Tag: Deerfield

by Evan Stackpole

The tailor’s work was familiar in eighteenth-century North America. The Book of English Trades claimed, “in a Tailor’s shop, where much business is carried on, there are always two divisions of workmen: first, the foreman, who takes the measure of the person for whom the clothes are to be made, cuts out the cloth, and carries home the newly-finished garments to the customers. The others are mere working tailors, who sit cross-legged on the bench… of these, very few know how to cut out, with any degree of skill, the clothes which they sew together.” [i] A print in Historic Deerfield’s collections illustrates tailors at work: nine men seated on a table, cutting, sewing, and pressing garments. The cabbage at the foot of the bench is a sly reference to the tailors’ maligned practice of appropriating spare cuttings from cloth, known as cabbaging, and a source of much eighteenth-century hilarity.

The accounts of John Russell, a Deerfield tailor during the 1760s and 1770s, show both similarities, as well as departures, from metropolitan tailors’ practice. Currently held in the Memorial Libraries, Russell’s accounts comprise two volumes, covering the years 1763 to 1775. [ii] In addition to selling tea, crockery, and many gallons of rum, Russell worked on over 1,700 garments. More than a simple record of purchases, Russell’s accounts illustrate how he adapted his craft to serve a rural clientele.

Born in 1731 in Wethersfield, Connecticut, Russell arrived in Deerfield in his mid-twenties20s and worked as the town’s principal tailor until his death in 1775. Russell catered to all segments of Deerfield’s population: he made clothes for militia officers and clergymen, as well as apprentices, servants, and the enslaved. [iii] Russell largely dealt in the standard components of an eighteenth-century man’s wardrobe: coats, vests, and breeches. In total, during this 12-year period, Russell made 421 coats, 439 vests, and 462 pairs of breeches. Overgarments, essential for New England’s harsh winters, also figured prominently: 55 surtouts and 69 great coats appear in the records. Russell occasionally made more specialized garments, including three ladies’ riding habits, a man’s banyan, and several pairs of “endian stockens.” These, the diarist Epaphras Hoyt recalled, were “coarse knit leggings, reaching from the hip to the shoe, to which they were fastened with strings.” [iv] Russell rarely made undergarments. His accounts mentioned only three shirts and one pair of drawers.

A clear hierarchy existed in Russell’s work. The tailor cut, sewed, and lined—a process known collectively as “making”—more formal garments, such as coats, vests, and breeches. However, he merely cut utilitarian garments, such as trousers, which his clients sewed up at home. In total, Russell cut 22 pairs of trousers, but he only “made” six. The absence of trousers in Russell’s accounts contrasts with their frequency in Hampshire County inventories during the same period. Their relative absence in his account books may suggest that, during the colonial period, trousers, like shirts, were more likely to be made up in the home rather than purchased from a tailor. [v]

Russell kept on hand materials for sewing, stiffening, and facing garments. The Book of English Trades described the “buckram, tapes, bindings, trimmings, buttons, &c. with which every master Tailor should be furnished, and from which they derive very large profits.” [vi] Tailors’ propensity to upcharge clients on these articles did not go unremarked. A poem printed in the Greenfield Recorder claimed,

“…by buckram, canvas, tape, and thread,/sleeve linings, pockets, silk and twist,/And all the long expensive list/With which uncouth bills abound/ Though rarely in the garment found…” [vii]

Russell apparently followed this practice: in his second account book, covering the years 1767 to 1775, over 20 percent of his transactions included surcharges for trimmings. In total, Russell made over 77 pounds on trimmings during these years.

[i] Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, The Book of English Trades and Library of the Useful Arts (London, 1821), 334. Historic Deerfield Library.

[ii] George Sheldon, History of Deerfield, Massachusetts vol. 2 (Deerfield, 1896), 275.

[iii] In 1756, the selectmen of Deerfield bound Burns Cooley, son of Ebenezer, to Noah Wright, “to be taught and instructed… in the business and calling of a husbandman.” At the end of his term, Cooley was promised “two good suits of apparel for all parts of his body the one serviceable for working days the other decent and fit for sabbath days.” An entry in Russell’s account book, dating from April 1770, records the making of a vest, breeches and coat for one Cooley. Was this to be the young man’s “decent suit”? If Cooley had been apprentice at age seven or eight—a young, but not improbable age, especially for a youth “bound out” by the overseers of the poor—then the math would certainly add up, see Burns Cooley to Noah Wright, May 6, 1756, Deerfield Town Papers, box 9, folder 9, PVMA Library; April 4, 1770, John Russell Account Book, 1763–1775, vol. 2, 115. PVMA Library.

[iv] Epaphras Hoyt, Recollections of Time and Things of My Early Life (1839, np). Historic Deerfield Library.

[v] See, Wendy Kennerson, “Forms, Fashions, and Vanities: 1783–1811: A Study of Men’s Clothing in Western Massachusetts Through Probate Inventories,” BA Thesis (Skidmore College, 1987), 88.

[vi] Book of English Trades, 334–35.

[vii] “The Embarrassments of False Shame, or The Adventures of Young Whipstitch. A Tale,” Greenfield Recorder November 11, 1800. Newspapers.com.

[viii] November 28, 1768, John Russell Account Book, vol. 2, 53.

[ix] Sheldon, History of Deerfield, vol. 2, 275.

[x] John Williams recorded purchases for leather breeches made at his store in Deerfield during the 1780s, as did Datis Ensign of Westfield, Massachusetts and Samuel Smith of Farmington, Connecticut; See, December 13, 1783, John Williams Account Book, 1782–1784, PVMA Library; March 1766, Datis Ensign Account Book, 1763–1793, Historic Deerfield Library; April 29, 1771, Samuel Smith Account Book, 1769–1780, PVMA Library.

[xi] August 16, 1765, John Russell Account Book, vol. 1, 133.

by Leon Wiebers

As a recipient of Historic Deerfield’s Memorial Libraries Research Fellowship, I was thrilled to be able to access collections at Historic Deerfield and the Pocumtuck Valley Memorial Association (PVMA) to examine a variety of objects to be included in the forthcoming edition of the Survey of Historic Costume. As one of the new authors on this major book in the discipline, my time in Deerfield rewarded me with exceptional findings that represent both the library and museum collections.

My time in Deerfield kicked off in September 2025 with my attendance at Historic Deerfield’s fabulous Fall Forum, Fashioning the Body: Dress in New England 1600-1900, and viewing the exhibition, Body by Design: Fashionable Silhouettes from the Ideal to the Real. Connecting students and readers of Survey of Historic Costume to the homespun movement prior to the American Revolution became a germ of an idea from the Fall Forum. This symbolic form of economic protest in the hands, needles, and looms of women offered a story told by connecting the collections at Deerfield.

Several findings located in Memorial Libraries will inform my research for the Survey of Historic Costume. One example includes an invoice from 1760, which details a large amount of pre-made garments imported to the colony from Britain. This “Slop” clothing was usually considered cheaper and of inferior quality to tailor-made clothing of the time. (Fig. 1)

Another example is Epaphras Hoyt (1765–1850) recalling memories of life in Deerfield during the Revolution:

[Because of] “…deprivations caused by the war substitutes were found for calicos in stamped linen. Sheets which had become thin from use, were submitted to the process. Artists who had taken up the business, traveled about the country profering their services to families. They had wooden stamps prepared with various figures of vines, plants and other devices such as might please the eye. The colors used were various, but often no other than the juice of the elder berry, perhaps prepared by some mordant to render it more durable; but the colors were miserably defective at the best. Into the coloring matter the stamp was dipped, and then imprinted on the sheet, smoothly stretched for the process. The work was not very expensive. In this dress, we often saw our sprightly females proudly flaunting in their home made calico. But like the feathers of some of our brilliant summer birds, the colors soon faded and left the receiver with the sad remembrance of its precious beauty.” [i] (italics added by blog author)

Additionally, the young boy’s suit of clothes (1800–1815) in Historic Deerfield’s collection reveals a skill in weaving and making, yet one that could not compete with the vast textile industry established in Britain at this time. (Fig. 2)

This story of industrious, patriotic, innovative work completed mostly by women celebrates their work towards becoming a new country yet reveals the limitations. The textile woodblocks used to print fabrics of the time added a tangible and visible quality to the dress of these industrious women. (Fig. 3) These and other objects from the collections will be included in the new, 8^th edition of the book for students and readers all over the country.

The support of the Memorial Libraries Research Fellowship has also inspired a new path of research for consideration. The astonishing women of Deerfield who renovated, revived, and researched the town and their inhabitants to create a place of historical tourism, the Arts and Crafts movement, and the Colonial Revival deserve closer examination of their dress, adornment, personal spaces, and gender identities. While much has been written and said about C. Alice Baker (1833–1909), she remains a somewhat enigmatic character. Eschewing eccentricities and costliness in dress, she wrote to her cousin George Sheldon:

“[E]very man’s and woman’s position in the world is greatly dependent upon his surroundings and in order to win any recognition as a ‘lady’ I must keep up in some measure to the required standard – I must not dress worse than my pupils or affect Thoreauish eccentricities of dress or living – To do this costs money – more than I wish or am willing to spend.” [ii]

However, she was ready to dress up for the camera frequently and document this publicly with a grand ball! (Fig. 4) More is yet to be uncovered.

Thank you to all the partners at Historic Deerfield, PVMA, and the amazing Memorial Libraries.

Leon Wiebers is a professor of costume design at Loyola Marymount University and the current president of the Costume Society of America.

[i] Epaphras Hoyt, Recollections of Times and Things in my Early Life, 1839. Historic Deerfield Library.

[ii] C. Alice Baker, Letter to George Sheldon, May 22, 1876. PVMA Library.

by Nym Cooke

I was the lucky recipient of a Memorial Libraries Research Fellowship to study the musical activities of Deerfield resident Justin Hitchcock (1752–1822). Over seven three-day weeks in the halcyon Fall of 2024, I immersed myself in Hitchcockiana. During my time at the library, I pored over primary source documents, read chunks of various secondary sources, and went on “field trips”—to Memorial Hall Museum to see a pitchpipe and bass viol that Hitchcock is said to have played, to the Hitchcock house on Albany Road, and to Laurel Hill Cemetery to see Justin’s gravestone. The beauty of researching topics relating to Old Deerfield is that everything you need—a document, a historical object, a house, a graveyard, a knowledgeable person—is right there. Well, almost everything: my last field trip was to the Special Collections department of the Amherst College Library, where I spent some time with a music manuscript that figures importantly below.

I could single out many a nugget to represent the richness of my Deerfield fellowship! What stands out at this writing is my search for musical compositions that could be Hitchcock’s work. Justin makes numerous references to composing in his 87-page “Sort of Autobiography” at the PVMA Library. None of the handwritten tunes, anthems, and vocal parts in the 19 tunebooks at Deerfield—17 of them in the collection of the PVMA Library and two in the Henry N. Flynt Library—suggests the possibility of Hitchcock’s authorship. The music manuscript at the PVMA Library traditionally attributed to Hitchcock (probably on the basis of a pencil inscription, “Dea Justin Hitchcock,” inside the front cover) is a collection of fifteen secular songs, most of them vocal melodies with instrumental bass accompaniment, and none of them are traceable to Hitchcock. And there are two more convincing candidates other than Justin for the composer of the two pieces attributed to “Hitchcock” in the printed tunebook repertory: Miles Hitchcock, a correspondent of tunebook compiler and Andrew Law, or Reuben Hitchcock, a 1786 graduate of Yale.

But there is one source that may possibly include tunes by Justin Hitchcock: a music manuscript at Amherst College which has inscribed inside its front cover, “Henry Hitchcock,s. / Deerfield April 25^th 1805.” Henry, born 1783, was Justin’s eldest son. No other reference to Henry’s musical interests or abilities has surfaced, but this manuscript certainly suggests his active involvement in the sacred music of his day. Its 76 musical entries, a mix of four-voice settings, melody and bass pairs, melodies, and bass parts, exhibit a fairly wide stylistic range. Most of the four-voice entries are contemporary American tunes, while the two-voice settings found later in the book are older English pieces. There are a few chants, a couple pieces with secular texts, and three copies of Lowell Mason’s Missionary Hymn, which obviously postdate the “1805” inscription.

Five pieces in Henry’s copybook, all unattributed, are not included in Nicholas Temperley’s The Hymn Tune Index (Clarendon press, Oxford, 1998, and online), and therefore were likely not printed before 1821. Some or all of these could be Justin Hitchcock’s work, copied by Henry from his father’s manuscripts. And the text of one of these pieces, an eloquent two-voice plain tune titled “Hanover,” provides a definite connection to Deerfield, and thus speculatively to Hitchcock.

Hanover is a strong, eloquent setting of a text about mortality—a text which in various versions may be found on the slate gravestones of many a New England burial ground. There are no clumsy or unattractive harmonies, and both melody and bass project a sure sense of direction. The composer is clearly comfortable with changing the piece’s musical meter—six times—in order to accomplish his purpose in the first part of the tune: a call to the stone’s “kind reader” to “lend an ear.” The music’s three pauses (the silent third beats of its three measures in 3/2 time) seem to stop the passerby in their tracks, then command them to listen to what is coming—the all-too-familiar reminder that

Nym Cooke is an independent scholar with expertise in early American sacred music. Visit his website at: earlyamericansacredmusic.org.

Sheep and pigs presented a different set of problems. Sheep were vulnerable to predators and would eat grasses to their roots unless moved at intervals. Before the American Revolution, few Deerfield families owned sheep, although the size of flocks increased during wartime shortages. Pigs were tough enough to fend for themselves browsing outside the Meadows, but, like bovines, they could break through fences to eat or trample meadow crops. Owners of livestock that invaded the Meadows were subject to fines, damages, and impoundment fees.

By Heather Harrington
Associate Librarian

As the COVID-19 pandemic rages across the world, it is important to remember that this is not the first pandemic the world has faced. Often the 1918 influenza is mentioned as the last great world-wide pandemic. While this is true, an earlier pandemic of cholera from the 19th century as documented by Epaphras Hoyt (1765-1850) of Deerfield, shows that our reactions to the disease are very similar to Hoyt’s.

Cholera, a bacterial disease spread mainly through contaminated water, has been around for centuries. Periodic outbreaks and pandemics over the years have occurred on almost every continent. What made the disease particularly terrifying in the nineteenth century, was that no one had discovered how it spread from person to person, or place to place. People were left to speculate on their own.

In the 1840s, a new pandemic of cholera began to spread, starting in Asia, and making its way to Europe, and eventually North America. Epaphras Hoyt, a Deerfield resident and a devoted journal writer, tracked the spread of the disease. Like everyone else, he did not know what caused the disease and read every newspaper and pamphlet he could find that talked about it. For him, knowledge was power. The more he knew about cholera, the better prepared he felt to deal with it. In 1848, the disease had arrived in New York City and New Orleans. He chronicled in his journal for that year, reports of how many had died, and where the disease had spread to that week. He noticed that the disease seemed to follow major waterways, up the Mississippi and along the Hudson River. His fear was that the disease would travel up the Connecticut River and arrive in Deerfield. Hoyt, being in his eighties, probably felt vulnerable to the disease, should it arrive.

To better understand cholera, Hoyt read the opinions of two doctors, a Dr. Jackson, and a Dr. Meigs. Dr. Jackson proposed that cholera was related to a certain type of rock formation and soil combination that released the harmful disease into the air. He suggested that New England was safe, as the area did not have this rock or soil. Hoyt found this idea questionable. He was not convinced cholera came from the soil.

Dr. Meigs offered up a cure for cholera. He sold pills that cured the disease if one followed an elaborate series of steps and swallowed a large number of pills, and immediately rested afterwards. Hoyt was rightfully skeptical of this approach and was not inclined to test it out.

By 1849, when the disease seemed to be at its peak in the area, Hoyt considered moving to Rowe, Massachusetts. Rowe had fresher air and was a healthier place to live. He based this idea on its small population size, its location on higher terrain, and its lack of reported cases of any disease. Yet Hoyt being a loyal, life-long Deerfield resident, did not move.

With all of his research on cholera, Hoyt did come to realize that cases increased near large sluggish rivers and lakes in the interior of the country. He thought this might be part of the cause of the disease. It was not until 1854 that John Snow discovered that cholera spread through consuming contaminated water.

While Hoyt and Deerfield came out of the pandemic relatively unscathed, others were not so lucky. Former President James K. Polk died of cholera in 1849, becoming the country’s best know victim of disease.

Our reactions today to COVID-19, following the latest news, trading rumors about cures, worrying about the spread of the disease, and general fear of the unknown are natural responses to a global pandemic. Epaphras Hoyt had the same reactions to the cholera pandemic of the 1840s. Today cholera is not such a scary disease. We know what causes it, how to prevent it, and how to treat it successfully. A cholera pandemic occurring today seems unlikely. With the speed of modern medicine and the advancement of knowledge, soon COVID-19 will become like cholera: a disease we can manage and control, that does not cause world-wide panic.

1 All references to Hoyt’s activities come from Epaphras Hoyt, ”Sketch-book no. 21-23, 1847-1849,” Historic Deerfield Library (Deerfield, MA)

For 20 years, volunteers have been making beautiful, handmade natural holiday wreaths for the doors of the historic houses of Deerfield. This year, 52 volunteers made 59 wreaths to hang on the doors of 31 buildings along Old Main Street in Deerfield.

If you are visiting Historic Deerfield in December and the beginning of January, we encourage you to take the Deerfield Wreath Walk! Each year, we create a guide to all of the wreaths on each house, giving visitors the opportunity to explore the Street and learn about the wreaths, the unique materials, and the volunteers who made them.

This year’s Wreath Walk includes a special map in the guide with each building with a wreath numbered to make it easy for visitors to find the wreaths they want to see.

Guides can be picked up at the Old Deerfield Post Office, The Deerfield Inn, and the Historic Deerfield Museum Gift Shop & Bookstore. You can also download your copy before you visit: (PDF)

Learn more about the history of the wreaths and the community of volunteers who makes it all happen in the recent article from The Recorder: Making holiday wreaths in Deerfield

Shoes tell stories. They reflect the tastes of their owners, and reveal the wear and tear of daily life. Arguably, shoes receive more use than other items of clothing, offering challenges to their preservation in museums. This summer, I embarked on a project to rehouse Historic Deerfield’s shoe collection. Working in consultation with Kate Kearns, Collections Manager, and Ned Lazaro, Curator of Textiles, I designed and constructed storage mounts for individual shoes and pairs of shoes (Fig. 1). The mounts, custom fabricated out of archival materials, protect these fragile, historic objects while in storage and support the structure of the shoes to mitigate damage caused by their own weight. The mounts also serve to reduce future deterioration by allowing the shoes to be displayed and studied by researchers and students with a minimum of handling. Here, I report out on this preventative conservation project.

The Shoe Collection at Historic Deerfield

There are just over one hundred pairs of shoes in the collections at Historic Deerfield, spanning almost three centuries, from the early 18th to the mid-20th century. The footwear collection includes fashionable heels and flats from France and England, heels, slippers, and boots made in the United States throughout the 19th century and into the 1960s, and even a pair of Spanish children’s boots. The majority of the collection is composed of women’s shoes, but those worn by children and men are also represented.

Made from the delicate organic materials of textiles and leather, shoes rarely survive for centuries. Men’s shoes in particular were subjected to intense wear, which is one reason why the extant examples tend to be women’s or children’s shoes. Each shoe provides information about changing style preferences and manufacturing methods through time. This project was an intervention to drastically reimagine the storage plan for the shoes in order to maintain their continued longevity and historic value.

Mounting and Rehousing Footwear

When this project began, the shoes were housed in crowded storage cabinets. Many shoes were rubbing up against each other and some were on their sides (Fig. 2). Pairs could easily become separated. All shoes had to be handled anytime they were moved or studied. In addition to these protection concerns, many shoes were in need of conservation.

Our goal was to devise a mounting system for the shoes that would keep pairs together and organized on the shelves, provide structural support, and minimize the need to touch them when they need to be moved or studied. Drawing inspiration from similar projects undertaken by staff at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston [9] and The Costume Institute at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City [10], I devised a workflow to create custom mounts using archival-quality materials.

Conservation and Mount Construction

First, an appropriately sized corrugated archival board of ⅛ in.thickness was selected for the pair of shoes. A small handle of twill tape was hot-glued to the underside of the board, to aid in sliding the board forward to remove it from a shelf. Object numbers were written in pencil on the board.

The shoes rest upright on the board on a thin piece of Volara foam, measured and cut to the shape of the shoe’s footprint. Volara is a polyethylene, closed-cell foam often used for lining and padding to protect objects in storage. It is very soft and pliable, easy to cut with scissors. As a footprint, it provides a cushion and some friction to hold the shoe in place, without abrading the bottom.

Bumpers, constructed from thick strips of Volara, were glued onto the board, curving around the toe and heel of the shoes in order to secure them in place. With minimal contact, the footprints and the bumpers provide enough support to keep pairs of shoes upright during transport. Even if the board is held at a slight angle, the shoes will stay in place.

For shoes with heels or pronounced arches, I made shank support mounts over which the shoe would hook into place. These mounts were custom sculpted for each pair of shoes out of Ethafoam. Ethafoam is also a closed-cell polyethylene foam, but with a rigid structure. It can be cut to any shape and is often used to house historic artifacts.

I also provided interior reinforcements for each shoe, in the form of pillow inserts and mylar supports. Inserts were made from sewing cotton stockinette into the shape of the toe of each shoe and filling them with inert polyester batting. These inserts were custom designed for each shoe to provide adequate support to the toe box and vamp (the fabric that covers the top of the foot), while being inconspicuous when shoes are on view.

Mylar, an inert polyester film, was employed to support quarters (the rear part of a shoe), tongues, and boot shafts. Mylar is clear, allowing unobstructed visual access to shoe linings and insoles. Most shoes have mylar quarter supports, which are long strips cut to the dimensions of the shoe and placed inside. Shoes with large tongues received an extra mylar piece to prevent the tongue fabric from sagging. Boots, gaiters, and shoes with shafts received a long, rolled-up piece of mylar cut to the appropriate height that was inserted and then expanded.

The last shoe component that will be discussed are laces. For shoes with original laces at risk of getting tangled, or are too fragile to continue using as fastenings, I sewed cylindrical stockinette pillows around which the laces were wound. For shoes with missing laces, I used a blunt needle and thin string to lace up the shoes after installing a pillow insert into the toe of the shoe.

Rehousing the Shoes in Storage

Now, with each pair mounted on a dedicated board, no shoe is in contact with another and pairs cannot be separated. The object numbers can be easily read, and specific shoes removed on their boards without touching them or disturbing surrounding footwear. The commitment the museum has made for better shoe storage also means that the new mounts increase the amount of space needed to store the shoe collection, with each shoe mount’s “footprint” larger than the shoes themselves previously had (Fig. 2).

Footwear Case Studies

In this section, I will highlight a few specific pairs of shoes to demonstrate the range of the collections as well as conservation and mount construction strategies.

19th Century Slippers

This is a pair of women’s slippers made of dyed pink leather with linen lining and leather soles (Fig. 3). A rectangular label in one shoe reads, “PELATIAH REA’S / Variety Shoe Store, / NO. 2, Northwest corner of the old / State House, / BOSTON./ Rips mended gratis.” Pelatiah Rea (b. 1771) may have been the shoemaker or the shopkeeper who sold them. They have a rounded toe and very short vamp, suggesting a date of about 1810 [11].

These shoes received volara footprints and bumpers. I sewed pillow inserts to provide support to the toe box and to hold up the vamp and the latchet fastening. A matching pink ribbon had been previously added. Lastly, a mylar quarter support serves to hold up the sides and back of the shoes.

18th-Century Louis Heels

This pair of women’s heels were made in the United Kingdom around 1750 (Fig. 4). A round label on the insole of one of the shoes reads: “ Made by / WILLIAM HOSE / At the Boot in / Lombard Street / LONDON.” The shoes are made from a brocaded silk with a brightly colored floral pattern and pink silk tape. The Louis heel, popular in women’s shoes throughout the 18th century, is a wide and curved heel made of wood and completely covered in fabric [12]. The sole of the shoe is leather, uninterrupted from toe to heel, as is characteristic of the style. The interior is lined with plain linen. Each shoe has two overlapping straps over the tongue that would have been secured with a buckle.

When constructing the mount for these shoes, it was important that the interior label remain unobstructed. Additionally, as the design on the fabric around the pointed toe and heel extends down to the sole, no bumpers were used. This left the fragile brocaded fabric completely visible with no mounting materials coming into contact with the delicate exterior fabric of the shoe. It also makes the white rand, an important construction detail, visible. I sculpted a shank support mount that fit exactly under the curvature of the heels and cut out footprints for the heels and toes that matched the contours of the shoes. When glued down to the board, the footprints and shank support keep the heels from toppling during transport, from both friction and the curved heel hooking around the mount. For the inside of each shoe, I inserted a sewn, tapered pillow and added mylar tongue and quarter supports.

Child’s Laced Booties

This small pair of red leather booties were found in a chest of drawers in Historic Deerfield’s Allen House in 2011 (Fig. 5). Made for a child, these shoes have light brown twill weave cotton lining and some decorative embroidery. They were likely made in the United States at the turn of the 20th century. The shoes have some discoloration—evidence of water damage—and the leather was misshapen and brittle in some areas. One of the shoes could not stand up on its sole.

To support these shoes, I carefully reshaped them within the limits of the flexibility of the leather material. I sewed and inserted stockinette pillows, extending from the toe to heel to provide adequate structure support for these tiny shoes. After installing the pillow insert, I used black string to lace up the booties. I also added a cylinder of mylar into the shank of the booties. The stockinette pillow, laces, and mylar all work together to keep the shape of the shoe. They now stand upright on a small board with footprints and small bumpers.

I was able to construct mounts for 36 pairs of shoes over this summer. Through the process, I documented my work and wrote a step-by-step instruction manual so that museum staff may continue the work of preventively conserving and mounting the shoes. It is a labor-intensive project, but one which will greatly impact the longevity of the fragile shoe collection.

Danielle Raad was a Curatorial Intern at Historic Deerfield during the summer of 2019. She is a PhD student in Anthropology at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. This project was made possible by a Dr. Charles K. Hyde Public History Intern Fellowship from the Public History Program at UMass Amherst.

[1] Historic Deerfield 2001.43. Hall and Kate Peterson Fund for Minor Antiques.

[2] Historic Deerfield 2015.31. Museum Collections Fund.

[3] Historic Deerfield F.551.

[4] Historic Deerfield F.743.

[5] Historic Deerfield 60.264.

[6] Historic Deerfield V.062C, Gift of Mrs. James Erit.

[7] Historic Deerfield 2000.37, Hall and Kate Peterson Fund for Minor Antiques.

[8] Historic Deerfield 2001.36, John W. and Christiana G.P. Batdorf Fund.

[9] Gausch, Karen and Joel Thompson. “Conservation Project: Costume Accessories, Shoes and Footwear Photos.” Museum of Fine Arts Boston, 2019,

https://www.mfa.org/collections/conservation/feature_costumeaccessories_shoesandfootwearphotos

[10] Bacheller, Rebecca. “From Heel to Toe: The Costume Institute Shoe Rehousing Project.” Storage Techniques for Art Science & History Collections, 2014,

http://stashc.com/the-publication/supports/malleable/from-heel-to-toe-the-costume-institute-shoe-rehousing-project/

[11] Rexford, Nancy E. Women’s Shoes in America, 1795-1930. The Kent State University Press, 2000. Pg. 172.

[12] Ibid, Pp. 213-216.

[13] Historic Deerfield F.642.

[14] Historic Deerfield 2011.800.

By Heather Harrington, Associate Librarian

Her name sounds like the punchline of a bad joke, but at one time, it really was her name. This is the story of a child in a blended family.

Della was born in 1862 in Montague, Massachusetts, to Lucy Drury and Levi Brazzee. Lucy was a young mother, only in her late teens. Of her father Levi, little is known. While Della was a young child, her father died. Her mother remarried possibly in the late 1860s, to Estus S. Russell. Russell died in 1868, leaving Lucy a widow again, and Della without another father. On March 23, 1870, Lucy married John Ware of Deerfield. This marriage would not end in premature death. Lucy and John would go on to have four daughters of their own.

In 1870, John Ware was a widower. His first wife, Ellen Wait, had died in the 1860s, leaving him with two children, Orlando and Lizzie Wait. A paternal aunt adopted Lizzie, and young Orlando remained with his father. When John married Lucy, she and her daughter came to live in Deerfield at the Ware house. Three months later, in the 1870 census listing, John and Lucy are living with Della Brazzee, aged eight, who continued to use her birth name.

In 1876, Deerfield conducted a census of each local school. Della attended the Town Street School. She is on the census, as “Della Ware, age 13,” as written by the teacher or town official, not Della herself. This would indicate that “Della Ware” was how she identified with the town. She was the daughter of John Ware, and treated as such. Officially, her name was still Della Brazzee. Brazzee is the name she uses when she marries in 1881. Levi Brazzee is the name of her father on the marriage register, with no mention of John Ware.

The name “Ware” certainly had more cache than “Brazzee” in Deerfield. John Ware was a fourth generation Deerfield resident, a Civil War veteran, and a prominent man in town. His father and grandfather had run the general store for years. At some point, everyone in town was a customer of theirs. The Wares had lived on the same lot in town for three generations. By using the Ware name, one aligned oneself socially with this family. Brazzee was an unknown name in Deerfield. Likely, no one knew Levi Brazzee or his family. No one bearing that name would be as highly regarded socially as a Ware. Della, or her parents, shrewdly let her be Della Ware. It is also possible, perhaps likely, that Della went by Ware as a sign of affection for her new stepfather. With both her father and first stepfather dying when she was very young, she probably had little memories of them. John was the first real father figure of her childhood that she could remember. There is also the practical reason that Della wanted to fit in with her new family. She was the only one in the household with a different name, going by Ware made it much simpler to belong.

How did Della’s story come to my attention? We received as a gift, several years ago, an autograph book belonging to Della Clapp. A handwritten note with the book identified Della as a Ware. A little research soon found Della’s mother and stepfather, but nothing more. I concluded she was a Ware in spirit and by marriage, but that she did not go by that name. However, a couple of years later, we received a donation of the census of Deerfield students taken in 1876 and 1877. Looking through the book, trying to understand what it was, I noticed the names of the students in the different schools. I saw Della’s name, and immediately remembered the autograph book. Here was proof that Della did use the name Della Ware.

Della’s life as a Ware and a Brazzee ended when she married Allan G. Clapp in 1881. Her descendants would go on to list her as a Ware family member with good reason. So ends the story of Della Ware.

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Benedict Arnold, the infamous traitor of the Revolutionary War, came to Deerfield twice. The first time Arnold made an entrance, not as a traitor, but as an ambitious Connecticut patriot on his way to war. The second time Arnold arrived quietly, with his reputation preceding him.

The first visit to Deerfield occurred on May 6, 1775. Arnold had just been granted permission to proceed to Fort Ticonderoga and take the fort from the British. About the same time, Ethan Allen of Vermont, was also planning the same attack. The two would eventually meet up and join forces. Together they would easily take the fort from the unprepared British.

After Arnold left Cambridge, Massachusetts, with his orders newly written, he wasted no time in executing them. One of his first stops on the way north was a detour to Deerfield to deliver a commission for supplies. George Sheldon, in his History of Deerfield, Massachusetts, describes Arnold’s first visit as follows: “the newly-made Col. Arnold, resplendent in a new uniform, bright epaulettes, gold lace and waving plumes, attended by a servant, rode furiously up the street. He halted at the tavern of Maj. Salah Barnard. … He sent a messenger for Thomas W. Dickinson, to whom he told his plans; and he handed the astonished farmer, a commission as Assistant Commissary. … After a social glass with his subordinate the energetic Arnold mounted his horse and pushed on over the Hoosac mountain, arriving at Rupert, Vt., on the morning of May 8th.”

This quick visit to Deerfield must have stirred up the village from what had been a quiet routine day to a small hive of busy men preparing for war. Although the Revolution had already begun earlier that year, this was the first time the War had come to them. Arnold seemed to have a way of stirring up feelings and creating commotions wherever he went.

The second time Benedict Arnold came to Deerfield was very different from the first. He came quietly and in the company of George Washington! In December 2017, Historic Deerfield Library received as a gift papers relating to the Porter family of Hadley, Massachusetts. One of the Porters, Elisha (1742-1796), was an officer in the Revolution. Porter was involved in the fighting at Bunker Hill, Saratoga, and in Canada. He also served as a courier for George Washington. Among his papers newly received, are two handwritten and signed orders, from George Washington and Benedict Arnold.

Benedict Arnold’s orders read: “Sir I am this minute Informed of your Arrival at St Johns, with part of your Regt. you will please on receit of this to, Draw, Ten Days Provission at Chamble, & proceed In your Battoes, Down the Sorell, to the Army before Quebec & join Genl. Wooster. you will please to take as many Men in the Battoes as they will Carry with Two Chests of Medicine at Chamble. I wish you Success, I am Sir Your Hbl servant B Arnold B Genl.” The order is dated Montreal, April 20, 1776. It is written about a year after Arnold’s visit to Deerfield, and capture of Ticonderoga. Arnold had now begun his attack on Canada which would eventually fail. Yet Arnold would go on to win acclaim at Valcour Island, and contribute to the victory at Saratoga. Then, he goes on to become infamous.

Like the first visit, the second arrival of Arnold created a stirring excitement. Everyone here was honored and pleased to receive such unique pieces of history related to our nation’s founding. Indeed, it seems Benedict Arnold is destined to create a stir wherever he goes!