Gathering A Crowd

the history of itinerant glassworkers

This Dutch glassworker used a Cartesian diver as a magic trick

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As early as the 1670s, itinerant glassworkers were touring Europe demonstrating lampworking techniques to curious onlookers. A Dutch glassworker used this handbill to advertise his show in Wrocław, Poland, where he demonstrated at the Golden Sword (likely an inn or tavern). There, in the afternoons, the glassworker made glass eyes, weather-measuring devices, pots, bottles, and figurines.

handbill with text and two images of glassworkers blowing glass and using a cartesian diver

Dieser Hollaendische porcellain-glass-blaser, 1670? Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 112252.

Show highlights

He also displayed a relatively new scientific experiment: a Cartesian diver. The diver, seen in full on the right above, was created to demonstrate the relationship between density and buoyancy. But the Dutch glassworker didn’t explain the science behind the Cartesian diver to his audience. Instead, he treated it as a magic trick, in which the demonstrator commanded the figures in the bottle to move up and down by calling out orders. In reality, he used his hand to add or remove pressure from the air-tight membrane at the top of the vessel.

Woodcut images of a man pressing down on the top of a Cartesian diver to create pressure

The glassworker presses down on the membrane covering the top of the Cartesian diver to create pressure and cause the figures in the bottle to move. Detail of Dieser Hollaendische porcellain-glass-blaser, 1670? Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 112252.

The glassworker included several figurines in his bottle: a toasting man, a queen, and what looks like perhaps a bear or a devil. (Cartesian divers were also know as Cartesian devils, water devils, and bottle imps.)

One of the figurines in the Cartesian diver experiment.
One of the figurines in the Cartesian diver experiment.
One of the figurines in the Cartesian diver experiment.

Tools of the trade

The handbill shows that this glassworker used a lamp similar to the one described by Johannes Kunckel in his 1679 translation of L’Arte vetraria (The Art of Glass). The flame was likely fueled by oil or tallow pulled through a cotton wick and the glassworker could shape and direct the flame using forced air (either supplied by the use of bellows hidden under the table or by blowing into a pipe directed at the flame). This glassworker also used a small blowpipe to make his products.

The glassworker offered to demonstrate at private residences upon request, and sold his products to interested observers. There is no price listed to see the show, which matches with other known advertisements from the period.

Iron-jawed angels: Circus suffragists and the fight for the vote

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On Sunday, March 31, 1912, a group of women gathered in the animal menagerie at Madison Square Garden to inaugurate a new group: Barnum & Bailey’s Circus Women’s Equal Rights Society. These circus suffragists – among them aerialists, equestriennes, strongwomen, and tightrope walkers – had joined the fight for the vote. At the meeting, well-known bareback rider Josephine DeMott Robinson reminded attendees, “You earn salaries. Some of you have property. You have a right to say what shall be done with it. You want to establish clearly in the mind of your husband that you are his equal. You are not above him, but his equal.”1

She and her fellow performers – most of whom were white – were uniquely positioned to spread the message of suffrage as they traveled throughout the United States engaging with audiences.2 They joined petition drives, handed out suffrage literature, and Robinson was even known to ride her horse at rallies.

photograph of Josephine DeMott Robinson riding her horse

Josephine DeMott Robinson at her riding school, showing some of her pupils how to vault a horse while in motion. Source: Narratively (Thomas Y. Crowell Company Publishers)

Suffragists celebrated women circus performers. Movement leader Inez Milholland stated that they “exemplify one phase of the ability of women to earn their own living.” Elizabeth Cook agreed: “There is no class of women who show better that they have a right to vote than the circus women, who twice a day prove that they have the courage and endurance of men.”3 But when it came to supporting the new society, Milholland was a little more hesitant. She had promised to attend the event, but did not show up. Instead, Beatrice Jones from the Woman’s Political Equality Union joined the group as they celebrated by christening a baby giraffe at the menagerie “Miss Suffrage.”

The press got wind of the event and were gleefully condescending in their coverage. Jones, according to a New York Times reporter, was surrounded by “women and girls, modishly and sedately gowned, so that you would never dream it was their daily lot to bound about, blithe and bespangled.” And Miss Suffrage? By the end of the evening, the giraffe – not “previously being consulted” about its new name – “couldn’t abide even the sight of a suffragette.”4 The New York Tribune joked that the lions “moved uneasily about their cages” and the hyenas “grinned and grinned.”5 A writer for the Sacramento Union reported that “Alexander Sebert, husband of Lillian Sebert, a bareback rider, projected himself into the meeting, took his wife and her sister, Jennie Byram, and hustled them out of the menagerie room … Sebert shouted that he didn’t intend to let his wife take part in such nonsense.”6

lithograph of women trapeze artists performing at circus

Female acrobats on trapezes at circus, 1890. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Library of Congress [Public domain])

But women circus performers were not daunted by this commentary. They were used to it: their profession put them in a radical position, and they had to strike a delicate balance between their roles as showwomen and the public’s demand for respectable entertainment. Although they wore leotards and demonstrated acts of strength and power in the ring, performers and promoters portrayed them as proper, domestic women, more concerned about cooking their husbands dinners than their acts. The fact that the majority of women circus performers were white (at least those under the big top) also helped to shape their image as respectable, middle-class citizens.

Rossa Matilda Richter, who performed as Zazel, the first human cannonball, was an expert at the tightrope, trapeze, and high dive. But off the stage, Richter spoke to reporters about her fellow showwomen and their commitment to traditional gender roles, “complete with tales of women commandeering the railroad dining car to bake a cake.”7 Richter stated, “The domestic instinct is very strong among circus women, for the reason that they are deprived of home life a great part of every year.”8 Circuses had strict rules for women performers and emphasized the presence of male family members, which helped assuage any suspicions of the public. However, writes historian Janet M. Davis, “they also unintentionally eclipsed the larger historical significance of the female big top performer as a durable champion of women’s rights.”9 They hid their radical performances behind high-necked dresses and freshly-baked cookies.

Photograph of Zazel the human cannonball

Rossa Matilda Richter, also known as Zazel, the first human cannonball performer when she was 14, 1887. Source: Wikimedia Commons (London Stereoscopic Co.[Public domain])

While Richter put forward her domestic ideals, English acrobat Josephine Mathews advanced a different narrative. She performed as “Evetta, the Lady Clown” and embraced “all of the new woman’s fads,” including bicycling and swinging Indian clubs.” Mathews boldly stated, “I believe that a woman can do anything for a living that a man can do, and I do it just as well as a man.”10 Both Richter and Mathews’ public personas were likely shaped by circus press agents, showing the contradictory ways women in the circus were depicted.

poster of Evetta lady clown

The Strobridge Lithographing Company Barnum & Bailey: Evetta the Only Lady Clown, 1895. Source: Circus Now [Public domain]

Katherine Brumbach, a strongwoman who performed under the name Katie Sandwina, was at Madison Square Garden as an inaugural member of the Barnum & Bailey’s Circus Women’s Equal Rights Society. At five feet nine inches tall and 210 pounds with a muscular frame, she did not fit the physical standards for feminine beauty at the time. But doctors declared her the “perfect female specimen” and others described her as “beautiful and feminine.”11 She earned up to $1,500 a week, which amounts to roughly $40,000 in today’s money. As part of her routine, she regularly lifted her husband, Max Heymann, above her head. Brumbach’s appearance, abilities, and the fact that she earned a wage were at odds with the ideal woman.

photograph of circus strongwoman Katie Sandwina holding three men in the air

Katie Sandwina, “The Lady Hercules”. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Bain News Service [Public domain])

Reporter Marguerite Martyn emphasized Brumbach’s divergent qualities in a 1911 article for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, writing, “At the moment she was twirling her husband about in dizzy circles above her head … Carelessly, laughingly, she tosses her husband about as though he were not flesh and bone, but merely an effigy of inflated rubber. And he is no insignificant husband, either.” No “normal” woman would be able to lift and twirl her husband, especially with such ease. (Although some might like to, including the woman Martyn overheard exclaiming, “Gee! Wouldn’t I love to be able to bat a man around like that!”)12

In an accompanying illustration, Brumbach appears as large as a giant, holding the very properly-dressed and diminutive Martyn in one hand while preening for the crowd in a form-fitting leotard. In the next panel she has returned to more normal womanly activities, standing over a stove cooking dinner for her husband and son. “There are enough duties in her own home for any woman if she would make her family healthy and strong and wise,” Brumbach told Martyn. “I think I should be content to devote all my strength to my household.”13

black and white line drawing of Katie Sandwina

Imaginative sketch by Marguerite Martyn of strongwoman Katie Sandwina, 1911. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Marguerite Martyn [Public domain])

Whatever her feelings about housework and home life (or those she expressed as a part of her public persona), Brumbach was an eager participant in the fight for the vote. She became the vice president of the Barnum & Bailey’s Circus Women’s Equal Rights Society, joining Robinson, equestrienne May Wirth, wire-walker Victoria Codona, bareback rider Victoria Davenport, and many others in committing herself to the cause.

While it is unclear how long the society lasted or how much of an impact their actions had on the suffrage movement, Robinson, Brumbach, and their fellow performers arguably made their most convincing case under the big top. Their costumes, skills, and ability to outearn many male circus performers proved to those who watched their shows that women were capable of being more than just angels at home; they were iron-jawed Amazons worthy of the vote.

A version of this post was originally published on the Re/Visionist on December 16, 2019.

Ode to a glass steam engine

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When will wonders cease, we may justly enquire,
When we see a Glass Engine, complete and entire,
In fine working order, from boiler to beam,
And working away under full head of steam.

Boilers and pistons are hardly the stuff of romantic poetry, yet inspiring they were to some 19th-century bards. In this case, one William Somers wrote an entire poem about a steam engine made of glass.

As fanciful as it might sound, there were quite a few glass steam engines that Somers could have seen during his lifetime. These fully-functional models were made and displayed by itinerant glassworkers as part of their shows. Popularized by the Woodroffe brothers in the mid-1800s, they were constructed of hundreds of delicate, colorful pieces of glass.

Illustration of a steam engine made of glass

The Great Double Working Glass Steam Engine Fairy Queen!, 1861. Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 45696.

Why would anyone make a steam engine out of glass? To prove that they could! These models were both a feat of glassmaking and a method of demonstrating how steam power functioned during a time when real steam engines powered machinery and many modes of transportation. Audiences were entranced, and newspaper reviews often recommended glassworkers’ shows for the engines alone.

Glassworkers promoted the engines heavily in their advertisements, giving them fanciful names like Fairy Queen, Excelsior, Columbia, and the Crystal Gem. They held poetry competitions and gave prizes to those who submitted the best verse. This is perhaps how William Somers came to write his poem. Here is his full composition:

The Glass Steam Engine

The world in its wisdom, has long stood aghast,
Supposing each step in its progress the last,
But still ’tis advancing by steady degrees,
‘Till we ask in amazement, when will wonders cease?
When will wonders cease, we may justly enquire,
When we see a Glass Engine, complete and entire,
In fine working order, from boiler to beam,
And working away under full head of steam.
Mechanics, and artisans, here may engage,
To study this exquisite work of the age,
Surpassing all others in wonder and skill,
And as ages roll by, ’twill a wonder be still.
An Engine of Glass! why, that can never be,
E’en in this wond’rous age of the world’s history,
Incredulity starts, in most utter surprise,
We can hardly believe the plain sight of our eyes;
But there it now stands in its pearly array,
The greatest achievement of this latter day,
Its parts all adjusted, by magical skill,
With all the minutia of whistle and bell.
Its joints, and its gearings, are finished with care,
No friction occurs, and not even a jar;
And when the hot steam is sent coursing its veins,
Like a war horse it pants to break loose from the reins.
An engine, transparent, instructive, and new,
Like a real thing of life with its vitals in view,
The steam from the boilers sends life to the heart,
And life it goes bounding throughout every part.
Then, hail to the progress of science and skill,
From whose storehouse such wonders are forthcoming still;
The palm we will render with pleasure and hope,
To this scientific Bohemian Troupe.

Video of a glass steam engine in motion.

Several contemporary artists have been inspired by the glass steam engines and their makers, including Bandhu Dunham. His kinetic sculptures series includes The Crystal Gem, seen in motion here. Collection of The Corning Museum of Glass.

Mrs. Johnston, 18th-century fancy glassblower

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In 1743, Britain was ruled by George II, although the Jacobites in Scotland were plotting to install Bonnie Prince Charlie to the throne. That year, Samuel Johnson was a 33-year-old struggling writer and his still-to-be famed biographer James Boswell was just a toddler in Edinburgh. Also in Edinburgh, in 1743, exhibiting for a short time only, was Mrs. Johnston, an itinerant fancy glassblower.

Woman flameworking glass (Attribution unknown, late 19th cent.). Source: Conciatore

‘Fancy’ glassblowing refers to the process of working, not at a furnace, but at a table over an oil lamp with rods of glass. The artist formed the glass into small objects; rigged ships, animals, flowers, religious icons, beads and other ornaments. Glass spinning was a related process in which the heat of the lamp flame was used to draw an extremely fine continuous filament of glass that was collected on a large spinning wheel. The result was a mass of almost silk-like floss that was soft and flexible; nothing like the brittle glass of a cup or a window pane. Spinning demonstrations never failed to fascinate audiences and were a staple of fancy glass blowing acts well into the twentieth century.

Artists would often take suggestions from spectators on what to make and then form the piece on the spot. A common technique was to repeatedly touch a thin rod of glass, called a stringer, along the piece under construction forming a series of little loops in the flame. Rows of loops build up a surface that resembles knitting and a skilled artist can form finished pieces quickly. Eventually, both spinning and the knitting techniques became known generically as ‘spun glass’.

Although not well chronicled, this type of demonstration was performed at fairs and other shows as far back as the fifteenth century, and probably earlier. Because of their popularity with women and children, female fancy glass workers were not only well accepted, but commanded a premium at these events.

Below is a lovely correspondence appearing in the local Edinburgh newspaper in January of 1743. The writer is so taken by Mrs. Johnston’s demonstration that he or she was moved to compose a poem. In terms of documenting eighteenth-century glass artists, it simply does not get any better:

“To The Publishers of the Caledonian Mercury. Reading a former letter of Leonora’s, curiosity inclined me to see Mrs Johnston the glass spinner, and was agreeably surprised to find the encomiums given her fall short of the character she justly deserves; so I hope the gentlemen, as well as the ladies, will solicit in the behalf of the celebrated artist, as is due her merit.  Therefore,

Let Britain quite enjoy its transport round,
Or Johnston’s praise to all the nation sound;
For me, to humble distance I’ll retire,
There gaze, and with secret joy admire:
My native Scotland such a one can boast,
On whom the praises of the world are lost,
For her own works do justly praise her most.

By giving this a place in your paper, you will oblige, yours, etcetera  — Torisment.1

Two weeks later, appearing in the same paper is Mrs. Johnston’s reaction:

“When a person is obliged to persons unknown, the best way is to return them thanks in the most public manner: therefore Mrs. Johnston, the glass blower and spinner, returns thanks to all the gentlemen and ladies who have honored her with their presence; but more especially the gentleman and lady who did her that honour in the public paper: She cannot show her gratitude in any other way than by her best prayers for their felicity, which she shall always think herself to do both for them and all other her benefactors. Her stay being short in this kingdom, she performs now for the small price of sixpence per piece.2

This post was originally published on the Conciatore blog on November 8, 2019.

Stepping into the spotlight: Women itinerant glassworkers

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The orphans from the Home of the Friendless filed into the Metropolitan Rink in orderly rows, staring at the wonders displayed before them. Glass sparkled from every surface, shaped like ships and birds and little men and women. A steam engine made of colorful glass spun and whirred next to a model of a derrick bobbing for non-existent oil. In the center of it all stood Madam Nora and her troupe of itinerant glassworkers, spinning, twisting, and blowing glass into all sorts of marvelous shapes. They were there to show the children all the wonderful things that could be made from glass, and to give each child a toy to treasure long after the show was over.

To thank the glassworkers for their gifts, the orphans sang them a song. It was the perfect end to the troupe’s two-week stay in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, in March 1887. More importantly, it garnered Nora and her troupe a slew of free publicity and praise, as well as an open invitation to come back again. It paid to be a marketing-savvy woman in show business. 1

sepia photograph of itinerant glassworkers

Mrs. and Mr. Frank. A. Owen. Glass exhibition featuring spinning wheel and glass steam engine, 1904? Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, Corning, NY, CMGL 131372.

Itinerant glassworkers toured cities and towns entertaining and educating audiences from the 17th century through 20th century. They demonstrated glassmaking, blowing glass bubbles, spinning glass thread, and shaping flowers, baskets, and figurines. They created intricate models like skeletons and steam engines and covered tables with trinkets for sale. The trade was dominated by men, but there were quite a few women who performed too, including some of the most prominent and popular itinerant glassworkers of the 19th and early 20th century.

By stepping outside of the home and entering the public sphere, these performers transgressed the standards set for women. They traveled across countries and continents, demonstrating glassmaking for royalty, government officials, and members of the public. They made their own living, and some of them even counted their male family members as employees. Women like Madam Nora and Madam J. Reith ran their own troupes and became popular performers. Details about their private lives are few and far between, but as public figures they were breaking down ideas of what women could and should be at that time.

Mrs. Johnston

The earliest-known woman itinerant glassworker was a Mrs. Johnston or Johnson, who was active in the mid-18th century. In December 1740, she performed at the Robin Hood tavern in Dublin, Ireland, making “curiosities such as, men, women, birds, beasts, swords, scabbards, and ships” out of glass. She also used a wheel to spin glass thread, as much as “ten thousand yards of glass in half an hour.” 2 A few years later she traveled north to demonstrate in Edinburgh, Scotland. Here she won herself an admirer who was so impressed by her performance they composed a poem in her honor. 3

Signora Murch

More women followed in Johnston’s footsteps, often performing alongside their spouses or families. Signora Murch made glass with her husband in Devonport, England, in 1825. The two demonstrated their lampworking skills, “Modelling, Blowing, and Spinning Glass, of various colours.” They offered to make the “Likeness of any favorite DOG” in glass and teach women the “Art of Flower Making.” The Murches made many items for sale, including “Glass Feathers, Pens, Baskets . . . and other Curiosities too numerous to mention.” 4

Nora Allen

Nora Allen (a.k.a. Madam Nora), the performer whose troupe put on a show for the orphans of the Home of the Friendless, was one of the most popular American itinerant glassworkers of the 19th century. Her troupe – Madam Nora’s Original Troupe of Glass Blowers, Workers, and Spinners – included her second husband, her son, and her daughter-in-law, Adalorra Allen. They toured the East Coast and the Midwest in the 1870s-1890s, spending most of their time in New York and Pennsylvania. Her name was listed at the head of every advertisement, and her portrait was featured on broadsides and a newspaper published by the troupe.

Illustration of Nora Allen sitting behind a table full of lampworked plants and animals placed under bell jars. She is holding a small lampworked ship.

Detail of Madame Nora’s Original Troupe of Glassblowers, 1876? Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 132079.

By demonstrating for the orphans, Nora was performing “respectable” womanhood. Many women performers of the late 19th and early 20th century did the same, or were marketed by their managers as respectable women. They dressed conservatively, spoke about how much they loved to cook dinner for their husbands, and showed their interest in traditionally feminine pursuits like knitting and sewing. They did so to avoid public censure and to continue making a living as performers. Because their profession put them in the public eye, they could easily be labeled as disreputable and their acts as inappropriate for women and children to attend. So, while Nora may have truly wanted to give the orphans a fun day out, her actions also helped prove to locals that hers was a respectable show proper for all audiences to attend.

The Howells

During the first half of the 20th century there were several well-known families of lampworkers, including the Howell family. All of the women in the family demonstrated glassmaking: matriarch Ethel Maude Howell, daughters Grace Howell and Nona Deakin, and daughters-in-law Marie Howell and Verna Howell. Grace in particular found success demonstrating at festivals, for scouting troops, and making appearances on TV variety shows. She was perhaps best known for dressing up as Mrs. Santa Claus each December and demonstrating lampworking at the Manhattan Savings Bank in New York City during the 1960s.

A black and white photograph of a family of lampworkers in a booth. Two young women stand in front of the booth at either side. Seated behind the booth are, from left to right, a woman, a man, and a young man. The booth and shelves behind the booth are covered in pieces of glass, including items such as stags, ships, vases, and bunches of grapes.

Nona, Ethel, and Grace Howell are pictured here alongside their male relatives. Howell Family of Chelmsford, 1937-1945. Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 151522.

These are only a few of the many women itinerant glassworkers who performed for crowds. They, alongside circus performers, actresses, lecturers, singers, vaudeville stars, and others working in the public eye proved that women had a right to be in that space. Each time they appeared in front of an audience they broke the boundaries, putting themselves in the spotlight instead of staying at home.

A version of this post was originally published on the Re/Visionist on December 16, 2019.

Meet the Howell family of itinerant glassworkers

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The Howells are one of the last prominent itinerant glassworker families of the 20th century. Robert Howell Sr. and Ethel Maude Howell led their family and others on tour for decades and each of their children pursued glassmaking as adults.

Let’s take a look at each member of the family and their contributions to glass history.

Robert Howell Sr.

black and white photo of Robert Howell Sr. itinerant glassworker

Robert Howell Sr. in the late 1930s.

Robert Howell (American, 1877-1957) was born in Vienna, Illinois. There are several stories of how and why he became an itinerant glassworker, but all agree that he demonstrated at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, Illinois, in 1893. Several years later he met Ethel Maude Pauley while demonstrating at the Saint Louis Exposition1 and they married in Waterloo, Iowa, in 1900.

By 1904, and possibly earlier, Howell and his growing family were traveling around the country. During the demonstration season they lived in a housecar with a lampworking setup. Howell led his own troupe, Howell’s Troupe of Glass Workers, in which he, his wife, and several other glassworkers participated. Once the Howell children were ready to join the demonstrations, the family toured as the Howell Family of Bohemian Glass Workers and made appearances at schools, clubs, churches, lodges, and fairs. During the off-season they settled down in a home (often rented) and made glass for sale.

In 1937, another notable itinerant glassworker, Madam Nora, sold Excelsior and Columbia, her glass steam engine and glass fire engine, to Howell. He made plans to exhibit them in the sideshow of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus.

Two years later, the family made perhaps their most notable appearance at the New York World’s Fair, demonstrating at the Glass Blowers of the World pavilion. There, more than 44 million people had the chance to see their lampworking skills.

As their children grew up and left home, the elder Howells continued to demonstrate, often billed as Mr. and Mrs. Robert M. Howell. Howell died in his home in Scotch Plains, New Jersey.

Ethel Maude Howell

black and white photo of Maude Howell itinerant glassworker

Maude Howell in the late 1930s.

Ethel Maude Pauley (American, 1882-1966) was born in Green, Iowa. Howell learned glassworking from her husband, and the two toured the United States with their growing family. She was a member of Howell’s Troupe of Glass Workers in the early 1900s, specializing in glass spinning and crocheting glass.2

After Howell’s husband died in 1957, she continued to demonstrate. She died in Plainfield, New Jersey.

Grace Howell

black and white newspaper photo of Grace Howell itinerant glassworker

Grace Howell in 1962.

Grace Howell (American, 1901-1976) was born in Waterloo, Iowa. Her parents taught her to lampwork as early as the age of five, and she joined their demonstrations around the age of twelve. By 1920 she was working as a contractor for a mail order house company (perhaps during the off-season). She became the family’s business agent, booking performances across the country.

Howell claimed it was at the New York World’s Fair in 1939 that she first created the “Bluebird of Happiness,” the glass object she is best known for making. Later, when demonstrating solo, Howell started every show by making this piece. She stated she made the first piece for Shirley Temple and her film, The Blue Bird. Howell later sent bluebirds to Mamie Eisenhower, Princess Elizabeth, and the Corning Museum of Glass.3

During World War II, most of the Howells made scientific glassware for the war effort. Howell was no exception, making glass tubes for the electrical controls on planes and boats.

By 1953, and possibly earlier, Howell was demonstrating on her own, up and down the East Coast. She performed for scout troops, day camps, schools, and PTAs. She made regular appearances at fairs, craft shows, festivals, and banks. Howell worked at New Jersey-area attractions like the Gingerbread Castle and the Cannon Ball House, and appeared on television variety shows (including those of Johnny Carson and Dave Garroway). Her most recognizable appearance, however, may have been as a lampworking Mrs. Santa Claus in the window of the Manhattan Savings Bank.

Howell died at her home in Scotch Plains, New Jersey.

Robert Howell Jr.

black and white photograph of Robert Howell, Jr. itinerant glassworker

Robert Howell Jr. in 1960.

Robert Howell Jr. (American, 1904-1984) was born in Camden, South Carolina. He stated that he began playing around with glass when he was six. On his eighth birthday, his parents gifted him with a torch and began to teach him lampworking; he joined the family demonstrations once they deemed him ready.

Howell toured the country with many of the glassworkers who worked at the Glass Blowers of the World pavilion at the New York World’s Fair, and met his future wife Marie Swann while performing with the group in Miami, Florida. The two were married on March 3, 1940, in Broward County, Florida. They worked for the Manhattan Project at Oak Ridge, Tennessee, during World War II.

By 1945, Howell and his wife had set up a shop at the Pine Beach Resort near Brainerd, Minnesota. During the tourist season they demonstrated their craft, and in the off-season they toured high schools and colleges, lampworking for students. In 1953, the couple closed the shop and moved to Pleasant View, Tennessee, close to Marie’s hometown. They parked their trailer next to the Blanket Store gift shop on U.S. Route 41A, and demonstrated to tourists from 1953 to 1955.

In October 1955, the Howells moved to Winter Haven, Florida, and opened their show at The Great Masterpiece near Lake Wales. They demonstrated at the attraction for close to ten years, leaving in 1963. In 1964, they demonstrated at the New York World’s Fair, and the following year they participated in the Florida Showcase at the Rockefeller Center in New York City. They made a spun glass dress for the Showcase, which Marie wore during their demonstrations.

The couple opened a new shop on State Route 540 near Cypress Gardens, operating it until they retired in 1968. Soon they decided they weren’t ready for retirement, and opened a shop in their backyard. Here, they made glass until the early 1980s.

The Howells appeared on a number of television shows, including the Today Show and the shows of Ed Sullivan and Johnny Carson.

Howell died in Winter Haven, Florida.

Nona Deakin

black and white photograph of Nona Howell itinerant glassworker

Nona Deakin in the late 1930s.

Nona Howell (American, 1916-1944) was born in Iowa. She learned to lampwork at age 13. She and her siblings were instructed by a tutor on the road rather than attending school.

She married John L. Deakin in 1938 in New Jersey. The couple had one child together, John Robert Deakin, in 1939. They built a workshop at their home to make glass and demonstrated to local clubs.

Deakin died in Plainfield, New Jersey, after a long illness.

Leigh Howell

black and white photo of Leigh Howell itinerant glassworker

Leigh Howell in the late 1930s.

Leigh Howell (American, 1919-1995) was born in Kansas City, Missouri. His parents taught him to lampwork as early as the age five and he joined the family demonstrations several years later.

During World War II, Howell worked for the Manhattan Project in Los Alamos, California, and Oak Ridge, Tennessee.

He worked for a number of companies making scientific glassware, including the Westinghouse Lamp Division; Olin Mathieson Chemical Corporation in Niagara Falls, New York; Minneapolis-Honeywell’s aeronautical division in Los Angeles, California; and General Motors in Santa Barbara, California. He also worked for and taught scientific glassblowing at the University of California, Los Angeles, and Brandeis University in Waltham, Massachusetts.

Howell was an early member of the American Scientific Glassblowing Society, joining in 1954. In the mid-1950s and early 1960s he served as the vice president of the organization, and during that time he also edited Fusion, the Society’s journal.

By the early 1960s, Howell had been married at least once and had two sons and a daughter. On October 8, 1966, he married Verna E. Haensgen in Santa Barbara, California. In July 1967, the couple opened the Dansk Glas Huset in Solvang, California. They demonstrated to tourists for several months, before divorcing in November 1967.

It is unclear whether Howell operated the shop after the divorce, but by 1970 he was regularly demonstrating to clubs, churches, and other groups. He relocated to Chelmsford, Massachusetts, and taught lampworking classes to local residents at his studio. He later closed his studio and opened a mobile studio, in which he toured and taught classes.

Howell, an evangelical Baptist, later preached the “Gospel in Glass” at Baptist churches around the country, from at least 1977 to 1983. He mainly resided in Florida later in his life.

Howell died in Green Cove Springs, Florida.

Legacy

The Howell family demonstrated glassworking to hundreds of thousands of people across the United States over the course of 90 years. In addition to becoming experts themselves, they taught many others the art of lampworking. Some, like Charles Kaziun, went on to become respected and groundbreaking glass artists. The Excelsior and Columbia engines, sold to Robert Sr. by Madam Nora, can now be seen at the Lightner Museum in St. Augustine, Florida. Grace Howell’s “Bluebird of Happiness” is preserved in the collection of The Corning Museum of Glass. The family’s reputation as glassmakers endures in these legacies as well as in the many happy memories of those who saw them perform.

Find more biographical information about itinerant glassworkers and those who worked with them by exploring this site’s index of people.

A splendid bauble: The Lord Mayor’s Coach

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One of the great State Coaches of the United Kingdom, the Lord Mayor of London’s State Coach is an elaborate confection of carved and gilded wood. Built in 1757 and still in regular use, the coach has been depicted in engravings, photographs, and even glass.

The Lord Mayor's Coach, an elaborate gold and red carriage.

The Lord Mayor’s Coach. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Tony Hisgett, CC BY 2.0)

In 1805, American chemist and educator Benjamin Silliman described the coach as “one of the most splendid baubles that ever amused the great children of this world or set the crowd agape. It is an ancient machine, in a style of ponderous and clumsy magnificence. Its exterior is almost completely covered with gilding, and its panels [sic] are adorned with fine paintings. On its top, gilded images are blowing trumpets, and its angles are supported by images that have not their prototype in earth, sea or air. The horses were sumptuously caparisoned; plumes nodded on their heads, and party coloured ribbons were interwoven among their locks. The coachmen, footmen, and postilions looked as though they had been dipped in liquid gold, and sprinkled with fragments of diamonds.”1

Twenty-five years later, the itinerant glassworker Scott listed a “most accurate” glass model of the Lord Mayor’s Coach with six horses and attendants on the handbill for his show in Brighton, England.2 It must have been a tricky sculpture to replicate accurately, given the detail of the original.

Lord Mayor’s Show

The coach is perhaps most recognized as a regular feature of the annual Lord Mayor’s Show. This procession dates back to the 16th century, celebrating each newly-appointed Lord Mayor of London. At first, the Lord Mayor rode through the London streets on horseback or traveled on the River Thames in a barge, but that changed in 1710, when new mayor Gilbert Heathcote fell off his horse  and broke his leg (supposedly the fault of a drunken flower girl). In the years that followed, the appointees used hired carriages, until Sir Charles Asgill commissioned the current coach in anticipation of his turn as Lord Mayor. Asgill ordered the coach from Joseph Berry of Leather Lane, Holborn for £860; architect and sculptor Sir Robert Taylor designed it.3

black and white photograph of the Lord Mayor's coach surrounded by attendants

Sir Marcus Samuel, Lord Mayor of London makes his way to Westminster Abbey from Guildhall for the Coronation of Edward VII, 1902. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Argent Archer, public domain)

Description of the coach

The coach’s intricate elements “emphasise the importance of London’s port and of the City’s trade.” The Museum of London describes them as such: “The coachman’s seat is supported by tritons, mythical sea creatures, and his footrest is formed from a scallop shell. The coach is supported at each corner by child angels, or cherubs, representing the four known continents: Asia, Africa, America and Europe. The City’s coat of arms, including fire-breathing dragons decorate the back of the coach. Three of the main coach panels show the City’s guardian spirit, or Genius. In the back panel she receives goods from around the world, including elephant tusks, an Arabian horse and a lion. The front panel depicts a female figure representing Hope who points at the dome of St Paul’s cathedral. The smaller side panels represent moral qualities or virtues: Truth, Temperance, Justice and Fortitude.”4

Today, the coach is housed in the Museum of London for most of the year and brought out for the Lord Mayor’s Show each November.

The Lord Mayor’s Coach, 2016. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Jason Peper, CC BY-SA 2.0) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lord_Mayor%27s_Show_2016_(30638803490).jpg
John Stuttard, Lord Mayor of London during the 2006 Lord Mayor’s Show. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Diliff, CC BY-SA 3.0) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lord_Mayor_of_London_-_John_Stuttard_-_Nov_2006.jpg

The event is still known for its pomp and pageantry. In 2013, a parade of 6,000 people, 20 bands, more than 200 horses, and 150 parade floats made its way through the streets of London to celebrate the second woman to ever hold the post of Lord Mayor, Fiona Woolf. 5

Fiona Woolf at the Lord Mayor’s Show, 2013. Source: Wikimedia Commons (The wub, CC BY-SA 3.0) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fiona-Woolf-at-Lord-Mayor%27s-Show-2013.jpg
Pikemen and Musketeers at the Lord Mayor’s Show, 2011. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Rodolph, CC BY-SA 3.0) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pikemen_%26_Musketeers_at_Lord_Mayor%27s_Show_2011.jpg

First-hand accounts

The Lord Mayor’s Show has had its share of grumblers. Thirty-one years before the coach made its debut in the procession, César de Saussure, a Swiss traveler, wrote, “The populace is particularly insolent and rowdy, turning into lawless freedom the great liberty it enjoys. At these times it is almost dangerous for an honest man and more particularly for a foreigner, if at all well dressed, to walk in the streets, for he runs the great risk of being insulted by the vulgar populace, which is the most cursed brood in existence.” 6

etching and engraving of Lord Mayor's Show, coach surrounded by crowds

The Industrious ‘Prentice Lord Mayor of London: Industry and Idleness, 1747. Source: Wikimedia Commons (William Hogarth, artist, public domain)

Samuel Pepys, the noted diarist, wrote about the day of the parade in October 1660: “29th. I up early, it being my Lord Mayor’s day, (Sir Richd. Browne), and neglecting my office I went to the Wardrobe, where I met my Lady Sandwich and all the children; and after drinking of some strange and incomparable good clarett of Mr. Rumball’s he and Mr. Townsend did take us, and set the young Lords at one Mr. Nevill’s, a draper in Paul’s churchyard; and my Lady and my Lady Pickering and I to one Mr. Isaacson’s, a linendraper at the Key in Cheapside; where there was a company of fine ladies, and we were very civilly treated, and had a very good place to see the pageants, which were many, and I believe good, for such kind of things, but in themselves but poor and absurd.

“After the ladies were placed I took Mr. Townsend and Isaacson to the next door, a tavern, and did spend 5s. upon them. The show being done, we got as far as Paul’s with much ado, where I left my Lady in the coach, and went on foot with my Lady Pickering to her lodging, which was a poor one in Blackfryars, where she never invited me to go in at all, which methought was very strange for her to do. So home, where I was told how my Lady Davis is now come to our next lodgings, and has locked up the leads door from me, which puts me into so great a disquiet that I went to bed, and could not sleep till morning at it.”7

Clumsy or magnificent, astounding or absurd, the Lord Mayor’s Coach and the Lord Mayor’s Show are certainly a sight to see.

The Grand Bohemian Troupe of Fancy Glass Workers

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In January 2019, I was fortunate enough to organize an event about itinerant glassworkers at The Corning Museum of Glass. Their Behind the Glass lecture series was the perfect way to introduce the topic to hundreds of attendees (and now thousands more viewers on YouTube). In addition to my presentation on the history of itinerant glassworkers, the evening featured a lecture and demonstration from lampworker Bandhu Dunham and demonstrations by lampworkers David Sandidge, Caitlin Hyde, and Eric Goldschmidt.

Here is our modern take on an itinerant glassworker performance:

The program for the evening was as follows:

  • 00:00:05: Glass spinning demonstration, Eric Goldschmidt
  • 00:01:10: “Curiosity Highly Gratified: An Illustrated Lecture on the Most Interesting History of Itinerant Glassworkers,” Rebecca Hopman
  • 00:19:05 (and ongoing): Loop-stitch pirate ship demonstration, David Sandidge1
  • 00:22:00: “Kinetic Glass Sculpture” lecture, Bandhu Dunham
  • 00:48:15 (and ongoing): Steam-powered magnifying glass demonstration, Bandhu Dunham
  • 00:53:42 (and ongoing): Hollowed pig demonstration, Caitlin Hyde
  • 00:55:53 (and ongoing): Crystal-clear decanter demonstration, Eric Goldschmidt
  • 00:56:50 to end: additional footage of demonstrations

The troupe members were:

Bandhu Dunham. Source: bandu.info
Eric Goldschmidt. Source: The Corning Museum of Glass
Caitlin Hyde. Source: The Corning Museum of Glass
David Sandidge. Source: The Corning Museum of Glass
Steve Gibbs. Source: The Corning Museum of Glass
Rebecca Hopman. Source: The Corning Museum of Glass

Corrections and updates

Of course, the history of itinerant glassworkers is still a developing field, and new information surfaces all the time. In addition to sharing this video, I’d like to include the following corrections and updates to my presentation:

  • 00:06:08: The slide of American-born glassworkers features an advertisement for Samuel Owen. While Owen emigrated to the United States at a young age and became a naturalized citizen, he was born in England.
  • 00:08:21: It’s true that the Woodroffe brothers were not Bohemian, but George and Charles Woodroffe were born in England, not the United States. Younger brother William was born an American citizen in New York state.
  • 00:13:45: A few nuances about the Howells. Robert Howell Sr. told many stories about how he came to be an itinerant glassworker, and seeing a glass steam engine at a state fair is perhaps the most romantic. It’s very possible this is true, but equally possible that he made it up at a later date. I also mention that Grace Howell learned to lampwork as early as the age of six. Like her father and her siblings, Grace varies the details of her beginnings as an itinerant glassworker. I have since found a reference that Grace began lampworking at age five. Again, it’s equally possible this is the truth or an exaggeration. In each case, it may be impossible to find the truth.
  • 00:14:08: Nora Allen sold Excelsior and Columbia to Robert Howell Sr. (instead of gifting them to him).
  • 00:14:50: Grace Howell’s Bluebird of Happiness is one of two pieces of glass currently connected to specific itinerant glassworkers in the museum’s collection. The other is Diorama of English Stag Hunt made by Charles David Aubin.
  • 00:15:25: A clarification about this slide and Nona Deakin. The slide shows two black-and-white photographs: the left features Robert Howell Jr. and his wife Marie Howell; the right features Grace Deakin and John Deakin. Grace was John’s second wife, who he married several years after Nona’s death. John Deakin learned lampworking from the Howells, so Nona did not marry into a lampworking family, her connection enabled the family to become so.
  • 00:16:09: Nona Deakin died in 1944, several years before John and his second wife Grace moved to Florida to set up their business.

You can learn more about the featured itinerant glassworkers from my presentation – Charles Woodroffe, Nora Allen, and Grace Howell – on this site, as well as the Woodroffe, Allen, and Howell families. Additional information about the other glassworkers, experiments, and trends mentioned in the lecture is also available (search the site for more).

Thanks for this event go to Karol Wight, director of The Corning Museum of Glass; museum staff Kris Wetterlund, Eric Meek, and Steve Gibbs; the amazing staff of the Rakow Research Library; the museum’s events and A/V staff; and of course my fellow presenters, in particular Eric Goldschmidt, who was my partner in organizing this evening. While this was a one-time event, I’d love to see The Grand Bohemian Troupe of Fancy Glass Workers reunite again!

It’s all in the name: Madam, master, and professor

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What’s in a name? Would Madam Nora retain her glassmaking renown if she was not called Madam?1 Did Professor Owen really have a degree in glass? And who or what was Frank Remic the master of?

Itinerant glassworkers often used titles like “madam” or “madame,” “master,” and “professor” in their advertisements. Let’s look at why they may have used those titles and what they actually meant.

Madam, madame

Nora Allen may have been the most notable woman glassworker to call herself Madam, but others, including Madam J. Reith, Madam Louise, and Madam Anderson also used the title.2 So what does “madam” mean and is there a difference between it and “madame”?

Madam Louise in 1904.
Nora Allen in 1889.

“Madam” is a polite form of address, often applied to a woman of higher position.3 So the madams of the glass world may have used the title in part to connote respectability (something traveling women performers were suspected of lacking). “Madame,” used interchangeably with “madam” by women glassworkers, is a French word that was originally used by married women and those of higher rank. It was also adopted by school teachers, dressmakers, fortune tellers, and others to “imply skill and sophistication, or foreign origin.” 4 Like the men glassworkers who used “professor,” “madame” implied a woman glassworker with skill (and one whose show was appropriate for respectable, middle-class customers).

Master

Master Frank Remic was known as the “The Juvenile Wonder of the Age” – was he a master itinerant glassworker? In this case, “master” was not an indication of Remic’s skill, but rather his age. “Master” was a title given to a boy or young man, often under the age of 18.5 So those glassworkers referred to as “master,” like Remic, Master Gus Newton, and Master Eddie were merely young members of their troupes. Often during the 19th century adult male itinerant glassworkers were billed as “Mr.” or “professor” on their advertisements, so it follows suit that their younger counterparts would also have a title.

engraving of a young man in a suit and tie

Gus Newton in 1889.

Professor

Forget “madams” and “masters,” “professor” was one of the most popular titles for itinerant glassworkers in the 19th century. Professors Owen, Jukes, Mathieu, Carling, Grenier, Edwards, George Woodroffe, and Charles Woodroffe were only a few of the men advertising themselves as such. So what does “professor” mean and why was it such a frequently-used title?

S. Owen styled himself as a professor and featured many scientific experiments and displays in his exhibition. He also gave lectures on natural philosophy. Science and Art Prof. Owen, O. Dickinson, 1850. Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 142780.
Charles Woodroffe in 1876.

For many, the image that comes to mind with the word “professor” is an academic, perhaps a college instructor, maybe someone wearing tweed. In any case: an expert, someone knowledgable and often a respected member of society. And those are the qualities that itinerant glassworkers wanted to suggest when using the title. People had a hunger for knowledge in the 19th century, especially for information about science and technology, and itinerant glassworkers leveraged that interest in their shows. Professor Owen, for example, emphasized the scientific elements in his glassworking exhibition, including a lecture on natural philosophy (a precursor to modern science) and experiments with equipment made of glass like water hammers, pulse glasses, and cryophoruses.

So many performers and potentially-dubious experts used the title, in fact, that contemporaries complained of its degradation. In 1864, J. H. Burton wrote in The Scot Abroad, “The word Professor [is] now so desecrated in its use that we are most familiar with it in connection with dancing-schools, jugglers’ booths, and veterinary surgeries.” The American Dialect Society agreed, stating, in a 1927 issue of American Speech, “Most of those who insist on being given the title ‘professor’ are quacks or fakers of some kind.”6

Madam J. Reith’s troupe had them all – a madam, a master, and a professor!

advertising card

Madam J. Rieth’s Troupe of American and Bohemian Glass Blowers, Newport, RI: Charles Judson, 1880-1900. Collection of the Rakow Research Library of The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 45697.

While Owen may not have been a credentialed professor and Allen not a woman of high rank, they and others used these titles to effectively advertise their glassmaking exhibitions. Itinerant glassworkers had a flair for description that P. T. Barnum would have approved of, exaggerated titles included.

The case of the glass eye smuggler

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And now for something completely different! Context posts are related to itinerant glassworkers in some – often tangential – way. Like a story about glass eye smuggling, a profile of a circus performer, or a post about the 19th-century roller rink craze.

In October 1911, United States customs agents arrested Bruno Schulze, a rather ordinary-looking business man, for smuggling 15,000 glass prosthetic eyes into the country. Over the next 12 months, the bizarre case of Schulze’s smuggling empire unfolded before a fascinated public.

Why would Schulze illegally import glass eyes? Lampworkers have been using glass to create prosthetic eyes since the 16th century. The material is durable, relatively comfortable, and, when shaped by an expert (called an ocularist), the resulting prosthetic is very realistic.1 German ocularists developed a special formula for glass that produced high-quality products, and their skills in making eyes were unmatched. So while ocularists created prosthetics in the United States, German-made eyes were more desirable. Schulze wanted to sell the best products, but wasn’t interested in paying the 60% duty charged by the U.S. government.2 So he hatched a plan to secretly bring the eyes into the country and spent more than a decade profiting from his scheme. Until customs agents caught on . . .

The “king” of glass eye smugglers

Black and white photo of Bruno “von Schoenewitz" and his signature

Bruno “von Schoenewitz,” 1909 and 1915 US passport applications. Source: Ancestry.com.

Name: Bruno C. L. Schulze
Alias: Baron von Schoenewitz (or the longer “Bruno Von Schoenowitz Freiherr Von Ungarswerth und Adlersloewen“)
Age: 43
Height: 5’7”
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blond
Crime: Smuggling German-made glass eyes into the United States

Before the arrest

Customs officials had tracked Schulze for months, trying to pin him down. He’d been importing glass eyes for more than a decade, supplying ocularists around the United States. Some said he had a monopoly on the trade. Schulze was suspected of evading the 60% duty charged on foreign-made glass eyes. By doing so, he undersold other dealers and put many small firms out of business. Officials had finally gathered enough evidence to arrest him, thanks to a report from special Treasury agents who tailed Schulze in Europe while he bought 15,000 new glass eyes to sell on the American market. All that was left to do was find him . . .

Shallow box filled with glass prosthetic eyes

107 Glass Eyes with Box, Leopold Blaschka, possibly 1850-1887. Collection of The Corning Museum of Glass, 93.3.73.

October 30, 1911

Bruno Schulze was arrested as “Baron von Schoenewitz” upon his arrival in New York City on the steamship New Amsterdam of the Holland-American line. He was charged with smuggling 15,000 glass eyes into the United States.

An artist’s rendering of the steamship New Amsterdam. Source: captainalbert.com.
Passenger list for the New Amsterdam featuring “Bruno von Schoenowitz.” Source: Ancestry.com.

November 3, 1911

newspaper clipping

The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, November 5, 1911.

Customs agents raided Schulze’s Hoboken, N.J., “factory” (a front for his smuggling business) and found 14,000 glass eyes, foreign bills of sale, and other paperwork they could use to prove his guilt.3 Philip Stroh, a local printer, was arrested on a charge of conspiracy. He was suspected of being Schulze’s fence (or middleman). Agents arrived at his office too late to seize the documents they were looking for, instead finding the “office stove burning brightly with papers.”

November 4, 1911

Schulze and Stroh were both released on $5,000 cash bails.4

newspaper clipping

The New York Sun, November 5, 1911.

November 5, 1911

New York and Washington, D.C., newspapers picked up the story, calling Schulze the “king” of glass eye smugglers. They described him as a “Handsome and Distinguished Looking” gentleman with a high forehead; blond, curly hair; mustache, and “superconfident eyes of blue.”5 He was not what came to mind when they thought of a smuggler. Customs agents had a different opinion. They told the New York Sun that Schulze had been in trouble with them before, and described him as having a “defiant air and bulldozing and unusually egotistical manner.”

The New York Sun, November 5, 1911.
The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, November 5, 1911.

November 18, 1911

The National Glass Budget wrote that Schulze was awaiting trial before United States Commissioner Edward Russ at Hoboken. Agents reported that Schulze used employees of German steamers to secretly transport the eyes on and off the ships.6

Detail of Preis-Liste über Emaille-Augen mit schwarzer Pupille, L. W. Schaufuss, 1866. Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 54006.

November 30, 1911

The story of Schulze’s arrest and the raid was reported around the nation. A reporter for the St. Paul Journal joked: “with all his eyes [Schulze] couldn’t elude the vigilance of the customs sleuths.”

December 3, 1911

newspaper clipping

Trenton (NJ) Evening Times, December 5, 1911.

Newspapers reported that customs special agent George P. Locke seized 600 glass eyes from the offices of St. Paul, M.N., optician W. H. Kindy.7 Kindy was not arrested, having purchased the eyes from Schulze without knowing of his criminal actions. Agents now estimated that Schulze smuggled 100,000 eyes into the country over the past 11 years, a $700,000 value. That meant Schulze owed the U.S. government about $420,000 in duties (roughly $10.5 million in today’s dollars).

January 5, 1912

newspaper clipping

The New York Sun, January 5, 1912.

Schulze’s problems were compounded when a customs inspector arrested him again, this time for importing glass animal eyes for less than half of their true value. Schulze’s bail was set at $10,000, which he was unable to pay. He was transported to the Tombs.8

February 17, 1912

Schulze was convicted on two counts for smuggling the shipment of 15,000 eyes into the United States. Prosecutor Mark P. Anderson believed Schulze would “get about all that the law allows.” The maximum sentence was four years with a fine of $10,000. Schulze’s associate, printer Philip Stroh, was reported to have supplied Schulze with “letterheads of a fictitious German manufacturer,” which he then used to get “false consular invoices” that undervalued the imported eyes.9

newspaper clipping

The New York Sun, February 19, 1912.

May 8, 1912

newspaper clipping

The New York Sun, May 9, 1912.

13,961 of the glass eyes seized in the raids were sold at a public auction in the Jersey City post office. According to the official announcement, only one eye in the lot was damaged. The Sun reported that the eyes “were packed in crates like strictly fresh eggs.”10 Two bidders split the lot, paying about 24 cents apiece. Buried at the end of the article was the news that Schulze was somehow able to escape and was at large.

June 4, 1912

The United States District Attorney’s office in Chicago filed United States vs. 2,659 glass eyes against the Geneva Optical Company for knowingly purchasing smuggled eyes from Schulze. The value of the glass eyes was set at $569. If the company could not successfully defend themselves, the eyes would be sold at public auction by the United States Marshal.

box with components showing how glass prosthetic eyes are made

Case of Glass Eyes, Tamworth Associates and F. and S. Danz, 1929-1940. Collection of The Corning Museum of Glass, 52.4.58.

October 4, 1912

newspaper clipping

The Montgomery (AL) Times, October 4, 1912.

Newspapers reported that the judge in the United States vs. 2,659 glass eyes case ordered the United States Marshals to auction off the eyes at a public sale.11

October 16, 1912

Bidder J. W. Sturtevant picked up all 2,659 glass eyes unopposed at the public auction. He paid the bargain price of $455. The Inter Ocean added some color, describing the eyes as “perfect blues, browns, grays, and blacks, and others with a blend of colors that never fail to attract.” From United States Marshal chief deputy John P. Wolf: “Are they not beautiful?”12

newspaper clipping

The Chicago Inter Ocean, October 17, 1912.

The end?

It is unclear what happened to Schulze, or whether he continued his criminal activities. In 1915, he used his alias to apply for a passport. His residence was listed as Philadelphia, P.A., and his occupation as merchant. After that, the trail dries up. Schulze/Schoenowitz fades from view.

glass prosthetic eye

Glass Eye, Leopold Blaschka, possibly 1850-1887. Collection of The Corning Museum of Glass, 93.3.73-24

So what do prosthetic eyes have to do with itinerant glassworkers? Several early glassworkers included glass eyes in their list of products. One such artisan not only made eyes of such quality “that they cannot be discerned from the Natural Eyes,” but also “he teacheth how [customers] may fix them in their Heads themselves, to the great Satisfaction of all persons that make use of them.”13 Spectacular!

Dieser Hollaendische porcellain-glass-blaser, 1670? Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 112252.
By Her Majesties Authority, [1702-1714]. Collection of the Winterthur Library.
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