the history of itinerant glassworkers

Tag: 1800s (Page 1 of 2)

Ode to a glass steam engine

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.

Stepping into the spotlight: Women itinerant glassworkers

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.


A splendid bauble: The Lord Mayor’s Coach

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 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

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.


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

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” 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, GrenierEdwards, 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?

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.


Scott’s splendid glass working exhibition in miniature

“Superior to any thing of the kind ever offered for public inspection.”

A bold statement, but itinerant glassworker Scott had a list of reasons why his exhibition was a must-see display in 1830s Brighton, England. This handbill, distributed around town, features a detailed image of Scott, surrounded by fascinated onlookers, as he manipulates glass rods over a flame. Along with the many magnificent pieces of glass he claimed would be on display, who could resist stopping by 115 St. James Street?

handbill with text describing a glassworking demonstration. the handbill also has an illustration of a glass artist lampworking in front of a table covered in objects; he is surrounded by onlookers.

Scott’s Splendid Glass Working Exhibition in Miniature. United Kingdom: 1830. Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 138463.

Location

Scott had previously exhibited his show in London, where he demonstrated to the nobility and gentry who shopped at the exclusive boutiques in Burlington Arcade. So he may have seen some familiar faces in the seaside town of Brighton, which had become a fashionable resort during the Georgian era. Many visitors came to “take the cure” by drinking or bathing in seawater, while others were “attracted by the presence of Royalty.”1

Watercolor painting of Brighton beach and promenade

Brighton: the front and the chain pier seen in the distance. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Frederick William Woledge, painter, public domain). Courtesy of the Paul Mellon Collection, Yale Center for British Art, Yale University, New Haven, Connecticut.

“Brighton,” wrote Charles Knight, a British editor and author, “stands near the centre of the curved line of coast of which the east and west points are respectively Beachy Head and Selsea Bill. The town is built on a slope, and is defended from the north winds by the high land of the South Downs, which, from Beachy Head as far as the central part of Brighton, press close on the sea and form high chalk cliffs. From the central part of Brighton westward the hills recede farther from the sea, leaving a level coast.”2

Watercolor painting of Brighton Beach, showing several boats on the beach, with buildings to the right on the cliff.

Brighton Beach Looking West, undated. Source: Wikimedia Commons (John Constable, painter, public domain)

On the town itself, Knight commented, “The best part of Brighton may be described as composed of ranges of splendid houses, formed into squares and handsome streets. The parish church of St. Nicholas, an ancient edifice, stands on a hill north-west of the town. The town-hall, begun in 1830, on the site of the old market, nearly in the centre of the town, is a large but ill-designed edifice . . . The inns, hotels, and baths of Brighton are numerous, and there are several places of amusement – a theatre, an assembly room, a club house, and, about a mile east of the town, on the summit of a beautiful part of the Downs, a fine race-course. The trade of Brighton is confined exclusively to the supply of the wants of a rich population.” 3 When Scott demonstrated in Brighton in 1830, this population had swelled to over 40,000 people, up from just over half that number a decade prior.

Illustration of a dance filled with people in fancy dress.

The Circular Room, or a Squeeze at Carlton Palace, The English Spy, 1825. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Isaac Cruikshank, illustrator, public domain)

Writer Mary Philadelphia Merrifield described Brighton crowds in the 1850s: “Gaily-dressed ladies, and over-dressed children, throng the esplanades; the military band plays in the Pavilion grounds twice a week; the Town and other bands are met on the Cliff; groups of Ethiopian Serenaders parade the streets; Wizards from the North, South, East, and West, send forth their advertisements, and hope to draw crows to the Pavilion, Dome, or Concert Hall.”4

Illustration of people on foot and horseback traveling up and down a promenade

Characters on the Steyne, Brighton, The English Spy, 1825. Source: Wikimedia Commons (Isaac Cruikshank, illustrator, public domain)

Patrons

Scott appealed directly to this wealthy population in his advertisement, informing the “Nobility, Gentry, Visitors, and Inhabitants of Brighton” that his exhibition was open for a “short time” on St. James Street. Some of the attendees would doubtlessly be members of the fashionable crowd spotted in ballrooms and on promenades.

But Scott had an advantage over his fellow “Wizards”: he had the patronage of the Duchess of Kent and her daughter, Princess Victoria. Crowned queen in 1837, Victoria was eleven years old in 1830, still living under the protective watch of her mother and Sir John Conroy. Perhaps the princess and her mother saw Scott at the Burlington Arcade, although it seems much more likely that he would have demonstrated for them privately at Kensington Palace. Either way, their patronage was a powerful marketing tool for Scott, especially given that Victoria had recently become the heir presumptive to the British throne.

Queen Victoria and her husband, Prince Albert, later became significant patrons of the arts. They collected, curated, patronized, and promoted artists and creators of many disciplines.5 Did Victoria ever think of the dazzling glass objects created by Scott? Fellow British glassworker Lawrence Finn claimed that part of the queen’s wedding dress was made of spun glass, so perhaps Scott’s talent for spinning 1,000 yards of glass per minute into delicate threads made an impression.6

Show highlights

Scott’s handbill proclaims the show was “by far the most instructive, entertaining, and cheap exhibition.” Admission was one shilling for adults7 and sixpence for children and servants. This price would gain a visitor entry to witness Scott’s splendid skills and “a Specimen . . . in any Article they may select or desire to have made.”

“The Artist” delighted audience members by “Working, Blowing, and Modelling” objects in a variety of colors, “exhibited so as to give at one view an idea of this most ingenious manufacture.” As mentioned above, Scott used a spinning wheel (shown in the advertisement) to spin one pound of glass into 20,000 yards of thread, at the rate of 1,000 yards per minute.8

Also to be seen was a glass ship, the Lord Mayor’s coach with six horses, and many other wonders “patronized . . . by every Family of distinction in England.” Visitors must have been fascinated by Scott’s hydraulic glass skeleton, which was “kept in continual motion by itself, showing how the blood passes through the different channels of the human frame.” This model was apparently a favorite of the royal family.9 Featured for sale were a variety of glass goods, including vases, chandeliers, hydrostatic balloons, and fancy figures.

Between his royal patronage and the wonders described on his advertisement, it is easy to imagine Scott’s exhibition was well attended by many people of quality in the busy seaside resort of Brighton.

A version of this post was originally published on the Corning Museum of Glass blog on May 7, 2014.


Samuel Owen’s brilliant and astonishing exhibition

Fresh from performing in P. T. Barnum’s Philadelphia museum, itinerant glassworker Samuel Owen published this broadside promoting his “artistic and mechanical skill” to the public.

Unlike many glassworkers, Owen did not include a location or start date for his show on the broadside. Instead, he directed interested readers to posted bills for those details. This likely saved him money, because he could use the same advertisements throughout his tour, rather than having specific copies printed for each town he visited. Regardless of place and date, Owen demonstrated twice daily at 3pm and 8pm.

Broadside for fancy glassworking show

Brilliant and Astonishing Exhibition of Artistic and Mechanical Skill. 1850. Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 167731.

Pricing

Entry to the exhibition cost 12½ cents1 and each visitor received a glass pen as a memento. Including a piece of glass in the price of admission was a common strategy employed by itinerant glassworkers to entice potential customers through their doors. In this case, a pen was rather quick and simple to make, but it would likely have been exciting for a visitor to take home and show to family and friends.

Of course, Owen offered more elaborate glassware for sale, and many attendees probably bought a gift or two for friends, sweethearts, or children. Owen helpfully pointed out that the “delicacy and beauty” of his work would look especially fine displayed proudly on mantels and center tables, and offered to “make to order, upon the shortest notice, all articles in his line that any one may desire.”

Show highlights

Owen boasted that he could create “any article which fancy dictates,” including “balloons, baskets, flowers, flower vases, fountains, cupids, chariots, candlesticks, cradles, ships, smoking pipes, cigar tubes, birds of paradise,” and many other delights too numerous to mention. He did so, according to the broadside, without “tools, patterns, or molds.” He also made a number of objects for the more scientifically-minded, including thermometers, water hammers, pulse glasses, and cryophoruses.

Like many other glassworkers, Owen spun glass during his demonstrations (note the spinning wheel he is operating in the illustration above). He claimed to be able to spin 300 yards of glass fibers per minute.2

Reviews

Here are several reviews of Owen’s exhibition as printed on the broadside:

The Public Ledger in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, proclaimed: “A Rope of Sand. – The impossibility accomplished! If any one doubt it let him go to Barnum’s Museum and see Mr. Owen spin a thread of glass at the rate of more than 300 yards per minute. A sight of his work alone, to say nothing of the other novelties and curiosities, is worth the price of admission.”

The Daily News in Trenton, New Jersey, stated: “Mr. Owen, the Glass-blower, who has been with us some three weeks, during which time he has filled our city with curiosities, left us yesterday for Bordentown. Mr. Owen is a worthy, industrious man, and has made many friends during his stay among us. His art is too curious to require any commendation from us. He will find plenty of buyers in Bordentown.”

The Republican in Wilmington, Delaware, printed the following: “A Glass Pen. – We have tried one of Mr. Owen’s Glass Pens, and find that it writes very well. Those who wish to try on, have only to go to the Wilson Building, where they may not only secure one, but be entertained by a view of the mode of their manufacture, which is worth more than the price of admission.”

High praise indeed!


Following the trail of Lawrence Finn

handbill describing Finn's show

Exhibition of Fancy Glass Working and Spinning United States Hotel, Private Entrance : Mr. Finn. Augusta, Georgia: 1840-1843. CMGL 164968.

Lawrence Finn never stayed in one place for too long. Like many itinerant glassworkers, he was always on the move, traveling across the country to find new audiences. We don’t know much about his life, but let’s take the few clues we have and see if we can find Finn.

Where in the world is Lawrence Finn?

Tracking the path of someone who lived almost 200 years ago can be tricky. Today some people leave a minute-by-minute trail of their lives, but a traveling demonstrator like Lawrence Finn left few lasting records in his wake. Luckily, the job that kept Finn on the road also gives us an advantage when looking for him. When he set up shop in a new location he needed to attract customers, and Finn did so by advertising in the local newspapers and distributing handbills and broadsides. Sometimes the same newspapers would review his show. This paper trail gives us a fairly accurate idea of his travels.

Trail of evidence

Finn was British, and based on advertisements and historical data we can connect him to another Lawrence Finn, likely his father or uncle. This older Finn performed in London, England, before and during the time the younger Finn traveled around the United States. Therefore when both are in the United Kingdom, it can be difficult to determine which Finn was responsible for certain advertisements.

handbill describing one of the Finn's London shows

Finn’s Fancy Glass-Working Exhibition. London: 1815. Collection of the Rakow Research Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 112199.

Based on passenger logs and newspaper advertisements, we know the younger Finn likely arrived in New York, New York, from London in October 1827 and rented rooms at 202 Broadway. He opened his exhibition there on Monday, November 12, 1827. At the time, he was perhaps the second itinerant glassworker to perform in the United States.1

newspaper ad

This is the first advertisement Finn placed in the newspaper upon arriving in New York City. Source: New York Historic Newspapers

This first show featured Finn exhibiting his “most curious and pleasing experiments of Fancy Glass Working, Spinning, and Blowing,” and making “articles of the most fanciful description,” including “ships, figures, quadrupeds, birds, flower vases, &c. &c. &c.”2 He worked from 11am to 3pm, and again between 6pm and 10pm. Potential audience members could buy tickets for 25 cents ($6.40 in today’s dollars); children were half price. Finn especially encouraged “heads of families and guardians” to attend his demonstrations.

Other itinerant glassworkers often visited smaller cities and towns, but, based on the surviving advertisements, Finn’s strategy was to stay in large cities near tourist destinations. His New York address, 202 Broadway, was located across the street from St. Paul’s Chapel and down the street from New York City Hall,  Peale’s Museum, and Scudder’s American Museum (later P. T. Barnum’s American Museum).3

At the beginning of 1829, Finn closed his exhibition at 202 Broadway and spent the next few months demonstrating in Washington, D.C., and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In D.C., he was located near the National Mall on Pennsylvania Avenue — close to where the FBI and Department of Justice buildings are today. He extended his stay in the city due to bad weather, but eventually traveled to Philadelphia, where he set up his show in the Masonic Hall. There, a local newspaper praised Finn’s demonstrations as “highly deserving of patronage,” writing that “few persons will attend the [exhibition] without being much gratified.”4

After a few years, Finn moved to Boston, Massachusetts, and opened his exhibition to a new audience. He was situated near the Old South Meeting House, the Old State House, King’s Chapel, and Benjamin Franklin’s birthplace. A handbill for the show proclaims, “The process of Modeling Figures and Animals from the glass, in a state of Fusion, is so wonderfully curious, as to strike the beholder with astonishment – and must be witnessed, to decide on its merits, as no description can convey an adequate idea of the pleasure it affords.”5

Finn didn’t stay in Boston for long. By the beginning of 1832, he had traveled far south and was demonstrating lampworking above a jewelry store at 115 Chartres Street in New Orleans, Louisiana. Once again it seems he chose his location carefully, renting space in the French Quarter. The price of admission for his show had doubled to 50 cents, and he made additional revenue by selling figurines and ornaments “well adapted for relatives or friends.”6

Finn demonstrated in four New Orleans locations, including this room over a jewelry store. Source: Google News

Over the next decade, Finn revisited many of these cities. He traveled back to New York and Washington, D.C., then Boston, and finally New Orleans. He may have stopped in other cities in between, like Augusta, Georgia, but sometimes his trail dries up for a year or two. Even with all the information we have, Finn’s life and location is still a mystery at times.

Mapping Finn’s route

Examining individual advertisements, reviews, or travel records provides insight into Finn’s life, but arranging multiple documents chronologically and mapping his movements gives us an even better idea of how he spent his time in the United States.

Finn visited New York City, Washington, D.C., Boston, and New Orleans repeatedly, and traveled mostly along the East Coast. Among the cities he visited from the late 1820s through the early 1840s, those mentioned above (excluding Washington, D.C., and including Philadelphia) were among the top five most populous cities of the United States. Only Baltimore, Maryland – at the time, the second largest city in the country – is missing from Finn’s itinerary, although it is entirely likely he demonstrated there, given his travel habits and exhibitions in nearby Washington, D.C. By choosing these major cities as tour stops, Finn exposed his show to hundreds of thousands of people, thereby increasing his potential revenue and popularity. The fact that he was employed by Rubens Peale and John Scudder, Jr., (both owners of successful New York City museums) speaks to his success.

Explore Lawrence Finn’s path from London to New York and beyond using this map.

A version of this post was originally published on the Corning Museum of Glass blog on June 13, 2017.


John Tilley’s wonderful mechanisms

To be seen in a neat Sitting Room, at 141 Broadway: the wonderful mechanisms of fancy glass blower John Tilley. This early American broadside, ca. 1820, enumerates the delights New Yorkers could observe if they paid the 25-cent admission fee to Tilley’s glassmaking and scientific exhibition.

handbill describing the show of John Tilley

Wonderful Mechanism J. Tilley, Fancy Glass Blower, from London. New York: J. Robinson, 1820. Collection of the Rakow Library, The Corning Museum of Glass, CMGL 163866.

John Tilley, originally from London, was the first known itinerant glassworker to bring his exhibition to the United States.1 Eighteenth-century Americans, influenced by their Puritan backgrounds, often shunned traveling entertainers and educators of any sort, some going so far as to outlaw circuses, traveling menageries, and acting troupes. Once those restrictions were lifted, Tilley and others found success touring cities along the East Coast.

Location

Tilley may have been the first glassworker to demonstrate in New York City, but he certainly wasn’t the last to make the city, and specifically Broadway, his home. Later artisans such as Lawrence Finn, W. Belzoni Davidson, and the Woodroffe brothers set up exhibitions in rented rooms and at museums including Barnum’s American Museum at the intersection of Broadway and Ann Street. Like it is today, the street was a center for entertainment.

Even in 1820, New York City (then confined to Manhattan) was bustling. The city’s population had grown to more than 123,000 people, close to 30,000 more than just a decade before.2 William Cobbett, a British farmer, journalist, and politician who lived on a Long Island farm from 1817 until 1819, described the city as resembling “an English town, in point of manners and customs, much more than any other place that I have seen in America.”3 He comments on the low prices and high quality of everything from the food to the household furnishings available to residents.

On women’s fashions, he states, “The most gay promenades in and about London, and even the boxes of our licenced and degraded theatres, are, in point of female dresses, perfect beggary compared with the every day exhibition in the ‘Broad way’ of New York; where the very look of every creature you meet gives evidence of the existence of no taxation without representation.” Based on Cobbet’s description, it is easy to imagine crowds of well-dressed women and men patronizing Tilley’s exhibition.

Show highlights

Like many 19th-century itinerant glassworkers, John Tilley offered his audience a range of enticing entertainments. These included “Spinning and Reeling Hot Glass round a Wheel, with the astonishing velocity of a Mile in less than two minutes” and “Blowing Glass to different degrees of thinness and forming it into various Articles, such as Writing Pens, Smelling Bottles, &c. &c.”

In addition, Tilley explained scientific properties and principles using glass models such as a Cartesian diver and a “Hydro Pneumatic Fountain.” One curious demonstration involved Tilley blowing a “small Globe,” which he said would form “nearly” a vacuum and would fall to the floor “with apparent great weight.”

While John Tilley’s exhibition was “to be seen for a few Days only,” records of his shows and innovations are still available more than two centuries later.

A version of this post was originally published on the Corning Museum of Glass blog on December 19, 2016.


See Woodroffe’s glass blowers for a short time only

Science, art, skill, and beauty! All were on display in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, in April 1880. Woodroffe’s Original Bohemian Glass Blowers enticed potential customers inside with a window display of glass objects then dazzled them with lampworking demonstrations and their working glass steam engine, Fairy Queen.

Newspaper ad for woodroffe troupe in harrisburgh, pennsylvania

April 14, 1880 advertisement for Woodroffe’s Original Bohemian Glass Blowers in the Harrisburg Telegraph. Source: Newspapers.com

The Woodroffe brothers – George, Charles, and William – had a major impact on the itinerant glassworker trade. Among other things, they were some of the first to travel with troupes of glassworkers rather than alone or in pairs. Their many groups traveled around the United States and the world during the 50+ years they were active, making them some of the best-known glassworkers of the period. This particular troupe was led by William Woodroffe, the youngest brother.

Location

Harrisburg, the capital of Pennsylvania, was dominated by the steel and railroad industries in the late 19th century. In 1880, census takers recorded more than 30,000 people living in the city.1 Woodroffe and his troupe set up their lampworking exhibition near the Susquehanna River at 109 Market Street, in a building previously used by Patterson’s Carpet Store. Today, the spot holds Dauphin County buildings, but 140 years ago it was close to the intersection of two street cars – likely a location where many people came and went.

After they closed their exhibition in mid-April, they traveled to Lebanon, Pennsylvania, and then on to Reading, Pennsylvania.

Featured glassworkers

Aside from Woodroffe himself and agent Clarence King, it is unclear who was in the group at this time. Based on contemporary advertisements, possible members include Edwin Hopkins and Will Brown.

Show highlights

For 15 cents, spectators received an “elegant present” and the chance to see Woodroffe’s troupe in action. Once again, the advertisement is short on details, but articles about the troupe from the period provide some insights. An article in The Daily Union-Leader describes watching a troupe member “twist, blow, contract, expand, and otherwise put [glass] into ingenious shape.”2 Another article from the Harrisburg Telegraph states, “The wonderful manner in which these skilled glass blowers can manipulate the brittle substance is well worth a visit to see.”3

Of course, a major draw would have likely been the glass steam engine, Fairy Queen. The troupe claimed this engine was the largest steam-powered glass model in existence, and that it had been on display at the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The Woodroffe brothers did have at least three steam engines on display at that particular world’s fair, although surviving advertisements identify those models as the Crystal Gem, the Australasia, and Excelsior. It is possible they added the Fairy Queen at a later date, although – considering that any number of other troupes claimed the same history for their glass engines – it is equally possible that Woodroffe’s troupe is stretching the truth to bolster interest in their show.


Madam Nora and her original troupe of glass blowers

What comes to mind when you hear the name Madam Nora? Perhaps a woman, draped in colorful fabrics and jangling bracelets, reading a fortune over a crystal ball or channeling spirits at a seance?

Nora Allen, popularly known as Madam Nora,1 was a traveling entertainer who used glass in her act, but there were no thumping chairs or dire predictions. Instead, she conjured fantastical sculptures made of glass, like the animals and ships pictured on this broadside for Madam Nora’s Original Troupe of Glass Blowers, Glass Spinners, and Glass Workers. Allen led this troupe of itinerant glassworkers for several decades as they traveled around the Northeastern United States.

broadside with text describing Madam Nora's troupe and their demonstrations. The broadside also features an image of Madam Nora surrounded by lampworked animals and models and another image of her son, William Allen, holding a ship he has made.

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

Featured glassworkers

The broadside advertised a show in April (possibly 1876) featuring Allen; Mr. Oliver Lock [sic], “the prince of glass blowers”; Mr. Wm. Allen, “the youngest and most talented artist before the public”; Prof. Thos. Edwards, “glass worker and descriptive lecturer”; and Mr. T.J. Jordan, “glass spinner and weaver”; along with manager Alfred Seabury. Allen was billed as “the only lady glass artist in the profession” (not quite true, but we’ll get to that in a minute).

Nora Allen’s troupe is a good example of two trends in the itinerant glassworker business. First, she employed family members, namely William Allen (her son) and Alfred Seabury (her second husband). Later, when William married, her daughter-in-law Adalorra also joined the troupe.

A second trend was the movement of artisans between troupes. Oliver Locke was a member of The Great Bohemian Troupe of Fancy Glass Blowers before joining Allen’s troupe, and later led his own group of glassworkers on tour.

Show highlights

Curiosity seekers could pay 15 cents to see Allen’s troupe demonstrate lampworking techniques including glass spinning, blowing, and weaving. They would also see the “art” of silvering glass. If this show followed later examples of the troupe’s exhibitions, each glassworker would demonstrate a particular skill for the audience.

General Garfield, the troupe’s glass steam engine, was on display and in motion. As an added bonus, Saturday’s entertainment included a baby show (a contest to decide the town’s most beautiful baby). What more could a 19th-century entertainment seeker want?

Women in charge

While the show boasted an impressive lineup, perhaps the most interesting detail appears in tiny type at the bottom of the broadside. Not only was Nora Allen the group’s headliner, she was also the “Sole Proprietress,” an unusual role in an era when women had limited rights and career opportunities.

detail of broadside showing Madam Nora as the sole proprietress

As mentioned above, Allen was not the first or only woman glassworker in the business, but it is possible that she was the first to lead her own troupe. Others that followed her example include Madam J. Reith and Madam Anderson.

Allen and her troupe continued to tour for several more decades. The troupe’s lineup changed over the years, but Allen remained the headliner until they disbanded. Thanks to the survival of this broadside, part of Allen’s remarkable story is preserved.

A version of this post was originally published on the Corning Museum of Glass blog on June 24, 2015.


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