heavy, heavy hangs over your head

Published on January 21, 2012

In the manuscript for Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little Town on the Prairie, there’s a chapter that didn’t make it to publication, titled “A Quiet Evening at Home.” After the church revival is over, the Ingalls family is glad to be able to just have quiet time to themselves after supper, reading and talking. Pa draws his chair into the circle of his family and plays the fiddle: “”Boonie Doon,” “Highland Mary” and “Annie Laurie” (not included in any “Little House” songbooks since it didn’t make it to publication). There are subtle hints that Pa knows what is about to happen, and Pa stops playing to listen to laughing voices and sleighbells. Neighbors have arrived, bringing “a surprise party from the country!”

Laura learns the names of the strange faces as the young people play games: Drop-the-handkerchief, Miller Boy, and Spat-em-Out. After some dancing, the guests pull chairs in a circle to play Spin-the-Platter, which leads to a game of Forfeits. Laura brings a tin platter from the kitchen, which is spun in the center of the circle. A name is called out, and if that person catches the spinning platter before it falls, they are safe. If not, they have to “forfeit” one of their belongings, which is placed in a cap. Ernie Perry loses his knife, Laura her pencil.

From The Young Folk’s Cyclopaedia of Games and Sports (1890), here are the rules for playing Forfeits:

Forfeits, a game played by any number of persons, in which articles given up by each of them are restored on the performance of some difficult or ridiculous feat. It may be played as a game by itself, in which case one or more forfeits are collected from each player, but usually the forfeits have been paid in a previous game, as punishment for breaking some rule. THe forfeits are generally handkerchiefs, or small ornaments. In redeeming them, one of the players, who has been selected as judge, sits in a chair, while another, who must know to whom each of the forfeits belongs, holds them over the judge’s head one by one, saying as he does so: “Heavy, heavy, what hangs over your head?” The judge then asks, “Fine or Superfine?” to which the other answers “Fine,” if the owner of the forfeit is a boy, or, “Superfine,” if a girl, adding, “What shall the owner do to redeem it?” The judge then tells what the owner must do to get back his property. The tasks may be varied at the pleasure of the judge.

Imagine a 19th century version of “Truth or Dare.” An item is selected from the hat and held over Pa’s head (by Jennie Ross), and she chants, “Heavy, heavy hangs over your head.” Pa asks, “Fine or superfine?” which means, “Does the item belong to a boy (‘fine’) or girl (‘superfine’)?” In order to redeem their belongings, each must do a stunt or solve a riddle, all at Pa’s bidding.

You’ve no doubt heard that Laura said she didn’t like kissing games. Well, in order to get her pencil back, Pa instructed Ernie to “make a sugar bowl and Laura would put two lumps in.” Jennie further instructs Laura and Ernie to kneel in front of each other and cup their hands around their mouths, hands touching, and kiss each other twice behind their protection. Laura writes that she “didn’t want to be kissed, so she moved her hands a little and Ernie’s kisses fell on her thumb.” Do you think this really happened to Laura? Would Pa really be setting it up so her own daughter was kissed by the neighbor boy!? How does that make you feel about Laura’s engagement story in These Happy Golden Years, in which she says her first kiss is the night she and Almanzo become engaged?

Here is a bit about forfeits, from a “Little House” era newspaper:

FORFEITS FOR FUN. In evening games it often becomes necessary to punish some one or more of the company by imposing a “forfeit.” The penance should be something that either is not easy to follow out to the letter—that is, has some catch to it—or puts the person in a conspicuous and amusing light. In all cases a forfeit should be designed to amuse the company as a whole, and never to offend the person called upon to pay it. In order to illustrate our idea of a good forfeit, and also to furnish suggestions to those who enjoy and take part in such pleasant amusements, we give a few of the forfeits that may be imposed: First, put a newspaper upon the floor in such a way that two persons can stand on it and not be able to touch each other with their hands. This forfeit has the honor of being old, but it was not our good fortune to meet it until a short time ago, and be forced to “give it up.” By putting the paper in a doorway, one-half inside and the other half outside the room, and closing the door over it, the two persons can easily stand upon it and still be beyond each other’s reach. Second, to go out of the room with two legs, and come in with six. Not difficult, if one thinks to bring a chair along on the return. Third, to act the dumb servant. The person who has the forfeits to pay must act out the answers to the questions put by the master of the ceremonies; as, How do you make bread? How do you eat soup? Etc. This forfeit will cause much merriment if proper questions are put. Fourth, put one hand where the other one cannot touch it. One can get out of this difficulty by putting one hand on the elbow of the other arm. Fifty, place a pencil on the floor so that one cannot jump over it. May be done by putting it close to the wall of the room. Sixth, put a question that no one can answer with a No! That is not hard if one thinks to ask, “What does Y-e-s spell?” Seventh, push a chair through a finger ring. This forfeit is made by putting the ring on the finger and pushing the chair—any other object will do as well—with the finger. This last much resembles the next. Eighth, put yourself through a key-hole. This was a great puzzle to us for a while; but when a piece of paper was taken with the word “yourself” written upon it, and pushed through the hole, it was all clear. There are many other of these amusing little tricks, but those given will suggest others, and help to make the social winter gatherings the enjoyable times they should be.

Filed in GAMES,MANUSCRIPTS,PEOPLE | No replies

Tags: , , ,

miss wilder knew nothing at all about birds

Published on January 15, 2012

"Laura and Ida almost squirmed from embarrassment."

In Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little Town on the Prairie (see Chapter 14, “Sent Home from School), Eliza Jane Wilder tries to keep order in an increasingly disorderly classroom, smiling and telling the unruly students that she knew the students liked her and she liked them, because, “Birds in their little nests agree.” Laura and Ida “almost squirmed from embarrassment.” Other than the fact that little birds usually don’t get along in the nest, why would the big girls be embarrassed?

The saying, “Birds in their little nests agree” would have been quite familiar to Laura and Ida, both raised in Congregational Sabbath School classes. Isaac Watts’ “Divine and Moral Songs for Children was definitely used as part of the Sunday School curriculum in Minnesota churches in the 1870s. Believing that moral lessons could be memorized easily when sung in verse to the tune of popular hymns – then reflected upon at quiet times during the day – Watts wrote his little volume at the request of a friend. It was suitable for children of all stations, but was meant for very young children only.

At the time of Little Town on the Prairie there had been published discussions about the use of such songs, especially the current practice some teachers had of breaking the verse into couplets as if that was the complete thought. Imagine Laura and Ida laughing over just the first two lines of Verse 4 below!

Song 17 is about the love that should be shown between brothers and sisters:

1. Whatever brawls disturb the street,
There should be peace at home;
Where sisters dwell, and brothers meet,
Quarrels should never come.

2. Birds in their little nests agree;
And ’tis a shameful sight,
When chidren of one family
Fall out, and chide, and fight.

3. Hard names at first, and threatening
They are but noisy breath,
May grow to clobs and naked swords,
To murder and to death.

4. The devil tempts one mother’s son,
To rage against another;
So wicked Cain was hurried on
‘Till he had kill’d his brother.

5. The wise will let their anger cool,
At least before ’tis night;
But in the bosom of a fool,
It burns till morning light.

6. Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage,
Our little brawls remove;
That, as we grow of riper age,
Our hearts may all be love.

Filed in BOOKS,LIW A-Z | No replies

Tags: , ,

starry papers

Published on January 11, 2012

starry papers

Starry Papers

As Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote in By the Shores of Silver Lake, “There are so many ways of seeing things.”

I had an “a-ha” moment in Ma and Pa’s Third Street house this summer. The kitchen cabinet shelves (Were they built by Charles Ingalls?) sported a paper edging with cut-out stars. Laura describes such edging in On the Banks of Plum Creek (see Chapter 17, “Moving In”). Ma brings out two long strips of brown wrapping-paper and folds them, accordion-style. She then shows Mary and Laura how to cut tiny bits out of the paper, which, when unfolded, reveals a row of stars. The paper is spread on the shelves behind the stove, with the stars hanging over the edge. The manuscript version of the story is slightly different. Ma doesn’t fold the paper, but she shows Mary (then Laura, using a separate strip) how to cut stars along the edge with small scissors.

I’ve been in the Third Street house countless times over the years and I’ve seen that edging in person and in photographs, but this time I just stopped and stared. You see, I had always pictured the stars as positives (meaning the stars are made of paper), not negatives (meaning the stars are holes in the paper). The edging in De Smet had starry holes. When I got home from my trip, I cut two strips of computer paper, cut stars in them both ways to make sure what I had always pictured could be done, hung them on my magnet board and then promptly forgot about them. I’m still not convinced that the Ingallses’ stars were holes. How do you picture them?

Today, I was reading a newspaper from the early 1880s and saw this:

In any small stationery store or grocery the eye is attracted by an edge of colored paper hanging from each shelf. The shelf paper, as it is called, has scalloped edges, and is perforated in prettily arranged designs, making a lace-like appearance.

“The business in shelf paper is only about ten years old,” a manufacturer said. “Then, its edges were cut by a cutting machine, and the cost came to about $1.50 per gross. By and by better machinery was used, and the price fell to 40 cents per gross, and then I came in with labor-saving machinery and I further reduced it to 20 cents. The paper used when the industry began to spread out was of good quality, and was called poster paper; now we use a peculiar kind made of wood pulp, and unless they can get some cheaper material that kind of paper will never be less in price. We take that paper and run it through a stamping machine, which stamps out the design. The dies used in stamping are very costly, and the presses also. Here is one worth about $3,000 including dies. The quantity of shelf paper sold is amazing. We ship it by the ton. I think that $150,000 worth is sold in a year. Another branch of this business is stamping out stars, squares, etc. in pretty designs. Perhaps you think that these stars, which are so complicated and delicate, are stamped out with a die with a full design on it. That would be too expensive. I have a number of girls to fold paper for me, and according as to how it is folded, so is the design. It is run through the press and stamped, and when it is taken out and unfolded, there is your perfect edging.”

starry papers

"Little House" shelf edging - the ultimate in starry papers!

Is it possible that Caroline Ingalls was actually copying a popular decorative edging sold commercially? Something she had seen in Mr. Owen’s store, perhaps? Something that was “all the rage” in Walnut Grove, but could be made cheaper at home?

Decorative shelf edging is still popular today. When I lived in Montana, I crocheted long strips of lace to use for shelf edging – a pattern from Rose Wilder Lane’s needlework book, of course. I’m a big fan of MaryJanesFarm magazine, and they sell cute white paper edging here. The November-December 2011 issue of Victoria magazine included a picture of a china cabinet sporting scalloped edging made from 1882 newspapers. With all the scissors and punches available today enabling you to easily cut fancy borders, holes, and shapes, there’s no limit to the decorations you can add to paper borders, whether they’re made of white paper, brown wrapping paper, or even pages from your favorite “Little House” book!

Filed in BOOKS,CRAFTS,LIW A-Z | No replies

Tags: ,

happy birthday, pa. happy birthday, mary.

Published on January 10, 2012

Quiner Ranch

James A. Quiner Ranch, 1908
Courtesy of www.wyomingtalesandtrails.com

Today (January 10) in 1836, Charles Ingalls was born; today in 1865, his daughter Mary Ingalls was born. These, of course, are Laura Ingalls Wilder’s pa and older sister.

I got to thinking about that cold (probably) Wisconsin winter day (or night) when Mary Ingalls was born. Pa was 29 years old and Ma was 25. They had only been living in Pepin County a little over a year, but the Ingallses and Quiners seemed to do things together a lot, both marrying and moving across country. Uncle Henry and Aunt Polly were living on the same quarter section of land as Charles and Caroline, and Henry and Polly Quiner already had three children when Mary was born: Louisa (born 1860), Charley (born 1862), and James Albert (born 1864).

It’s Albert who captured my attention today, not Pa and Mary. I didn’t seem to have a definitive birth year for him in my files. I saw November 13, 1862 in some sources, November 13, 1864 in others. Based on Charley’s birth year and other sources, I tend to believe the 1864 date, but I’d appreciate an email if you know for sure. On the U.S. Federal censuses, he’s enumerated as being 5 in 1870, 15 in 1880, birth given as November 1864 in 1900, 45 in 1910, 55 in 1920, and 63 in 1930. His death record has the November 14, 1864 birth date. If this is correst, Ma and Aunt Polly were pregnant at the same time, and Mary was born only two months after Albert.

Uncle Henry’s family story is woven throughout the “Little House” books; I’ve blogged about them in the past. Albert, however, is only mentioned in passing in These Happy Golden Years. In Chapter 13, “Springtime,” Uncle Tom tells the Ingalls family about “Uncle Henry’s family, Aunt Polly, Charley, and Albert,” who had moved to western Dakota Territory. You can read read about them here.

The Quiners’ “what happened next” is a sad story. After moving west, Albert lost both parents and four siblings to illness. At age 23, he was the only surviving son of Henry Quiner. Albert married Fredysia Palmer in 1890 and they settled near Big Horn Basin, Wyoming. The couple had two daughters: Mary (born 1895) and Shirley (born 1900). The marriage dissolved soon after, and Fredysia moved to Pennington County, South Dakota, with the girls. In March 1903, Albert married Gertrude (Price) Pennell, keeper of a boarding house. They had three sons: Howard, Emmett, and Alvin. Although they moved to Los Angeles in the late 1930s, the Quiners lived on a stock ranch in Big Horn County, Wyoming, for many years. A 1908 photograph of the Quiner ranch is shown above.

Filed in PEOPLE | No replies

Tags:

second wife’s fourth husband

Published on January 8, 2012

Hiram Ingalls

Hiram Ingalls

You won’t find Laura Ingalls Wilder’s uncle, Hiram Lemuel Ingalls, mentioned in the “Little House” books, although it’s a safe bet to assume that the story about Laura’s wild “Uncle George” in Little House in the Big Woods is actually about Hiram Ingalls. Hiram was the youngest-but-one son of Laura and Lansford Ingalls, younger brother of Charles Ingalls and older brother of George. He was born 27 April 1848 in Illinois, and in January 1865, he and brother James enlisted in the Union Army, going across Lake Pepin to Minnesota to sign up. Although the legal minimum age for soldiers was 18, Hiram was only 16 at the time of his enlistment (he would turn 17 a few months later; James was 21). It was perfectly okay to enlist between ages 18-20 if you had parental consent. Did Grandpa Ingalls approve of the enlistment, did Hiram fake his consent papers, or did he lie and state that he was over 21 years of age?

Hiram and James didn’t serve long. The Civil War ended and they were mustered out of service in September 1965. Hiram married Elizabeth Woodward two years later, and they had seven children. After Elizabeth’s death, Hiram remarried. I didn’t set out this week to research Hiram. I was merely curious to know more about Hiram’s second wife, because you variously see online that her name was “Ellen Burns” or “Ellen Parker” and that that she died in 1951. Turns out that it was Hiram’s daughter Ellen (Mary Rose Ellen Ingalls Kezer) who died in 1951, not the second wife Ellen.

Ellen’s surname was not Burns; it was Burn. Ellen Burn was born in Indiana, September 1852, to Mary and Jacob Burn, who had come to America from England in the 1840s.

Ellen Burn married her FIRST HUSBAND Stephen Skinner in Dunn County, Wisconsin, on March 8, 1872. On several documents, she states that she was married on that same day in March in the year 1871. Daughter Abbie Skinner was born that December, which probably explains why she would want to add a year to her marriage (their marriage certificate is clearly dated 1872). Stephen had joined the Union Army (Wisconsin Regular Infantry) during the Civil War, but instead of fighting the Confederate Army, he was stationed at Fort Union, on the Montana / Dakota border. Currently a National Historic Site, Fort Union was where various Indian tribes went to trade buffalo robes and other furs for beads, guns, blankets, knives, cookware, and cloth. It was the most important trading post on the Upper Missouri from 1828 to 1867.

While on guard duty one February night, Stephen Skinner caught a severe cold which settled in his lungs, putting him into the infirmary for a month and causing him life-long breathing problems. Although Stephen tried farming and harness making, he was unable to work more than quarter-time for the rest of his life and was unable to do any manual labor. Ellen and Stephen Skinner had nine children between 1871 and 1895; Stephen died in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, April 1902.

In April 1904, Ellen married her SECOND HUSBAND, Wilbur Stockwell, a farmer from Nebraska who was eight years her junior. His first wife had been dead only a few months, leaving him with six children to raise. In January 1907, Ellen filed for and was granted a divorce from Wilbur Stockwell, citing that he had treated her “in a cruel and inhuman manner.” Her former name – Ellen SKinner – was restored to her as part of the divorce settlement. She also had her attorney’s fees paid ($30) by Stockwell and her household goods were shipped back to Wisconsin.

Ellen’s THIRD HUSBAND was William Parker; Ellen Skinner was also William’s third wife. A conductor on the Great Northern Railroad, the couple met in Minneapolis and were married in Seattle, Washington, in February 1909. The Great Northern ran from St. Paul to Seattle, and was the northernmost transcontinental railroad in United States history. The couple made their home in Minneapolis, where William died at age 73 in June 1917. Ellen had worked as a laundress prior to her marriage and it is believed that she also worked for the railroad as a laundress.

February 27, 1919, Ellen Parker (nee Burn) married her FOURTH HUSBAND, Hiram Ingalls, in Duluth, Minnesota. The couple settled in Danbury, Wisconsin, where they lived until April 1920. They then moved to Glasgow, Montana (note that Glasgow is located on the Great Northern Railroad). Shortly after settling in Montana, however, Hiram went back to Danbury on an alleged business trip, taking his wife’s $375 sealskin coat, which he sold to a fur company in Madison. On April 6, 1920, Hiram wrote Ellen a letter, saying that he was not coming back to Montana and never wanted to see her face, ever again.

What happened next? Ellen went to live with a son in California and Hiram remained in Wisconsin, where he died in March 1923. The couple didn’t divorce. While I don’t yet know if Hiram ever saw Ellen’s face, ever again, I know that Ellen was still in California only months prior to Hiram’s death. When I find something new, I’ll let you know.

Filed in PEOPLE | No replies

Tags:

aged parents

Published on December 31, 2011

While reading a 19th century newspaper, I came across the following. It seemed appropriate to transcribe at year’s end. Laura Ingalls Wilder fans have often discussed why Laura didn’t ever visit her parents after moving to Missouri. Laura was in De Smet when her father died, but she didn’t return prior to her mother’s death. Of course, finances and distance were major factors. In Little Town on the Prairie (Chapter 6, “The Month of Roses”), she did touch on the idea of “repaying” her parents for all their care since she was a baby. I like to think that Laura would have gladly taken Ma and Pa into her home and cared for them lovingly in their old age, had she and Almanzo remained in South Dakota. Be kind and helpful to an aged person today, and every day in the year to come.

“By some, aged parents are considered a burden, of which they would gladly rid themselves. We often see these persons treat their parents unkindly, apparently forgetting the debt of love and gratitude which they owe to their father and mother. Ah, how ungrateful is the human heart! How apt it is to become cold and hardened towards those whom it once loved with the tenderest, holiest affection! O heartless children! Was it not your mother who watched over you in the hours of infancy? Was it not she who spent so many sleepless nights by your side as you lay in your little bed, suffering from disease which she feared might take the loved one from her sight? And, when the danger was past, knelt and offered a prayer of thanksgiving to God for His great kindness in sparing the life of her darling? She has prayed for you all through bygone years, and she prays for you still. It was she who taught you to say your simple prayer each evening as you knelt beside her knee. Oh, how you loved her then! Every childish care and sorrow was poured into her listening ear, and you ever found in her a sympathizing friend and counselor.

“And your father? Do you not remember when you used to stand at the window and watch him coming from the field where he had labored hard all day long, that you might not want? And, when the evening meal was over, then he took you on your knee, told you pretty stories, and called you his precious child? And that, when you came to be of the proper age, he sent you to school that you might obtain an education and prepare yourself to become wise and useful and be an honor to yourself and to the world? Have you forgotten all this? It cannot be.

“Stop and think what you do when you pronounce your father and mother burdens. Consider that the vigor of life is gone, that they have become weak and dependent, and that their poor old hearts need cheering by kind words and pleasant smiles. The shadows of their lives are lengthening–their sun is about to set. Then be careful that you cause no cloud to settle and obscure the glory of that sunset.”

Your father’s growing old,
His sight is very dim.
He leans on his faithful staff,
For he’s weak in every limb.
His years are well-nigh told,
His earthly hopes are fled,
He soon will slumber cold
Among the silent dead.

Your mother’s old and weak,
Her locks are thin and gray;
Her aged form is bent,
She soon will pass away.
The one who loves you ever,
You soon shall see no more,
Until you cross the river,
And stand on the other shore.

Be kind to the old folks, then,
They’ve done enough for you;
They’ve braved the storms of life,
With spirits strong and true.
And now, when age has come,
And earthly hopes have fled,
Oh, share with them your home
And cheer their dying bed.

Filed in MEMORIES | No replies

set the table

Published on November 16, 2011

How do you set a table? Did they do it differently in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s day? That is the question.

Back in 2007, I wrote THIS blog about some instances where I noticed wonky placement of knives and forks in Little House-related photos. Today, after I commented on a tablescape photograph in which the spoon was on the left, fork on the right, it was again pointed out that there is a photo in the Laura Ingalls Wilder Country Cookbook (William Anderson and Lelsie A. Kelly, 2007, HarperCollinsPublishers; see photo on page 126). The photo here is of the “replica” table setting on display at the Walnut Grove museum. You can see the cookbook photo in the background.

In 1960, this Rose Wilder Lane was photographed in the background of a photograph that accompanied an article about her kitchen, appropriately titled, “Come Into My Kitchen.” (Woman’s Day, October 1960, pages 60-61, 98-99) The table from this photo is now on display in the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum in Mansfield, Missouri. A large copy of this photograph (minus my jottings) is also on display, but it is a mirror image, and the table itself it set so that the placement matches that of the mirror image photograph, or it was that way the last time I was there. William Holtz included the mirror image photo in Ghost in the Little House (1993, University of Missouri Press; see page 216 for photo). My guess is that since the photo is featured on an even-numbered page (left-hand), it was reversed so that Rose appears opposite the binding, and that the table setting was merely overlooked as being important. Les Kelly copied the museum photo for his table setting in the cookbook, and people are copying Les Kelly.

Aside from the reference in By the Shores of Silver Lake in which it was said that the plate was bottom up over the knife and fork, I’ve never seen anything that suggests that the Wilders or Ingallses set their table with the spoon on the left, fork on the right. The published Woman’s Day photo suggests that Rose – or the people at Woman’s Day – set a table the standard way, which I’ll let you look that up for yourself. Or don’t people set the table for dinner these days?

Filed in MYTH | No replies

Tags:

rag paper

Published on October 25, 2011

In Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Farmer Boy (Chapter 12, “Tin-Peddler”), Mother Wilder trades all the rags she has been saving for a whole year for tin products made by Nick Brown, the tin peddler. While rags might be new material, more often they were simply pieces of old worn-out clothes, sheets, and towels. These rags were used in the manufacture of paper.

The following is an description of the paper-making process during the time of the “Little House” books:

The antiquity of the paper manufacture is probably excelled by but few other products of civilization, Chinese historians carrying it back to a point far in the twilight of our history. In England it was first introduced near the close of the fifteenth century, and in this country in 1693, at Germantown, Pa. The materials from which paper is produced are numerous, but wholly of vegetable origin, neither wool nor hair possessing the capability of being reduced to a fibrous pulp, a prerequisite to the formation of paper. Linen and cotton rags, straw, the leaves and stalks of the okra plant, jute stalks, manila, hemp, and even wood fiber, are all used in the manufacture of paper. No substance, however, can equal good linen rags, of which the toughest and finest paper is made. Next in rank are cotton rags from which the best writing and note paper is made. In this manufacture great care is taken in the selection of the material and in every process.

Gathered from all parts of the country by tin peddlers and by peripatetic ragmen in cities, the rags arrive at the mill in bags, a portion of the stock, perhaps, coming in pressed bales from over the sea. The first proves is sorting, and then the rags are cut, usually by girls, by means of a fixed blade in a bench, like a short upturned scythe, the operator picking them up by handfuls and drawing them over the edge of the blade. Each girl is furnished with a sandstone rifle, and when a large roomful of girls are at work the sounds remind one strongly of a gang of mowers at work before the days of the mowing machine. A second sorting, for the removal of all buttons, hooks and eyes, and hard seams, follows, and the rags are then dusted. The duster is a large cylinder, the surface of which is of fine woven wire, inside of which is a shaft carrying arms set around it in a spiral form, and revolving at a higher rate of speed than the cylinder. This difference in speed gives the rags a thorough stirring, while the spiral arrangement of the blades facilitates the exit of the rags, which traverse the cylindrical sieve from end to end. White paper can be made from colored as well as white rags, and for the removal of the color as well as the dirt they are submitted to a boiling with lime water. The rags are placed in a large rotating boiler made of half-inch plate, mounted on journals and driven by proper gearing, as a worm and wheel. Through the hollow journal steam is admitted and kept at a pressure of from forty-five to sixty pounds, representing a heat from 292 to 308 degrees. Lime water, in the proportion of about one part by weight to ten or twelve of the rags, is mixed with them, and the boiler is set in motion. usually a charge requires from eight to twelve hours’ boiling. Even this severe test does not fully purify the rags, which are next passed through an “engine.”

To the uninitiated a brief description of this apparatus is necessary. It is a tank of oval form, the walls or sides rising two and a half feet from the floor. This is partially divided longitudinally by a straight upright partition, not extending to the ends, however, but leaving a space between its ends and the tank’s sides, of a width corresponding to that between the sides of the partition and those of the tank. On one side of this partition, across the center of the tank, is a toothed drum, the teeth or blades of which alternate with fixed teeth at the bottom. These teeth tear the rags to tatters, but without destroying the fiber. A stream of water is constantly passing through the tank, and is constantly removed. This is done by a wheel of fine wire netting that revolves on the side opposite to the toothed drum, taking up the mass, but detaining the pulp, the water running off through the shaft of the wheel, which is hollow. Thus the water is used only while making a single passage around the tank, the current being produced and maintained by the rotary movement of the beater or tearer. The condition of the rag material when it comes from this cleansing engine is that of a coarse pulp, technically known as “half stuff,” which is subsequently submitted to the action of another engine, known as a beating engine, but essentially the same as the cleaning engine.

But still further cleansing is necessary. The material is next mixed with chloride of lime and again passed through the engine. It is then heaped upon drainers, and looks like a mass of half-melted snow. The white, however, is a dead white, having no brilliancy. To receive this quality it must literally be colored. As the laundress blues her clothes to make them whiter, so must the paper stuff be blued, and when so tinted it has that same quality of whiteness as wind-driven snow, which always shows a bluish tinge. This is quite different, however, from the blue writing paper so affected by the fashionable twenty and thirty years ago, and now the favorite tint in the South and in England. That is really blue paper, while our usual white paper is merely tinted sufficiently to remove the dead, yellow, lusterless appearance of absolute whiteness. The bluing is ultramarine, as used in calico printing and for other manufacturing purposes, made from silicate of soda, alumina, sulphurets of iron, and carbonate of soda, and not from lapis-lazuli. This is mixed in powder with the half stuff just before the final heating.

After the final heating the material is apparently a thin, milky fluid, having no trace, to the unaided eye, of the fibrous character that it really possesses. Formerly the paper was formed by hand, the workman dipping a rectangular sieve into the fluid pulp, and depositing the sheet of pulp on a piece of felt to dry. But very little paper is made so now, the Fourdrinier machine having taken the place of the hand workman. This “machine,” as it is called par excellence, is a wonderful production of skill; it is almost wholly automatic in action, and works with marvelous exactness. It is scarcely possible to describe it without detailed engravings, but a brief account of its work may aid in its comprehension. Some of these machines are not less than six feet wide and seventy-five feet long, requiring a building by itself, and making a sheet of paper over five-feet in width. The pulp is pumped into an elevated tank, from which it is delivered to the machine through an adjustment gate opening from a reservoir. The amount of pulp fed to the machine regulates and determines the weight of the paper, and of course it must be governed absolutely and exactly, the speed of the machine being a constant. The pulp flows on to a roller, which deposits it on an endless apron of fine woven wire, which has a constant jarring motion, tending to shake out the water and aid in the homogenous union of particles. Thick rubber straps on each side of the endless apron determine the width of the sheet. Passing between rollers which compress it, the sheet of pulp goes over perforated boxes from which the air is exhausted by a pump, and much of the remaining moisture is driven out by atmospheric pressure. A bath of liquid glue gives a proper sixing to the sheet after it is fully dried by cylinders heated by steam. The sheets, dampened by glue, are taken to a drying room, from whence, all wrinkled, they are submitted to a calendar consisting of a stand of rolls, three of chilled iron and two of paper. These latter are made of manila paper cut in disks, with a hole for the axis or shaft, and compressed by hydraulic pressure. When turned and finished, these paper rolls are as smooth and almost as hard as iron, presenting a highly finished surface. The sheets are then trimmed by a machine suggestive of the guillotine, and ruled. The pens used on the ruling machine are of peculiar form, made of sheet brass and fed with ink by a wick. Most of those used in this country are made by one concern in Harrisburg, Pa.

Book paper is made of old paper entirely. The processes are similar to those employed in making paper from rags, except that, owing to the more pliant nature of the material they are not so long continued.

Jute is used for making coarse paper, such as is used extensively for flour bags, for which it is well adapted, being very tenacious of fiber, a full-grown man having been carried by four persons, each lifting a corner of a sheet of jute paper from which bags are made, designed to hold a quarter of a barrel of flour—forty-nine pounds. The jute stalks come in lengths of from ten to fourteen inches. They are imported from Calcutta, and of the same material from which gunny cloth and gunny bags are made. The stalks pass through a rotary cutter, with stationary knives and knives set in a cylinder, by which they are torn to coarse shreds. A boiling under steam pressure, in a rotary boiler, with lime, follows, when the mass is heaped and allowed to “sweat” a few days. It passes through the cleaning engine, as do the rags described above, is bleached with chloride of lime, and sixed with a size made of rosin and washing soda. The after machining is similar to that used on writing paper.

Envelope paper and fine wrapping papers are made from old manila rope, and paper for paper-collars from cotton rags. In both cases the processes are of a similar character to those employed in the manufacture of paper for writing purposes. A necessary requisite for paper making is pure water; so paper mills are never found on the banks of sluggish streams or the shores of a marshy, muddy pond. The coloring matter for tints is introduced into the beating engine when finishing the half stuff.

Filed in BOOKS,CRAFTS,LIW A-Z,PEOPLE | No replies

Tags: , , ,

eighteen months? one year? two? three? four?

Published on October 18, 2011

Filed in PEOPLE,RESEARCH | No replies

Tags:

the first nineteen years

Published on October 13, 2011

Screw De Smet. I’m selling all my Laura Ingalls Wilder stuff and moving back to Missoula. Let the bidding begin. Seriously….

The above is from my most recent Facebook post. I do have a FB account and I do try to drop by from time to time, mostly to look at pictures posted by family members. What I eat for lunch every day is hardly of interest to me, so I don’t feel the lure to share it with the world, or even hundreds of friends I’ve never met. Or to share the fact that it’s after 4 p.m. and I’m still wearing the clothes I slept in, which would probably only be of interest to my mother, who thankfully, does not have a computer.

But a couple of days ago, I had Missoula on the brain because (1) I had just finished reading Kelly Kathleen Ferguson’s My Life as Laura (Press 53, 2011) and Missoula is important to her and to me, and (2) I had just found my former neighbor’s online photos (his former wife and I snowboarded together) and they made me ponder the total lack of joy and beauty and my own happiness that is HootervilleF—ingGeorgia (not its real name), where I now live. After being a fulltime Laura Ingalls Wilder researcher for nineteen-years-when-I-swore-I’d-only-do-this-for-ten-at-most, I have thought a LOT lately about spending my golden years doing something… anything else (preferably not in the south), mostly being artsy and creative, which somehow hasn’t been much a part of my life these past 19 years.

It turns out that I can fit in creativity if I research almost as much, but spend much less time writing about it. Sorry. So even if the blog ends at some point and the pioneergirl website isn’t ever completed, you can still email me and I’ll still be researching and I’ll still talk Laura with you. I’m saying that now because it seems like a good time to say it. And, no, you don’t have to start cutting/pasting everything I’ve ever put online because I promise I’ll leave it online for archival purposes.

Anyway, when I read Kelly Ferguson’s book, I noticed some “Little House” mistakes because — while I may “never do anything with my Laura Ingalls Wilder research” (as people like to point out, and I’ll leave it at that) — I sure can correct those who “do something” with theirs (as people like to point out, i.e. publish). So Kelly and I have exchanged a few emails, and while it probably seemed to her that I took exception to a lot, all but a couple of things (Tracy, South Dakota?) were “trotting horse” details that – seriously – are only “different ways of seeing things” and not “mistakes.”

After emailing Kelly, I spent the whole day thinking about The First Four Years because of something in her book. She wrote: “In 1953, the box set, my box set, featuring the illustrations by Garth Williams, was released.” If you haven’t yet read her book (and you should), she is writing about a boxed set of yellow paperbacks.

I didn’t own a yellow boxed set until a few years ago. With the exception of a 1950s hardback Little House in the Big Woods originally belonging to my older sister, the first “Little House” books I owned were yellow paperbacks I bought individually in 1972 and 1973 or were gifts at the time (I graduated from high school in 1973). But my original hardback The First Four Years (Harper & Row, 1971) has my name and “December 25, 1972″ written in the front. I don’t remember whether it was a gift or whether I bought it myself. Several of my yellow paperbacks were given to me by “My Almanzo” at the time, and are inscribed. There was a time when I was really into collecting the various sets of “Little House” books, mainly back when I longed to be running a Bed & Research (screw cooking for people first thing in the morning!) and I wanted to decorate each room with a different LH theme, and they’d contain a set of LH books based on hoity and toity-ness. Yellow paperbacks in the dugout room and the Easton Press set in the honeymoon suite.

And no, the yellow boxed set didn’t come out in 1953, but that’s the year the uniform edition with Garth Williams’ illustrations was released. My 89-year-old mother, who has been reading the “Little House” books lately, said on the phone this morning that she thought all the people in the GW drawings looked oriental because of the way their eyes were drawn, something I never noticed. When was the yellow paperback boxed set released? I don’t know. The First Four Years wasn’t included in the boxed set I bought on ebay, and it sure doesn’t seem as if even a skinny non-Laura book could be squeezed into the box. I don’t even know if individual yellow paperbacks and the boxed set were released at the same time, or if some yellow sets included FFY. I have multiple copies of FFY in yellow paperback, and a 1971 “first printing” date is in front (cost was 95 cents). My 1972-purchased hardback has a $4.95 price printed as part of the dust jacket, but a friend who bought a copy in 1971 paid $8.95 (printed price). Did the cost of a hardback go down because of the paperback release? I don’t know. I did find newspaper advertisements for the release of FFY in the fall of 1971, and the copyright was registered in 1971. In 1978, the boxed set was $16.95 and individual hardbacks were $7.95 each.

I don’t know when the manuscript for FFY was found, but its publication at this time is interesting. The Narnia books were first published in paperbacks in December 1970, and New Yearling paperbacks were all the rage (Cricket in Times Square, Paddington books, etc.). Viking had just announced that they were lowering their paperback prices to 95 cents, and that is indeed what the “Little House” books cost at the time. I’m sure someone who wanted to pursue this as a conference research topic could delve into the Nixon administration, the war in Vietnam, the school library government program folding shop, and compare children’s book publishing in the early 70s to eBook publication and other publishing statistics today.

But what about the blue boxed set? I know it was printed and distributed by Reader’s Digest, but when? I didn’t have one until this past summer. In her Little House, Long Shadow: Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Impact on American Culture ( University of Missouri Press, 2008), Anita Clair Fellman states that the blue set came out in 1983, so I’ll assume that’s the year, although I couldn’t find any advertisements for it to confirm that. The First Four Years was the condensed book selection in the December 1976 Reader’s Digest, btw. Why then? [Hint: I'm hoping my fellow researcher at Trundlebed Tales will blog about the publishing history, because I know she knows.]

Oh, and another research topic would be to look at the decades since the publication of the “Little House” books to see what the trends were in each decade as far as scholarly research goes. Think about it – articles in the 60s, booklets in the 70s, the spin-offs and “discover Laura” through how-to books, overlapping publication of adult biographies putting anybody ever connected with the books on the couch, then the glut of juvenile biographies, the television show rehashing “real story of” and miniseries and plays and musicals and all the websites vying for your attention (including mine), not to mention twitter and Facebook groups and pages and the full circle back to the recent “search for Laura” books. Don’t you look forward to the next trend in Laura-land? And how will it all change in 2027 when the book copyrights start to run out? Somebody be sure to stop by the nursing home and let me know.

Yep, makes living in Montana and growing lettuce look mighty appealing to me. Besides, I haven’t been able to fit into my prairie dress since 1993, and the story of my life as a Laura Ingalls Wilder reseacher would probably be about as exciting as what I had for lunch today. But if you want to discuss possible research topics and where to research them or want someone to read what you’ve written with Laura Ingalls Wilder research in mind, I’ll be right here.

Filed in BOOKS,PEOPLE,PLACES,RESEARCH | No replies

Tags: , , ,