Thursday, December 8, 2016

The Forgotten Midnight Rider

William Dawes
Paul Revere Statue, Boston
One of the many connections the Gibson family has to Boston history is its link to William Dawes (17451799), uncle to Catherine Hammond Gibson (18041888), builder of the Gibson house. William Dawes, the half-brother of Catherine’s mother, Sarah Dawes Hammond (17681859), was the Boston Patriot who rode alongside Paul Revere on his famous midnight ride of April 18, 1775. While Paul Revere has been commemorated in Longfellow's famous poem and by a bronze statue in front of Boston's Old North Church, William Dawes has not been so honored. In an attempt to remedy this, Helen F. Moore published a poem in 1896, one verse of which reads:
'T'is all very well for the children to hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere;
But why should my name be quite forgot,
Who rode as boldly and well, God wot?
Why should I ask? The reason is clear —
My name was Dawes and his Revere.
Hancock-Clarke House, Lexington
As the British prepared a raid on Lexington and Concord, both William Dawes and Paul Revere set out on horseback from Boston to warn Samuel Adams and John Hancock at Lexington's Hancock-Clarke House and rouse the Minutemen. They took separate routes, spreading the alarm along the way. Meeting up again in Lexington, they set out for Concord, but along the way were ambushed by British soldiers. Paul Revere was captured and William Dawes escaped. Although he never made it to Concord (a third rider who had joined them in Lexington, Dr. Samuel Prescott, did), William Dawes had bravely stood up for his cause.
A family story has it that William almost didn’t make his ride because of his younger sister, Sarah, Catherine Hammond Gibson’s mother. William had earlier aided Paul Revere by traveling in and out of  Boston, exchanging money for Revere’s copper, press, and tools. In order to sneak past the British as he served as a go-between for Revere and his business interests, William would often dress up as a farmer pretending to be selling produce, or he would feign drunkenness and subsequently follow the officers on guard to wherever they went in the city. One day he passed by his father’s house and was recognized by young Sarah, who cried out loudly, “Brother Billy! Brother Billy!” William managed to get away before Sarah inadvertently destroyed his cover.

By Emma Cunningham, museum intern

Photo credits:
Portrait of William Dawes by Daniel J. Strain from Cary Memorial Library in Lexington, Mass.,; Hancock-Clarke House in Lexington, Mass., Lexington Historical Society,

Paul Revere statue photo taken by the author. 

Forbes, Esther. Paul Revere and the World He Lived In. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1942.

“History of the Military Company of the Massachusetts, Now Called, the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company of Massachusetts: 1637–1888, vol. 1.Holland, Henry Ware.

William Dawes and His Ride with Paul Revere. Boston: John Wilson and Son, 1878.PBS webpage:

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

The Pink Brooch

Social status was very important during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and many women were judged and critiqued on what they wore and how they presented themselves. This beautiful, statement-making brooch that belonged to Rosamond Warren Gibson (1846– 1934) descended through the Gibson family. In 2010 it was acquired by Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. Purchased through Skinner Auction House, the brooch had an estimated sale price of $1,500–$2,000 but ended up selling for $7,110.
An evocative time piece, the brooch is made of 18-carat gold and displays pink topaz and old mine-cut diamond accents. Suspended from the brooch is a tear-drop-shaped pendant set with matching pink topaz and diamonds. Its original leather fitter box bears an applied sticker on the underside that reads “Jones, Ball, & Poor.” Jones, Ball, & Poor was a prominent silversmith company on Boston’s Washington Street during the nineteenth century.
We’re not sure how Rosamond acquired the brooch—whether it was inherited or given to her as a gift—but it seems the type of piece she would have reserved for special occasions.

By Emma Rose Cunningham, museum intern

Photo Credit: Museum of Fine Arts Boston.

Museum of Fine Arts Boston website:

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

The Gibson Ladies and the Vincent Club

A century ago, most Bostonian women of a certain social standing participated in any one of the numerous, yet highly exclusive, women’s clubs in the city. Exclusivity characterized the nature of the clubs, but the majority actually focused their energy on various types of charity work—a noblesse oblige approach to social groups.

The Vincent Club was one such philanthropic organization. Founded in 1892, the club originated to support the Vincent Memorial Hospital, established one year earlier in the memory of Mary Ann Vincent, a magnanimous Boston actress. The Vincent Memorial Hospital, originally located in the West End, filled a niche in Boston; the hospital’s medical staff cared primarily for wage-earning, indigent women.

Vincent Club fundraising techniques exceeded the common luncheon. The club’s annual fundraising show—a vaudeville performance inspired by Mary Ann Vincent’s theatrical career and featuring the “Vincent Ladies”—arrived on the social scene every year beginning in 1893 to great anticipation. The “Vincent Show” typically took the form of a topical satire, featuring Boston’s finest young women performing a multitude of acts. Themes ranged from the inaugural “Breaking the Ice” show to the 1959 musical depicting life on an “interplanetary space platform.” The show also served as a light-hearted debutante ball, in which young women made their “stage debut as singers and dancers.”

Unlike a traditional debutante ball, however, there was a strict ladies-only rule on stage and in the audience. In 1899, the Boston Daily Globe published its annual Vincent Show preview feature, stating, “It was distinctly stated and printed on the tickets that no gentlemen would be admitted…. [T]hose who appeared in the leading roles had the supreme confidence of appearing before a friendly audience and were as much at ease as if entertaining in their own drawing rooms.”

Mary Ethel Gibson (1873–1938), referred to in the Boston Daily Globe as having “always been popular in society,” was a founding member of the Vincent Club along with her mother, Rosamond Warren Gibson (1846–1934). Rosamond planned and directed the first theatrical performance, while Mary Ethel performed in that 1893 show, starring as a man named Lord Adonis Fickleton.

In 1941, the Vincent Memorial Hospital merged with Massachusetts General Hospital, providing gynecology services while maintaining its own identity. When the Vincent let its independent hospital license expire in 1988, MGH agreed to keep the VMH’s name associated with its former programs. 

The Vincent Club is still extant, with a current membership of 1,200 women. A fancy spring gala has since replaced the Vincent Show as the main fundraising event. Male attendees are welcome at the gala, as the “no men allowed” rule was rescinded in 1920.

By Maddie Webster, museum guide and intern

“Boston's Vincent Club: Elite and Thriving.” New York Times (1923–Current File), Feb. 20, 1971.

Laura Haddock, “Traditional Vincent Club Drill to Renew Memories of Show’s Women’s Activities.” The Christian Science Monitor (1908–Current File), Feb. 28, 1947.

“History,” Vincent Memorial Hospital,

“Mary Gibson a July Bride.” Boston Daily Globe (1872–1922), Jul. 21, 1911.

“Society Women in a Vaudeville Show.” Boston Daily Globe (1872–1922), Apr. 28, 1899.

“Vincent Club Headliners Through.” Boston Daily Globe (1928–1960), Mar. 22, 1959.

“Vincent Club Revue Promises Gala Opening.” Boston Daily Globe (1928–1960), Mar. 8, 1936.

Gail Wetherby, e-mail message to the author, August 12, 2016.

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Charlie Gibson’s Prison Reform League Targets the Deer Island Prisons

Charles “Charlie” Hammond Gibson, Jr., often referred to as “Mr. Boston” by neighbors, was deeply involved in his community. Ever the public servant, he volunteered in various city government departments and interest groups over the years. Making a foray into the social movement known as progressivism, Charlie proposed significant prison reforms as the secretary for the Massachusetts Prison Reform League from 1913 to 1916.

A principal concern of the League during that time was the bleak Suffolk County House of Correction on Deer Island. Since Boston’s earliest years, Deer Island had been designated as a place to send pariahs—a holding area for the enemy, the ostracized, and the ill. The island was first used as a detention facility for Indians during King Philip’s War in 1675, then as a quarantine station in the late 1600s and again in the 1840s for sick Irish famine refugees.

Thousands of society’s unwanted had been buried on Deer Island by 1858, when the House for the Employment and Reformation of Juvenile Offenders, a misdemeanor detention center for boys, was established there. Various incarnations of low-security prisons inhabited the area thereafter, most notably the Suffolk County House of Correction, which included two prisons, from 1882 until 1991.

The Massachusetts Prison Reform League was born out of the Social Gospel branch of progressivism, which applied Christian ethics to social issues, including inequality. The League was recognized by one local newspaper for having “won the international medal from two Worlds Expositions for its success in the abolition of dark, solitary confinement, known as dungeons, and for other advanced reforms.” It was also praised for its efforts to work “in unison with the clergy of Boston, the judges, prison commissioners, and other officials” to “build up libraries where most needed, to brighten and cheer the sentence of the friendless despondent inside the prison, the sick and dying.”

The League’s mission in 1913, as printed in the City Record of Boston, centered on reforming Deer Island’s prisons, guided by the belief that “influences surrounding prisoners should fit them rather than unfit them to be better citizens after their release.” As the “honorable secretary,” Charlie Gibson wrote out the recommendations; his name appears under them in the City Record.
The Suffolk County House of Correction dealt only with misdemeanor-level crimes, and the League’s reform campaign focused on making sure the prisoners’ treatment was commensurate with the crimes they committed. Charlie scribed, “It is important to erect buildings or shelters at a moderate cost and without the usual precautions of iron bars and cells for the housing of prisoners who have simply offended against public order.”

Many of the prisoners were serving terms for public drunkenness. The League proclaimed, “Habitual drunkenness should be treated more as a disease than as a crime.” It also argued that those convicted of public drunkenness “should not be brought into contact with criminals convicted of more serious crimes.” For a group with religious affiliations, this type of thinking appears to have been an anomaly, as most contemporary Christian reform associations viewed alcoholism as a vice and a sin.

In 1991, the Suffolk County House of Correction moved its inmates off the island to a building in South Boston, and the three-century-long history of involuntary residency on Deer Island came to an end. It is not clear how long the Massachusetts Prison Reform League existed past 1916, when Charlie left, but it is clear that the reformers improved the circumstances of Massachusetts inmates, having abolished the electric chair and the use of “dungeon-like” cells in the state’s prisons.

By Maddie Webster, museum guide and intern


Albert Nelson Marquis, Who’s Who in America, 1922–1923, vol. 12 (Chicago: A. N. Marquis and Company, n.d.).

“Deer Island Prison,” New England Magazine (1898).

“Facts About History: Deer Island” (Massachusetts Water Resources, November 1999), Government Documents Collection,

“The Prison Reform League,” The Sacred Heart Review 38 (November 1907),

Friday, July 15, 2016

Items from the Gibson House Collection: The White House Cook Book

The White House Cook Book

In the center of the Gibson House kitchen stands a table with a few objects on it, including a cookbook currently turned open to a page detailing various recipes for jumble, a ring-shaped cookie or cake. This cookbook is the 1905 edition of the White House Cook Book by Mrs. F. L. Gillette and Hugo Ziemann.

The title page describes the cookbook as “A comprehensive cyclopedia of information for the home, containing cooking, toilet and household recipes, menus, dinner-giving, table etiquette, care of the sick, health suggestions, facts worth knowing, etc.” Wondering what “toilet recipes” entail? As it turns out, homemakers could mix together natural ingredients for almost any personal care or beauty aid they might have needed: “hair invigorator, lip-salve, and instantaneous hair dye” are but a few of the toilet recipes in the book.

Fanny Lemira Camp Gillette, the author of the original White House Cook Book, first published in 1887, was from Wisconsin and never lived in the White House—and likely never visited Washington, D.C. She was ingenious, however, because her White House cookbook, which was less than loosely based on White House practices, became America’s best-selling recipe collection.

According to culinary historian Susan Williams, the major growth in the publishing industry that took place in the late nineteenth century “produced a multitude of cookbooks and household manuals to guide the American housewife ‘scientifically’ through the complex tasks of food preparation for family and guests.” In tandem, the effects of the Industrial Revolution created a new American middle class whose women found a surplus of time to spend on fine dining recipes. They looked to the pinnacle of high society for guidance and picked up F. L. Gillette’s White House manual in greater and greater numbers.

The success of the cookbook piqued the interest of the former White House steward to Benjamin Harrison, Hugo Ziemann, at the turn of the twentieth century. In 1905 he collaborated with Mrs. F. L. Gillette on an updated edition of her book. Ziemann produced several pages of real White House recipes and dining tidbits, legitimizing the title of the book and keeping it in print for another few decades. This version is the one that the Gibson House cook acquired.

Fanny Lemira Camp Gillette died in 1926 at the age of ninety-eight, having amassed a respectable sum from her book sales. Interestingly, her son, King Camp Gillette, gained even greater fame and fortune from his own enterprising efforts, mostly notably, his invention of the Gillette Disposable Razor Blade.

By Maddie Webster, museum guide and intern


Josh and Brent, “Eat (Sort Of) Like a President,” Beekman 1802. February 15, 2013.

“Ushers and Stewards Since 1800,” White House Historical Association. 2009.

Williams, Susan. Savory Suppers and Fashionable Feasts. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1985.

Friday, July 1, 2016

Glory in the Garden, Folly in the Common: The Gibson Family’s Presence in Boston’s Public Parks

The 1868 Ether Monument
Charles Gibson's Convenience Station
Last month, museum docent Timothy Spezia wrote his final blog post on Dr. John Collins Warren, grandfather of Rosamond Warren Gibson, and his groundbreaking use of ether in 1846. Coincidentally, while walking through the Boston Public Garden a few days ago, I happened to notice a monument in the northwest corner. I had seen it before but never thought anything of it; compared to the grand equestrian statue of George Washington amongst the flowers nearby, this monument is more subdued under the shade of trees. Upon further inspection, and much to my surprise, the structure revealed itself as the 1868 Ether Monument.

The Ether Monument does not memorialize one person, but rather the historic MGH operation when dentist William T. G. Morton assisted John Collins Warren in using ether as an anesthetic for the first time. Atop the granite tower kneels the Good Samaritan aiding a wounded stranger. The tower’s four sides feature an assortment of scenes and inscriptions illustrating medically relevant themes. The monument’s status as the oldest in the Garden—preceding the George Washington statue by one year—makes it evident that Bostonians highly valued this medical advance and took pride in the historic operation.

The Ether Monument, which is not far from the Gibson House, commemorates a valued contribution made by a Gibson relative to Boston, the United States, and the world. On the other side of Charles Street, on the Boston Common, stands another Gibson family–related structure: one that became shrouded in controversy despite its planners’ good intentions.

The building on the Common is a “convenience station” whose construction was overseen by Charles Gibson, Jr., this museum’s founder, while he served as a volunteer commissioner of Boston’s Park and Recreation Department from 1914 to 1916. What should have been a straightforward task proved a massive headache for all involved.

Plans for a new Boston Common convenience station had been in the works since 1910. After three attempts at finding a suitable location, the Park and Recreation Department finally landed on the Common’s Flagstaff Hill, where there was already an old wooden sanitary structure. Charlie and his fellow commissioners employed architect G. Henri Desmond to design plans for a new station. Desmond’s decision to model the station on the Petit Trianon at Versailles is what ignited the controversy.

In January 1916, when construction on the convenience station began, a flurry of criticism erupted from different areas of the community. Articulating the Boston Society of Architects’ opposition to the design, the Architectural Review exclaimed, “Even the one-time sacred Common … supposedly maintained by statute law safe from harm forever, has, before the public vote had been fairly counted and registered, been misused by its official guardians, the Park Commission…. They have quietly, in the dark o’ night, commenced a ‘Public Convenience’ station—adapted, by an uninspired architectural genius with a rare feeling for propriety, from the ‘Temple of Love’ at Versailles!—in defiance of public desire…”

In general, opponents, with the city’s Art Commission at the forefront, decried the use of such high architectural design for a glorified men’s bathroom. Mayor James Michael Curley finally suspended work on the convenience station amidst the mudslinging.

Despite the criticism, many people did support Charlie, who became the personification of the Park and Rec Dept. during this episode. Lawyer James M. Keyes wrote a letter in support, noting that “The arguments of the Art Commission appear petty and absurd when we realize that the only issue in this entire discussion is, namely; what is best for the public in general? I heartily endorse the attitude of the Park and Recreation Dept.”

The Boston Herald, mockingly referring to the convenience station as “the temple,” fired off a string of editorials in Charlie’s direction in late January. In “Gibson vs. Art Board,” the editor wrote, “Too much power now rests in the hands of one man.… In a commission of three, Mr. Gibson is the one architect. His decision in matters architectural must be pretty generally followed by the other two members. With their cooperation, he now has the power to place buildings on any part of the Common, and in any style that satisfies his personal taste.”

In response, Charlie denied having sole responsibility for the architectural decisions, contending that “Until [this issue goes before the City Council] it would perhaps be well to suspend judgment and not take it for granted … that this building is an artistic atrocity or that the money of the city is being ill-spent.”

Eventually, construction started up again on Charlie’s convenience station, and the controversy died down. As of 1945, the Flagstaff Hill convenience station was one of three on the Common. For a few decades before 2012, the building stood abandoned and locked up to the public. That year the Earl of Sandwich fast-food chain gutted the structure and turned it into a place of utility once more. No longer known as “Gibson’s Folly” or “the temple,” the inconspicuous building next to the Parkman Bandstand now rarely induces a second glance. If only passing Bostonians knew how up in arms their forebears were about a Beaux Arts bathroom corrupting the sacred Common.

By the time of Charlie’s death in 1954, the Boston Herald, his foe in the conflict, had erased the debacle from history, observing that “As an unpaid member of the old Boston Parks and Recreation Commission, Mr. Gibson … played a major role in beautifying the Boston Common and the Public Garden.”

By Maddie Webster, museum guide and intern


Architectural Review, January 1916,

Charles Hammond Gibson Dies, Poet, 79, Was Proper Bostonian,’” Boston Herald, November 1954, Charles Gibson, Jr. Personal Papers, 1954, Gibson House Archives.

Gibson, Charles Jr., Response to Gibson vs. Art Board,’” January 20, 1916, Charles Gibson, Jr. Personal Papers, 1916 M, Gibson House Archives.

Gibson vs. Art Board, Boston Herald, January 1916, Charles Gibson, Jr. Personal Papers, 1916 M, Gibson House Archives.

Keyes, James M., Letter to the Parks and Recreation Department, January 21, 1916, Charles Gibson, Jr. Personal Papers, 1916 G, Gibson House Archives.

Reports and Communications (Boston Finance Commission, 1916),

Sculpture & Memorials, Friends of the Public Garden, accessed June 10, 2016,

Friday, May 6, 2016

Dr. John Collins Warren and His Use of Ether as Anesthetic

Dr. John Collins Warren, circa 1850

When giving tours of the Gibson House, I always share details of Rosamond Warren Gibson’s (1846–1934) family background, noting that within her family were a number of prominent doctors. Among them were her own father, Jonathan Mason Warren; her great-granduncle, Major General Joseph Warren, who was killed in action at the Battle of Bunker Hill; and her paternal grandfather, John Collins Warren.

Dr. John Collins Warren is particularly noteworthy because he is credited with performing the earliest recorded operation using ether as a general anesthetic, in 1846. And, fortunately, he wrote an account of this experiment only a year after the procedure, which was published in 1848.

The potential for ether as a surgical anesthetic had been brought to Dr. Warren’s attention by a Boston dentist, Dr. W.T.G. Morton, who had previously experimented with ether’s pain-relieving capabilities during dental procedures.

In his account of the ether experiment, Dr. Warren noted that “the general properties of ether have been known for more than a century, and the effect of its inhalation in producing exhilaration and insensibility has been known for many years.” Prior to ether’s application as an anesthetic, surgery was a horrendous and painful ordeal.

Dr. Warren captured how sympathetically surgeons felt toward their patients’ experience of pain when he wrote, “What surgeon is there, who has not felt, while witnessing the distress of long painful operations, a sinking of the heart, to which no habit could render him insensible! What surgeon has not at these times been inspired with a wish, to find some means of lessening the sufferings he was obliged to inflict!”

Thus, when Dr. Morton called upon Dr. Warren at the Massachusetts General Hospital (MGH) in 1846 to propose his ether experiment, Dr. Warren was intrigued and, after reassurances from Dr. Morton, consented to using ether at his next surgery.

The opportunity came shortly thereafter when Dr. Warren was scheduled to operate on a young man in his early twenties. The patient had a tumor on the left side of his neck, which Dr. Warren planned to remove. After making his own preparations, Dr. Warren allowed the dentist to administer the ether. “The patient was then made to inhale a fluid from a tube connected with a glass globe. After four or five minutes he appeared to be asleep, and was thought by Dr. Morton to be in a condition for the operation.”

First Operation Under Ether, Robert C. Hinckley, 1894

At first Dr. Warren doubted the success of the experiment, because at various points in the operation, the patient “move[d] his limbs, cr[ied] out, and utter[ed] extraordinary expressions.” Yet when Dr. Warren consulted with the patient afterward, the young man explained that while he had been aware of the operation, he had felt no pain.

Thrilled by the success of this initial trial, other surgeons at MGH started to administer ether in their own operations, with similar results. News of this successful anesthetic spread. As Dr. Warren wrote, “An immense number of trials of its influence [were subsequently] made in various parts of the world, with a success perhaps as uniform as that of any article employed in medicine or surgery.”

The United States Army took notice, too. During the Mexican-American war (1846–1848), medical officers administered ether to wounded soldiers to perform amputations and other procedures. By the time of the Civil War (1861–1865), however, chloroform had displaced ether as the primary anesthetic used by the military because of its fast-acting nature.

While ether and chloroform are no longer used in surgery today, these two drugs were important contributions to the field of medicine and ended centuries of painful, torturous surgery.

By Timothy Spezia, museum guide

Note from the museum: This is Timothy Spezia’s final blog post, as he graduates from Boston University and moves on to a full-time position in the history field. We wish Tim all the best, and thank him for his excellent work as a museum guide and for all the wonderful posts he has written for the blog!

Image Sources: 
Dr. John Collins Warren,
Ether painting,
“Ether and Chloroform.” History Channel website. Accessed April 20, 2016. http://

Warren, John C., Etherization with Surgical Remarks. Boston: William D. Ticknor & Company, 1848, accessed via, April 20, 2016.