White Mountain Apache Basket

Amongst the items on display in the library is a 19^th century Native American basket in the shape of a shallow bowl.  Although it is not known where or when the basket was acquired, the simple geometric design speaks to the sophisticated tastes of John and Frances Glessner and coordinates well with other pieces they collected.  

For many years, the Glessners displayed the basket on the lower shelf of a drum table in the main hall, a prominent location where it would have easily been seen by their many visitors and guests.  An expert at the Mitchell Museum of the American Indian in Evanston, Illinois recently helped our staff to identify the origin and construction of the basket.

White Mountain Apache craftwork

displayed in front of a typical dwelling

The coiled woven bowl is Apache in origin, and was most likely made by a member of the White Mountain Apache tribe.  The piece measure 3-3/8” in height and 11-3/4” in diameter and is constructed with three rods, either willow or cottonwood, coiled together – a traditional Apache weaving technique.  Both the inside and outside of the basket feature a dark central circle which arcs outward creating a geometric star pattern.  Set within the diamond shaped panels formed by the pattern are stylized dogs in the upper rows, and arrowhead figures below.  All of the dark areas are made from the stalk of the martynia plant, also known as “Cat’s Claw,” a plant native to the southwestern United States. 

The White Mountain Apache are one of several Western Apache tribes, each with their own distinct language, history, and culture.  Located in the east-central region of Arizona, they were nomadic farmers, raising corn, beans, squash and other foods for part of the year, supplementing their crops with hunting and gathering.  The U.S. Army came into their lands in the 1860s with orders to capture and kill any Apaches that refused to be confined to a reservation.  The White Mountain Apache acted so peaceably and hospitably that the soldiers followed suit.  The Apache allowed construction of what was later known as Fort Apache on their lands in 1868 and agreed to live on a reservation there.  They assisted General George Crook as scouts during the 15 year Apache Wars from 1871 to 1886, which ended with the surrender of Geronimo in 1886.  In exchange for their service, the tribe was able to retain a large part of their homeland within their reservation, formally established in 1891 and now known as the White Mountain Apache Reservation.  A tribal council was established in 1936 to oversee all tribally owned property and businesses, the latter of which focus heavily on tourism.  Today there are approximately 15,000 members of the tribe living on their reservation of 1.67 million acres, located about 200 miles southeast of the Grand Canyon.   For more information on the White Mountain Apache, visit www.wmat.nsn.us/

Flonzaley Quartet Model Unveiled

One hundred years ago, on February 21, 1914, Frances Glessner Lee presented her model of the Flonzaley Quartet to that world-famous string quartet.  Known for her earlier model of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and later for her meticulously crafted series of “Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death,” Frances Glessner Lee spent nearly two years creating the quartet model.

Her son, John Glessner Lee, recounted the creation and presentation of the model in his 1971 book, Family Reunion, and we present that excerpt in its entirety.  (Notes:  He refers to his mother as FGL; their family home where the model was created and unveiled was located at 1700 S. Prairie Avenue, one block north of the Glessner House).

“(The Chicago Symphony Orchestra model) really launched FGL in her career of model work.  Her next model was the Flonzaley Quartet – perhaps the best-known string quartet of the era – and a masterpiece it was.  It took nearly two years to do.  It really was precise, the individuals were striking likenesses, and everything about it was as close to reality as one could get.  You could actually play the ‘cello – it emitted a faint squeak, but no sound would come from the smaller instruments, despite the care in making the bridge and strings and other parts.  By the time FGL got going on the Quartet I was old enough to help.  We went to concerts together, and sat on opposite sides of the house, and made elaborate notes on how the men sat and what they wore – Mr. Betti’s vest (he was the first violin) – how Mr. Pochon put his feet (he was the second violin) – d’Archambeau’s gold watch chain, how it hung (he, the cellist) and last, but by no means least, Ugo Ara, who played the viola, a little Italian man with a magnificent Assyrian beard, how he managed his viola amongst the profusion of shrubbery.

FGL presented the model to the Quartet one evening at dinner at our house in Chicago.  It was covered with a large floral piece in the center of the table, which gave no hint as to what was underneath.  FGL sat at one side of the table which was long and narrow and my grandfather opposite her, each with a member of the Quartet on both sides of them.  We lesser lights were farther down the table.  After dinner, the floral piece was removed with a flourish, and there, not two feet from their noses, was this model of themselves playing!  The effect was extraordinary.  For a moment nobody spoke, and then all four members of the Quartet burst out into voluble language.  Nobody listened.  But each one of them pointed with delight to the eccentricities of the other three.  I still remember Mr. Betti, with a magnifying glass, peering over the shoulder of his own miniature, trying to read the music on the music rack.  It had been specially written by Frederick Stock, the conductor of the Chicago Symphony, in the style of Schoenberg, but was impossible to play – a fact which Mr. Betti soon appreciated.

Then my grandfather read a long account of how the model was made, which FGL had written.  The figures were Viennese dolls, as before, modified by FGL to incorporate a wire frame so they would hold a position.  The heads were modeled out of a mixture of LePage’s fish glue and plaster of Paris which she had developed.  This was long before the days of plastics or quick-drying cement.  The result, which took several days to dry, became as hard as glass.  To this cotton fibers were added for hair, and the result painted to match the individual.  I can still remember the four little heads hanging upside down on a stand on FGL’s work table.  Mr. Ara’s with its square cut beard was particularly gruesome, and one had uncomfortable thoughts of the guillotine.  The accompanying picture of FGL shows her working on this model at a card table in her bedroom in Chicago.

The model was built for permanence, with every party thoroughly anchored.  When I last heard of it, the Quartet had taken it to Switzerland and placed it in a museum near the home of Mr. (Edward J.) de Coppet, the chief sponsor of the Quartet.  Mr. Pochon told us afterwards that the only damage resulting from the long voyage was that his bow had slipped off of his violin, which they had been able to fix themselves.”

The presentation was also recorded in the Glessner journal, by this time being written by John Glessner.  He notes that in addition to the persons listed above, those attending the dinner included his wife, Frederick Stock and his wife, Enrico Tramonti (CSO harpist) and his wife, and Henry Voegeli (CSO assistant manager and treasurer) and his wife.  An interesting discrepancy in the two accounts is that John Glessner Lee places his grandfather in a place of honor with members of the Quartet to either side; but John Glessner clearly indicates it was his grandson, age 15 at the time, who sat opposite his mother:

“John Lee sat opposite his mother at table & did his part very well.  Betti seated at right & Pochon at Frances’ left, d’Archambeau at right & Ara at John’s left.  Next to Betti came Mrs. Tramonti, then I, Mr. Stock, Mrs. Voegeli, Ara, John, d’Archambeau, Frances, Tramonti, Voegeli, Mrs. Stock, Pochon & Frances Lee.”

One must conclude that John Glessner’s account, written immediately after the event is indeed accurate, especially since he identifies where each of the 14 members of the party sat.  Why John Glessner Lee saw his grandfather in that place of honor and not himself when recounting the incident nearly 60 years later remains an interesting question, but perhaps shows the high level of esteem in which he held the patriarch of the family.

Frances Glessner on Etiquette

On February 10, 1889 – exactly 125 years ago – Frances Glessner recorded the following in her journal:

“The article on Etiquette which John and I wrote came out yesterday in the (Saturday Evening) Herald.”

Frances Glessner was well qualified to write on etiquette.  As a resident of Chicago’s exclusive Prairie Avenue district, she would have been well-versed on the topic.  In addition, she owned a number of books on the subject, including the 1887 edition of Manners and Social Usages, the leading book on etiquette at the time, penned by Mrs. John Sherwood, and quoted at the end of her article.  (For more information on Mrs. Sherwood and the lecture she gave in the Glessner home in May 1888, see the blog article dated July 8, 2013).

In honor of the anniversary of the publication of John and Frances Glessners’ article, we provide excerpts for your reading pleasure.

Etiquette is an old French word derived from the Low German “atikke,” a peg or pin, and originally meant a thing attached, or a label. . . The word now means conventional forms of ceremony or decorum, the forms which are observed toward particular persons or in particular places, especially in courts, levees and on public occasions; social observances required by good breeding.  This last is our definition.  We doubtless need more simplicity in our daily lives; they are already artificial enough, but conventionality is no hindrance – rather it is a great assistance, regulating our relations to acquaintances and the world at large, smoothing the friction of our contact with neighbors and friends, and telling us how to govern our acts and appearances on particular times and occasions. 

The questions commonly asked concerning correct forms of etiquette have reference to these three subjects – the acknowledgement of invitations, the use of visiting cards, and formal calls.  These and all other social usages are based on common sense.

The average society woman has so many engagements and so much to do that it is impossible she should be at home all days, and driving the rounds, climbing steps to front doors, etc., to learn that the lady is out or is excused, involves much labor and time; so it becomes a duty as well as a pleasure for every lady in society to select and announce to her friends some time when she may always be found at home.  If she can not keep one day each week she should keep a part of a day or days each month during the season.  If at these times she serves tea and wafers to those who call, it is an afternoon tea, and so it comes that an invitation to such tea may be written on a visiting card.  If she write only “tea at 5 o’clock” below her own name, and the date after her receiving day, that is enough.  The lady who has selected an “at home” day should give her afternoon tea on one of those days.

Does your attendance at an afternoon tea require a subsequent call upon you by the hostess?  Certainly not; it differs from the ordinary call in this only.  You may return this civility in like manner, and in that way your hostess returns this particular call.  Of course, owing to the occasion, ladies never remove their bonnets at such tea, and wear the same dress and in the same way as at ordinary afternoon calls, and the hostess wears the same house dress she would in receiving the ordinary afternoon call, as do the ladies who assist her.  Where it can conveniently be so arranged it is well for the ladies in one neighborhood to select the same “at home” day and naturally then the afternoon teas in one neighborhood will fall on the same days, enabling ladies to make several such calls in one afternoon.  There is no time between luncheon and dinner when it is proper to serve more than tea, wafers and confections, and it is because people forget this, that confusion has arisen about calls after an afternoon tea.

The evening reception is a much more formal affair.  Here is the opportunity for all the elaboration and magnificence and dress that is desired.  Everybody knows this requires full dress, no bonnets, and a call afterwards.  At no evening entertainment is it permissible for a lady to wear her bonnet, and this applies with equal force to the theatre as to the private house. . . Objectionable as they are at the home reception, they are much more objectionable at the play.  If you feel that the lace or other headgear ordinarily worn by fashionable women is not enough when going from your home to the theatre, by all means wear a bonnet, but remove it when you have taken your seat and hold it in your lap.

A lady who is “at home” to her friends and acquaintances a certain day in the week, will have that day engraved on her visiting cards.  While it is often impossible to call upon that day, one should not be hurt if the busy woman is excused or out when the call is made upon another day than that set apart to see her friends.  A lady who has no day will endeavor to receive callers at any time.  If she is occupied she will instruct her servant to say so when callers present themselves, and before they are admitted, for a visitor once admitted to the house must be seen at any inconvenience.

Leaving cards is one of the most important of social observances, as it is the foundation in society of all acquaintance.  Cards are always to be left at the afternoon tea, but not at the evening reception.  On entering, they should be passed to the servant who opens the door, or left in the hall where a place is or should be provided for them.

Ladies do most of the card-leaving.  She leaves a card upon those upon whom she calls, and for those whose cards she carries.  A wife leaves cards for her husband, a daughter for her father, a niece for her uncle.  A wife in calling upon a married lady leaves two of her husband’s cards, one for the husband and one for the wife, together with one of her own, for a lady never leaves her card upon a gentleman.  No separate cards of the husband need to be left upon unmarried members of the family, unless one of them has left a card upon him, or their age is such as to require it, or when other exceptions make it desirable to do so.  One may leave cards for an invalid mother or sister.  If guests are stopping in the house where you call, cards must always be left upon them, or if calling upon guests where you do not know the hostess you may inquire if the ladies are at home, and not being admitted, leave cards for the host and hostess as well as for the guests themselves, as this is one of the first requirements of good breeding.  After the first exchange of cards the acquaintance drops, unless followed by an invitation from one side or the other.

Between two and six o’clock in the afternoon is the proper time for making calls.  Party calls should be made within ten days and must be made within two weeks after the party, unless certain reception days were set apart when the invitation was sent.  If reception cards are enclosed in invitations, setting aside certain day or days in which to receive party calls, a special effort should be made to attend on one of those days.  If unable, a card should be left at the house of the reception.

“It is not a communistic spirit that asks,” says Mrs. Sherwood, “How can I do this thing in a better way?  It is that wise and liberal conservatism which includes reference for law, respect for age, belief in religion, and a desire for a refined society.”

The Friendship of Maud Powell and Frances Glessner

On January 25, 2014 the American violinist Maud Powell was posthumously granted a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Grammys, during the Recording Academy’s 2014 Special Merit Awards Ceremony and Nominees Reception.  The award was accepted on behalf of Powell by violinist Rachel Barton Pine, who recorded a tribute album of Powell’s work in 2007.  Powell is widely regarded as one of the greatest female violinists in history, and was also the first American violinist to achieve international rank.

Powell was a close friend of Frances Glessner and visited the Glessner home on Prairie Avenue many times during her trips to Chicago to concertize and perform with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.  The museum is fortunate to have a number of letters in its archives from Maud Powell to Frances Glessner, in addition to a signed photograph (shown above), which is inscribed, “To one of the dearest and best ladies in the land, with fond affection, Maud Powell.”

Maud Powell was born in Peru, Illinois on August 22, 1867.  She began the study of the violin about 1874, taking lessons in Aurora, Illinois.  Within a couple of years she was recognized as a child prodigy and started taking lessons with William Lewis in Chicago.  At the age of 13, her parents sold their home to finance her musical studies, and she travelled to Europe with her mother to study with Joseph Joachim at the Berlin Hochschule, Henry Schradieck at the Leipzig Conservatoire, and Charles Dancla at the Paris Conservatoire. 

Her official debut took place in 1885, when she performed Bruch’s G minor concerto with the Berlin Philharmonic under Joachim’s baton.  Her American debut was with the New York Philharmonic under Theodore Thomas, marking the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership with Thomas and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. 

Powell was the first American violinist – man or woman – to change the opinions of Europeans, who, at the time, tended to scoff at classical music in America.  She concertized extensively throughout her career on stages across the United States and Europe.  She also introduced solo violin recordings with the Victor Talking Machine Company on their Red Seal label, all of which have been digitally remastered and were rereleased in 2009. 

She met her future husband and manager, H. Godfrey Turner, in London during the winter of 1902-1903.  At the time, Turner was serving as manager of the British syndicate which guaranteed the band of John Philip Sousa, and in that role, he extended an offer to Powell to play with Sousa’s band.  They married in 1904.

On November 27, 1919 she suffered a heart attack on stage while performing in St. Louis, Missouri; she died from another heart attack on January 8, 1920 while on tour in Uniontown, Pennsylvania.  She was just 52 years old. 

Journal entries by Frances Glessner and surviving letters indicate that the two became acquainted in 1907, when Powell was in Chicago playing with the Orchestra.  Frances Glessner wrote on January 24, 1907, “I went to the orchestra rehearsal . . . Maud Powell played.  After rehearsal was over, she came down with Mr. Wessels and I had a pleasant talk with her.  We walked down to her hotel together.”

The next day, Frances Glessner received a letter from Maud Powell, which reads, in part:

“I can’t quite tell you how touched I was that you have sent me those beautiful, beautiful roses!  They are the most exquisite things in the world.  I wonder if you saw them and know how ravishingly lovely they are?  They are filling the gap that comes in the awful reaction after an exciting performance and it WAS exciting today.  I tried so hard to induce Mr. Stock to have the orchestra rise to share the applause – but he was obdurate.  I felt that it was awful to stand there and to take all of it myself after their wonderful work.   I shall be here Sat. and Sun. the 2^nd & 3^rd of Feb. unless plans are changed.  Should I leave St. Paul earlier I might (visit) you – for I should love to see you again if possible.  With a thousand thanks for filling my room with beauty and my heart with warmth, believe me, yours sincerely, Maud Powell.” 

Another letter, written in February 1908, reads in part:

“En Route – Pennsylvania Lines – Pullman Vestibuled Train – Monday:

Dear Mrs. Glessner,

It is extraordinary, but I feel as though I had always known you and as if our ideas about essential things of life and conduct would walk hand in hand, and when you called me “Maud” – I loved it.  You radiate womanliness and have so many qualities of mind and temperament that I am so woefully lacking in, but love to feel the influence of!  It was very sweet of you to give me such a delightful opportunity of meeting the artistically elite – and in Chicago the artistically elite are so RIGHT personally.   Isn’t it so?  It was a lovely evening?”

By 1909, she is signing her letters simply “Maud” such as this example from November 1909 where she thanks Frances Glessner for making a chain for her:

“My dear Mrs. Glessner,

I keep hugging myself with pleasure YOU not being near to receive my ebullitions of delight – over the beautiful chain.  Why I should be so honored I hardly know, but certainly no one else could appreciate the lovely gift more than this erratic fiddler.  I am so proud that a woman made it – and proud that you wanted to give it to me.  What I love in you so much is the beautiful enthusiasm that keeps you interested in right things – the simple things of life – in spite of worldly riches.  How few people know how to live – and how seldom riches help them to know – isn’t it so?  My love to you and a heartful of thanks – thanks to the fates, too, for letting me know you.”

Frances Glessner was quite ill for an extended period, and Maud Powell was unable to see her when visiting Chicago in 1911.  She wrote in part:

“Thank you for your sweet letter received many weeks ago.  How are you now, dear?  I tried to see you in Chicago, when they told me of your illness – and since then I have had news of you from different mutual friends . . . Take care of your dear self – what I mean is: as you convalesce, don’t get busy being nice and kind to everyone and doing too much.  Don’t let your heart go beyond your strength.  I send you my love, and hope next winter will find you in Chicago feeling QUITE your old self.”

A particularly amusing letter was sent in 1912 after Frances Glessner wrote inquiring about Maud Powell’s condition following an automobile accident:

“It was very good of you to write.  The accident occurred a month ago.  It was not nearly as bad as it might have been, nor was it as bad as it seemed at first.  I was badly cut up, as my head went through the windshield, but my eyes were not hurt, and I shall carry only one small scar, and that, the Doctor promises will go down in a year.  Mr. Turner was not hurt at all, thank goodness, and the little machine came out of the repair shop, better than ever.  I was to blame for the whole thing.  A case of too much artistic temperament!  A wonderful butterfly flew in and fell on his back.  I tried to save him, but the draught caught him a second time, and he blew against the pedals.  Mr. Turner’s attention was taken for a second from the wheel, and of course, in that second, bang! we ran off the road and tried to root up the stump of a tree!  And if that tree had not been there, we should have been down in the ravine, - and in eternity, probably.  However it was a good lesson for us, and we are more careful than ever, now.”

Powell ends the letter with a postscript apologizing for typing the letter (which at the time was not considered appropriate for personal correspondence):

“I almost forgot to apologise for writing with the machine!  But I know you will forgive me, when you realize how it saves my bow arm.  And it is easier to read!”

Letters continue until 1917, when Frances Glessner stopped writing her journal.  There are frequent mentions of visits, dinners at the Glessner house, and of Maud Powell sitting in the Glessners’ box at Orchestra Hall during concerts.  It must have been a hard blow for Frances Glessner to lose her dear and talented friend at such a young age especially considered Maud Powell was only four years older than the Glessners’ son George.  But the warm and affectionate friendship they shared for more than a decade provided many happy memories that Frances Glessner carried with her for the remainder of her life.

Frances Glessner Lee Remembered

Frances  Glessner Lee in 1961

Today marks the 52^nd anniversary of the death of Frances Glessner Lee, the last surviving family member to have lived in the house at 1800 South Prairie Avenue.  A highly-regarded pioneer in the field of legal medicine, Lee has just been honored by her inclusion in a new children’s book focusing on the work of female scientists.

Lee became interested in legal medicine (also known as forensic science or homicide investigation) through her friendship with Dr. George Burgess Magrath, a long-time family friend and classmate of her brother George at Harvard University.  In 1932, Lee gave a gift of $250,000 to Harvard to create the chair in legal medicine in the medical school.  The endowment ensured the perpetuation of the department in which Dr. Magrath had taught since 1907.

Two years later, Lee presented the school with a library of over 1,000 volumes, which was dedicated as the George Burgess Magrath Library of Legal Medicine.  The library, unique in the United States at the time, was personally assembled by Lee and contained many rare volumes and documents, some dating back to the 15^th century. 

In the mid-1940s, Lee initiated biannual seminars in homicide investigation at Harvard.  State policemen from around the country vied for the opportunity to attend and earn the distinction of being a Harvard Associate in Police Science.  The seminars included an examination of the “Nutshell Studies” – miniature rooms depicting death scenes meticulously created by Lee for the study and analysis of evidence.  The 18 rooms are still in use today and now reside at the Medical Examiner’s Office in Baltimore, Maryland.

Frances Glessner Lee at work on the Nutshells in the early 1940s

In 1943, Lee was honored for her contributions to the field by being appointed as a State Police Captain in the state of New Hampshire, the first female to be appointed to that position in the country.  She was later given honorary status in many other state and municipal police departments as well, and in 1956 received an honorary doctorate in Civil Laws from New England College.

She died peacefully at her home at The Rocks Estate in New Hampshire on January 27, 1962 at the age of 83 and was interred in the Maple Street Cemetery in Bethlehem, New Hampshire.

The new book, Girls Research! Amazing Tales of Female Scientists, was written by Jennifer Phillips and published in 2014 by Capstone Press.  The premise of the book is to introduce a young audience to the significant accomplishments of women who not only made important strides in the field of science, but in the early days, had to overcome obstacles to get an education, jobs, and respect. 

The two-page entry for Frances Glessner Lee states, in part:

“Glessner Lee wanted a career.  Being creative and determined, she found a way to get one.  In fact she created an entirely new profession – the field of forensic science.   You’ve probably heard of the TV show CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.  In that show scientists study crime scenes to find out who committed a murder. . . Many of the techniques forensic scientists used today were created by Glessner Lee.”

The book places Frances Glessner Lee in an elite group of female scientists including Anna Freud, Marie Curie, Jane Goodall, Dian Fossey, Jocelyn Elders, Florence Nightingale, Mary Leakey and many others.

New tether rings for the coach house

In October 2013, the museum installed four custom-made tether rings (hitching rings) in the coach house.  Based on the surviving evidence of the long-lost originals, the design and fabrication of the pieces served as the master’s thesis for a graduate student in the Department of Historic Preservation at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. 

Dana Oliveri possessed a background working as a bookbinder and conservator before starting in the preservation program, augmenting her studies with classes in sculpture and a focus on mold making and metalworking.  The idea for the project came from Anne Sullivan, Chair of the Historic Preservation Department, who had previously helped compile the Historic Structure Report for Glessner House in 1994 and oversaw the 2006 restoration of the coach house. 

No historic photographs are known to exist showing the interior of the coach house, so Dana examined the surviving wood wainscoting for clues.  She discovered the impression of a back plate about 2.75” wide and 3.5” high with quarter-round chamfered corners, with a central boss that held a ring that hung about 2.5” below the center of the plate and was secured by four screws.  The original building specs make brief mention of the rings:

“Each of the stalls will have the best patent iron hay rack, manger and hitching ring, and the partitions between the stalls and the partitions around the box stalls will have light cast iron railings on top . . . The iron railings, gate and the door and windows, grills will be finished by the Bower Barff process.” 

That information provided two pieces of information.  The reference to “best patent” indicated that the rings were not custom made but would have been ordered from a catalog.  The excerpt also referred to the Bower-Barff process for most of the metalwork; however the rings were not specifically listed as receiving that treatment, so the original finish remained unknown.

These pieces of information led Dana to the extensive collections of period building catalogs at the Avery Library at Columbia University.  Initially stumped when she found no examples of stable hardware in catalogs of metal suppliers, she eventually noted that farm and stable suppliers were listed under “Agriculture.”  

An undated Illustrated Catalog of Stable Fittings from the J.W. Fiske Company, an iron manufacturer headquartered in New York, produced an image of a ring and plate virtually identical to the one installed in the Glessner stable.  From this illustration a shop drawing was drafted matching the exact measurements found on the wainscoting. 

One difference with the reproduction tether rings is that they are made of steel rather than iron.  Iron is no longer used and even period blacksmiths and traditional craft schools now use steel, except for rare instances when old wrought iron can be salvaged and reused.   The original back plates could have been cast or forged; Dana opted for forging the pieces as she could maintain more control over the process and would have ample time to correct possible mistakes.   Forging also provided a more historically accurate look with slight irregularities and surface textures.  However, electric and pneumatic grinders and power tools were used to shape the material and connect the pieces.

The boss was formed from 1” rod stock – grinding to shape the edges and then heating the rod in the forge and hammering the ends in a swedge block to create the appropriate finish.  The actual shaping of the boss involved three people as shown below, with Dana at left, shop assistant Natalie at center, and Dave Nelson at right striking the piece with a 5-pound sledge hammer.  After the piece had cooled, the hole was drilled for the ring, and the shoulder was created to insert into the back plate.

The back plate was formed from ¼” bar stock.  The quarter-round on the edge was created first, using a grinder to put a bevel on the edge and then a die-grinder with a small ball attachment to “scoop” out the edges.  Holes were drilled at each corner for the screws and at the center to receive the boss.  Then the two pieces were connected, welded and ground so that the back of the plates would be flush with the wall.

The rings were formed out of 5/16” diameter rod stock and were made using a “hardee fork” in the hardee hole of an anvil.  They were trued on a mandrel and then cut, reheated, and trued a second time.

For the finish, Dana selected a waxed black oxide patina.  The oxide leaves a dark grey matte finish, similar to a forge finish, and the wax seals the metal and gives a light shine.  The finish is durable since the rings are installed inside and will be subject to minimal use.  The pieces were sandblasted to remove any dirt and grease and then wire brushed so that they would pick up highlights in the patina.  The black oxide was mixed with water and sprayed on, and then immediately rinsed.  The pieces were then heated with a torch and the Renaissance Wax was applied – two hot coats and one cold coat, after which they were buffed with a chamois.  Slotted oval head screws, appropriate for the period, were ordered in a black oxide finish as well.

The completed tether rings, installed on October 25, 2013, add a fine period detail to the coach house.  Visitors routinely ask questions about the configuration of the space and the presence of horses during the first 20 years the Glessners lived in their home.  The tether rings, which look as though they have always been in place, help visitors to step back to a time when the clip-clop of horses’ hooves on the concrete floor would have been the order of the day.

The Story of a Coffeepot

Among the silver objects placed on display in the newly opened dining room silver closet is a small unassuming coffeepot.  However, the piece is among the most important pieces of silver in the collection, and one that was of particular significance to the Glessners, who acquired it for its direct connection to a decisive battle during the Spanish-American War.

Admiral Pascual Cervera y Topete

The Battle of Santiago de Cuba took place on July 3, 1898.  It was the largest naval engagement of the Spanish-American War and brought about the destruction of the Spanish Navy in the Caribbean, and ultimately the end of Spain’s presence in the New World.  Admiral Pascual Cervera  y Topete headed the operation aboard his flagship, the armored cruiser Infanta Maria Teresa.  The other ships in the squadron were the armored cruisers Vizcaya, Cristóbal Colón, and Almirante Oquendo, and two torpedo-boat destroyers, Furor and Pluton. 

On April 30, 1898, Admiral Cervera set steam from São Vicente in the Cape Verde Islands, headed for San Juan, Puerto Rico.  By the time the squadron arrived in the Caribbean, San Juan was under a U.S. Navy blockade, so it headed for Santiago de Cuba on the southeastern coast of Cuba, arriving on May 19.  An American squadron arrived on May 27 and began a blockade that would last more than five weeks.  Cervera planned for the squadron to break through the blockade in the early hours of Sunday July 3, 1898.  A battle commenced almost immediately but within an hour, five of the six ships in the Spanish Caribbean Squadron had been destroyed or forced aground.  

Only the Cristóbal Colón, the fastest ship in either fleet, survived, but she was at a serious disadvantage as her main 10-inch turrets were empty, the guns not having been installed before she set sail for the Caribbean.  For more than an hour she was pursued by the battleship Oregon, and eventually Captain Emilio Diaz Moreu turned the Cristóbal Colón toward land and ran her aground.  Her descending flag marked the end of Spain’s naval power in the New World.  The sailors either made it ashore or were rescued by American sailors.  Later that night, during a salvage attempt by the U.S. Navy, the cruiser capsized and sank.

By December 1898, the Glessners became aware of a coffeepot from the official silver service of the Cristóbal Colón which was available for purchase at the Deakin's Art Rooms in the Fine Arts Building, a dealer from whom they frequently made purchases.  On December 24th, H. Deakin wrote to Mrs. Glessner that he was in the process of obtaining the necessary documents to substantiate the authenticity of the coffeepot.   His letter states in part:

“The coffee, sugar and creamer were taken from the Christobal Colon by one of our seamen, immediately after the battle, the three pieces were sold to a Mr. Dalziel an engineer on one of our gun boats, who in turn sold them to F. W. Kaldenberg’s Sons 2-4 East 17^th St., New York, the sugar and creamer were sold to a Bostonian, the coffee to me.”

Deakin's Art Rooms invoice for $150

An invoice from Deakin dated January 16, 1899 shows that the Glessners purchased the coffeepot for $150, quite a large sum for the day.  In early February, Deakin sent Mrs. Glessner an affidavit from F. R. Kaldenberg which stated:

“I hereby assert under oath that shortly after the Naval conflict before Santiago Cuba between our forces and the Spanish when the Prisoners of War were brought to Portsmouth N.H. under the charge of our Naval officers and other officials there was among them a U. S. Medical man named J. M. Dalziel duly commissioned as such, this man had procured a certain silver coffee pot, upon which is engraved the monogram C.C. = “Christofer Colon” = said coffee pot being part of the silver service on the Man of War Christobal Colon, and captured by our forces, upon the ending of service at Portsmouth of said Dalziel he came to N.Y. and gave me the coffee pot, and in turn I gave it to Mr. H. Deakin, that said Dalziel thereafter went into service of the Cutting family at Oak Point L.I. where he treated the sick soldiers, known as Rough Riders and remained with them until all were well enough to go to their respective homes, and I further affirm and solemnly swear to the fact, that no possible doubt can exist of the truth of Dalziel’s or my statement.”

The final correspondence regarding the coffeepot is another letter from F. R. Kaldenberg dated December 15, 1899 where he states that he has been unable to contact Mr. Dalziel in order to get a statement from him:

“He spoke of going to Manilla (sic), if I meet him again I will hand him your letter, if you want his portrait I will send it to you for $2.00 which I paid him.  I do not care to sell this picture, it is a group of sick soldiers on the lawn and villa of Mrs. Cutting, the various Doctors and Nurses as well as Mrs. Cutting her son and others of the family.  You can have a copy made from this if it interests you.”

The Glessners took great pride in the piece, and it is one of the objects they owned that is specifically mentioned in John Glessner’s The Story of a House:

“There is the silver coffee-pot, a part of the official plate of the Spanish Admiral Cerveza’s flagship, Christobal Colon, sunk at the battle of Santiago bay on July 3, 1898, and recovered by a sailor of the American fleet, sold by him to a Navy surgeon, and thence to me . . .”

The coffeepot itself is of tapering form with a scrolling rope decoration, surmounted with a spherical finial.  The handle and spout have banded decoration and the handle has two narrow ivory insulators.  The monogram “CC” for Cristóbal Colón is engraved on one side, beneath the Spanish crown.  The base is inscribed:

“From the official table service of the Christobal Colon, Flagship of the Spanish Admiral Cervera, Captured at the Battle of Santiago, July 3d, 1898.”

(As has been stated above, the Cristóbal Colón was not Cervera’s flagship).

The maker’s mark on the underside reads “Broggi 18,” a reference to the prominent Italian silver firm Broggi, which dates back to 1818 in Milan.  The company supplied several of the royal houses of Europe and later many of the luxury cruise ships, including the Andrea Doria.  However it has been suggested that the piece may have been made in Hanau, Germany.  Silver makers in that town frequently used marks from other makers on their pieces.  Further research would need to be undertaken to verify the actual maker.

Today, the coffeepot, with its rich history, occupies a place of honor in the recently restored silver closet in the dining room at Glessner House Museum for all to enjoy and admire.