of North America from April 1833 to October 1834, Vol. 2 we have this description:
This passage verifies when Henry Boyd purchased is own freedom, “about eight years before” and that he had also freed his sister and brother. It is also the first description we have that verifies Boyd is running his own shop and is employing both white and Black men.
Henry Boyd, House Builder
Tax assesment records for 1835-1838 show Henry Boyd paying taxes in an area named Burrows Smith. Was this his home location or where he had a separate shop? Fortunately, the Cincinnati History Library and Archives sent me a copy of a law suit filed by Henry Boyd and the Burrows Smith mystery was solved.
Boyd built a frame house for James Carr on the north side of New Street in the subdivision (or plats) of Burrows Smith. The house was finished on May 14, 1836, and other than receiving $6.34 from Carr, Boyd was owed $334.76. Boyd filed the suit for payment on May 22, 1836 and a full account of materials, labor and costs are listed.
The wood frame house was built on the east half of plat 11. The front footage of the lot was 15 feet and the depth 90 feet. The house had two stories with upper and lower porches. The exterior had weatherboarding applied and the roof had wood shingles. The house builders among you can revel in the rest of the details.
The suit against James Carr verified the kind of work done by Henry Boyd prior to opening his bedstead factory and that he was working from a shop at his home on New Street and not at a separate location. The detailed list of the cost of materials and labor demonstrate he had the necessary accounting skills for a self-employed mechanic.
Towards the end of my research on Henry Boyd I found an article that provided more background on how he became a house builder.
In 1877, the Cincinnati Commercial newspaper published a biography of the now-retired Boyd.
House Builder No More
In the city directory for 1839-1840 Henry Boyd had two listings.
In the main section was his residence:
The publisher of this directory included a Colored Section and here is Boyd’s second listing:
Henry Boyd had opened his bedstead factory at the corner of Broadway and Eighth.
This map from the Library of Congress is dated 1838. The color dots show the location of George Porter’s shop at the corner of Main and Seventh (green dot), Henry Boyd’s home on New Street between Sycamore and Broadway (blue dot) and the bedstead factory at the corner of Broadway and Eighth (red dot). Plat 11 on New Street is where Boyd built the house listed in the 1836 suit. You can also see where Henry lived and worked in relation to the Public Landing on the Ohio River. Click on the map for a closer look.
Within a span of 13 to 14 years Henry Boyd gained his freedom, found steady work and a home, married, freed his sister and brother from slavery, patented a bedstead fastener and opened his bedstead factory.
It is safe to say Henry Boyd could take care of himself.
Early visitors to the new western cities of America were willing to travel by coach, wagon,horseback, boats and on foot to see and report on the westward growth of their new and independent country. They kept detailed diaries and turned their experiences into published travelogues. A minister would include the social aspects of the settlements, whereas an engineer would take note of the topography, soil conditions and geology. Publishers of almanacs and directories recorded annual growth of population, commerce and manufacturing.
Pittsburgh was, as an early traveler from Boston noted, the “key to the Western Territory.” This was especially true for travelers from New England, New York and the Mid-Atlantic states, for Pittsburgh was the stopping point to resupply and get repairs before continuing their overland westward journeys. Once steamboat travel was available, Pittsburgh was the embarkation point to begin a trip on the Ohio River and onward to the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers.
David Thomas (1776-1859) was a Quaker from Cayuga County in western New York. Traveling by horseback, he departed his home in the summer of 1816 on a trip that would ultimately take him to western parts of the Indiana Territory. He kept a diary and made note of the geology, agriculture, wildlfe, commerce and industry he observed during his travels. His notes and observations were published in 1819. He arrived in Pittsburgh around June 7, 1816, and described it as such:
Wraught Nails to Cut Nails
The new towns and cities of the “Western Country” needed a huge supply of well-made nails and they needed them fast. By 1807 there were four nail factories, all worked by hand. In 1811 Charles Cowen opened a slitting and rolling mill that included the manufacturing of nails. By 1814, the Pittsburgh Iron & Nail Factory was owned by William Stackpole and Ruggles Whiting, both originally from the Boston area. Their factory was steam powered and they installed Jacob Perkins’ patented cut nail machines. Thomas visited the Stackpole & Whiting rolling mill and nail manufactory and observed the manufacture of cut nails.
Jacob Perkins invented the nail machine in 1790 and patented it in 1795. His invention was reportedly able to cut 500 nails per minute.
An advertisement in a Lexington, Kentucky, newspaper, circa 1815, for goods from the Pittsburgh Iron & Nail Factory.
The Stackpole & Whiting mill was located at the corner of Penn Street and Cecil Avenue. In 1818 they bought steamboats at foreclosure and began to build their own boats. They went into bankruptcy in 1819 and relocated their boatbuilding business to Louisville, Kentucky. The rolling mill was later taken over by Richard Bowen.
The Mechanic’s Retreat
In 1815 an outlet tract (land cleared for farming) across the river in Allegheny Town was subdivided and developed as a residential area for workers employed by some of the early industries located a short distance away along the banks of the Ohio River. The area was bounded by Pasture Lane (now Brighton Road) and the North Commons (now North Avenue). The houses were modest in an otherwise undeveloped rural setting. Mechanics Retreat Park, at the corner of Buena Vista and Jacksonia streets, is a small remnant of the original development.
Also in 1815, Mr. James Jelly opened a three-story steam-powered factory for the carding, spinning and weaving of cotton. The next year an advertisement for a different kind of Mechanic’s Retreat ran in a local newspaper.
The Quality of Local Goods
Thaddeus M. Harris, a Unitarian minister from Boston, along with several companions, left his home in the spring of 1803 to visit the territory northwest of the Allegheny Mountains. His party arrived in Pittsburgh on April 15. After experiencing an eight-day journey over the mountains he remarked about the expense of moving goods overland from Philadelphia and Baltimore. The expense of transporting heavy goods, such as furniture, might cost more than that of the furniture.
As the business class gained wealth they sought to furnish their homes with high-style furniture as was made in Philadelphia and Baltimore. Skilled craftsmen from both cities, as well as those from other cities and towns on the Atlantic Seaboard, moved to the new western cities seeking the same opportunities as other new settlers. In 1803 Harris noted the quality and woods used to make furniture.
Fourteen years later, Cramer’s Magazine Almanac of 1817 provides more detail about the types of furniture being made. One indication of the growing wealth of some customers, and cabinet makers, was the use of mahogany for furniture. Mahogany was transported by steamboat from New Orleans, a river distance of almost 2,000 miles.
The Mechanics
Before city directories were published there were other publications touting the growth of the western cities. Matthew Carey’s American Museum, or Universal Magazine provides this accounting of the mechanics working in Pittsburgh in 1792:
Zadoc Cramer, publisher of an annual almanac, reported $33,900 worth of goods were made by the carpenters and furniture makers of Pittsburgh in 1803.
By 1810 Pittsburgh was established as a manufacturing center and the population was approximately 4740. The population grew to 8,000 in 1816 and to 9,000 in 1819 (the population in outlying areas was not always included). Pittsburgh was incorporated as a borough in 1816 and the following year a survey of the manufacturies operating in the city was commissioned. The account was published in the city directory fro 1819 (only woodworking and related trades are shown below:
Three cabinet makers had advertisements in the 1819 city directory. Joseph Barclays’s ad included a pointing finger (manicule) causing some irregular, although eye-catching, spacing. In the directory William Crawford’s ad was turned 90° sideways, a technique to allow more text and also to attract interest. Liggett’s ad includes an illustration and was likely the most expensive. The illustration has a roomful of furniture at the top, including a disassembled bedstead with headboard, posts and rails. Liggett was also offering mahogany furniture.
It can be difficult to determine how a 19th-century craftsman and his business fared. City directories were not published each year (especially in the earliest years of settlement) and some directories only listed householders. We do know not every person in a town was counted or listed.
A craftsman might move to an outlying area and have a thriving business and not be documented in the Pittsburgh directory. It also wasn’t uncommon for a craftsmen to move elsewhere for a better opportunities, to change to a different type of employment and there’s also the ever-present disease and death that ended a career. Efforts weren’t usually made to collect directories and other ephemera until decades later when copies might already be scarce.
Here’s what a quick search revealed about the cabinet makers in the three advertisements:
John Barclay appeared in the 1815 and 1819 directories only. William Crawford was in the 1819 and 1826 directories only.
The Liggett family had the longest presence in the city. John Liggett was probably the father and James was his brother or son, both were cabinet makers. A third Ligget was Thomas, likely John’s son (initially listed a cabinet maker and subsequently listed as a carpenter) had the longest series of listings. All three started at the same address, south side of Second Street between Wood and Market streets.
James, the advertiser, was in the 1815, 1819 and 1826 directories. The 1819 listing shows him just a short distance from the Second Street address. John Liggett was in the 1812, 1815, 1819 and 1826 directories. Thomas, initially listed a cabinet maker and subsequently listed as a carpenter, was in the 1812-1826 directories with his last listing in the 1837 directory. He was not in the next directory from 1841, but may have worked beyond 1837, giving him at least a 25-year run.
William Scott had a long career as a plane maker, possibly starting before 1807 and at least until 1839. Charles W. Pine, Jr. wrote an article about early Pittsburgh plane makers and you can find that article here.
The Swetman & Hughes ad ran in the Pittsburgh Gazette. I used Pine’s article to get a lead on the short-lived partnership of Swetman & Hughes. The partnership of James Swetman and William P. Hughes employed three other plane makers: Thomas Clark, Samuel Richmond and Benjamin King. None of the five plane makers show up in the 1815 city directory and only Thomas Clark was found in the 1826 directory for Pittsburgh. Nothing more showed up for Samuel Richmond, but there are some details available for Swetman, Hughes and King.
James Swetman was born in England, arrived in America in 1809 and worked in Baltimore with William Vance until 1816. The Pittsburgh parnership of Swetman and William P. Hughes lasted about two years, until 1820. Swetman then made his way to Montreal and is believed to be the first plane maker in Canada. The Tools and Trades Society has an article about four Bath minor plane makers and includes a short history of James Swetman (you can read the article here).
William P. Hughes was originally from Maryland and likely met Swetman while they were both in Baltimore. After the partnership was dissolved, Hughes moved to Cincinnati. He appears in the 1829 and 1831 city directories, each time at a different address. In subsequent listings, if it is the same person, he had moved on to other occupations.
Benjamin King, also originally from Maryland,was much more successful in Cincinnati. He is listed as a plane maker in the city directories from 1825 to 1844. Beginning in the 1831 directory and onward, he was listed at the same address, on Abigail Street, between Broadway and Sycamore, indicating he found a level of stability in Cincinnati.
Economic Distress and the Formation of a Cooperative
In 1815, after two years of war with America, the warehouses of British manufacturers were bursting. There was a rush to sell these goods, even at a loss, and ship them to America. American markets, with little or no protective tariffs, were flooded with British-made products. One group of manufacturers hit hard were the cotton mills. James Jelly’s cotton mill (across from the advertised Mechanics Treat tavern) began operation in 1815. Soon, his mill, along with more established mills, were struggling to compete with imported textiles. Overall, despite the influx of imported goods, Pittsburgh continued to grow, although moderately, until the Panic of 1819.
In this front-page notice from the February 1819 edition of the Pittsburgh Weekly Gazette a group of craftsmen endorsed sandpaper made by Thomas Bryan. They emphasized it was equal to any imported sandpaper. This was an important means of offering support to a fellow craftsmen, and it telegraphed to the public that good-quality materials were being used in local workshops.
The numbers employed by the city’s manufacturers dropped from 1,960 in 1815 to 672 at the end of 1819. The population fell from about 9,000 in 1819 to 7,248 in 1820.
A farmer wrote to Cramer’s Magazine Almanac in a letter dated July 19, 1819. It was published in the 1820 edition of the almanac:
The farmer had read about an Agricultural Society that might serve as a remedy: “The plan designs to make the society a means of promoting domestic manufacturers as well as to patronise a better system of agriculture.”
The idea of forming a cooperative for the goods made by individual craftsmen and manufactories was also percolating. In April of 1819 the Pittsburgh Manufactory Association was formed. Samual Jones reported on the Association in the 1823 city directory:
The association opened a large brick warehouse on Wood Street between Front and Second streets. In an article about the beginnings of cooperatives in the Pittsburgh area, John Curl detailed the products sold and the the early success of the association:
Samuel Jones (in the 1823 directory) had a few more things to say about buying local:
First Impressions Are Important
David Thomas, the visitor from 1816, made note of two characteristics of the people of Pittsburgh.
First, the vile language:
And, several paragraphs later:
I lived and worked in Pittsburgh for a few years and can attest to the kindness and generous nature of the citizens of the Burgh. As for vile language, I heard none unless a few Ranger fans had the temerity to come to town for a match up with the Pens.
— Suzanne Ellison
A detailed map of Pittsburgh from 1830, courtesy of the University of Pittsburgh Library System can be found here.
