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 (1745–1799), uncle to Catherine Hammond Gibson (1804–1888), builder of the Gibson house. William Dawes, the half-brother of Catherine’s mother, Sarah Dawes Hammond (1768–1859), 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.

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.

Sources:

Museum of Fine Arts Boston website: http://www.mfa.org/collections/object/gem-set-brooch-with-pendant-drop-549750

Skinner Auction House website: https://www.skinnerinc.com/auctions/2529B/lots/264

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

Sources

“Boston's Vincent Club: Elite and Thriving.” New York Times (1923–Current File), Feb. 20, 1971. http://proxy.bc.edu/login?url=http://search.proquest.com.proxy.bc.edu/docview/119389407?accountid=9673.

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. http://proxy.bc.edu/login?url=http://search.proquest.com.proxy.bc.edu/docview/515991751?accountid=9673.

“History,” Vincent Memorial Hospital, http://vincentmemorialhospital.org/history/.

“Mary Gibson a July Bride.” Boston Daily Globe (1872–1922), Jul. 21, 1911. http://proxy.bc.edu/login?url=http://search.proquest.com.proxy.bc.edu/docview/501764479?accountid=9673.

“Society Women in a Vaudeville Show.” Boston Daily Globe (1872–1922), Apr. 28, 1899. http://proxy.bc.edu/login?url=http://search.proquest.com.proxy.bc.edu/docview/499054147?accountid=9673.

“Vincent Club Headliners Through.” Boston Daily Globe (1928–1960), Mar. 22, 1959. http://proxy.bc.edu/login?url=http://search.proquest.com.proxy.bc.edu/docview/250878367?accountid=9673.

“Vincent Club Revue Promises Gala Opening.” Boston Daily Globe (1928–1960), Mar. 8, 1936. http://proxy.bc.edu/login?url=http://search.proquest.com.proxy.bc.edu/docview/815157287?accountid=9673.

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

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.

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.

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.

A Second Look at Annie Crowninshield Warren’s Reminiscences of My Life

Wreck of the U.S.M. steam ship "Arctic," James E. Butterworth, 1854

In a previous post I wrote about Rosamond Warren Gibson’s mother, Annie Crowninshield Warren (1815–1905), drawing upon Annie’s Reminiscences of My Life. For this post I want to return to Annie and her Reminiscences, and this time relate two incidents Annie describes that she seems to have taken some pride in. On both of these occasions, which took place little more than a year apart, Annie claimed that her stubbornness saved the lives of her family.

According to Annie, on the first occasion the family avoided being killed in a serious train accident and on the other, avoided drowning on a sinking ship.

Collections from the Gibson House Museum: The Dumbwaiter

Lower end of dumbwaiter in kitchen pantry

The Gibson House was designed by noted architect Edward Clarke Cabot and was meant to exhibit both Victorian and Italian Renaissance style. As was common in nineteenth-century townhouses, the kitchen was located in the basement, where servants would prepare food and deliver it using a dumbwaiter. A dumbwaiter is a small elevator used to deliver food between the floors of a house. It lifts items using a pulley system, in which rails guide ropes in between floors.

The dumbwaiter in the Gibson House rises from the kitchen to a small pantry on the first floor of the home, where the “good” dishes are stored. The food would be sent up in covered kitchen bowls, then transferred to the appropriate china and taken into the dining room to be served.

The dumbwaiter evolved over time, improving technologically. Notably, Thomas Jefferson, although he did not invent the dumbwaiter, made significant improvements to the design. Jefferson built dumbwaiters into the sides of the fireplace in his dining room at Monticello that were specifically used to serve wine. During meals, a slave in the wine cellar could use the dumbwaiters to send bottles of wine up to the dining room, and at other times the dumbwaiters could be concealed behind their closed doors.

Upper end of dumbwaiter in butler's pantry

In 1883, George W. Cannon improved the mechanical dumbwaiter and patented the design in 1887. The mechanical dumbwaiter first became popular among the upper classes and soon spread into average homes. Today, the dumbwaiter still exists in older homes such as the Gibson House; however, in order to be used for its designated purpose it is required to be adapted to modern-day building codes and construction regulations.

By Jessica Mehaylo, intern

Source:

"Design and Decor--Convenience. Monticello. N.p., n.d. Web. 22 Mar. 2016. <https:/www.monticello.org/site/jefferson/design-and-decor-convenience>.  

Items from the Gibson House Collection: The Coffee Grinder

The 1800s and 1900s were marked by vast technological innovations, including those that transformed food processing. Such advancements made it affordable for families to own devices that made cooking easier.

The Gibson House kitchen displays a wide assortment of antique appliances that illustrate the way food was processed a century ago. One of these items, a coffee grinder (pictured above), would have been present in most middle- and upper-class nineteenth-century kitchens because of the beverage’s popularity.

A Brief Sketch of the Life of Annie Crowninshield Warren

Annie Crowninshield Warren, age 88

We have shared stories from Rosamond Warren Gibson’s Recollections of My Life for My Children, including an 1864 trip to New Orleans during the Civil War. But I was recently excited to learn that Rosamond’s mother, Annie Crowninshield Warren, wrote a similar work for her own children entitled Reminiscences of My Life.

Since I don’t have much of an opportunity to talk about Rosamond’s mother on tours at the Gibson House, I figured I would share a brief biographical sketch of Annie’s life on our blog, drawing upon her Reminiscences.

Logomachy: A Look at a Nineteenth-Century Card Game

Logomachy Box, courtesy of Boston Children's Museum.

While perusing the Gibson House archives for research material, I found an instruction manual for an 1874 children’s card game called Logomachy, or War of Words, designed by F. A. Wright, a games maker from Cincinnati. It appears that Wright’s game was well received, as he won the Highest Premium Silver Medal for Best New Parlor Game at the Cincinnati Industrial Exposition that year (which is proudly proclaimed on the instruction manual).

The deck, which was not included with the manual I found, consisted of fifty-six cards. A single letter was printed on each card along with an illustration, such as a bird, wolf, or children at play. With more cards than letters, many of the letters were duplicated to allow for the spelling of words. The letters J, K, V, X, Q, and Z were prize cards and earned players who could use them to form words an additional one or two points.

Taking the Prize: The Privateer Ship America

Before Rosamond Warren Gibson’s grandfather Benjamin Crowninshield (1772–1851) became Secretary of the United States Navy (1815–1818), he and his brother George, like himself a Salem, Mass. merchant, offered three vessels to the US government for service as privateers during the War of 1812. These were the ship John, the sloop Jefferson, and the ship America. The family’s foray into privateering had begun much earlier, however. The earliest reference to a Crowninshield privateer that I could find was another ship called America, which served in the Quasi War with France (1798–1800). Additionally, in the American Revolution, Salem, Mass., sent out 458 privateers, and it is possible Crowninshield vessels were among that number.

Of these, the America of the War of 1812 is the most famous.

In Recollections of My Life for My Children, Rosamond Gibson mentions the America. She relates a family story that during the War of 1812 the vessel captured an English merchant ship bound for India and seized the cargo aboard, which included goods owned by an English family. Found among these personal possessions was a miniature dining room table for a child’s dollhouse. Years later, a young Rosamond added this piece of toy furniture to her own dollhouse. (See “The Warren Dollhouse,” January 1, 2016.)

Benjamin Williams Crowninshield. Portrait by U.D. Tenney.

Having always had a fascination with ships and the history of wars, I wanted to research the America and its career as a privateer. I also wanted to try and corroborate Rosamond’s story about the English ship sailing for India before its interception by the America. While the evidence does not support the story that America captured a ship on its way to India, some of the prizes it took did find their way into the hands of various Crowninshield family members, meaning the young Rosamond may well have played with toys meant for English children some forty years earlier.

Built in 1803, the America originally went out to sea as a merchant ship and spanned a length of 114 feet, was 30 feet wide, and had two decks. But in 1812, when she was commissioned as a privateer, her dimensions were reduced to make her speedier and more maneuverable to better suit her new purpose. Now 108 feet long and with her upper deck removed, she averaged a top speed of 13 or 14 knots, which she could maintain for several hours at a time. With this new speed and agility, the America outpaced enemy ships with relative ease, avoiding capture on several occasions.

As a privateer, the America was authorized by the United States Navy to prey on English commercial vessels, taking them and their cargo as prizes. Operating mainly in the North Atlantic, the America captured forty-seven vessels, twenty-seven of which were sent back to the United States. These twenty-seven ships and their cargoes together were valued at $1.1 million. The other vessels were either recaptured by the British Royal Navy or destroyed at sea.

This kind of warfare proved vital to the American naval effort. When war broke out in 1812, the US Navy was grossly underprepared, with only about a dozen operational vessels. The Royal Navy, however, had about 110 warships, 4 fifty-gun ships, and 134 frigates. To compensate for this clear disadvantage, the United States put about 500 private ships into service as privateers.

Encounters between US privateers and British ships inevitably led to violent exchanges of cannon fire in naval battles. And the America found herself in such a situation on at least one occasion, when she engaged the Princess Elizabeth, a private armed ship, in an intense firefight that lasted a little over an hour. This ended in the British ship’s surrender with two fatalities. The Americans came out with no loss of life and minimal damage to their ship.

Unfortunately, the ending to America’s story is not so glorious. After the war, she spent the next fifteen years docked before being auctioned off in 1831, when she was destroyed and stripped for metal.

By Timothy Spezia, museum docent

Image Sources:

Ship America, 1806: from Old Time Ships of Salem, 33.

Benjamin W. Crowninshield portrait: Benjamin W. Crowninshield wikipedia entry. Naval History and Heritage Command identified the artist, U.D. Tenney, a portrait painter of the 19th century.

America in Chase of the Princess Elizabeth: from An Account of the Armed Ship "America" of Salem, 44. 

 

Sources:

Carl Benn, Essential Histories: The War of 1812 (New York: Osprey Publishing, Ltd, 2002).

Bowdoin Bradlee Crowninshield, An Account of the Private Armed Ship “America” of Salem (Salem, Mass.: Essex Institute, 1901), accessed via hathitrust.org, December 5, 2015.

Jonathan R. Dull, American Naval History, 1607–1865: Overcoming the Colonial Legacy (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2012).

Essex Institute, Old Time Ships of Salem (Salem, Mass.: Essex Institute, 1917), 33–34, accessed via hathitrust.org, December 5, 2015.

Rosamond Warren Gibson, Recollections of My Life for My Children (privately printed, 1939).

Faye M. Kert, Privateering: Patriots and Profits in the War of 1812 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2015).

Edgar Stanton Maclay, A History of American Privateers (New York: Appleton Press, 1900).

The Warren Dollhouse

The Warren Dollhouse, courtesy of Peabody Essex Museum

In Recollections of My Life forMy Children, Rosamond Warren Gibson (1846–1934), onetime mistress of the Gibson House, recounts some of her fondest memories from her life. She shares stories told to her by older relatives, describes trips to Europe, and even relates vacationing in New Orleans during the Civil War (see “The Gibson Family in the Civil War,Part I,” May 21, 2015). Rosamond’s Recollections is a rich source of material for the stories we tell here at the Gibson House.